#I don’t like it ugh I might just remove it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

osaemu · 5 months

Text

GOJO SATORU: ONE FOR THE MONEY, TWO FOR THE SHOW

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: you and satoru, your fake boyfriend, have awards to accept and places to be. so how'd you two end up fucking in a bathroom? NSFW

contents: fem!reader. semi-public sex, p –> v, blowjob, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, you two get walked in on at the end (kinda). references hungry for more. not proofread, ignore any minor mistakes. 3.5K words.

“you two are so cute together,” the interviewer sighs, looking at you and satoru in turn. “please, tell us more about your relationship!”

satoru laughs, resting his hand on your back and pulling you into his side. you put on a smile and instinctually put a hand on his chest, pretending not to notice the way he stiffens up at the contact. “where do i even begin?” satoru asks dryly, turning and looking down at you affectionately, and he’s almost a good enough actor for you to believe there’s any real emotion behind those cold blue eyes.

two weeks ago, satoru’s media team came to you with a request for you two to start dating as a way of gaining more attention from your fans. naturally, you declined—it’s not like you’d gain anything from the deal but the burden of being paraded around on the arm of the man you hated—satoru gojo, the cocky son of some famous actor in the 90’s. but after multiple increases in the amount of money satoru’s team was willing to throw at you, you finally agreed under the condition that this arrangement would end the second you wanted it to.

“i’m sure you’ve seen our latest movie on netflix,” satoru starts, looking back up at the interviewer, whose eyes have practically turned into hearts. “the one with the serial killer, yeah? well, it started from there and just grew into more.”

“i guess you could say the attraction on the screen wasn’t all acting,” you add with a knowing smile. good thing you were a decent enough actor to pretend as if you weren’t just lying through your teeth, otherwise the millions of dollars in your bank account would all be gone.

the interviewer laughs and turns to the camera, saying something about how the chemistry between you and satoru was what really made the movie a hit—in fact, it might even be the reason you’re both getting nominated for best actor and actress.

“well, if you’d excuse us, i think we should get back to the party,” satoru jumps in, nodding his head at the interviewer in thanks. he removes his hand from your back as you follow him to the main area, weaving through crowds of fans and interviewers on his way there. you walk at his side, heels clacking against the freshly polished floor. satoru dips his head and whispers, “hold my hand.”

you scrunch up your nose and shake your head. “no thanks, it’s not like anyone’s watching right now. it’s way too crowded.”

“just do it,” satoru mutters, grabbing your hand anyways. when you start to pull away, he fixes you with a stern look and adds, “they’ll think something’s wrong if you don’t.”

“ugh, fine.”

two hours pass, filled with other actors’ remarks on how good you and satoru make as a couple. suguru geto, one of satoru’s close friends who had played a cult leader in a recent documentary even said that you might be the girl who could fix satoru. yeah, right.

“so, when do awards start?” you ask satoru, swirling your drink and relishing the sound of the ice clacking against the side of the glass. he shrugs and takes a swig from his own cup, which looks suspiciously like apple cider disguised as champagne. “really? you’re nominated for like, four awards, and you don’t even know when you’re getting them?”

satoru laughs carelessly and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on the short cut of your dress. “at this point, i’ve got so many awards that it doesn’t even matter anymore. and by the way, you look really good in that dress. oh, wait, didn’t i buy it for you?”

“you’re not smooth.”

“then why am i nominated for best actor, huh?”

“because the system’s absolute shit, obviously. otherwise toji would win every time.”

satoru groans and drinks the last couple sips of his drink, rolling his eyes. “don’t even mention that piece of shit.” you shrug in response, hiding your smile behind your glass. a couple years back, satoru had lost a role to toji and to his despair, the movie did really well, despite what he’d promised to the producers who had turned him down. and it looks like he’s still bitter over that, and all of a sudden, the perfect plan to piss satoru off appears in your head.

“look, it’s toji right there!” you gasp, setting down your drink and hopping off your seat, walking over to toji while ignoring satoru’s warnings. “oh, hi, i’m a big fan,” you say to the tall, well-built man, smiling bashfully. toji turns and looks down at you, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

“hey, pretty, you’re the girl in that movie with the serial killer, yeah?” he asks, crossing his arms. you nod and internally marvel at how tall he is—especially compared to satoru, who, by any standards, is pretty damn tall. toji looks you up and down, taking his sweet time drinking in the way your dress hugs your figure. “that scene in the alley was really fuckin’ good,” toji adds conversationally. “you’re definitely winnin’ best actress for that.”

anyone who’s watched the movie knows that the scene he’s referring to is the one where you get fucked by satoru against a dark alley wall—and you’ve seen enough edits of the scene to know exactly why it’s getting all the hype.

“aw, thanks,” you say coyly, resting a hand on your hip and tilting your head. “y’know, i’ve always wanted to star in a movie with you,” you continue, hearing satoru come up behind you in the background. you ignore the sickeningly obvious way he clears his throat and flutter your eyelashes at toji, who’s eying you with interest.

“i’d like that. i can probably pull some strings,” toji replies with a smirk. his dark eyes flicker from you to satoru and his smile turns almost patronizing. “and who’s this?”

“her boyfriend. and i really hate to interrupt this friendly chat, but she’s not up for grabs,” satoru snaps, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you back to your spot at the bar. you shoot satoru an indignant glare, but receive no reply besides his tightening jaw. toji laughs and waves you off, mouthing “call me” at you when you turn back apologetically.

satoru drags you by the hand to one of the bathrooms, shoving open the door with the side of his arm and pulling you inside. there’s a long, shiny counter, which you become very familiar with once your fake boyfriend hoists you up and sits you on it. “the fuck was that?” satoru hisses, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

“what, we were just talki—”

“i don’t like the way he was looking at you,” satoru interrupts, crossing his arms tensely. he fixes you with a cold stare and you fidget uncomfortably with the hem of your dress, which you now realize is rather short.

“okay, and?” you reply irritably, starting to get annoyed by the way satoru keeps patronizing you. “it’s not like we’re even dating, gojo,” you snap, emphasizing the use of his last name.

“yeah? well, i don’t need my ‘girlfriend’ slutting herself out to the guy everyone knows i hate,” satoru fires back, taking a step forward. his palms rest on the counter on either side of your exposed legs, and you suddenly notice how red satoru’s face is. the flush in his cheeks wasn’t as noticeable underneath the bar’s dim lights, but here, it’s rather obvious.

“are you jealous?” you ask incredulously, unable to suppress the cheeky smile that finds itself on your face. satoru’s jaw slackens and his eyes widen, and that’s enough of a sign for you to confirm it—satoru gojo, your fake boyfriend, is jealous. he doesn’t reply immediately, so you laugh, throwing back your head and giggling at the way satoru’s petty rivalry seems to be only one of the reasons he was so eager to get you away from toji. “aw, that’s so cute, but we aren’t even dating, sweetheart,” you coo, reaching out and caressing the side of satoru’s face.

he instantly swats your hand away, rolling his eyes at your laughter. “well, we still have to act like it, you idiot,” he mutters, leaning over you and eying the low neckline of your dress. you instinctively cross your arms and glare at him, and satoru only cocks an eyebrow in return. “so, if we were actually dating, do y’know what i’d be doing right now?”

“what?” you decide to humor him.

satoru’s demeanor completely changes at your question, going from pissed and flushed red to almost playful.

“this.”

and just like that, satoru slips his slender fingers underneath the bottom of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your black, lacy panties.

“gojo, what the—”

“shh, it’s all for the show,” he whispers teasingly, brushing one finger against the warm skin of your thigh. you involuntarily shiver from his touch, and against all rational impulse, find yourself wanting more.

in the acting community, satoru was well-known for being a stuck-up brat, and when you two had first announced your relationship, plenty of actors doubted it. after all, how could you, the classy it-girl of the movie industry, date an asshole like satoru? but even you were surprised at how easily people started to believe it when you two interacted in front of them. you’ve been told that you two had a rather unexpected burst of chemistry together, and that your relationship might actually make it.

what a shame.

satoru hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, raising an eyebrow when you don’t protest. he maintains eye contact with you as he slides your panties down your thighs, exposing your embarrassingly-wet cunt. satoru looks almost as surprised as you do at how soaked you are, even as he runs two fingers over your slit before sliding them in. you hate how good it feels—it’s been a while since you got a chance to sleep with another man, especially since you’ve been stuck with satoru for the past two weeks.

“shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” satoru murmurs, scoffing in mild disbelief as he meets your eyes and smiles. he curls his fingers upwards, causing your thighs to reflexively close before satoru reopens them. “so, wanna explain, sweetheart?” he tsks, tapping your thigh with his other hand.

you make a face and look away, cheeks heating up the longer satoru waits for a response. “it’s probably from toji,” you snap back after a moment. satoru laughs sarcastically, shaking his head almost condescendingly and pulling out his fingers.

“nice try, hon,” he says sweetly, lifting his fingers to his mouth and licking off your slick in one smooth motion. satoru exhales heavily and swallows, taking his time in doing so. “want me to go grab toji to join us?” satoru asks, forcing a smile on his lips. “i’m sure he’d love to watch you beg—”

“shut it, gojo,” you interrupt, swatting away his hand, which somehow found its way back in between your thighs. “we have an award show to get to, there’s not enough time for this bullshi—”

that was a mistake. satoru instantly lifts you off the counter and, ignoring the rather wide range of curse words you throw at him, sets you on the ground and starts unzipping his pants. “shh, we got all the time in the world. they can’t give an award to someone who isn’t there, right?” satoru cooes, threading one of his hands through your hair and pulling you closer to him. his other hand finishes unzipping his pants, freeing his already-hard dick.

you look up at satoru, forcing yourself to act unimpressed—even though you know damn well he can see through your half-hearted attempt at hiding your real feelings. “s’ that all?” you ask, hating yourself for the crack in your voice when satoru laughs at you.

“ah, i think it’ll be more than enough for your pretty face to handle. now c’mon, open nice n’ wide for me,” satoru instructs you, reaching down and tilting up your chin as he guides his dick into your mouth. against all rational impulse, you let him, all while glaring daggers at him from below.

you run your tongue over his flushed red tip, and satoru sucks in a harsh breath, chest tensing as you continue kitten-licking him. his hand moves from your chin to the top of your head, and he pushes your mouth farther onto his dick, jaw tightening the more your tongue laps at him.

sure, maybe you shouldn’t be sucking off your fake boyfriend in a bathroom where anyone could walk in at any time, but it’s the first time you’ve felt this way in too long, and you weren’t ready to let this feeling go just yet. so you humor satoru and moan, smiling when you feel the way his whole body loosen up at the soft vibration. “f-fuck, didn’t think you’d actually know how to give a man a good time,” satoru mutters through gritted teeth.

“really?” you ask, pulling away from his dick for a moment to catch a breath. “we fucked for that movie, though, and you seemed pretty damn satisfied then, didn’t you?” you say in-between heaving breaths. satoru scoffs and shakes his head, pushing your mouth back onto his dick.

“yeah, but that was for a movie. this isn’t,” he clarifies, eyes fixed on the mix of spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin as you continue sucking him off. “fuck, why are you good at this?” he hisses, almost incredulously—it’s as if he was hoping you wouldn’t be this good for him for some reason, but now’s not the time to reason through it or wonder what’s going on in his mind.

satoru shudders around you, and you feel the hair threaded through your hair tighten. it’s not enough to be painful, but his grip still makes you whine from the increased pressure. his breathing becomes more shallow as you run your tongue over his length, and his foot starts to bounce on the floor as he gets closer to cumming down your throat. “shit, baby, m’ close,” satoru confirms a moment later, tilting his chin back and glaring at the ceiling.

“fuckin’ hell, i—” he cuts himself off with a loud, lengthy groan, pushing your head even farther on his dick and tensing as the full force of satoru’s orgasm hits him. he lets loose a flurry of curse words as he cums in your mouth, filling you up to the point where it starts dripping down the side of your face. it’s hot and salty, two sensations that you normally wouldn’t put together, but in this moment it’s all you can think about as you slide one hand downwards towards your throbbing pussy.

still reeling from his surprisingly quick orgasm, satoru leans back onto the counter and pants for air. as for you, you’re starting to want some of his pleasure for yourself—so you slip two fingers inside your cunt and pulse them back and forth, needy moans slipping out of your lips at every thrust. “gojo,” you call, looking up at him and licking his cum off your lips. the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cum dripping down your lips and fingers knuckle-deep in your cunt is enough for satoru to cum again, but he forces himself to maintain some level of control.

“jus’ call me satoru,” he murmurs, reaching down and tugging you up to your feet. it’s hard to stand while your legs are trembling, but thankfully, satoru does most of the work for you by positioning you against the wall, back facing him as he aligns his still-hard dick in front of your dripping pussy. “say it,” satoru mutters in your ear, resting one hand on your waist and the other on the wall just above your shoulder. “say my name f’me, sweetheart.”

“s-satoru,” you breathe, and a moment later, your fake boyfriend—who doesn’t feel so fake anymore—shoves himself inside of your welcoming cunt. you’re already wet enough to the point where he doesn’t really need to prep you at all, but you’re still just tight enough so that every thrust feels like he’s breaking you down in the best way possible.

“y’feel so good,” satoru groans, resting his chin on your shoulder and snapping his hips back and forth, setting a steady yet harsh pace. you stutter out satoru’s name again and again as your vision goes blurry, with your only thoughts revolving around the dick shoved up inside you and the man praising you in your ear.

satoru curses when he feels your walls clench around him, breaths growing shallower with every thrust. “arch your back for me, princess,” he mutters, eyes fluttering rapidly as he squeezes your waist. “yeah, jus’ like that,” satoru praises, breath brushing against the side of your face as he continues thrusting into you. “how’re you feeling, pretty? s’ this all right with you?”

you nod shakily in response, swollen lips hanging wide open as you gasp for air. satoru clicks his tongue and slows his pace, dipping his chin and studying your face. “gonna need you to use your words, angel.”

“m' good, i wanna cum,” you mumble, a loud moan slipping through your lips when satoru laughs and resumes fucking you a millisecond after you answer.

“i’m gonna fill you up, baby, i promise,” satoru whispers, and his words are barely audible over the lewd, sticky sounds coming from everywhere. all your senses are directed at satoru—the man you really shouldn’t be fucking right now, but all your inhibitions fade away as you feel your stomach start to tighten as you approach your orgasm.

“fuck, satoru, m’ close,” you whimper, arching your back even more and clenching your teeth shut. satoru sucks in a sharp breath as he confirms that he’s also about to cum, and his thrusts grow sloppier the closer he gets. “don’t stop, please, i—”

from there on, your words mix themselves together, with the only understandable word being satoru’s name. your fake boyfriend spills into you first, cum leaking from his tip and mixing with yours as you both chase your releases. and it hits you hard—if it wasn’t for satoru, you would’ve crumbled to the ground from the sheer force of your orgasm. all you can see is white as satoru finishes emptying his load inside of you, and the sticky, viscous liquid trails down the warm skin of your thighs as it overflows from your abused hole.

“shit,” satoru mutters, stumbling backwards and eyeing his now-soiled clothes. “this was a couple thousand dollars, damn it.”

you exhale a breathy laugh and turn around, leaning against the wall and meeting his half-lidded eyes. “you kidding? my dress was way more than that, and there’s no way i can wear that out now.”

satoru grins, running a hand through his ruffled hair and walking back towards you, touching your waist and sliding a finger over your dripping cunt. “you were so good f’me, baby. what were we arguing about again?”

“i have no idea,” you mumble, watching satoru lick his finger clean. he’s shameless—even as clarity returns to both of your minds, he still insists on dragging the moment on. not that you mind—that was the best sex you’d had in a while, even if it was too fast and in a bathroom.

“we should get back to the ceremony,” you say distractedly, pulling down your dress and frowning at the new wrinkles. “can i wear your suitjacket? i don’t want people to see this.”

satoru sticks out his bottom lip and pouts, looking you up and down. “but i like it. you look like you just got fucked by a really hot guy. oh, wait, that’s me!”

“you’re an asshole.”

before satoru can reply, the bathroom door opens, and you both jump out of your skins. thankfully, satoru had time to pull his pants on, otherwise it would’ve been significantly more embarrassing. suguru pokes his head in the bathroom and rolls his eyes when he sees you and satoru, and an exasperated sigh slips out of his lips when he sees your fucked-out states.

“are you two seriously fucking during the awards?” suguru snaps, amber eyes glittering with dry amusement. you look away bashfully, tugging down your dress even farther out of embarrassment. satoru shrugs nonchalantly and walks over to suguru, offering his hand in search of a fistbump.

suguru eyes him dubiously and crosses his arms. “did you wash your hands?”

“heh, no, not yet.”

ignoring satoru’s smug grin, suguru swats his arm away with the back of his hand, disgust evident all over his face. “gross, fuck off.” he turns to you and arches an eyebrow, looking you up and down disapprovingly. “you two should clean up before coming outside, otherwise they’ll probably take away your awards,” suguru adds, wrinkling his nose. “i’ll tell them you’re on your way.”

“okay, thanks,” you mutter, face warmer than ever. suguru nods in response and leaves, and when you and satoru finally return to the awards ceremony, there’s plenty of whispers about you two, and most of them aren’t very family-friendly.

well, at the very least, nobody’s gonna doubt that you two were a couple now!

12K notes · View notes

on-leatheredwings · 3 months

Text

Dirty Laundry (18+)

Yandere! Dick Grayson x (Fem) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > Request: I think Dick would be a major creep and your rules didn't say anything about no nsft, so can I ask for a fic with this scenario: Dick stealing reader's underwear and using the dirty ones to get off while cumming into the clean ones. And putting the "clean" ones back into her dresser hoping she doesn't notice the stains and wears them? Thanks! > a/n: …………………………………… Ohhhh, so you’re crazy. Meaning, you’re just like me . thanks for the dick request i want to write him better/more ;u; had fun writing this! > tw: someone cumming in your panties without your consent or knowledge, so sexual assault. As well as yandere-typical thoughts and behaviors. > Word count: 1847 (Ugh this was supposed to be like 3 paragraphs max but i’m me.)

Dick’s your best friend.

… You guess.

He was new to Blüdhaven, and you two just seemed to keep bumping into each other in the rare times you left your apartment. Might as well get to know the guy. You didn’t have much choice in the matter, once he attached to you. And that was okay, because you liked him back and, frankly, were in quite desperate need for friends. The man currently lounges on your bed, sifting through a magazine while you’re mixing audio for this indie rock cover band that’s commissioned you. That’s your side hustle and passion, when you’re not being a work-from-home researcher for S.T.A.R. Labs.

You’re an hour into your work and Dick Grayson is lounging on his spot on your bed, because he has claimed a spot at this point. All is well with the world. Then, your stomach lets out a groan, and so do you.

A pair of eyes, all ocean blue and twinkling, slide over to you without a second’s hesitation. You meet them, unblinking and unperturbed. Does he know he’s kind of a freak? Being all light-eyed and adoring?

You stand up without fanfare, removing your headphones from your ears and letting them sit around the column of your neck.

“I’m going to get food from the place next door.”

You yawn and walk away from your desk. That usually was much harder for you, but Grayson’s presence in your life had made it more of a priority for you to care for yourself. “Don’t touch anything,” you say, plainly and without venom. Without another word, you’re gone, and Dick launches up from his seat once he hears the front door to your flat close.

He told himself he was going to do this today. He told himself, and he is a man of his word.

He opens the bottom drawer of your dresser, where he knows you keep your clean pairs of underwear. Then he trespasses into your closet, where he knows you keep your laundry basket.

Dick knows where a lot of things are in your apartment, and he has made it his job to know every inch of your bedroom specifically. When you leave the room, like times like this, he enjoys going around and familiarizing himself with everything. And he’s planted cameras, of course. He does leave your en-suite restroom alone, an act he pats himself on the back for. You deserved your privacy, after all. To his disappointment, you do tend to masturbate exclusively in the shower, and he must tide himself over with the audio his cameras pick up, rather than visuals.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dick buries his hands into your laundry basket. These were the things… you wore. His eyes twinkle as he smiles. Still, he had no time to waste. While often busy, the Chinese place you were at was also known for its fast service. Dick grabs the first pair of panties he sees: blue lace-trim, white in color, with blue gingham. You’re so cute.

He sits in your closet, back to your hamper, slides off the jeans that look really good on him which he hopes you’ve noticed. All of these actions are done a little clumsier than normal because his pulse roars in his ears.

He lets his head fall backward, and he begins pumping his cock with your panties in that same hand. He thinks of your face, your body, your hands. He really likes your hands, so adept and amble, always flying across a keyboard or strumming a guitar. He thinks about the honest things you say, truthful but usually with tact. He thinks about your eyes crinkling when he’s being a show-off, and your pretty lips that you’re usually wetting with your tongue rather than finally just getting lip balm.

At this point, Dick is a wreck, eyes glazed over and only half-open. His eyelashes flutter as he struggles to keep them open. He goes slack-jawed, pink lips only a little swollen from his biting down on them. He’s about to finish, he knows he is. It’s building in him like the birth of a tidal wave. Pre-cum and his sweat have soiled your gingham pair, and he looks at the very plain pair of navy blue boyshorts in his free hand, clenched into a fist. He finds himself blushing. Your underwear is so… you, and it’s hilarious that holding them in his hand is what is flustering him so much. Considering what he’s doing.

Dick whimpers, a sound that’s both embarrassing and utterly liberating. Pleasure pulses in between his legs, his back shoots into an arch, his balls hike up to the base of his cock. He cums with a raspy cry, right onto the crotch of your boyshorts. He had initially planned to just finish anywhere on the fabric, but at the last second decided to cum where your cunt would touch. He’s kind of romantic like that. (He’s also kind of a pervert, and he knows that.)

He pants in the afterglow of his orgasm, cheeks painted over with rosy pink. He tosses your white pair back into its home, the laundry basket.

His calloused fingers reach up for the corner of his mouth, which had been agape this whole while.

… Was he drooling?

Dick robotically proceeds to rub his semen into your underwear until it's just a dark stain. He pulls his dark jeans from the pool of black denim they formed at his ankles, he runs his fingers through his hair at a job well done. He returns your boyshorts to your dresser, neatly folding them like all the rest. And finally, he wipes his mouth. He returns to your bed, and it’s like nothing has happened since you left.

Dick Grayson – Gotham pretty boy, badass superhero – should probably cringe; in any other context, isn’t that so lame…? But considering it was you, honestly, what could he have expected…

You come back into your bedroom, a bag of takeout swinging from your hands. His eyes don’t leave you for an instant.

… You simply have that effect on him.

You stomp through his room until you’re right in front of him, where he pretends to be scrolling on his phone. Your arms are akimbo as you stare down at him, blocking your room’s overhead light with your skull and casting your shadow over him. He looks up and smiles cheekily.

“Alright, Dickard.” Dick’s lips quirk. “Get out. I’m going to shower and change.” Sniffing yourself on the way back, you decided it was high time you did.

Dick’s brain goes a mile a minute. Shower. Change. Underwear? His heart skitters but he doesn’t show it.

“Aw, don’t let me stop you. Feel free,” he teasingly sings.

Your eye twitches and you take it upon yourself to physically move him. Not that you could if he chose to actually resist. You know that he must be strong, stronger than ‘doing acrobatics as a hobby’ must make someone. You’ve caught a peek at his abdomen and biceps now and then. Guy is ripped.

“Go eat,” you order, throwing the takeout into his hand. “I got enough for the both of us.” Why, Dick could twirl his hair and kick his feet right now – despite a prickly exterior, you really were a sweetheart, weren’t you? He refuses to have you pay for him though. He will definitely be returning the favor thricefold.

You successfully shoo the six feet tall model out of your room.

Once he’s out, you take your shower, standing for five minutes in the spray until it grows warm. You think with amusement at the idea of movies and TV making women showering such a sexy, erotic scene. Bitch, you are in here scrubbing pots and pans.

After the job’s done, your feet land on your worn shower mat from college, and pad towards your bedroom once more. You catch a towel on your way there, belatedly remembering that Dick Grayson may still be loitering in your bedroom, and you weren’t too keen on the idea of him seeing your private bits. Warily shifting eyes from behind the door, you see no one’s around.

Knock knock.

“Are you done?”

Dick’s voice from the hallway makes you panic, fearful that he may burst in before you’re ready and presentable.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a woman while she’s getting ready in her boudoir!“ you yell, hoping some rich person’s instinct suddenly clicks in him. You thought rich men were supposed to be gentlemanly. Really, ever since meeting Dick, who is son to the richest man in the state, you’ve learned rich people all must be whiny, clingy, braggers, show-offs, and sometimes, just plain brats. In your hurry, you swipe a panty from your drawer and slip it on past your thighs. Body still damp from the shower, you don’t notice anything.

The rest of your clothes follow, and you choose to sit back down in your desk chair. You turn back to your double monitor set up, ready to become a screen zombie once more when you remember someone’s waiting for you.

Without turning around, you holler, “Come in.”

Without a moment’s pause, Dick reenters, takeout plated for the both of you in each hand. He places one smoothly in front of you with butler-like precision.

“Your meal, madam,” Dick says in a Parisian accent, and you do smile in amusement. His eyes dilate, but you don’t notice.

“Thank you, my fine sir,” you return, a little embarrassed, accent weak, but willing to keep up the bit.

Dick knows not to disturb you too much while you work, so he wanders away as you slip your headphones over your ears once more. But before returning to His Spot on the bed, he quietly treads to your dresser. He sneaks a glance to make sure you’re still occupied. And you are, that blue wash of light painting your skin.

He pulls out the drawer, and– hhhhh.

He heaves with breath involuntarily, although it’s nearly imperceptible. You do make him slip more than he likes, but he’s experienced. He glances once more to make sure you didn’t hear that, and of course you didn’t. You’re still fiddling in Ableton Live.

He shuts the drawer and stalks to His Spot on the bed, and anyone who knows Dick Grayson would see that he is tense. He is stiff.

And how could he not be? You’re wearing the underwear he had cum on. Did you notice? Is this your way of coming onto him? No, you’re too forward to play games… Something he finds both refreshing and a shame, because he loves games. You simply mustn't have noticed. Regardless, the knowledge fills him with such ecstasy and arousal… and longing.

He eyes you discreetly as his skin reddens. He tries to act natural by eating steaming orange chicken, plucking it from his plate with a chopstick. One day, he’ll have you, in body and soul.

Until then, he can entertain himself with this game, however one-sided.

#yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #yandere dick grayson x reader #really enjoyed writing a more mellow reader!#mine

830 notes · View notes

sinsirellaxx · 2 months

Note

Can you do toxic boys reacting to you showing up at their dorm crying? I’m in love with your writing ugh

Slytherin Boys – What they’d be like if you show up at their dorm crying

Warning: There are no warnings for this one I think. The boys are quite tame and fluffy-ish here

A/N: Thank you so much!! ❤️ Glad you like it and I hope you'll enjoy this one too! I know there is a huge misbalance in terms of length for each characters but I just couldn't help myself with some of them. I initially wanted to keep all of them short.

Have fun reading!

Mattheo …

… who would silently pull you into his room and right into his arms, letting you sob into his chest. He’d carefully stroke your hair and press soft kisses onto your forehead, letting his lips linger on your skin. Mattheo who’d slowly pull you towards his bed, removing your shoes and tucking you both in. Mattheo would close the curtains to his bed to give you more privacy in case anyone else walked into the shared dorm. He’d not ask any questions for the time being as he didn’t want to further upset you with nosy questions. After you had calmed down a bit, he lifted your head from his chest to be able to look into your eyes before he carefully spoke. “What happened, love?”

Theodore …

… wasn’t in his room when you knocked on his door. If you hadn’t felt as threatened and anxious you would have never entered his room without him, but you did. Upon entering his room, you sighed out in relief and immediately closed his door. Walking up to his bed you took off your shoes and your tie before lying down on and pressing your nose into his pillow, taking in a deep breath. As his smell surrounded your senses you could feel your muscles relax. Your eye lids fell close as you slowly nodded off.

Theodore walked into his dark room with a sigh. He was worried because you hadn’t replied to any of his messages or calls. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the drawn curtains of his bed. When he noticed your shoes on the floor a small smile appeared on his face. Found you.

Opening the curtain slightly he slipped into bed with you, spooning you from behind. Pressing his nose into your hair he breathed in your smell – oh how he loved you.

The sudden movement seemed to have woken you up as you slowly turned in his arms, eyes puffy from all the crying. Just like a small child does when it sees its mother your eyes started tearing up when you looked into his beautiful eyes.

Wrapping your arms around him tightly you hid your face in his chest, crying softly.

Theodore, slightly confused, tightened his grip on you. “What’s wrong, cara mia? What happened?”

Lorenzo …

… would be instantly angry. Why were you crying? Who made you cry? He’d have so many questions swirling around in his head, but he wouldn’t dare ask – not until you hadn’t stopped crying. His current priority was you. He hugged you close to his body and whispered how much he loved you and that you were safe. He felt you relax after a while, your sobs just mere sniffs now. He carefully lifted your head with a finger under your chin and placed soft kisses onto your puffy eyelids, nose and finally your lips.

“What’s wrong, love. What happened?” He asked softly, his hand on your chin moving to cup your cheek. He listened to you closely as you told him that you had found threatening notes in your belongings the past few days and that they were getting worse. Threatening you to stay away from Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Don’t worry love, they can’t hurt you. I’m here – you’re safe with me.”

Lorenzo was seething – how dare they threaten you and try to destroy the relationship that he has carefully built. However, a small voice in his head told him, that this might be another chance – an opportunity to pull you closer into his web. You’d depend more and more on him now, that you were scared for your life. And he didn’t even have to move a single finger.

Draco …

… threatens to tell his father about it. He was shocked to hear that Cormac McLaggen has been bullying and spreading nasty rumors about you for rejecting him. Draco would make it his mission to ruin his life and he’d succeed. That he was sure of.

Your boyfriend would spend the next few days pampering you: going on dates, buying you flowers and things you might like – anything to cheer the love of his life up. What you would have to deal with, however, was that he got even more protective of you: he’d want to be around you all the time – which you didn’t mind as you felt safer around him.

Blaise …

… immediately picked you up and placed you on his bed. He’d help you change into comfier clothes, pressing occasional kisses onto your skin as he listened to your rant. You had failed your exam even though you had spent so much time in the library, studying for that damn thing. “It’s fine, love. We can study together next time, how’s that sound?” He offered as another sob escaped your trembling lips. He pressed a kiss onto your red nose – he couldn’t help but find you endearing, with your teary eyes, your red nose and your trembling cheeks – he just wanted to eat you up. You nodded at him with wide eyes as you threw your arms around him, crying into his crook of his neck. Blaise gently patted your back, a small smile on his lips.

Tom …

… would be mad. Mad that you were crying. And mad at whoever made you cry. He always felt awkward whenever you cried because he did not know what to do to console you. He knew however, that you liked physical contact, so he pulled you into his chest and wrapped his long arms around you tightly. He didn’t need to ask any questions – you were already so vulnerable and distract that he could freely see into your mind to find out who or what made you cry. You wouldn’t even notice. And after you had fallen asleep, he’d sneak out and take care of the matter himself.

992 notes · View notes

midnightwriter21 · 1 year

Text

demon slayer hcs: tanjiro as a boyfriend

characters: fem!reader x tanjiro

warnings: language, nsfw themes (no real smut)

AN: tanjiro is aged up!! we don’t date children in this house sry.

TANJIRO

um best bf ever

he’s an angel sent from heaven

cuddle bug fr

you are NOT getting out of bed before he’s ready

you gotta pee??

u gotta beg him to let u get up

like? uh my guy we’re finna be cuddling in a puddle if u don’t remove ur arm and let me SPRINT to the bathroom asap

mans just wants to hold you a little while longer

introduces you to inosuke and zenitsu ofc

wants you to get along with his friends SO bad

but

he knows they can be a lil overwhelming

so he will attempt

i said attempt

to make them behave themselves

they will not behave themselves

inosuke is tryna throw hands

zenitsu is alrdy asking for ur hand in marriage

and oh?

tanjiro baby is ur eye twitching?

and u got a vein popping outta ur forehead honey are u okay?

dude doesn’t get mad often

and he’s not mad at u

but zenitsu better back off rn

cause tanjiro

well he’s gonna make sure zenitsu gets it through his head that you are NOT marrying him

not violently!!

well he might stick inosuke on him

“inosuke! zenitsu said he’s stronger than you!”

que the one sided smackdown

anyways

he introduces you to nezuko wayyyyy later

she’s his baby sister who also happens to be a demon

which is pretty startling if u ask me

like “this is my baby sister nezuko!”

“she’s a demon with crazy blood fire powers! :)”

very important to him that y’all get along

which you do

cause how could u not

nezuko is the sweetest thing

god the kamado family could rot ur teeth

NICKNAMESSSSS:

there’s a million of them

my love, darling, sweetheart, honey, flower, bUNNY

ik that the bunny nickname is so over used but something abt it gets me GOINGGG

rarely calls u by ur real name unless something serious is happening

always a pet name

dude knows how to handle u and ur emotions

that sniffer he has

yeah

ur happy? sad? angry?

he smells it

personally i think that jealousy coming from u is his favorite scent

it’s got it’s own distinct smell but it’s mixed with a little bit of anger too

when he first smelled it he couldn’t figure out wtf u were feeling

but when he finally put it together

turned bright red

like “she cares about me THAT much”

“to where she gets angry?”

surprised that u get jealous over him for some reason

which is wierd asf cause if tanjiro was my bf? i’m never letting him outta my SIGHT

hands will be thrown w any bitch that tries to speak to him

anywayyyyyssss

into the NASTY DIRTY

remember he’s aged up!!

the softest service dom that has ever dommed

he’s the guy that gets pleasure from giving u pleasure

and when i mean giving u pleasure

i mean ur gonna be in tears by the end of it

it’s too much for you?

“oh honey i know you can take it”

“sweet girl you can give me one more i know you can”

one more is not one more

one more is as many as tanjiro wants.

overstimulation is the tanji’s fav

and back to that nose of his

LMFAO there is no hiding it when ur in the mood

mans can smell it from a mile away

but don’t worry he’s gonna take care of u ;)

aftercare omg

he’s so sweet

running u a BUBBLE BATH

lighting candles

massages

watch out cause those massages can get u back in the same situation that put u here in the first place

uh oh here comes the cuddle monster once again

ugh i want a tanjiro so bad

#tanjiro kamado #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #anime #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kny #kny headcanons #tanjiro headcanons #tanjiro x you #nezuko #zenitsu #inosuke

1K notes · View notes

padawansuggest · 2 months

Text

Breha: *giggling*

Bail: *annoyed*

Mace: You want… to give Kenobi back? Didn’t you fight tooth and nail to get him moved in with you two.

Breha: We did, we adore him, he’s such a sweetheart, please don’t take him back.

Bail: Take him back or I’m tanning his hide.

Breha: Careful, he might like that.

Mace: *head in hands* What could he have possibly done to offend you this much?

Breha: *laughing* It was at brunch- with my SISTER-

Bail: I don’t care about that part, I have never seen something so vulgar-

Breha: *breaking out into giggle snorts*

Bail: He put a tea bag right into a glass of champagne.

Breha: *snorting louder* I’ve never seen my sister and husband agree on something before, they both hated it. I adore Obi-Wan, you cannot have him back.

Bail: That was a thirty-thousand dollar bottle-

Breha: Why is it the only time you can stand to criticize him it’s something good related? What did he feed you that has made you so biased against his odd tastes?

Bail: *thousand yard stare* there are some things I cannot speak of.

Mace: …he used to feed me salt cookies when he was tiny.

Bail: 😳

Breha: 👀

Mace: Yeah. He always said he mixed the ingredients up, but I think he’s just… like that. I think he burnt off half his taste buds on Mandalore later, he’s always been a bit of a mess.

Breha: 😍 I adore him. We’re keeping him.

Bail: ugh. I need a refund. Or a therapist to break the trauma-bond.

Mace: Good luck with that. Didn’t work for me when he was a toddler, and that’s the easiest age to remove a trauma-bond. Have fun. *hangs up on them*

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #incorrect star wars quotes #post clone wars #clone wars #incorrect clone wars quotes #bail organa #breha organa #bail is done with his crimes to food #the answer to what traumatized bail so much was that Obi made him Ani’s comfort food #which should be classed as a war crime to normal people #bailobi #bailobibreha #they have taken custody over the idiot after the war

284 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

To a Tea 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character: Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don't @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

“He’s here,” Jenna’s warning brings you attention away from siphoning what’s left off the peppermint leaves into the fresh tin.

You glance over without any other directive. He always waits in that same spot. Even if the table’s empty, he doesn’t sit right away. You give you co-worker a look and smile as you put the lid on the tin and slide it out of the way.

You wash your hands thoroughly before you grab the cylinder of disinfecting wipes and sweep around the end of the counter. You step out onto the tea room floor as his eyes find you, expecting you. You’ve adjusted to his ritual, almost compelled to it.

“Hello, Raymond,” you great as you approach the empty table for two where he sits with his back to the wall and his eyes towards the door.

“Miss,” he greets in his way.

He’s a bit uptight. Others might say worse but once you learn his quirks, he’s very human. Even if everything else about him is mysterious.

Sometimes you build stories about him in his head. His glasses, his neatly styled hair, and his combed beard suggest a man with an eye for his appearance. His suits might be better fit to library or a professor’s podium. Not sleek enough for a board room. Then you think he might be a writer of sorts but you’ve never seen him with a laptop or pen and most of the local authors don’t show up without one or the other.

You take out a wipe and take your time in getting every inch of the table. You back up as he removes his jacket and you back out of his way. He sidles around the and sits, shoulders set as he grips the table and straightens it.

Whoever he is, he’s very precise.

“Usual?” You ask with a smile.

He looks at you and reaches to pinch the arm of his glasses. The first time he came in, you remember you could’ve melted at his gaze. So stony and unyielding, you wondered why he was even there. Now, there is an ease to it. He prefers the familiar and you have become that.

“Yes, usual,” he agrees.

You nod and swiftly turn on your heel. You go back behind the counter as Jenna snoops from behind the cookie display. You shake your head at her as you wash your hands a second time. He will certainly note that as well.

You go to steep his cup of English Breakfast as the other woman nears and watches the steaming water at your side.

“Don’t know how you do it. He should just have tea at home.”

“Can’t complain for business,” you shrug.

“Why bother? All that fuss for a cuppa.”

“Maybe he likes the ambience?” You suggest.

“He said the lights give him headaches.”

“Oh?”

“Well, he pays his bill. That’s all I ask for,” you add a teaspoon of milk, measuring it out exactly and you move the tab of the bag to hang to the left of the handle.

“Mm, and he sures asks a lot of you, don’t he?” She crosses her arms.

“Jenna,” you look towards the till where a customer waits.

“Ugh, you’re such a bore,” she chides.

You go back into the tea room and cross to Raymond’s table. You set the cup and saucer before him.

“Enjoy,” you insist.

“Cheers,” he hooks his finger into the handle and turns the cup to an exact angle.

You lean back on your heel and he raises his palm, “do you... have any suggestions?”

“For?” You wonder.

“I thought to try something with my tea today. What do you recommend?”

“Well, were we thinking something savoury or sweet?” You reply breezily, “our cheese scones are delicious, and there is the chives and onion bake. I sneak one every Friday. Erm, there are the white chocolate shortbread on special and I think we’ve sold out of the cherry tarts. Oh, if you’d like a combination, there is the cranberry cheddar scone. I don’t mind it but I hate the crumbles.”

He considers you thoughtfully and crosses his arms. He mills the decision with his lips clamped. His blues eyes narrow behind his lenses.

“Do you have plain shortbread?”

“Of course,” you chime, “two for a pound.”

“Two will do,” he agrees.

You hold your smile and once more set off on your mission. He might be stringent, a bit repressed, but you’ve dealt with worse customers. More demanding, sometimes outrightt rude.

You dip behind the counter and grab a plate. You use the tongs to take two of the shortbread biscuit and place them on a clean plate. You take a napkin with you and once more emerge from behind the displays.

You approach Raymond as he sips his tea. You put the plate and serviette before him. He thanks you and adjusts his tie, letting his hand drift down his vest.

“Is that it, sir? Tea alright?”

“That’s it,” he affirms.

“Great, you know where I’ll be,” you chirp and spin.

You stop before you can bring your foot down as he calls your name. He’s only ever said it once. The first time you met. It’s always ‘miss’.

You turn to face him, “yes?”

“Your apron strings are uneven...” he says. “Just figured... I’d warn you.”

You nearly laugh. What an odd thing to worry about. You reach back behind your waist and feels the lengths. Sure enough, you’ve tied them entirely off kilter. You suppose you don’t pay too much attention to that.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

He nods and examines one of the cookies. Then his eyes flick up and keep you from another retreat, “I could fix it.”

“Oh, er, that’s fine,” you wave him off, “not a big deal.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” He wonders.

“Not really,” you shrug, “does it bother you?”

His brows raise slightly and he taps the cookie, shaking off the crumbs as much as he can. He leans forward and nibbles over the plate, making certain not to litter over the edge. He puts the biscuit down and wipes his fingers on the napkin.

“It does,” he says.

You won’t laugh at him. It would truly be at his expense, it’s just a very unexpected offer. You put your arms straight, “if you want.”

You near and turn your back to him. You sense him leaning forward as you stand stalk straight and watch the tea room. The smell of cinnamon and cloves fills the warm space, the shades giving an orangish hue to the din. There are low tables near the center with pillow seats, and the high tables along the walls. You know all the creaks and cracks better than your own home.

You feel him tug the knot loose and his fingers work agilely to tie a new knot. He lets it hang but just as quickly looses it again. You try not to move as he does it several times before he relents.

“There, ears and tails match,” he declares.

You step away and turn to send him a smile, “thanks.”

He doesn’t say anything, only raises his cup and doffs it in a kind gesture before he sips. You twist away again. You should help Jenna before the rush begins. That’s the only thing about Raymond, he does take up a lot of time.

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #dark!raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #the gentlemen #drabble #sweet and spicy #au #series #to a tea

175 notes · View notes

coffeedepressionsoup · 5 days

Text

Somebody Does Love | MYG - She Thinks She Falls First

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage.

This is the one where she explores her very mild crush on him. Part 5 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 4k+

Warnings - lil swearing, drinking, Yoongi’s fluffy hair, Yoongi’s hands

Ratings - 13+

Taglist: @majiiisstuff @starlighttaek8 @yoongrace @proudnoona @7ndipity

A/N - I start working a 10-hour shift in less than two hours and I have not slept a wink. This has been sitting in drafts for way too long and I have no idea why I was resolute to finish it today. It might seem a bit all over the place, but hey, welcome to my head, I live like this.

The word count is definitely not my way of overcompensating for the prolonged absence. Partially proofread. The chapter naming has been lame. I know. But it is what it is. Also here is the closest thing I found on the internet to the Woolfie + Ash dynamic I am imagining. And the Yoongi in my mind as I was writing this, in case you are wondering.

I am using my last two brain cells to upload this. Please like, comment, and reblog to share your thoughts and feedback. DM me if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list. This delirious fever dream is now yours to deal with. Enjoy!

“I mean it’s the cutest smirk ever and I know “smirks a lot” does not paint an endearing picture, but like- what he has mostly is not a smile, but you know he is having a good time. Like he’s too lazy to have a full grin and the best he can do is pull up his lips slightly and-”

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

“I still don’t understand what you mean by a memorable smirk. Why are you bothered at all by someone’s smirk?”

“This is borderline creepy now. Why-”

“Are you not listening? He’s just cute and I cannot forget about his smile.”

“Well, isn’t he too lazy to-”

“UGH!! You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, you have it bad.”

“I don’t have anything. And it’s not bad…”

“But?”

“He’s cute. Funny. Attentive. And nice hands.”

“Really?” In their almost half an hour conversation, it’s the first genuine curiosity Samairah has shown about your supposed crush.

You now had a triumphant smirk yourself and nodded, “Yes, very nice hands.”

“You do realise that you can yourself ask him out?” Samairah quirked her brows, her tone reminding you of a disappointed tutor.

“I know! But bro! He’s really good friends with Sammy and they work closely and it can get so messy.”

It has been 10 days since you walked in on Sammy and Yoongi in the middle of a songwriting session at almost midnight. 10 days since you knew for sure that Yoongi’s hair felt softer than it already looked. 10 days since your first -

“Sure it can. But it can go well too especially since he seems interested as well,” Samairah said after gulping down the rest of her banana oat smoothie.

You could not help but bark out a disbelieving laughter, “Yeah right..”

“What?”

“He seems interested, you said.”

“Yeah and?”

“That doesn’t seem likely.”

“Why?”

Because he is an international icon and probably the hottest rapper-producer on planet Earth and you were whoever you are. But you did not want to tell her that. In fact, all Samairah knew about your “crush” was that you met him at a house party and he is close with one of your best friends. Not that you wanted to lie or actively hide anything from her. She had not asked for a name when you had not given one. And she did not mind that. She knew you would have your reasons and will tell her if and when you want to. Your friendship was comfortable like that.

All you said out loud was, “Because he does not seem interested. You are just saying shit because you want me to ask him out.”

“And that would be a bad motivator why exactly?” Before you could fully roll your eyes at the rhetorical question, she started listing out in a matter-of-fact tone, overstating her points by holding up a finger with each of them, “You are clearly infatuated with him. Also, to be quite honest everything you told me up until now screams like the first few chapters of an idiot-to-lovers trope story.”

“Fucking hell! Hold your horses Mari. What lovers? We haven’t even gone on a single date yet.”

“He made japchae the exact way you like it, the very next day that you talked about it, which was apparently also the day you first met!” Samairah’s exasperated tone shut you up. It did strike you as odd when that happened. But you remember feeling more endeared and way too many butterflies in your gut at his presence to register and/or question the legitimacy of his “made too much” excuse at the time.

“And he’s dropping by willy-nilly wherever you are at.”

No, I mean, he had very valid reasons all of those times. Right?

Right.

Even at the vet’s appointment for Ash earlier that week.

He could not possibly have waited a couple more days till you were all supposed to meet at Aera’s place to return the portable charger he borrowed. You might need it on your daily commute and if anything, nobody should be trapped in Seoul traffic with a dead phone. What would you stare at? The people in the car window next to you? The ones hanging off the same supporting rail as you on the train? No, Yoongi had been considerate.

Sammy had turned up at Genius Lab aka Yoongi’s studio and they played around with the chorus of the song they were working on one afternoon. Once they were satisfied with a structure, Sammy politely turned down Namjoon’s offer for a drink (which caught Yoongi’s attention because when has any of his friends ever declined a drink) on his way out, saying he had to drive Y/N and Ash to the vet since you don’t feel comfortable driving on Seoul roads yet, despite carrying a valid International Driver's Permit.

The mention of your name drove Yoongi quieter and turned his ears and cheeks red at an alarming speed. Did the boys notice? Yes. Did Yoongi catch them exchanging a knowing smirk following that? No. Did he ask for details of the vet clinic and the time of appointment? Yes. Did he say out loud that he is free to drive Y/N, in fact, he would gladly volunteer? No. Did Sammy update an innocuous group chat with Yoongi’s ‘being in the neighbourhood and deciding impulsively to give the power bank back’ appearance later that evening? Yes. Did anyone buy that excuse? No.

Not even you. Not when he sputtered it out initially. Not when he took off his mask momentarily in an almost empty reception to shower Ash with a bunch of kisses. Not even when a pang of unspecified recognition hit you. You did not believe him.

Just Sunday night, that is tonight, Aera had invited all her close friends for a housewarming party. You first met her a couple of years ago through Dojoon. She was a doctor. And Dojoon’s friend. With some benefits. There are times when their friends swear they are dating. Then there are times when they know not to speak of each other in front of them. The fact that Aera’s new apartment is directly across from the hall from Dojoon’s is officially supposed to be coincidental. She apparently realised after she finalised with the agent that she was standing in a familiar hallway. And yeah, every one of you decided to believe it, of course.

So yeah, the charger return could have waited but you decided to believe it was because Yoongi did promise to return it ASAP and that particular Wednesday evening was it. He was a man of his word. He had flown away for a short work trip to Osaka for two days. His phone was almost out of charge. He had to drive directly to the airport. In fact, Soojin was waiting for him, with all his essentials on standby. You, however, figured he would not have time to get his charger. So you voluntarily offered your portable one to him.

He could just use the direct charger in his car. But you did not think of it at the moment. And Yoongi did not remind you of it. He took the one you offered. Used it on his way to the airport, through his stay in Osaka and charged it back up once he returned, carrying it around in his jacket with his wallet and keys.

Now, as to why would you be with him when his phone was almost dying and he was about to fly out of the country? It’s because Yoongi was at Sammy’s place, trying to write a song. Pleasantly buzzed on beer and completely engrossed in the task. And you were, as of the last discussion on the matter, Sammy’s housemate. Yes, plans changed since you first arrived in the city, and you would say for the better. Living with Sammy was not as chaotic as you anticipated and once you saw Ash and Woolfie bonding, you did not have the heart to separate them or yourself away from the duo. And the “people always coming over to Sammy’s and not having the bandwidth to deal with it” was not a particular problem at the moment.

You had grown quite fond of the most frequent visitor.

The first night you walked in to unexpectedly find Yoongi at Sammy’s place, you remember the knots building up in your stomach. You had not yet acknowledged your evident crush on him. You would think the older people got, the easier it was to deal with all this. Bullshit.

It did not help that soon after Sammy left to walk Woolfie. You tried to keep your tone and conversation as neutral as possible. And you would like to believe you succeeded. Once you managed to convince him to stay for dinner (to be honest, all you had to do was ask once), you excused yourself to go wash up. You squealed into your damp towel as you found yourself carefully styling your hair to appear as carelessly proper as possible.

Your squeal had not reached Yoongi several rooms away but it had managed to wake your fur baby up from her nap. She yawned, stretched, itched the back of her ears with her paws and marched out of your room alongside you to greet the man. The greeting she extended was calculated for the first couple of minutes, as she went around sniffing and staring at him from different angles around his feet. Soon she decided to lick her stamp of approval on his nose once she allowed him to pick her up. Since then she remained on his lap, by his feet or on his shoulder, till the time he left.

The conversation, guided by Ash’s heartwarming existence, revolved comfortably around pets. He asked about your childhood pets and told you about his. He also proudly spoke about the different personalities of Tony and Scar, his two rescue cats. Once you asked to see pictures, you were allowed to surf through two whole albums with hundreds of photos of the cats as well as Holly, the famed cockapoodle.

You caught yourself staring at him a few times that night, making you the second person to do so. You stared at his bright, warm eyes that had a certain glimmer that you could not define. Sometimes you stared at the way he threw back his head in laughter and the bobble of his Adam’s apple. Oh, his laughter! The sound of it! The look of it! You noticed it more than you did the previous night. The lines it created around his mouth and his eyes, you wanted to trace them lightly with your fingers and later intertwine them with his slender ones. Not just his fingers though, you noticed the way his forearm would subtly flex every time he pushed his hair back in the middle of conversation. And his fucking hair.

It is the softest head of hair you have ever seen, you could swear. You thought it was difficult not to actually reach out and feel it on the first night he came over. That was until the second time. You were sitting much closer together at that time. You were much more drunk than the two beers you had with dinner the last time. You also had much more daydreaming under your belt about the man sitting beside you. If you had not chickened out at the last minute, you wondered if you could thread your fingers in his hair to hold him closer in a kiss. You wondered the same at different times on different days till 10 days back.

You were pretty drunk from the departmental dinner with your colleagues. Samairah had been on driving duty that evening and pretty sober. She offered to walk you to the elevators of the building when she came to drop you off but you promised you could manage by yourself. And you did. But the walls along the way were integral to your vertical stability.

In half a mind to ring the bell instead of punching the code in, you leaned against the doorframe for a few moments. Composing yourself a bit, you let yourself in, steady enough to walk straight, away from walls.

As you walked towards the hall area, you heard guitar strumming and distinct humming voices. Voice-s. Multiple. Two, to be precise. And you need not be alarmed. The second voice could be anybody. Except it wasn’t. You recognised Yoongi’s deep, now slightly raspy voice over Sammy’s. Before you turned from the narrow entryway to the room, you could feel your heartbeat rise and your hands started feeling clammy.

The boys did not notice you come in.

As Sammy lightly hummed a melody and typed into the laptop in front of him, Yoongi kept playing a distinct hook on what you recognised as one of Sammy’s guitars.

“Do you see what I mean-” Yoongi asked and paused before changing to a different set of chords, this one more mellow than before. With the change, you noticed his tongue slightly poke out the side of his mouth, set in deep concentration.

Sammy took a sip out of an opened can of beer lying on the floor between them. Who knows which is whose anymore? He nodded looking down at his phone, and started singing some words out with the tune he was humming before.

Yoongi let out a non-verbal sound you could best define as a soft groan of approval as you saw him changing the chords to match the tune Sammy was singing.

You probably would have stood there till either of the two turned to see you. But your phone pinged with a notification alert and although it wasn’t too loud, it stood out enough for both Yoongi and Sammy to pivot from their places on the ground near the sofa.

Feeling conscious of the newly gained attention of the whole room, you tried to laugh off the cocktail of nervous surprise and drunken flush. “Hi,” you waved a little.

Sammy patted the spot next to him, sipping on one of the open beers again, “Come listen to this,” and started humming again.

You walked over as steadily and casually as possible and when you sat down, you could hear a soft “hi” escape Yoongi’s slightly parted lips. You smiled at him and could see a smile threatening to break out on his face as well, which appeared when you said, “You’re red,” and immediately bit your lips because ‘Wow were you drunk.’

Yoongi tried his best to explain that it was just the alcohol and that it was uncharacteristically hot tonight. You nodded and decided to honour his failing defence once your eyes met. But you also felt like you could see through him at the time. You could seemingly read a similar pining and nervousness within him that you felt. But you tried convincing yourself that half of it was spirit-induced delusions.

“Is this a new song?” you leant over to see the laptop screen which Sammy turned slightly for your ease and nodded.

“Genius here wrote this under 10 minutes,” he gestured towards the accused.

Yoongi felt “redder” but it physically was not possible. His sense of embarrassment, however, was graver than before. “Fuck no, I just came up with some beats. Sammy filled these in,” he protested and leaned over to trace over the mixer timeline on the laptop.

To do that though, he had to lean over you. Partly. And when he did, there was a pregnant pause in the room.

Yoongi stilled the moment he could feel your breath fanning his ear. You froze when you caught a whiff of his… shampoo? Cologne? Aftershave? All of it? You were not a perfumer by any means, but if your olfactory senses served you right, you are pretty sure that is the best smell any human being has ever exuded. Contrarians could argue with the wall.

Sammy was not unmoving but he chose to remain quiet with a wide grin on his face.

Yoongi withdrew after a millenium-long two-second pause and cleared his throat.

You followed suit and said, “It sounds good regardless. Fresh,” to neither of the boys in particular. All your drunken slur had vanished in a whiff of what you decided your favourite smell was going to be henceforth.

Later in the night, once you freshened up and made coffee for everyone, and the guitar and laptop were put away, you all ended up talking about life, love and well, love life.

Sammy believed in the possibility of love at first sight, as did Yoongi. “Yeah, I think it is quite romantic. I don’t think it happens to many people or as often as people claim. But I believe it is a reality for some people.”

After taking in the silent nods across the room, he tipped his slightly towards you, and asked, “What about you?”

“Oh I don’t believe it exists,” you said after a small sip of your flat white.

“Love at first sight?”

“Yeah”

“Doesn’t exist?”

“I cannot imagine it does, no,” you chuckled out this time at Yoongi’s apparent disbelief.

Yoongi nodded slowly, with a smile of his own accompanied by a slight scowl.

Sammy, having chugged his hazelnut cold coffee, was now lying on the couch, half asleep. He nudged Yoongi’s back lightly with his knee, and said, “Ask her why.”

“Go the fuck off to slee-”

“Why?”

You cursed out and Yoongi asked sincerely at the same moment. Your eyes met.

You swore you could get lost in them, stare at them forever. Memorise every line and freckle.

“I don’t think it’s practical.”

“Love is wild, subjective. It does not need to be practical or rational.”

“There’s a semblance of cause for the effect that we experience as love. They are adorable,” you pointed to Wooflie and Ash locked in a defensive face-off mid-zoomies on the other side of the room. You then moved to point at the guitar and the laptop, “This brings you joy.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows pulled together in a scowl. You had concluded by now that was indicative of his increased attention level. You continued, “We know they are likely to leave us behind one day and you know making music and putting it out there is tough, challenging but you love these anyway. I think we choose to love something or someone despite a lot of shortcomings or adversities. Not because they behave in a manner or look a certain way. And I believe you need more than a sight for that to happen.”

You drew in a deep breath and looked away. You had held his gaze for too long than is comfortable for him, you thought. And then you rambled on about love. It sounded so annoying and pretentious when you thought back. You were certain that you had sabotaged any budding chance for romance you had by dissing on something as romantic as love at first sight.

All that was conjecture, of course, but you would not find out about that until much later.

Yoongi’s scowl remained as it was when he said, “That is so romantic.”

Before you could reply, Sammy quipped in. “That she is.”

It made Yoongi smile and you huff lightly in mock disbelief. The conversation was then interrupted by you being tackled down by Woolfie. Unbeknownst to you, the zoomies area of dispatch had shifted to where you were sitting.

You laughed as you pet the husky back when he licked your face and play-growled at Ash to join in. The cat, however, refused to get on the floor as if it was lava. She marched promptly from one of the armrests on the sofa, to a cushion near Sammy’s head. She then gently kneaded into the cushion, occasionally sniffing and biting into it.

One moment of bliss but soon chaos erupted.

The cushion burst open in the room, spilling the contents within the room and onto Sammy and Yoongi, who were closer to the scene of the crime.

Either spooked by the loud noise or to escape admonishment, the kitten responsible for the mishap had darted back to the other end of the room. Woolfy followed suit.

You looked at Sammy, who had miraculously fallen asleep in the few seconds since his cocky quip, evident from the soft snores, and then locked eyes with Yoongi once more.

By his episodic blinking and alert posture, you could tell he was startled. Once he met your eyes though, both of you fell into a giggle as you took in the situation and saw the cotton all over, especially on him.

He managed to dust off most of it, collecting it all and intentionally dropping and arranging it over Sammy’s unfazed body. You laughed louder seeing the juvenile prank unfold, but quickly covered your face to muffle it lest you wake your friend up.

Once you managed to gather your composure, you saw a cotton ‘snowman’ over Sammy’s torso and the likeness of a Santa beard over his face. As all true friends should, the two of you were quick to pull out your phone and click a respectable couple of images before turning to look at each other again.

With every time your eyes met, you felt like you could understand more of what they said. This time around, it was something like, “I am glad I have this moment with you.” You fiercely agreed with the thought, internally, of course. It was not all conjecture. But you did not know yet.

You looked around and realised the mess once again. Sooner or later you had to clean it up. The easiest place to begin was the cups. You picked up two and on cue, Yoongi grabbed the third as you filed towards the kitchen.

He caught up to you in two strides and at the sink, grabbed for the washpad first. At your silent protests of a frown and attempt to grab the item back, “Please, I got this.”

It was soft. Short. Sure. Sweet?!

You were about to sigh and step back when your eyes went to his hair. Well, you didn’t mean to ogle at him up close but a couple of balls of lint caught in his dark locks disrupted your plans.

Almost instinctively, you reached out and murmured, “Oh, you have-”

Words got stuck in your throat. You could almost feel the air being kicked out of your system when you felt his soft hair under your fingers. You did not move your hands for a beat. And two.

And on the third, as you pulled the lint out, you could not help, but lightly comb through the side of his head.

Once, for good measure. Twice, for good luck. Cannot have lints clumped wildly on THE Min Yoongi’s hair now of course.

At the second glide of your nails against his head, Yoongi choked in a bubbling moan but shut his eyes to feel it better, to relieve the tingle and just take it all in.

However, the tingle also caused his arms to jerk in a manner that knocked off the cup he was meant to be washing off his hands.

As both of you scrambled to prevent another household item from being destroyed that night, you were caught in another unblinking stare-off with Yoongi. You managed to grab the cup from hitting the floor and Yoongi ended up ‘cupping’ your hands.

The touch. Electrifying. Not just figuratively. You could sense this all over. And it was just his palms over the back of your hands.

Despite them being wet, his hands were quite warm. Immediately then you decided what your favourite hand warmer was.

Your heart rate picked up at an alarming rate though once you felt one of his thumbs rub a small spot over your hands.

Your gaze, still unmoving. Your breaths, unsteady.

You possibly would have stayed in that staredown, had Yoongi’s phone not vibrated in his pocket, with a call from Soojin, asking him to leave on time for the airport, since earlier today the global rap sensation requested his manager to allow him to drive to the airport himself. Change of pace, more time alone with his thoughts, he thought.

Scurrying out for the airport while touching (almost holding) your hands was not on his bingo card. But there he was.

#bts x reader #bts x y/n #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts #min yoongi #bts suga #suga #yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x you #suga bts #min yoongi fic

113 notes · View notes

laenordeservedbetter · 1 year

Note

heyy so hear me out obsessed ghostface Sam...

But I Love You!

Words: 2.1k

Pairing: Ghostface!Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Sam would do everything in her power to make sure that you remain hers no matter who she has to stab in the way.

Warnings: (18+), killing, violence, manipulation, cussing, suggestive themes, unhinged Sam(?), confusing ending, not proofread (i had a long day and i'm tired). lmk if I missed any.

The italics in the first few scenes with reader & sam are Sam's inner dialogue/thoughts. This doesn't follow the scream timeline. Here, Sam never left Woodsboro, Tara's still in school, and Sam became Ghostface.

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

—

It started with an attraction or in simpler terms, a crush - the foundation of all things relationship related.

You turned up to her workplace by chance, caught up in the middle of the storm. It was common sense to stop driving and find a secure place to stay for the meantime. The diner Sam worked at was the closest. That’s how you found yourself acting as the cloud that would pour water on a certain place. Your day had been terrible. You were late to work, customers were more irate today than the previous days, and you forgot to bring your umbrella before leaving. Clothes soaking wet and droplets of water pouring on the floor, Sam was bound to notice you.

At first, her blood boiled. After all, she’d have to be the one to clean up this mess. But when she took a glance at you, her heart skipped a beat. The makeup on your face was smudged, your hair a tangled mess, but damn, “You look beautiful.” Sam whispered.

Your head snapped up, noticing someone else’s presence in the room for the first time. “What?”

“I said, ‘how can I help you?’” Sam silently cursed herself for slipping up.

You don’t notice the lie. “I’m looking for a place to stay for an hour or so. Just until the rain calms down. And maybe food?” The woman has an unreadable expression on her face. “Don’t worry, I have money, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The woman smiles kindly, “Oh, I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Oh? What were you thinking, then?”

“That you might need a change of clothes.” Sam gestures to your outfit.

“You’re probably right.” You say, “Sadly, I don’t have anything else to change into.”

Sam bites her lip, weighing out her options. “We have a spare uniform in the back.” She relents.

“That’s kind of you, but wouldn’t your boss be mad?”

Ugh. Roger.

“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him. The only thing you should focus on right now is making sure you don’t get sick.” Sam walks to the room that says ‘staff only’ and comes back less than a minute later to hand you the clothes. “Here. You can change to the bathroom over there.” She points to the lavatory.

“Thank you so much. You’re an angel.” You say, taking your time to go to the bathroom to avoid slipping.

Once Sam hears the door close, she looks to your car parked outside. She can’t let you leave. Not yet.

She grabs her umbrella hidden under the counter and makes her way outside, making sure the bathroom door is still closed before popping the hood of the car open, removing the rotor piece. “Nice and easy.” Sam mumbles, pocketing the piece. She rushes back in the diner, hoping to be there before you can question her whereabouts.

You exit the lavatory wearing the uniform given to you by the kind stranger.

It fits her perfectly. “All good?” Sam asks, handing you a towel.

“Yes, yes. I can’t thank you enough. Not many people would go out of their way to help a stranger.” You shiver, putting the towel around you like a cloak.

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

“Please. Call me Y/n.”

“You have a pretty name.” She says.

“Not as pretty as yours. . . Samantha.” You squint your eyes to read the name on the tag of her blouse.

Sam’s brows furrow, “How did you know my name?”

“It’s on your tag.” You point out.

Sam laughs, like, really laughs. The laugh-at-your-crush’s-jokes-even-if-you-don’t-find-it-funny kind of laugh. What is happening? “Fuck. Sorry. I’m not used to pretty girls complimenting me.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” You take a seat at one of the stools near the counter, smirking, “You must have dozens of women and/or men lining up at your door. With that face and kind heart, anyone could swoon.”

“Nope. Trust me. There’s no one.”

“More chances for me.” You do a fist bump in the air, not caring how stupid you looked. “Yes!”

You see Sam’s eyes widen as she tries to look away.

She’ll be the death of me.

As predicted, your car wouldn’t start. Sam gladly offered you a ride to your apartment, where she then asked for your number. You had no hesitation and gave it, thinking her intentions were pure. And they were.

Mostly.

That was eleven months ago.

You and Sam are together now and the crush bloomed into something more.

She was the perfect girlfriend. Good-hearted, gentle, caring. You thought you had hit the jackpot until the cracks in your relationship began to show themselves.

At first, it was the little things you noticed whenever you were together in public. Sam always had an arm around you. It didn’t matter if it was your waist or your shoulders or locking your arms together. She wanted to make sure the world knew that you were hers, which was fine. She wasn’t ashamed of you. Though, whenever someone looks at you too long or if they flirt with you despite Sam being there, her grip on your body tightens a little, but not too much to the point where it hurts.

The more time you spent with Sam, the more your friends started to get worried. It’s not healthy, they said. She’s keeping you from seeing us!, they argued. As soon as you shared their worries to Sam, she took effort in dispelling your doubts, telling you that your friends were envious of what you have and that it was normal to spend more time with your girlfriend than your friends, added by reassurance that there was nothing to worry about.

You chalked it off as Sam trying to look out for you.

After all, she is your girlfriend.

Then, there was that moment at a party.

It was a gathering for work. A room full of rich snobs and picture perfect careers. You couldn’t stand it, but your attendance was required. The only upside was that the company allowed you to bring a plus one. Naturally, you asked Sam and she said yes.

Even though you were elated that she agreed to go with you, you didn’t consider the possibility of not being able to talk to her much throughout the night because of strangers chatting you up. Some of them had the intention of asking you out. Though, upon seeing Sam’s deathly stare, they backed off. All but one.

The guy, Michael (tall, brunette, green eyes), would not stop leering at you with a mischievous grin. You felt sick to your stomach, uncomfortable by the way he looked at you, but not being able to do anything about it since he wasn’t actively trying to pursue you. Still, it disgusted you.

Sam’s hold on your waist remains, her jaw clenching, a clear sign that she was getting antsy. “Can we leave?”

You nod, “Yes. They’ve all seen me already, I think. We can finally go.” Despite the looks given to you by Michael, you tried your best to not let it dampen your mood, smiling at your girlfriend.

“Good. Come on.” Sam says, leading you to her car without so much as a smile.

“Hey, Sam, are you okay?” You make her look at you, holding her face in your hand.

Her gaze softens, “Yes, I am. Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”

“Other than the way his eyes made me feel, I’m fine. I’ll probably forget about it when we watch a movie when we arrive back home.” You assure.

“Who says we’re watching a movie?” Sam’s lips quirk upwards, hands wrapping around your waist as she pulls you to her while your arms move to her shoulders.

“Well, what do you have in mind, Miss Carpenter?”

She gives you a peck on the lips. “It’s better if I show you.”

You ran inside the car in a hurry to get back to your apartment and let Sam do the things she wants to you, the awful looks by Michael replaced by the desire pooling in you when your lover teasingly runs a hand between your thighs.

Again, it was fine. Everything was as it should be. Perfect.

But what came after? Not so much.

After you fell asleep, Sam carefully shuffled out of bed. She grabbed her dark cloak and Ghostface mask from the closet, running her fingers over the outlines of the eyes, sighing in relief. It felt good to pick up the mask again. Lately, she hasn’t been going out in the streets as much, having you to thank for that. As luck would have it, you gave her a mission (although inadvertently) at the same time the urge to kill became intolerable.

The job was easily done. Sam found Michael still at the party, waiting for the right moment. Michael went out the house, going for the alley since the bathroom was occupied. That’s when Sam made her move. Michael did not fight back, the alcohol in his veins dampening his ability to form coherent thoughts (assuming that he is better sober than he is drunk). Behind her mask, Sam was bursting with glee. Oh, how she missed it. There was nothing to compare to the feeling of excitement as you witness someone bleed out before you and the satisfaction that comes with it -- well, maybe nothing except you, her girl.

Sam opens the door to her room, anticipating your body still on the bed, sound asleep, but to her shock, you’re situated on the couch, both eyes on the bloodied mask in her hands.

“Sam, why is there blood on that?” Deep down, you knew the answer. You want to hear the confirmation first before you do anything that could potentially put your life in danger.

“I-it’s paint, baby. Tara’s got an art project for school. I-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I’m not five. I know blood when I see it! That is blood!” You point out, frustrated. “And what kind of excuse is an art project?! My neighbor’s cat could make a better excuse.”

“Baby,” Sam’s tone is dangerously low as she stalks closer towards you. “I did it for for you -- for us. The way he was looking at you… I didn’t like it one bit, so I removed his eyes.”

You get up from your seat, going to the farthest corner in the room away from Sam. She does a gesture to signal that she’ll go towards you and you put a hand up in warning. “Stay the fuck away from me! You’re mad!”

“Oh, please. Don’t we all go a little mad sometimes?” She retorted, ignoring your protests.

You flinch from her touch when she touches the side of your face with crimson colored hands. “You’re sick, Sam. I’m calling the cops.”

“But I love you!” Sam yells, her voice breaking at the end. “Can’t you see? I did it for you.”

“You keep saying that, but do you really mean it? ‘Cause if you did this for me, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” You spat, punching her abdomen, followed by a kick to the stomach.

Sam doubles over, giving you an opportunity to run, to call the cops, to do something. “Honey, please. Let’s talk about this! I’m sorry, okay? You know how much I love you. Please stop this. You’re hurting me.”

“I am?” You question in dubiety. Sam is clutching her stomach, tears pouring like a water fountain. That’s the moment it hits you. “I am.” Letting your guard down, you run to Sam, clinging to her like a lifeline, your last chance. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

She shushes you, “Hey, it’s okay, I know.” You close your eyes shut as she presses a kiss to your temple. “I love you so much.”

You let her pull you in an embrace, holding your body tightly. How you love her so. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, saying those three words back. She did what was best for the both of you. Nothing can harm you ever again so long as you stay by her side.

“My perfect girl.” Sam whispers. “Do you trust me?”

There was no getting out of this. You’re in it for the long run now. “Trust is a tough thing to come by these days.” You sport a grin against her neck that vanishes quickly, for you don’t want Sam to recognize it. She thinks she has you wrapped around her finger, but she doesn’t know the truth of it. It may be like a game for her, but not for you.

It’s not game over.

Not yet.

#samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream #scream franchise

691 notes · View notes

sugoi-and-spice · 29 days

Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Honeymoon

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

The elevator in Shigaraki’s building was a fast one. Fast, but even. She could probably time down to the millisecond the pace that those floor numbers changed, they were so metronomic. The best that money could buy she was sure. Like clockwork, each floor number passed, ticking in her head more like a countdown.

She was nervous about going to Shigaraki’s house today, if that wasn’t obvious. And truth be told, there were a lot of very legitimate reasons for her to be nervous about it. The fact that this was the first time she’d been at his place since their most recent night together. The fact that the company Christmas Party was just a few hours away and she really didn’t have enough time to be coming over here in the first place. The fact that going to his house always felt a bit like entering the lion’s den — she never knew just what was going to happen when she was there.

Yes, these were all great reasons to be nervous, but to be honest, she wasn’t considering any of them. Her real reason was downright stupid in comparison. She was nervous because she was bringing Tomura Shigaraki a Christmas present.

And a stupid Christmas present at that.

It was a jacket. A stupid fucking jacket that she’d thought would be so great for him at the time. She assumed that he didn’t really own any nice jackets since all she’d ever seen him wear were hoodies. And she’d been so unable to get the image of him in red out of her head, that when she saw this stupidly expensive (but fantastic quality) red peacoat with the faux-fur collar at the department store, she knew she had to jump on it.

But then two days shy of Christmas, he gave her a tour of Todai and just what had he been wearing? A fucking trench coat. Not the exact same thing, but pretty close enough.

She’d facetimed Spinner the second she got home in a panic over it.

“I think you’re in the clear. I’ve never seen anything like that in his closet.” he assured her.

“Ugh maybe there’s a reason for that though,” she agonized, “Like, maybe it’s not really his style after all…”

He shrugged, “I think it looks nice.”

“Really?” she pressed.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll like it.”

But she wasn’t going to take such blanket assurance lying down.

“I need you to be honest with me here, Spinner. If I’m making an idiot out of myself, I’d rather know now then on Christmas.”

Spinner sighed, looking through the camera at the jacket with more genuine scrutiny. She really wasn’t going to give up on this after all…

“I don’t know, I think it looks fine. Maybe the fluffy part might be a bit much though?” Spinner finally relented.

“It’s removable!” she announced proudly, unclipping the first part to demonstrate this asset.

Spinner chuckled, “Well then you’re fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t think red’s too gaudy for him?”

“He wears red shoes.”

“What about the material though? I know the really good peacoats are full wool, but I could only afford the blend. It’s still a good blend though, so it should be okay, right?”

Spinner didn’t say anything, immediately adding fuel to the flames of her worries. She turned the screen back to her so she could see that hesitant expression of his head on.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just,” he sighed and then offered her a sympathetic smile, “I think you’re thinking too much into this.”

“What? No way! This is the first thing I’ve ever gotten him,” she insisted, “It needs to be great!”

“Look, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up or anything.”

She cocked her head at him. He continued.

“Like, don’t think you’re setting a precedent here. Because he probably hasn’t gotten you anything,” he mumbled then, “Two of us have been friends for years, and he still only buys me shit when when he wants something.”

“Oh…”

Was that all his reservations were, for real? She almost laughed a little, relief finally settling throughout her.

“Well yeah. I assumed he wouldn’t.”

Spinner gave her a dumbfounded look, “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I know he doesn’t really think of stuff like that. I just wanted to get him something because… Well, I just wanted to. I saw this and thought he might like it,” self-consciousness started to flood her body once again, “...Do you think he’ll like it?”

Spinner smiled, happy she knew what she was getting into. Happy that Shigaraki had someone like her in his life now. Just happy for his friends.

“Yeah. I think he will.”

The elevator dinged, snapping her out of her thoughts. She made her way out of the elevator, down the hall to the single flat on this floor.

Continue on AO3

91 notes · View notes

hockeynoses · 7 months

Text

Happy Halloween! (a snz fic)

Male - cold, mess!, implied future contagion

~*~

He wakes up to sinuses that are absolutely packed with congestion. He’d gone to sleep last night with a tickle in his throat and a bit of a headache, but he certainly didn’t expect to wake up to this.

His nose starts streaming the second he sits up in bed, setting off a tickle deep in his nose. Still hazy from sleep and a head that feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton, he only manages to get his hand halfway to his face before erupting with a thick sneeze – “heh-nnggK’SHO!” that forces the gunk that had accumulated in his sinuses out, covering his hand in mess, the rest escaping into the air. He’s left with twin trails of clear liquid coating his upper lip as he shivers, dazed.

Leaning over to the nightstand, he thanks his past self for keeping a box of tissues stocked there as he pulls out several of them. He buries his face in the soft cotton and lets out a truly ill-sounding blow. The sound of it crackles through the air as more snot is dislodged, filling the bundle and soaking through to his hands.

He throws the ruined tissues to the floor and grabs the box, setting it next to him on the bed and pulling out fresh ones. His breath scissors in his chest before he snaps forward with a violent – “huh…ha-AHH’EEHGGSHH’IUE!” that explodes out of him.

He doesn’t dare remove the tissues from his face, groaning as he feels the wet mess of it against his skin. He gives a damp, clearing blow, strong enough to shift the pressure in his ears. He’s forced to breathe through his mouth as he crumples up the Kleenex and tosses them to the side.

I’m going to go through the whole box by noon, at this point, he thinks, flopping back onto his soft pillows. He rubs his knuckles against his itchy nose, already well on its way to becoming pink.

It fucking had to be today, he laments, allowing himself a small pity party. It’s Halloween, and he’d been planning on spending the day making treats for the party later tonight, as well as handing out candy to the trick or treaters. He’s just going to have to power through. Maybe it just seems worse because it’s still early and his body hasn’t had time to wake up yet.

As soon as he thinks it, his nostrils flare and he’s surprised by a wrenching double – “ha’GSSHH’IUE! Huh..ha’NGGSSHH’uh!” At the mercy of his own body and unable to cover in time, the viscous spray of it mists the sheets in front of him. “Ugh… oh god,” he groans, swiping at the mess on his face with his hand.

Remembering the box next to him, he pulls out a fistful of Kleenex and releases a gurgling, cold-ridden blow into the waiting tissues.

“Fugg, I don’t wadda be – heh… ha’ERRSSHH’IUE! – SNF. I don’t wadda be sigg today.” Noting the squishy pressure that still clogs his sinuses after so many clearing sneezes, he resigns himself to the fact that he most likely has come down with the cold from hell.

Yet, determined as he is, he’s not going to let it stop him from going on with his plans. He can still make the food for the party tonight, he’ll just have to be very careful about washing his hands and covering his sneezes. If he has to make them one-handed while holding a tissue to his dripping nose the whole time, then so be it.

He should be able to hide his illness enough that no one will be worried. Hopefully he’ll be able to hold it off enough so they won’t take one look at him and decide it isn’t worth the risk. Hell, the way he sounds, even just being in the same room as him might be risky enough. But he can’t let his friends down, and he doesn’t want to miss the party.

Pulling more tissues from the box, he catches a harsh, scraping – “uh…huh…ha’NNGGGSSH’ah!” into the bundle, containing all of the dense, contagious mess that his nose is constantly trying to force out of him. He gives one last marshy blow before getting up to start the day, box of tissues in hand. If he can just keep his nose under control, everything should be fine.

#snzblr #snzfic #snz fic #snzfics #snz fics #cw: contagion #tw: contagion #cw: mess #I wrote this with Ste/ve H. in mind but I made it generic for the masses!#Happy Hall/oween! I woke up and immediately wanted some Ste/ve Hall/oween horniness #I've been on a tear lately 😂#I wrote this in an hour so please be gentle and enjoy #hn tissue tag

164 notes · View notes

neoyuno · 2 years

Text

No Biting ♡ J.JH (M)

Jaehyun is tired after a long week of working on the preparations for his new album and finds comfort on you—literally; or, jaehyun treats your boobs as his personal stress squishies.

Pairing | Idol!Jaehyun ♡ CelebCrush!Reader

Genre | Comedy, Romance, Smut (breast play + him being needy abt it, dirty talk, switch!jaehyun, choking, saliva play? (i still don't know how to label this, but sex too good they drooling...), riding, lots of kissing, praising.)

Word Count | 3.8K

Reading time | 19 mins

Warnings: usage of curse words, explicit descriptions of sex, afab reader. not my best work imo, but i hope y'all like it nonetheless <3 thank you for liking my stuff so far <33 // also, wrote rino in bc i love her sm, I’d also appreciate any type of feedback :’)

“Okay, that’s it for today, guys. We will continue with the rest of the choreography tomorrow.” The lady in front of them said. “Now, rest up and take care! Love ya!” She blew them all a kiss and left the studio.

All 10 men laid around the room, visibly exhausted as sweat glistened on their blushed skin.

“I can’t wait till this comeback is over… it is so tiring.” Taeyong exhaled and drank from his water bottle.

“Tell me about it, I had a recording session with _____ last night and I kept messing up. I feel so bad for her, we had to be up till 3 am.” Mark replied.

“She’s so sweet about it, though. She deserves a prize for being the best producer ever.” Taeil chuckled and everyone else agreed.

“And the best host too, her food is so good, I don’t miss hotels at all.” Yura added.

Jaehyun couldn’t help but smile at the sweet words his friends said about you. You were indeed the sweetest and he was utterly and crazily in love with you. They have never worked with someone as good and patient as you. Not only do you do a great job with their songs, you always teach them new things—and let them stay at your house whenever they are in town.

“Are you coming with us or will you stay?” Jaehyun opened his eyes at the sound of Johnny’s voice.

“I think ______ is still here, I’ll leave with her.” He replied and the older guy nodded. “She said to make sure to put the code before you go in the house or else the alarm will go crazy.”

“Got it, see you later, man.” Johnny waved him goodbye and left with the rest of the boys.

Jaehyun laid on the floor for a few more minutes, enjoying the cool air coming from the vent right above, before gathering his stuff and making way to the floor above.

He entered the studio to see you sitting down at the mixer, eyeglasses on, and messy hair.

“Hi baby, are you still working?” He asked and kissed your head before grabbing a chair to sit next to you.

“Yes, sweetie. I am having a bit of trouble with this song. I can’t remove this weird rumble from this track, I might need to replace those mics already.” You said and pressed play again on the small clip. “I might need to re-record this.”

“Who’s track is it?” He asked and leaned to look at the monitor, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yours.” He whined playfully and hugged you tight.

“I’m tired…” he pouted and you reached back to pet his hair.

“You don’t have to record right now, baby. We can hook you up in the studio at home. It’s just this minute-long track, so don’t worry.”

“Okay~~” you felt his lips touch your neck and his hands moved dangerously close to your underboob. “Soo, can we go home? I want to cuddle…”

“Not yet, love. I still need to work on this song.” You shivered when his fingers softly massaged your breasts. “Jaehyun…”

“Hmm?” He kissed your neck repeatedly.

“Jaehyun, stop that. I am working.”

“But, baby… they are so soft,” he squeezed. “So pretty…”

“Jaehyun.” You warned again.

“Ugh, please…” he pouted again and turned your chair to face him.

“Dude, what’s up with you today?” You asked, getting a little annoyed at his clinginess when you needed to work—but it secretly made you melt. To be honest, you did need a break but you were too stubborn.

“I miss you.” He cupped your face and kissed you a couple of times.

“Jae, you are staying at my house. We see each other every day.”

“Okay, that’s still not enough.” He pouted and kissed your lips again.

“Not enough? What else could we do?” You giggled and he hummed.

“Lemme move in with you…”

“Jaehyun, you live in Seoul… I live in California…” you stared at him with an unamused expression.

“So? I’ll move here.” He shrugged.

“Yeah? What about your career?”

“I’ll quit being an idol and become your house-husband.” He smiled cheekily and kissed you again.

“Will you wait for me at home wearing sexy lingerie?” You joked but he blushed.

“I-uhm, I mean, if you want me to…”

“Hmm, interesting… Good to know…” you pecked his lips and turned back around to face your computer.

“Ugh, pay attention to meeee,” he whined and tried turning you around but you locked your feet on the chair base. “Pleaseeeee…”

“Jaehyun, I’m gonna kick you out and make you wait in the car.”

“Let’s just cuddle for 5 minutes.” He said. “Just 5 minutes, please?”

You sighed and turned around. His cute face always lets him get away with anything he wants, it’s like he bewitches you into saying yes. To be honest, you are just too in love with him to deny him any love—and he needs lots of it. All the time.

“Fine, just 5 minutes, Jeong.” He did a happy dance and dragged you to the sofa.

“You are so warm and cuddly. I love you, my little teddy bear.” He kissed you all over the face and hugged you tight while you groaned jokingly.

“How was today, baby?” You asked after he settled down.

“Tiring, we had some fittings and also dance practice for the video shooting next month.” He said

“You work too hard, love.” You hummed and kissed his lips.

“Can I lay on your chest?” He asked bashfully and you chuckled.

“Of course, beautiful.” He blushed at the petname and settled his face between your boobs, the side of his head laying on one of the plush mounds.

“So soft…” he sighed.

“Are you okay, hun?” You asked while stroking his hair.

“Yeah, I’m just very tired and stressed. I’ve been having a very bad shoulder ache for the past few days too.”

“Awe, baby, why hadn’t you said anything? I’ll give you a new pillow tonight. Do you want me to give you a massage?” You asked and kissed his head.

“No, angel, it’s okay. But I know something that will help me with my stress.” He smirked cutely at you and you felt his hands lift your shirt up.

“Jaehyun.” You scolded but he whined. “Ugh, fine… just cause you need it, but just that and nothing more. I have a session tomorrow morning and I can’t have a filthy sofa in my studio.”

Jaehyun moved to hover over your body, kissing your lips before moving back to pull down your shirt.

“Hmm, so pretty.” He whispered and kissed you again. “You’re so beautiful.”

You looked up at him, his eyes staring down at you. You reached up to pull him by the neck, clashing your lips unto his.

His lips engulfed yours perfectly as you sighed lovingly, making him smile. He absolutely loved hearing your love sighs, they made his heart flutter. Ever since he first kissed you and you sighed, he was hooked—he already was, but he knew he was done for when he heard the pretty sound.

“Let me take this off…” his fingers worked to unclasp your bra from the front, your breasts springing free once the last clasp was undone.

You watched intently as he licked his lips, before dipping in. His mouth automatically latched to your nipple while his hands pressed your boobs together.

“Mmm…” he hummed against your skin.

He closed his eyes and his eyebrows knitted up while he sucked on your chest. You couldn’t help but stare at his hollowed cheeks swallowing your nipples.

“So squishy…” he groaned before poking his tongue to play with your glistening buds. He alternated between teasing one and the other.

His hands squeezed your boobs again before his thumb and index finger moved to pinch your nipples. Twisting and tugging, he got them to be hard and blushed.

You just laid there, staring down at him being mesmerized by your tits. He was absolutely obsessed with your boobs. Whenever he was stressed he would just come to you and start acting all clingy until he eventually ended up under your shirt choking on your boobs.

A hard tug on your nipple made you snap out of it when you felt a slight pain. Teeth. He had bitten you.

“Jaehyun. No biting.”

“I’m sorry, angel. I couldn’t help it.” He whispered and kissed the skin he had bit.

You stared as he poked out his tongue again, licking your areolas in circular motions, before licking your nipples. His strong hands kept kneading your breasts and you couldn’t help but bite your lip.

His mouth suddenly sucked both nipples at the same time when he pressed your tits together, making you gasp a little.

“Are you okay, baby? Did that hurt?” He asked worriedly, the corners of his mouth glistened with his own saliva and you couldn’t help but giggle. “What’s so funny?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“I was just thinking about how shy you were when we first met and look at you right now.” You smirked playfully.

“Look who’s talking. The girl that went from teasing me because I liked her to begging for my dick.” He replied and you scoffed in surprise.

“As if! I don’t beg!” You smacked his arm playfully.

“It’s okay, don’t be shy. We all know you love it.” He argued and hovered your body, his face now leveled to yours. Jaehyun couldn’t help but stop and admire you. Messy hair against, your flushed skin, plus your cute specs resting on the bridge of your nose—it was just such a sight to see.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You whispered, the fact that you had your whole chest out was long forgotten.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

“I don’t look pretty right now.” You said.

“You look gorgeous. You always do.” Your heart skipped a beat when his lips pressed on yours. It was crazy how Jaehyun made you feel. No one had ever made you feel as loved as he did. Sure, you had many people calling you beautiful, praising you, and showing their love for you, but the sparkle in the dimpled guy’s eyes whenever he looked at you made you feel like the most special person on earth.

“Let’s go home.” You whispered against his lips and he nodded.

You both stood up and he gathered your belongings while you turned off all studio equipment. Just as you were about to open the door he yanked you by the arm.

“What happened?” You asked.

“Your… let me put it back on.” He said bashfully as he blushed and reached to clasp your bra on and lift your shirt back up.

“Oh my God… I was about to leave with my tits out?!” You hide your face on his chest. “This is your fault.”

“Okay, I actually take the blame for this. I had forgotten about pulling your shirt back up.” He smiled cutely. “Your boobs are just so nice… I want to see them all the time!”

“Shh, be quiet.” You whispered as you entered your house, Jaehyun practically clinging to you as he tried to kiss your neck.

“They are all asleep, none of us are light sleepers, so don’t worry…” he replied and locked the front door before removing his shoes and running after you to your room.

Jaehyun closed the door and locked it. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, as you changed into your satin nightdress. He reached to press the small device on the wall, turning on the soundproof system.

“Really, Jaehyun?” You deadpanned.

“Hey, you get loud sometimes.” He said and removed his shirt, tossing it in the basket by the closet’s entrance.

“And who said we are having sex?” You teased. “Plus, the loud one here is you.”

“Hmm… then why did we come home?” He dropped his sweats and tossed them where his shirt was. You tried your best not to stare at him much—the sight of him in only his black tight underwear and that damn silver chain was absolutely knee-dropping.

“Because you were right. I need a break.” You said and put your glasses back on, ready to read a bit.

“What are you reading, then?” He asked and grabbed his towel.

“My new mixing console’s manual…” you replied.

“Babe, you need to stop. Watch some t.v or something. You worked all day.” He passed you the remote control for the t.v after pressing the button for it to come down from his hiding place in the ceiling.

“And don’t watch any music-related videos. You can do all that tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead and you groaned.

“Fine.” You huffed and looked for something to watch.

“I’ll be back, I’m just going to take a shower.” He said and saw your pouty face. “Give me a kiss.” He leaned in.

“No.” You huffed again.

“Fine.” He was about to leave to the bathroom when you grabbed his farm.

“Okay, come back! Just one kiss.” You smooched his lips and he smiled widely.

“I love you, my grumpy baby.” He chuckled and left to shower.

Jaehyun came back to see you laughing at a comedy movie you found on Netflix. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your laugh. He was deeply and madly in love with you.

You felt the bed dip on his side, making you turn your head for a second.

“You smell good.” You said while staring at the screen.

“Hmm, thanks?” He chuckled and leaned closer to you.

Jaehyun stared at your bare shoulders and then down to your chest. The satin fabric was thin enough to let him see that your nipples were still hardened from before. You felt his lips press on your shoulder, slowly moving up your neck.

His hand moved to cup your boobs, massaging them.

“I shall continue where I left off…” he said before pulling the straps of your nightdress down, revealing your breasts.

His mouth quickly attached to your nipples as he laid his head on your lap. Jaehyun’s tongue worked around your nipples and occasionally sucked them in.

You clicked your tongue and shook your head when you looked down at him. He was like a baby, his mouth latched on your left breast and his hand kneaded the other while his eyes were closed.

“What would your fans say if they found out their sweet Jaehyun is obsessed with sucking boobs?” You asked and ran your finger through his hair as he opened his eyes.

“I’m not obsessed with sucking boobs…” he said after pulling on your nipple and lapping it after. “I’m obsessed with sucking your boobs. There’s a difference.”

“What happened to my sweet shy Jaehyun?” You fake cried and he chuckled. “Who is this pervert, huh?”

“Me? A pervert?” He rested on his hand to be at your eye level and feigned offense. “What would your fans think if they knew their sweet ____ was obsessed with my dick?”

“Babe… I write songs about sex. Everybody knows I love dick, they just don’t know who’s.” You rolled your eyes and he laughed before pecking your lips.

“You look so cute with your glasses on…” he smiled and kissed you again.

“Yeah?” He hummed in response and kissed down your neck.

“Aren’t you tired?” You asked as you stroked his hair.

“Yeah… but you look too good…” he bit your collarbone and kissed it after.

“Lay back.” You said and he immediately did as you said.

Jaehyun laid back on the plush new pillows you had brought out for him. As you straddled his lap, you reached down to completely remove your nightdress, his hands quickly holding your waist and sliding down to your ass.

“How did I get so lucky?” He whispered and you giggled while grinding down on him.

“You were too cute not to fall in love with.” You leaned down to kiss his lips and he grabbed your face to deepen the kiss.

“I love you so much,” Jaehyun said and hissed when you pressed further down on his crotch.

“I love you more.”

You kissed down his torso until you got the waistband of his underwear, which you removed quickly and tossed to the side before removing your own. Reaching over to the nightstand, you dimmed the lights and turned on the starry ceiling lights.

The lighting change made his eyes look like they contained the stars and the whole universe—and they really did (for you).

“Do you want to use a condom?” You asked as you leaned down to kiss his neck. “I’m on the pill.”

“I want to feel all of you…” he replied and you smirked.

The man beneath you shuddered when he felt your hand touch his sensitive erection. “Why are you always so horny?” You teased and he kissed your lips.

“How can I not, when I have the sexiest woman in the whole world as my girlfriend?” He whispered.

“Oh yeah? I’m the sexiest?” He hummed in agreement. “Mmm, that feels so good.” You moaned when his hand came down to grab his length and teased your entrance with the tip.

You slowly sank onto his cock, the size filling you up deliciously as you both moaned in unison.

“You feel so good, love.” He groaned.

Your knees supported you as you bounced on his lap slowly and your hands rested on his bare chest. Goosebumps arose on your skin as he caressed your body ever so softly.

“Ah! Mmm, Yuno…” he grunted at the sound of his name leaving your lips in that way.

He absolutely loved it when you called him that, given that not everyone calls him that, it makes it even more special.

“If you get tired, tell me, kitten.” He husked and you felt warm at the mention of that damned petname.

“Stop…” you breathed out sheepishly, which was cut short and into a moan.

“Stop what, kitten?” He smirked and bit his lip for a second before groaning loudly as your center engulfed him tightly.

“Stop calling me that.” His hands grabbed your hips sternly and his hips pushed forward. “Fuck! Jae- ah!” His hips remained thrusting up, your mouth hanging open at the feeling.

“Such a good kitten, aren’t you, baby?” He growled and wiped the small trail of drool falling past your lips. “You look so pretty like that… hmm…”

“Is it that good that it’s got you drool- hng-“ his voice was cut short when your hands were placed on his neck, softly pressing on his throat.

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes were closed and his mouth open in a smirk.

He enjoyed every second of your hands cutting his oxygen, the rush made him even hornier. Plus, he loved feeling your small hands on his neck, it was thick enough for you to need both hands to choke him.

“S’good…” he choked out as one of your hands left his throat to swipe out a little bit of drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Look who’s drooling now… pussy too good?” You teased.

Jaehyun couldn’t do much but hum and moan when you leaned down to bite his lower lip. His hand moved to grasp at yours that was on his neck, giving you the signal to stop. You removed your hands and he inhaled sharply, in need of oxygen.

“Don’t- fuck!” He whimpered when he felt your walls clench around his shaft.

“Don’t what, baby?” Your hands took place by each side of his head, making your tits bounce close to his face. “Kitten ate your tongue?”

“Oh, God!” You wiped a bit of sweat on his forehead with your fingers and quickened the pace your hips were snapping to. “Kiss me, please.”

As you leaned down to do so, he took advantage of your hands not having any support, and flipped you over by the waist. His mouth attached to yours still, flicking his tongue on your lips.

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” You screamed against his lips. Your boyfriend’s hips slammed into you rapidly.

“Do you want to get me in trouble again? Huh?” He grunted as you moaned louder—reminding you of the last time you choked him, he had lost his voice and got in trouble.

“As if you don’t like it…” you smirked but a sharp thrust made your smirk fade into a whine.

“You’re right. I don’t like it… I fucking love it.” Jaehyun kissed your jaw and down your neck until he reached his favorite spot—your shoulder blade, where he sunk his teeth to leave a mark. “Shit-“

“Stop biting!” Your fingernails dug on his back and his head fell to your chest, his hands gripping at your tits and mouth sucking your sensitive buds.

“I’m so close, baby…” you cried out after a few seconds.

“I’m close too, kitten. Fuck you feel so good.” He shut his eyes again and bit the skin of your breasts, coming up to kiss you after.

“You’re so beautiful, angel.” He murmured against your cheek, yet in your ears, it sounded like he was far away.

“Mmm, Jae-“ your toes curled up once you wrapped your legs around his torso to feel him deeper.

“Let go, sweetheart.” He rasped and you did as he said with a loud moan.

You felt yourself dissolve into the pleasure he was giving you. A ringing noise filled your ears mixed with the faint sound of Jaehyun’s low moans, while you could feel his cock pulsating inside you as he came.

The weight of his body soon fell upon yours, but it just felt like the warmest hug ever.

“I love you,” he repeated countless times as he kissed all over your skin.

“Don’t move,” you whined. “Just hug me.”

“Of course, pretty.” He circled his arms around your waist and rolled you over to lay on his chest, where you stayed for a couple of minutes, listening to his heartbeat.

“Don’t your shoulders hurt, baby?” You asked, remembering the muscle pain he voiced out earlier.

“Mmm, yeah… but you make me feel better.” He chuckled and kissed your forehead.

“Do you want to take a shower again?” You asked and he only laughed. “I’ll give you a massage if you wash my hair.”

“You don’t need to bargain with me, you know I’d do anything for you for free.” He said and sat up, bringing you up with him. “So… about moving in with you…”

NEOYUNO 2022

#jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #smut #jaehyun scenario #nct 127 #nct #jaehyun au #nct blurbs #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 reactions #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst

3K notes · View notes

enwonz · 3 months

Text

♫ i can see you x sparks fly | y.jw

as your eternal academic rival, you and jungwon have always been at odds - that is, until he becomes the one person you want to trust your heart with in spite of it all. after all, all’s fair in love and war, no?

read the rest of the series here! (for taglist)

pairing ➭ academic rival jungwon x reader

genre ➭ academic rivals to dubious to lovers, hurt/comfort, academic validation craving, jungwon is reader’s sole comfort

w/c ➭ 5.4k

warnings ➭ slightly suggestive (they’re adults but no nsfw y’all), reader and jungwon both have terrible coping mechanisms for stress, there is a detailed scene where y/n loses her shit in a bathroom, both are academic validation simps, theyre not enemies they just. envy each other and sometimes wanna kiss kiss fall in love, y/n has an inferiority complex and has a tendency to think jungwon’s better than her, she hates herself as much as i hate myself

a/n ➭ to my acad validation peeps…look no further! jungwon and y/n…their ways of coping with themselves are mine. i just split myself in two for them, don’t come for my lonely ass lmao. for more context, look at the bottom a/n!

“done?”

the sun’s beginning to set, its dimming rays beaming through the glass windows of the library. a quick glance at your watch tells you it’s 6.30pm, and that you’ve been studying for the whole day. talk about a productive saturday.

you remove your headphones, glancing over your shoulder. you were planning on staying till the librarian shoos you out. jungwon seems to have other plans, though.

yang jungwon, your rival in just about everything since you were kids. tied with you in every single subject, even PE. he’s everything you are and more – good-looking, funny, and a genius, to top it all off, and he never lets you forget it, what with all the achievements he’s gotten over you. it’s not that he doesn’t work hard and you’re jealous of some natural academic gift he’s got, it’s the fact that you study just as hard as he does, do as much as he does, and yet people will always see him before you. and now, even when you’re at university, he’s still fighting with you for the top spot, for every position available. your circle of friends have remained the same, so like it or not, you’re stuck together.

you begin to stuff your notes into your backpack. “well, i might as well follow you back to the dorms. yunjin’s been lecturing me to stop walking back alone.” gathering your things, you leave, waving to the librarian as you attempt to put some distance between you and jungwon.

very quickly, jungwon moves beside you so his shoulder is almost pressed up against yours. “you sure took your time. if i hadn’t come to find you, the last bus across campus would’ve come and gone by the time you finished.”

“oh, don’t exaggerate. why’d you come here in the first place, when all you do is complain?”

you want to say you hate the boyish grin that breaks out across his face, but that would be a lie, and you’ve done way too much lying today to yourself. “what else? i came here for you.”

“ugh, you-!”

“you ears are red, haha.”

your bus pulls into the stop, and in a thoughtless attempt at revenge, you grab his arm and yank him up the steps so he’s even closer to you than before. you don’t miss the way his skin flushes hot. “now yours are too.” leading him to a seat in the back, you pinch his side. he returns your…affection with a jab in the cheek.

it’s a game of cat and mouse with jungwon, although neither of you can say for sure who’s chasing and who’s ducking away. whatever this is, it’s safer.

at least you’re not actually fighting anymore.

here’s the thing: yang jungwon has this journal. every time he’s upset or on the verge of a mental breakdown, he trauma dumps into that journal. it’s the only way he doesn’t cave from the stress, and you and your friends learned very quickly that if that notebook was out, everyone had to leave him alone for at least ten minutes, then he’d be himself again. one day, you’d been studying together when a draft blew the pages of his journal open, straight to the page where he’d written something that was definitely not for your eyes — or anyone’s for that matter.

“i hate her, so so much i wish she was dead. maybe in a different lifetime, i’ll be better than her, have her beat for once.” you didn’t even need to finish reading what he wrote before you were clawing at his throat, because who else could it be but you?

and it hurt to read it, because what could it mean than yang jungwon was jealous of you? what could it mean that the one person you simultaneously hated and envied, hated you back for all the same reasons? it wasn’t fair that you couldn’t even hate him peacefully.

it only got worse from there, because all it took was a couple minutes of yelling at each other before that ass of a human being decided it was a good idea to tell you it was “three years ago”, and that it shouldn’t matter as much as it did, as if that was supposed to help. and you’d screamed at him, screamed and cried and shoved him and-

his lips were against yours.

you would’ve pushed him off, but as soon as it came it went, and he’d pulled away faster than you could think. “i don’t hate you,” he’d managed to make out, his voice shaky as he tried and failed to recollect his thoughts. “i just…i can’t hate you. not anymore.”

hell, maybe it was the attention, or some sort of sick stress outlet. you wish it were the latter, because then that would’ve been a hell lot easier. either way, you haven’t spoken about it since then, reason being you’re totally out of your comfort zone when it comes to this guy. plus, he’d taken your first kiss, although he didn’t have to know that. having put your all into your academic life, you haven’t really thought about dating anyone at all. sure, there were a few people whom you’d thought were fairly attractive, but you had never cared to do anything more than that (much less with yang freaking jungwon). your ultimate goal has always been to have jungwon beat. you sort of achieved that, you suppose. the boy’s now a mess when it comes to you.

since then, you’ve been using each other as stress relief. stupid, really, but with that annoyingly good kiss still hanging between the two of you, you could only keep coming back for more, waiting for lulls in your timetables to meet up. one thing would lead to another, and…well.

“finished your revision yet?” you probe. if he says no, you’ll just drag him off to finish it. but he’s jungwon. if he says he’s gonna do something, he does it. although it’s sort of disappointing if he just parts ways with you, even after he came all this way to find you so far away from the dorms.

jungwon sighs. “what do you take me for? of course i did, or you’d get mad at me. and i know you’re free for the rest of the day too.” he rummages through his backpack, before handing you a cap and mask. “put these on, i need a big brute to help me buy and carry groceries back to my dorm.”

“and who better than me, huh?”

jungwon grins, waving a matching set in your face. “you’re the multifaceted necessity in my life. my swiss knife, if you please.”

you end up at a mall just a few kilometres away from campus. apparently, he needs laundry pods, vegetables and some sort of microfibre cloth that “can only be blue, mind you.” according to him, if a hand towel doesn’t match his dorm’s colour scheme, the whole world falls apart.

(for the record, his dorm room does look nice. but no one has to know that you know.)

pushing a shopping cart along the aisles, a bag of spinach catches your eye. “how’s this for vegetables?”

he shakes his head. “lettuce is better for hotpot.”

“since when did you plan on having hotpot?”

“it’s our dinner, y/n.”

“…”

he sighs. “i’m paying for the groceries.”

“well in that case…” you move to grab a few packets of meat from the fridge. “you won’t mind if i add these, will you?”

you don’t miss his odd gaze on you as he pushes the cart towards the checkout counter. “not at all.”

so much for the grocery shopping.

dinner is long forgotten as you find yourself pinned up against the walls of jungwon’s dorm, his grip on your waist oddly comforting. your fingers are tangled in his dark locks, pulling him in deeper, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough.

it feels so, so wrong, to be rendezvousing with him, and maybe he knows it too, because when he finally pulls away, there’s a guilty look on his face. “strike two…?” he grins sheepishly. he’s a little out of breath, and you hate to admit it, but it’s kind of hot. (actually, it’s the fifth time this week, but who’s counting? definitely not you.)

how? you’d maintained the status quo for more than a decade. hell, you two are supposed to loathe each other. knowing yang jungwon has some sort of feelings for you must be messing with your brain.

jungwon’s lips latch onto your earlobe, fingers trailing down your nape. it’s crazy, the way every brush of his lips sends your head reeling. over his shoulder, you catch a glimpse of his roommate’s neatly folded quilt, and a thought pops into your mind. “when’s sunoo getting back?”

“he just left for a party, he won’t be back for a bit,” jungwon murmurs. sunoo happens to be part of a circle of close friends consisting of yunjin, sunoo and ni-ki (and jungwon, although you could never admit he’s a friend). you’re a close-knit group, withholding no secrets with each other. more often than not, they’ve been caught up in your fights with jungwon, although those haven’t happened in a while, for obvious reasons.

you hum against his lips, fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into his skin as you try to steady your breathing. “think the water’s boiled by now, get off.” it’s a half-hearted order, and you’re pretty sure jungwon sees through your bullshit. what was it, something about glass houses?

“don’t wanna.”

“jungwon come on-” the sound of a lock in a key slices through the air, jolting you and jungwon apart. panic flares in your chest, and you scramble to shove jungwon far away from you. “hurry up, hurry up.”

sunoo’s voice drifts past the door. “must’ve left it in here somewhere, don’t know how i could’ve forgotten my id of all things.” the door opens to reveal a sheepish-looking sunoo, flanked by your friends yunjin and riki, who don’t look very pleased. their expressions, however, change the moment they spot you in the corner. “y/n?! what are you doing here?”

one look at the tiny hotpot contraption on the table, paired with the small portions of food is all they need to put two and two together. yunjin frowns, marching past sunoo. “ohh no, you two in the same room alone is a big no from me. by the time we get back, the whole place is gonna look like hell, with all the screaming and fire.” her disapproving glance at you makes you want to shrivel up and die on the spot.

“we’ll be studying, don’t worry. we never fight when we’re studying,” jungwon shrugs, shooting a discreet glance in your direction, practically screaming help me.

“yeah see the thing is, you shouldn’t even be fighting-”

“yunjin, don’t.” sunoo takes her by the shoulder, dragging her back out the door. “keep our dorm in one piece, please. we’re off!” while yunjin still believes in peace between the two of you, sunoo’s learnt long ago that interfering with your rivalry only makes things worse. not that you don’t feel a little bad about it.

the door slams shut, leaving you and jungwon alone in the room. it’s an uncomfortable silence, the awkwardness of the interruption still lingering.

“y/n, i-”

you hold out your hand. “give me a moment, gosh.” burying your face in your hands, you groan. “that was probably the worst thing ever. we lied in their faces, they’re gonna kill us if they ever find out.”

you suppose it’s your despair that elicits a sound awfully like a snicker from him. some things never change. “did you see the looks on their faces? they’ll never see it coming.” you finally raise your head, watching as jungwon smirks at you with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. paired with that loose-fitting hoodie of his, and the sweatpants (grey, no less), you’re simultaneously insanely smitten and utterly appalled by said attraction. why’d he have to be so good-looking? he wasn’t this handsome when you were growing up. yang jungwon is going to be the death of you.

it really does take all your efforts not to just shove him onto the couch and claim his lips for yourself again. and then you nearly faint from the prospect of having that thought at all. hastily, you shove a wad of meat into the boiling pot on the table. “we-we should start eating. don’t want the food to turn bad.”

he shrugs, pulling up a chair opposite you. “don’t mind if i do.”

and if you pop open a couple beers afterward, no one has to know.

shit. shit.

days later, you’re at a study cafe with all your friends. you’ve spent the past hour on this topic, and it’s taking everything inside of you not to smash your laptop in half and bash your head into the debris. what the hell is this? you’re not supposed to be bad at this. a glance at jungwon tells you he’s not having nearly as much trouble as you are, and that’s your breaking point.

panic rises in your throat, your lungs, as your vision blurs. words on the screen start to blend, and you think to yourself, you’re a failure again. worthless no matter how hard you try, breaking apart even while trying to hold yourself together. you can feel every tear leave a searing path down your cheeks, nails clawing for skin to carve red lines into. your eyes burn with the buildup of tears, a telltale sign you’re about to lose your shit. in front of jungwon, no less. just great.

you stand up abruptly, the legs of your chair screeching as they drag across the floor. “bathroom,” you manage to make out, as you dash across the cafe full of people, praying no pne notices. you fling the bathroom door open, turning on the tap at full blast. you don’t realise it, but your fingers are gripping the edges of the sink with an intensity you didn’t think was possible.

your eyes flutter shut as you try to calm down, focusing on the flow of the water. it’s not working, but the white noise is more soothing than anything right now. that is, until you hear a clicking sound, followed by arms wrapping around you from behind. judging by the shallow breaths, and the mellow scent of baby lotion, it’s exactly who you think it is.

in your rush, you forgot to lock the door. wonderful.

you lean away from jungwon’s embrace, trying to untangle yourself from him, but he stubbornly holds you tighter. “go back, i’m fine.” you don’t even believe yourself, from the way your voice trembles in between gasps.

he hums, and with your back against his chest you can feel the little vibrations as his speaks. “you don’t say.” he doesn’t continue, and in the silence, your mind stays on the warmth of his body against yours. slowly, you let yourself relax into him. it’s funny, how he can be the problem and the cure at the same time.

you can feel yourself melting in his arms, your breathing evening out with every second that passes. your heartbeat’s finally slowed to a calmer thrumming, no longer pounding in your ears. suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of his soft sweater against your cheek, and the way a thin piece of fabric is the only thing between your skin and his.

“how do you do it?”

jungwon frowns. “do what?”

“hold up the world and make everything seem fine, when you know it’s not.”

he falls silent, resting his head in the crook of your neck (it’s becoming a habit of his). “well…it’s easy when it’s for someone else.”

“that so?” you muse, peering back up at him. “even for me?”

the way he averts your gaze is insanely cute. “don’t push it.”

but you know he hasn’t lied to you. since you were kids, jungwon’s never been the kind to wear his heart on his sleeve. he holds everything together, holds everyone together. even now, he’s keeping you from falling apart. but what about him? who’s watching him to keep him from losing it all? you know for sure he’s had his fair share of breakdowns, but your stomach churns at the thought that you’ve never witnessed it. not once. being yang jungwon is lonelier than it seems.

once you’re sufficiently calmed down, you untangle yourself from his embrace. “i’ll, um, head back first. you should wait a few minutes before you go back.”

“right.” glancing down at his feet, jungwon nods. “just…you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

you turn to leave, but a question burns all the way down your throat.

why? would you take it from my hands and bear it with me?

(and what if you wanted to bear his burdens too?)

true enough, your performance on the latest assignment was more than decent — the highest score in your class, in fact. and as always, jungwon’s not far off. your hard work did pay off. funnily enough, you don’t go to rub it in his face like you always used to do.

it seems you’ve changed.

these days, jungwon seems to linger in your head a lot more. and it’s not just the intimate gestures that stay, but the feeling of his arms around you just won’t disappear. every time you’re about to panic, the mere memory of his gentle touch only serves to ground you back to reality. he’s not even physically here, but you don’t need him to be there for him to be your lifeline. how did things even turn out like this? your greatest rival, also your greatest source of comfort.

today, your friends have made plans to head to an amusement park (read: disneyland. because yunjin’s a disney adult in the best sense of the word). you, jungwon, sunoo, yunjin and riki, along with his girlfriend. the dynamic’s great, really, with everyone carrying the mood well so nothing ever feels boring. you’re able to grab a few rides with them, and eventually the group splits for different attractions, and it’s just you, riki and jungwon, waiting for the others to get back from some quirky river ride. you three didn’t bring spare clothes, so you’ll have to sit this one out. parked under a shady tree, you don’t feel the heat nearly as much, but sweat’s starting to make your shirts cling to your backs.

thirty minutes pass, and there’s still no sign of them. riki’s phone pings. “oh, the ride’s delayed. they’re gonna queue for another forty minutes.”

“forty?”

riki shrugs. “it’s a popular ride.”

you rise to your feet. “okay, i’ll go get us some water. you guys stay put.”

fortunately for you, the shop’s got plenty of water bottles, although the marked-up prices do make your wallet cry a little. what you aren’t prepared for, however, is walking back and spotting riki and jungwon huddled under the tree, deep in conversation. quickly, you press your back up to the other side of the tree trunk, hiding in plain sight.

“…you want relationship advice from me?”

jungwon hums. “well, i can’t very well ask sunoo, not when he’s only just stopped partying away to handle his own breakup.”

“true. we need to find him some better coping mechanisms. though i think he’s back in contact with her on instagram. i swear i saw a notification on his phone the other day with her user and all. that webinar he’s going for next tuesday? think it’s her.”

“oh.” you can hear the wince in jungwon’s voice. “that’s a little…”

riki glares at him. “don't change the subject. shoot.”

he sighs, his lips twisting in concentration. it’s a habit he’s had for a long time, one that you’ve come to notice. “so there’s this girl.”

“uh-huh.”

“i can’t stop thinking about her.”

“uh-huh.”

“but i know she hates me-”

“shit, you like y/n?!” riki yells, slapping jungwon on the back before he can even finish. “of all the billions of people on the planet?”

“how’d you guess?”

“she’s the only one who hates you, buddy. no prizes for guessing who.”

jungwon groans, burying his face in his hands. “i don’t know anymore. she just can’t get out of my head. don’t tell the others, i’m begging you. i’ll never live it down.”

“okay…” riki trails off, and you can imagine how confused he is. “why her though? and why now?”

jungwon’s practically fumbling for an answer, running his hands through his hair (another nervous tic of his). “it’s just…i guess i get her, and she gets me? we understand each other’s problems really well. it’s like looking into a mirror.”

you nearly choke at his words. he gets you, that much is clear. but for him to feel like you know him inside out, that’s a completely different thing altogether. it’s always been a struggle for you to read people. coupled with the fact that jungwon’s the most emotionally intelligent and regulated guy you know, you’ve been worried you’re not giving him enough.

besides, he’s so much more than you’ll ever be. you, the mentally unstable top student, and jungwon, the other contender for your spot, but with something more: people skills. everyone likes him, everyone wants to be him. the battle’s lost before you can even fight it. he’s a good person, and you’re…nothing like that. people trust him, including you.

so why would he dare to leave his heart in your hands like that?

it’s not fair. he knows exactly what to do, and you know nothing. he’s dated other girls before, not many but enough to be more experienced than you. how would you know anything, other than to clumsily take his affection with a heap of salt? you’ve failed him.

oddly enough, riki seems to understand. “i think i catch your wind, but you’ll have to elaborate. what’s the dynamic with her right now?”

“i, uh.” jungwon flounders, his cheeks turning pink, no doubt at the memory of everything you’ve done with him. “th-that’s not…well.” he laughs nervously. “how much can i say before it’s too much info?”

as you watch him with his toothy grin, with those eyes that crinkle in the corners, you know one thing - you absolutely adore him. it’s sudden, but how could you not? he’s everything. much as you hated him, it takes little of your pride to admit he’s been your lifeline for a while now. but you wonder, why would he pick you? for the sole reason that you know him well? that isn’t enough, is it? you may have never understood romance, but you’re guessing this isn’t the usual kind of reason people fall for other people.

besides, there’s nothing special about you.

you end up waiting for the conversation to drift to small talk before joining them back. as always, jungwon’s quick to revert to his usual, teasing self. and despite it all, you find your gaze to be on him the whole time.

it’s dark out when you guys finally make your way back to the dorms. with the others off buying water and snacks for a late-night hangout, you’re left alone with jungwon to head back. he’d conjured up some lie about you leaving some study material in his dorm and needing to grab it before going back to your own, and they seemed to buy it. so here you are, walking along a concrete pavement with the boy you can’t seem to understand, with rain practically beating down your backs. the weather really hates you.

with your path being lit only by the orange glow of the overhead street lamps, and the air filled with nothing but the sound of pouring rain, there’s nothing much you can say. nothing really feels right to say right now, because how do you even begin to address anything in the past month?

jungwon’s grip on the umbrella is tight. you swear it’s leaning slightly towards you. in his other hand is a plastic bag of merch you got from the amusement park, full of junk like headbands and shirts.

wordlessly, you sneak your pinky into the palm of his hand, hooking your fingers together. there’s an odd sort of intimacy in the little gesture - a silent reassurance that concedes a lot more than you’re usually willing to. to your relief, jungwon doesn’t mention anything about it.

suddenly, his footsteps slow to a halt. he whips out a pair of sparklers from the bag you’d gotten from the amusement park, slipping one into your hands. “quickly, before they come back.” as he fumbles with the lighter, a familiar endearing look of concentration on his face makes you giggle a little. the lighter clicks a few times, and the sparklers come to life.

despite the pouring rain, the sparks of violet flash brightly, illuminating your view of each other. with his face glowing a pretty shade of purple, you can see the ridges in his face, from the dimples in his cheeks to the curve of his mouth. “and why exactly are we lighting fires in a downpour?”

“oh shut up, i’m trying to have a moment with you here.” the retort comes easily, a little too easy, seeing as he slaps his hand over his mouth almost immediately. “you heard nothing.”

“mhm.”

and then he’s wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walk, the faint crackling filling the silence as you continue on. you can sense jungwon’s gaze on you, so you pinch his arm. “something on your mind?”

he exhales softly, patting your shoulder. “if i say it’s you?”

“then you’re a cheesy bastard. what’s really going on?”

he laughs, but you know there’s something lying under the surface. there always is. (huh, maybe you do know him better.)

“it’s nothing, really. just thinking about…us, i guess.” he pauses. “well, mostly you, if i’m being honest. i don’t really know where to start.”

you shift closer to him under the umbrella, till your cheek is pressed against his arm. “i think i do. your journal?”

“ah.” he grimaces, his laughter a little less nervous. “that much i’m sure you’ve already guessed. i don’t think i ever hated you, y/n. not really. i guess i just got scared that there was someone who saw through me so well.”

“and…are you still scared?”

he shakes head firmly. “no. it’s a good thing, because, well. you feel safe. like a place i can go to and let my guard down. i imagine doing things with you i’d never do with anyone else.”

“not naughty things, i hope,” you joke, but the brilliant red that blooms so bright across his face you can see in the dark is extremely telling. “yang jungwon! get your mind out of the gutter!”

feigning a cough, he looks away, fighting for whatever dignity he’s got left. “my point is, i can’t go on as your rival. i…i need you.” he swallows, and in his eyes there’s a vulnerability you know is saved only for you. “i don’t know why, but knowing you’re the only one who understands me is all i’ll ever need. selfish as it is, i want to keep you here forever, so i don’t have to feel alone again.” he says it all with a conviction that’s so strong it almost scares you. he’s putting all his trust into you. does he not think it’s terrifying, to leave all his sorrows with a person like you?

“are you confessing to me?” you whisper breathlessly. you seriously hope he can hear you over the crashing rainfall. “because i’m not sure if i’m-”

“yes. i’m confessing to you, like right now.”

oh. oh.

but there’s an ache in your chest that swells as you try to meet his glassy eyes. “but if you know me so well, you’ll know that i’m not all that. i’m an emotional wreck who can’t live without her ego, and i’m just…me.” and you’re so much more, more than i’ll ever be.

at this, he stops dead in his tracks, not giving a damn about the fact that the rain’s only getting heavier. “i-okay. what do you think of when you think of me?”

“how is this relevant?”

“just answer the question.”

you lick your dry lips, scouring your brain for a reply that can tell him exactly what you want him to know. “it’s like you can see who i am, like you know exactly what to do to make everything okay again. we’ve been under the same pressure to be good our whole lives, and when you try to make me feel better i can tell you mean it. and it works, and i honestly don’t know how i could possibly live without it, now that i know what it feels like to be loved by you.” if you’d told your younger self that years into the future, you’d get to bare your soul to your greatest rival, she’d probably laugh in your face. but here you are, and it’s comforting to know that he’d never judge you for it.

finally, yang jungwon grins that radiant grin of his, the tip of his sparkler meeting yours. “isn’t that reason enough, then, to keep me here? let’s be selfish for once, you goody-two-shoes.” the soft gaze he has on you has your already-weak resolve crumbling away, and it’s as though a hole’s been filled in your heart. one you didn’t even know existed.

“we’ve been too good our whole lives, haven’t we?”

“all the more a reason to be a little more reckless.”

but you let the sparkler fall to the puddle-strewn pavement as you cup his face in your palms, pressing your forehead to his. “for you? any leap of faith would be worth it.”

and you kiss him, with the force of every unsaid word, every apology and confession of the past eighteen years. as much as you’ve done this before with him, every other time he’s kissed you pales in comparison, because for once you see why you wanted him so badly. why you wanted him to have a piece of your soul. maybe, just maybe, pieces of you are already a part of him, and him of you. fragments of each of your shared pasts had embedded themselves in your hearts long before you’d learnt that the sting was one of longing, and not jealousy alone.

his grip on the umbrella loosens, his palm wraps around your nape, a thumb caressing your jaw in a movement both reverent and yearning. with the umbrella now blown far, far away, you’re completely drenched, but you can’t even bring yourself to care anymore. as his other hand moves to hold your waist, you’re surprised at how naturally it comes. you tug him closer, and it’s both everything you’ve ever wanted, but at the same time never enough. breathing in the lingering scent of his lotion, you decide that this, this is home.

“...what we had was special, you know, and i can’t just let - am i seeing things? oh shit, you guys have to see this, oh my-” sunoo’s voice rings out in the night, and this time you just giggle against jungwon’s lips, not bothering to even look at your rightfully flabbergasted friends. this time, you want them to know.

riki sneers in disgust as he flings your stray umbrella towards you both. “i’d congratulate you, but i’ll be too busy puking in that corner right over there.”

“as if you and your girlfriend aren’t worse,” jungwon teases, catching the umbrella with one hand, the other still on your hip. gosh, that was attractive.

oh gosh, this guy’s your boyfriend. yang jungwon is your boyfriend.

by now, your friends have caught up with you, and you’ve got a feeling they’re about to circle you like starving vultures for a good story. but you can’t even bring yourself to mind as jungwon takes your hand into his, interlacing your fingers as he reopens the umbrella. “ready to go?”

anytime, if it’s with him.

a/n ➭ so yall…the promised context. this started off as a secret romance thing where ynwon were more touchy feely (in fact this is the fic that started the whole series lmao). but along the way i decided to use this fic as my projection + built-in jungwon character analysis. tbh the final result of this fic is…very different from what i had in mind at the start, but i’m okay with how it turned out in the end! as always, thanks for reading till the end! if u have the time do reblog/comment so ik what i can improve on haha have a good week! ALSO DID YALL SPOT THE SUNOO X YN CRUMBS

119 notes · View notes

elsweetheart · 1 year

Note

OK MAYBE A BRATTY!READER WHOS PUSHING BUTTONS N TESTING THE LIMITS N IS JUST ASKING TO BE PUT IN CHECK

n then we have brat-tamer!ellie/abby …. whichever u prefer

👹👹

ok let’s get into it bestie …..

🎀 warning: abby spanks reader like once. abby gets all mean at the end bc reader is a brat. she also has reader pinned in a position and ik some ppl don’t like that. wrote this in my old kinda format cos apparently ppl miss it

• so you’re laying in bed, and abby just arrived home from an early patrol, taking the shift that no one had wanted.

• it’s one of those days where the two of you don’t have many responsibilities that day so you can just be with eachother after a long and stressful week.

• you’d felt a little on edge this week, worries and anxieties creeping up on you and abby had barely been able to tend to your every need like usual because she was so busy making sure everything else was in check. you understood, of course— but your brat senses were tingling and you felt yourself beginning to need a release.

• this was expected from you — and abby could see it coming from a mile away. you’d be fidgety throughout the week, and she’d have to reprimand you a little to get you to listen to her which apparently, only spurred you on to act up more. you’d talk back, straying from your usual good girl ways, and you overall would start digging yourself deeper into a hole of misbehaviour.

• it had been ten minutes since she’d returned, and you had already pushed her buttons in more ways than one. you didn’t greet her at the door with a kiss, wrapping your legs around her waist like you usually did — which she could forgive if you were still in bed, as it was an early start. but you were awake, sitting up in the bed wearing her T-shirt and your panties, one sock on your foot from the restless sleep and hair a little out of place. she thought you looked cute until you opened your mouth.

• “took you long enough. you better not go anywhere else today.” you pout with a frown as she walked over to the dresser, removing her gun from her person and unloading it, toned back facing away from you.

• “watch the attitude, yeah? thought you’d be more happy to see me.” she looked over her shoulder at you, having the grace to keep her voice and expression gentle because she didn’t quite know what your deal was. you really wanted to touch her, smush yourself right up against her strong body and have her squeeze the stress out of you— but you couldn’t. you just couldn’t wind down.

• she thought you might listen as you fell silent for a moment, watching her as she unpacked her belongings from her trip. she restart the conversation, giving you another chance. “are we gonna be productive today? maybe i can help you at the gym again.” she suggested, remembering that you enjoyed it last time — telling her that it helped you get your frustration out.

• instead, you groaned— flopping onto your back staring at the ceiling. “i’m not doing that.” you refused making her nod slowly as if to say ‘okay, so we’re doing this.’ you watched her braid bob with the movement and you resisted the urge to sit up and lightly yank it.

• abby sighed out her nose, turning around to look at you and she crossed her thick arms over her chest, the muscles in them engorged even more than usual from exerting them on her patrol. “is something wrong? giving you a chance to speak up here.” her expression was kind, yet stern — despite her words clearly being a not so thinly veiled threat.

• you didn’t answer, staring back up at the ceiling again. she watched you for a moment, before grabbing her towel — heading to go have a shower so that she could come back clean, get in the bed and pull a good mood out of you like she knew she could. maybe you just needed to rant, or cuddle, or kiss. she was removing herself briefly from the situation, determined not to let you get under her skin.

• “ugh, where are you going abby.” you complained, bad attitude laced through your words as she stepped towards the door. she stopped, and you missed the way her back tensed and she rolled her neck in irritation — too busy rolling your eyes back into your head, grumpy as ever. within a moment, abby had walked over to the bed— dropping her weight on it as she knelt, sitting on her feet. her strong hands forced their way to your waist, flipping you onto your stomach making you yelp. you bounced on the bed once at the sheer force of the turnover and she yanked you back, your body sliding up so that your hips were elevated onto her lap, back arched.

• abby spanked you just once, fist curling into her tshirt that you wore to keep you still when you tried to squirm away with a defiant whine. “when have i ever let you talk to me like that, hm?” she slapped your ass again, hating how much the jiggle of it turned her on as you jolted with a whimper at the pain.

• “what’re you g’nna do about it?” you used up the last of your confidence, voice muffled into the pillow. abby went quiet, hand slipping between your legs that were forced open on her lap. her fingers nimbly pushed your panties to the side, shaking her head to no one but herself when she slid her fingers through the large quantity of arousal coating you. “got yourself all worked up when you could’ve just asked. you know how this works.” her strict tone made you falter, whining as you felt the tears spring to your eyes.

• “m’sorry.” you whimpered, suddenly apologetic — which almost made her chuckle, instead letting out a near bitter scoff. when she removed her fingers you reached back with your arm, trying to frantically grab at her to make her put them back. she pinned your arm to the small of your back putting her weight on it so that you couldn’t move. you cried in frustration, hips grinding against her lap trying to find friction.

• “you’re always sorry. always wanna be a good girl when i start teaching you a lesson.” her voice was so smooth and sultry and abby, and by this point you were regretting acting up all together. you tried to explain yourself, tried to make her see that you could be good with your words, but all that came out with stuttered nonsense.

• “no, it’s your turn to be quiet. you’re gonna take what i give you, and you’re gonna keep taking it til’ i think you’ve turned it around. okay?” she sounded mad, weight still pressing you down on the bed — and that’s when she felt your spine relax, melting into the bed as that submissive mindset took over. this was what you needed.

#whore-era #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson prompt #abby anderson hcs

679 notes · View notes

pippytmi · 11 months

Note

spy!au + meet messy + you never saw me ? If not that's fine, I just thought it would be cool. :)

spy!au + meet messy + you never saw me

“So on a scale of 1-10, how much do we hate the fiancée?”

A wry laugh escapes before Kara can even try to quell it, and she briefly removes the unlit cigarette from her mouth to muse, “You know, I've heard a saying that goes ‘never judge a book by its cover.’ Fascinating stuff, I might have to send it to you.”

“Ugh. Journalists—so idealistic.” But Nia is grinning as she snags the barstool at Kara's right. “Where is the elusive Lena Luthor anyway? Do we finally get to meet her?”

Kara shrugs. “Beats me,” she says. “Last I heard, she was running late.”

“Late to her own engagement party? Finally, someone I can get along with,” Nia says. Before Kara can even get a word in, Nia's attention is immediately stolen by the bartender coming over. “Hey M’gann, can I get an amaretto sour?”

“Sure thing,” M’gann says absentmindedly, her gaze otherwise zeroing in firmly on Kara. “Danvers, you better not smoke in my bar.”

“I won't,” Kara swears, raising both hands in a show of innocence, and M'gann rolls her eyes.

“Journalists,” she echoes Nia's earlier sentiment, but with an entirely exasperated deeper meaning. “I'm putting Nia's drink on your tab.”

“Well in that case…” Nia twists around, already waving her hand as if to beckon someone over. “Make it two, Kara's buying a drink for the bride to be. Alex! Don't—I know you can see me, come here.”

For as much as Alex stressed the importance of everyone showing up tonight, she doesn't seem very…well, happy. And while Alex is not typically one to gush, Kara had expected at least a smidgen of joy on her sister's face, not the harried expression she's currently sporting.

“What?” Alex asks, eyes them both suspiciously while fidgeting as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Um, hello to you too,” Nia says. “Clearly, you need this. Where's your soon-to-be better half?”

Alex accepts the drink when Nia presses it in her hand but frowns, however slight, at the question. “She's—on her way,” she says, pausing to take a sip from her glass before her gaze falls on her sister. “Oh, gross, Kara. Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t!” Kara pouts, feeling like a broken record. “Can’t I be edgy and have a cigarette to look cool?”

“That’s the most pretentious thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Nia says, delighted, while Alex just groans.

“Come on, Kara, not tonight. Just be normal for once in your life,” Alex sighs, already distractedly glancing back to the front door like she is willing her fiancée to just walk through any second.

“You guys don’t understand the intricacies of being a method actor,” Kara argues, waving her cigarette in the air to make her point. (And also, because it is kind of awkward to keep it in her mouth without doing anything with it, not that she’ll admit that). But it’s clear she only has half the audience she had a second ago; Alex is half a world away the second her phone starts to ring.

“I’ll be back,” Alex says, handing off her glass to Nia who is more than happy to finish it.

Kara dejectedly puts the cigarette back in her mouth. “I just realized something.”

“What?”

“I don’t actually know how to smoke. What if someone expects me to, like, smoke with them?”

Nia presses a fingertip to her chin and ponders the question seriously. “Either you're screwed, or they will just think you're a dork. The reaction will depend on the person, really.”

Kara's shoulders slump. “So I won't be cool?”

“Journalists generally aren't cool,” Nia unhelpfully offers. “But I'm sure you could make it work for you. You'd be like…one of those grizzly story-seeking sleuth journalists.”

Kara groans, thumping her forehead on the bartop. “That seems more like a private investigator thing,” she says. “Darn it. I'm going to have to start from scratch.”

“I'm all in favor of quitting method acting for one night,” M'gann chimes in, still eyeing Kara's cigarette distastefully. “Now do you need a refill or are you going to fall asleep here?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kara says, lifting her head in order to sheepishly push her emptied club soda over. “Pour me a double.”

That joke never lands—M'gann just rolls her eyes and refills the glass, wiping her hands off before moving down to another patron. Nia scoots her stool closer to Kara once she's gone to reassuringly say,

“I like the pretentious cigarette. It makes you look like a hipster…they’re coming back into fashion, you know. Just like leg warmers.”

Kara wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think anyone really liked leg warmers.”

“That’s how I know you were unfashionable in high school,” Nia says. Then, apparently already bored with the topic at hand, she turns around in search of their former company. “Hey, where did Alex go? I haven’t even bought her a round of shots yet!”

“That’s a good question,” Kara says thoughtfully. “Maybe Lena showed up?” But when she swivels her chair to aid Nia’s search, she can't spot her sister either; considering Al’s Bar is a hole in the wall with not many patrons, that can only mean Alex has stepped out. “I'll go find her.”

All things considered, the night is pleasant—when Kara emerges without her jacket, the air isn't quite cool enough to make her go back in to retrieve it. She walks around the corner to the alley where everyone goes to smoke, but Alex isn’t there. Alex is also not in the 7-11 across the street, nor is she two doors down at the diner. (Kara orders a donut to go just to be 100% sure Alex won’t emerge from somewhere inside, of course, like a diligent sister).

Eventually, her pointless search leads her right back to Al’s. Nia has apparently had enough alcohol to drag Kelly to dance; Winn and James have begun a spirited game of pool; Querl has commandeered the jukebox and is studiously adding 80’s dance music to the queue. Alex, however, is still notably missing.

With a groan, Kara collapses at the bar again. “Can I get a water, M’gann?”

“You got it,” M’gann says, filling a fresh glass from the tap. She moves on immediately after to another customer, and Kara’s question about whether M’gann has seen Alex dies before it even forms. Kara sighs, takes a much-needed sip of her water, and resolves to just melt into her stool when all of a sudden she hears:

“Is this seat taken?”

It should be noted that, in the past, Kara has encountered situations far worse than this one. Moments where her life was in danger, even. She likes to think she has mastered the ability to remain unfazed in the face of the worst surprises at this point of her career.

But then again…she’s never actually met her sister’s fiancée before. And in a truly horrific turn of events, Kara ends up spit-taking all over her shoes.

“Oh crap, I am so sorry,” Kara says, making a mad grab for napkins off the bar and crouching down to pat at Lena’s heels. “Are you—okay, can I get, er, anything—” She doesn't even know how to apologize at this point, so tongue-tied she is just about to offer her own shoes off her feet.

Lena Luthor doesn't answer right away. She takes a delicate step down, and her hand covers Kara's in order to make her pause. When Kara musters the nerve to cautiously meet her eye, Lena gives her a small smile.

“It's fine.” Lena looks much more <i>vivid</i> than the photographs. Everything about her is sharp; the angles of her jaw, the eyeliner she wears, the intensity of her green eyes when they're trained on Kara. Even her voice edges on the sharper side, not quite cold but almost. “Kara, right? I recognize you from Alex's pictures.”

Kara barely remembers to nod. “Yes, I…recognize you too,” she says. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Lena draws her hand away immediately after, and Kara hastily rises up in order to put some space between them.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Kara asks quickly. “M'gann makes a great…sour.” She cannot for the life of her remember what it is that Nia ordered, and from the strange look on Lena’s face, she has 100% gotten the name wrong. “I don’t really drink.”

Somehow, that awkward confession makes Lena’s face twist, like she is trying not to smile. “Alex mentioned you’re sober,” she says. “I hope it’s alright, that she did.”

“No, yeah, it’s not a secret,” Kara says, but in her mind she’s thinking Alex and Lena talk about her? About what? Hopefully not embarrassing stuff. Shoot, knowing Alex, it’s 100% embarrassing stuff. “And I wouldn’t expect you to have any secrets with Alex either way, so.”

“Right.” Lena takes a careful seat besides Kara, her expression since gone entirely blank. She orders a scotch, Kara sticks to water, and they immediately maintain an awkward silence that M'gann raises a judgmental eyebrow at Kara for.

Kara clears her throat, desperate for any attempt of making nice she can muster. “So have you seen Alex?” she says.

“Today?” Lena has her glass raised to her lips, but she doesn't drink. “Not yet.”

“Oh. Well, I'm sure she's around here somewhere,” Kara says, and tries not to find it weird that Lena and Alex did not see each other at all today despite apparently living together.

This time Lena takes a long, thoughtful sip of her drink, and she turns her head to regard Kara silently. “Kara,” she says, as if testing the name all-too-carefully, practiced and halting like she wants to call Kara literally anything else. “Would it be a fair assessment to assume you don't like me?”

Kara’s grip on her glass falters in a single blink-or-miss-it second before she manages to control her surprise. “What?” she says weakly. “I know we don’t know each other, but, if Alex likes you of course I like you.” Flustered, she backtracks to say, “I mean Alex loves you. Obviously.”

Lena doesn’t put Kara out of her misery. At least, not right away. No, she just smooths out the imaginary wrinkles of her form-fitting dress that she has chosen to wear to this dive bar, drums her fingertips against the sticky wood of the bar counter, and gazes pensively beyond her company in a way that can only be described as lost. Then,

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant to be an accusation,” Lena says. “What I meant is, I'm sure you must despise the idea of me.” An attempt at a smile crosses Lena’s lips, but it’s a sad one. “Today was mostly about putting your mind at ease over any misconceptions you might have.”

“Well, I’ve only known about you for like a week, but I can honestly say I have zero thoughts about you,” Kara says quickly. Then frowns. “Wait. That was supposed to sound reassuring. Can I start over?”

The engagement ring on Lena’s finger shimmers even in the poor lighting, and she rests her cheek against her palm, gazing at Kara with a curious, half-amused kind of look in her eyes. “The floor’s yours.”

“I’m not the kind of person who assumes the worst about other people,” Kara says, reaching for her water again, if only to tip it towards Lena reassuringly before taking a quick sip. “And if you make Alex happy, then I can only assume you’re a good person. Also, you might be a saint to even put up with her.”

Lena’s mouth twists into a proper smile, however small. “The way you two talk about each other is so…” She shakes her head as if she can’t quite finish that thought. “You two are clearly very close.”

“Unfortunately, yeah, I'm stuck with her,” Kara quips, and that at least feels normal—talking about Alex is a safe topic. Even if she hasn’t bothered to come back to her own engagement party. “Do you have any siblings?”

“A brother.” Any semblance of a smile vanishes entirely at that, and Lena hastily finishes the remainder of her drink.

Kara gets the feeling she has said something horribly wrong. “And are you two also…close?” she finishes her train of thought awkwardly, even if she already knows the answer.

“No.” The stony way Lena clenches her jaw suggests that Kara isn't winning any brownie points, here, and she has to bite her tongue to stop from pushing on. “Excuse me, can I get another?” Lena beckons M’gann over when she has a second, and M’gann gives Kara another questioning look but doesn’t say anything to her directly.

“I’m sorry,” Kara feels the need to say. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oddly enough, I believe you,” Lena muses. “You did mention your sister has hardly talked about me.”

“I'm sure she would've,” Kara tries to reassure her. “I just don't see her too much nowadays, with my work.”

“Mm. You’re a journalist, right?” Lena asks, and there is something in her gaze that makes Kara feel hot under the collar. “Or was it a kindergarten teacher? I know you and your sister have an affinity for switching careers.” Something about the calculated way she pauses to take a sip of her drink, gaze expectant over the rim, causes Kara's heart to plummet into her stomach.

Kara, in turn, promptly chokes on air. “What? You—you know? About—” She stops. “I’m not sure Alex was allowed to tell you that.”

“Not even if we're going to get married?” Slowly, Lena begins to smile. It's a real smile, one Kara hadn't realized Lena was capable of until now. “Your sister might be the most by-the-book person I've ever met. Unfortunately for her, I was able to connect the dots about you myself.”

“Ah.” Kara drums her fingertips against the bar counter, feels her cheeks warm slightly with embarrassment.

Lena places a hand on Kara's forearm—a warm, gentle heat Kara can feel through the thin sleeve of her T-shirt. “That was no fault of yours,” she says reassuringly. “She slipped up talking about your job. It was fairly easy to connect the dots.”

Somehow, that does nothing to dissolve the dread slowly building up in Kara’s chest. Alex never slips up. Kara is the resident Danvers sister fuck up (Alex’s words exactly), and all at once Alex’s disappearance tonight becomes decidedly unsettling.

“When did she tell you about my job?” Kara blurts out. “Do you remember?”

“Yesterday, I think,” Lena says, and she regards Kara questioningly. “She was telling me about everyone who was going to be here today and what your friends do for work. Why?”

“Was she working? Looking at her computer or her phone or anything?”

“Yes, that’s all she ever does.” But it’s odd, the way Lena says it, like she’s not bothered in the slightest.

It could be nothing. It probably is nothing. But Kara still scans the bar with a renewed vigor in search of that familiar scowl that she cannot find. “She was just here,” Kara mutters aloud. “She wouldn’t have left without telling someone.”

“Alex?” Lena watches Kara carefully, no doubt trying to decide what to say. “Has she not told you if she’s running late?”

“No, she was here already,” Kara says. “I don’t think she would have—” She shakes her head to herself, cursing inwardly. She can’t assume that Alex has been dragged away for a work reason. Maybe it has something to do with Alex getting cold feet. Either way, telling her sister’s fiancée that the woman she’s supposed to marry has abandoned her engagement party doesn’t seem like it would do Alex any favors. “I’m sure she’s just in the bathroom or something. Uh, I’m going to just…” She pulls out her cigarette in a poor cover and says, “Go outside, for a smoke break, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Lena says. Then, “Would it be alright if I joined you?”

If Nia knew that Kara’s stupid cigarette would have led to this moment, she would laugh her ass off. Repeatedly. Kara supposes it’s a small mercy that Nia is still dancing with Kelly, so she is spared of any and all jokes at her expense.

It’s not until they’re outside that Kara sheepishly confesses: “So full disclosure…I don’t actually smoke.”

Lena doesn't look particularly surprised at the fact. “It's an odd thing to lie about,” she says, and tilts her head, surveying Kara with a sharp look. “Oh,” she says afterward. “I’m sorry. Clearly, you lied to get away from me, and here I am following you around.”

Kara swallows. Hard. “It’s not that,” she says, even though it kind of is.

“It's okay.” Another touch, this time gently to Kara’s shoulder. Lena has a strange, half-wistful look on her face. “Take your break. I’ll go inside…I should introduce myself to Alex’s friends and keep it convincing.”

That is such a peculiar way to phrase an otherwise normal statement, and Kara feels her brow furrow subconsciously. “What?”

But Lena has turned away by the time Kara even forms the word, and Kara watches, bewildered, as Lena takes two steps forward before immediately whirling back around. There is no other way to describe it, but—Lena has gone sickly pale in the moonlight, as if she’s seen a ghost. Before Kara can ask what’s wrong, Lena has hurriedly bridged the gap between them and grasped Kara’s face with cold, shaking hands.

“Can you turn around?” Lena asks quietly.

Kara does, but she knows her cheeks have gone hot and red by now, so unaccustomed to both the proximity and the specific person before her. “Lena, what’s—”

“I have something very urgent to ask you, and please don’t overthink it,” Lena rushes to say.

“Okay.” Kara tries not to fidget; she has had a gun held to her head several times before and yet, this is the most overwhelmed she has felt in years.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kara blinks. “What?”

“Please,” Lena adds on, as if that makes the question any saner.

And maybe it’s the desperation in Lena’s voice, in her eyes, in the way she keeps on trembling, but Kara recognizes someone in danger. She doesn’t understand what on Earth is going on, but she slowly nods, and trusts that if Alex kicks her ass later it will be for a good cause.

(Kara is not, however, prepared for Lena to immediately kiss her like she’s starving, hands still tight against Kara’s cheeks, dragging Kara so close that Kara is essentially caging her against the wall).

It feels like forever, but not in a bad way. Kara hasn't kissed someone in so long that she feels clumsy, almost like she is outside of her own skin, hands falling against the gravel of the bar’s outside walls in order to stop herself from grabbing at the inviting curves of Lena’s waist.

When Lena gently pushes her away, Kara hastily steps back, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands to keep from doing something dangerous (like reaching back in). Lena looks as if she's calmed down enough at least; she blushes when she meets Kara’s eyes, glancing down at the floor for a brief moment.

“Thank you,” Lena says. “God, if I was recognized out here of all places Alex would have lost it.”

“Recognized?” Kara echoes. She follows the way Lena jerks her head to the right, where the shadow of a man is disappearing into the alleyway. “I…don't follow.”

“That man used to work for my brother,” Lena sighs. “I don’t know if he would have remembered my face, but better safe than sorry.”

Kara opens her mouth, pauses, and then shuts it when she realizes she has no clue what to say. Her phone buzzes in an all-too-welcome distraction, but her blood runs cold when she sees it’s from Alex.

SENTINEL:

Can you tell everyone the party’s cancelled? Lena’s sick. Also let the cat back in before the night’s over.

“Shit,” Kara involuntarily curses when she sees that familiar code phrase. Suddenly everything makes sense: the secrecy, the mysterious brother, the fact that Lena cannot be recognized in the streets outside of a dive bar used as a front for the average spy (or average drunk that security allows in for the cover). “Lena, are you in witness protection?”

Lena squints at Kara like she is the one dropping a bombshell. “Yes? Did you not know that?”

“No! What the—why would Alex bring you here?!” Kara frantically texts her insane sister back.

SUPERGIRL:

Is there a curfew?

SENTINEL:

The sooner the better. I’m at Dad’s house right now or else I would do it myself.

That next coded message makes Kara exhale, finally, to at least know Alex is safe. Something big must have happened if she is dragging Kara into this without so much as a briefing, sure, but Kara also knows that Alex would not have trusted her with anything less.

“Lena,” Kara says, “can I ask you something urgent now?” She pauses when she immediately remembers the firm pressure of Lena’s lips, and quickly adds, “It doesn’t involve kissing.”

“Fair enough,” Lena says, enough amusement coloring her tone that Kara briefly flushes all over again.

“Can you trust me to get you home tonight?” Kara doesn’t wait for an answer before she goes on: “I know you don’t know me. But you know Alex. And I swear on my life, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for Alex, and by extension that means there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Lena nods along with every word slowly. “You take your job very seriously.”

“I do,” Kara says firmly. (And, hopefully, comfortingly).

“Then I trust you, Kara Danvers,” Lena says. “If that’s even your real name.”

And for a brief moment, Kara’s not a spy fighting a clock on a mission she knows nothing about; she is, instead, a normal person who is capable of seeing the humor of her almost-sister-in-law who definitely knows more than she has clearance for.

“It is,” Kara says—even deigns to smile before she can quell it. “By choice.”

“That sounds like there’s a story somewhere.”

“I’ll tell you all about it sometime,” Kara promises. “Maybe even tonight, if in exchange you tell me your real name.”

“Unfortunately, Lena Luthor is my real name,” Lena says. “Alex said it was fine to tell her friends, so, this party was her idea. She even came up with the marriage idea so when my last name is changed, no one will care.”

The cogs finally start turning in Kara’s head far slower than she cares to admit. “Hold on. So you and Alex aren’t actually engaged?”

Again, Lena stares at Kara like she’s grown two heads in the last thirty seconds. “No. You seriously didn’t know? I thought you were just being weird, Alex says you get really into your method-acting stuff.”

“No.” Strangely, the first thing Kara feels is relief; she doesn’t have to actually tell her sister that she kissed her future wife. The second thing is, quite reasonably, alarm. “Okay I don’t know what the hell is going on with your case, but you mentioned someone who used to work for your brother, right? How bad is the threat?”

Lena hesitates. “It’s…kind of a long story.”

“So really bad,” Kara fills in the blanks. “Crap. We need to go.” She quickly shrugs off her jacket and presses it into Lena’s hands. “Put this on. There are no cameras in this area, but we’re going to hit some when we get to the parking lot.”

“Is everything okay?” Lena asks, though she hurriedly does as Kara says.

“I’m sure it is,” Kara tries to assure her. “But it’s just a precaution until we can reunite you with Alex and confirm.”

Lena doesn’t seem like she believes Kara entirely—or at least, the way her expression remains a fraction confused definitely indicates as much. But at the very least, she does not argue, though she does make a point to ask, “Where is Alex?”

“She just got tied up at work.” Kara leads the way to the parking lot, careful to hover at Lena’s side on the off chance any threat might materialize. “I don’t know where your current safe house is or if it’s been compromised, so I’m going to take you somewhere else. Is that okay?”

“Not like I have any choice,” Lena says wearily. “So am I not allowed to know when everything’s gone to shit? Or will everyone just keep telling me it’s okay when it’s not?”

Kara swings open the passenger side of James’s car (he’ll forgive her for this later) and waits for Lena to sit down. Lena doesn’t. “It’s—complicated,” she says.

“How so?” Lena crosses her arms and still does not move. Kara is still holding onto the car door, inadvertently standing too close; she feels strangely helpless when Lena looks right at her with eyes dark and determined.

“Full disclosure,” Kara reluctantly admits, “I…have no clue what’s going on with your case. I’ve been in the dark and Alex can't exactly share the details through a text, so, the truth is I have no idea if everything has gone to shit. I know that is the very last thing you want to hear since I’m supposed to be protecting you, but—”

“Actually,” Lena says, and her look has softened, “that makes me trust you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I appreciate that you will tell me upfront you don't know,” Lena says. She sways slightly closer, enough that Kara stiffens, but it's only to duck into the car after all.

Kara shuts the door only after a very brief pause. This should not be as hard as it feels. For a week she has been associating the idea of Lena Luthor as her sister’s fiancée and it’s tough to wrap her head around the fact that the opposite is true.

(And it has absolutely nothing to do with how attractive Lena is. Or that kiss. For the record.)

The dashboard of James’s car reads 7:19 PM; his radio is playing a news station; the gas tank is half full. Kara makes note of everything and decides she will drive as far as she possibly can before it hits empty.

Lena is quiet, at first. And while there is nothing special about the bumper-to-bumper traffic or the hazy street lights or the clouded night sky, Lena keeps her gaze trained outwards, head resting against the tinted window.

But then, “My brother killed twenty people.”

Kara grips onto the wheel and tries not to outwardly react. She has, of course, always had a terrible poker face. “Oh.”

“It gets worse,” Lena says uneasily. “I designed the technology he used to kill them.”

There is no possible response Kara can imagine which might be appropriate. In the end she settles for: “That actually doesn’t seem like a long story after all.”

“I assumed Alex would have told you that, at least.” Lena begins to drum a pattern with her fingertips against the center console. “Do you think the worst of me now?”

“I guess that depends,” Kara says slowly, “on whether you designed that technology for the purpose of killing people.”

Lena gives a curt, kind of disbelieving half-laugh, half-scoff. “They were nanobots,” she says. “I was trying to use them to cure cancer. But my brother…well, he didn’t see half the potential I did.”

Kara casts a quick glance at Lena, finds her staring straight ahead with a stony expression on her face. “Lena,” she says gently, “that doesn’t sound like it was at all your fault.”

“Everyone tells me that.” More rhythmic drumming, each beat more hesitant than the last. “I don’t know when I’ll start to believe it.”

When she was a kid, Kara had been thrown into the foster system with little more than heartache and a wish to find the cousin she never would. She had never felt so helpless—so unsure—and something about Lena’s guilt right now brings her right back to that moment. Like she’s just a little kid, knees pulled up to her chest, waiting for a sign that would never come.

“It’ll be hard,” Kara says softly. It has begun to drizzle rain, and she mindlessly sets the wipers, watching them flick back and forth as they wait for the light to turn green. “But it will get easier. I promise.”

“Odd thing to promise,” Lena notes, but Kara can feel her gaze burning against the side of her head, and Lena sounds…lighter, somehow. “Can I change the station?”

“Sure.” James will hate it, but Kara doesn’t mind. Lena chooses a jazz station that frequently breaks with static, and it’s by far the most peaceful hour-long drive Kara has had in a while.

They pull up to the safe house when the clock reads 8:34 PM and the rain has petered out; the air feels damp and thick with residual humidity, but otherwise, the tranquility of the quiet gives Kara a good feeling. Lena has fallen asleep in the passenger’s side, and Kara softly nudges her awake.

“Here,” Kara says, handing her James’s emergency bag once they make their way up the house steps. “This should have a change of clothes. They’ll be too big, but better than your dress at least…if you’re hungry there will be granola bars in the pantry. We can’t risk ordering anything else right now, unfortunately.” She digs into her pocket for the batch of safe house keys she has on all times and locates the right one, pressing it surely into Lena’s hand. “Until we know for sure if I’ll be briefed on your case or not, just…assume you’re going to be moved tomorrow. Also, you never saw me. Like, officially.”

Lena wipes at her eyes with her palm, absentmindedly smearing her mascara. “You’re going to leave me here?” she says, hugging James’s bag to her chest.

“No, of course not. I’m going to be sitting in the car, out here,” Kara says. “I just mean like in general, you know, if I don’t end up getting briefed on your case it would be all kinds of not-allowed to be talking to you. So if anyone asks…”

“Ah,” Lena says, “right. I’ll just make up a cover story for my cover story.”

“Yeah, you know, we need to protect the bureaucracies and all that,” Kara says. “If I'm even using that word the right way.”

“And you're supposed to be a journalist?” Lena smiles ever-so-slightly. “Good thing you're decent at your day job.”

“Only decent?” Kara feels her own mouth twitch with the promise of her own smile.

“I'd give you five stars on Yelp,” Lena says confidently, and Kara laughs, unable to stop herself from full-on grinning.

“Well if you need anything,” Kara says, and gestures over her shoulder to the car. “You know where I'll be.”

“Thank you.” Lena places a hand over Kara’s wrist, and just squeezes there briefly, her hand slightly cold but her touch overwhelmingly gentle. “Um. Would it be—would it be allowed to ask if you can stay with me inside, instead? I don't really want to be…alone.”

“That would make plausible deniability much harder to fake,” Kara tries to protest, but Lena is biting her lip and looking at Kara underneath mascara-smudged lashes and really, there is no other option but to cave. “…but I guess I could break a rule or two. Or twenty-seven.”

Lena smiles fully this time with obvious relief. “And here I thought I'd have to work harder to corrupt you.”

Kara pushes her glasses up her nose and says, “I’m a little concerned you were planning to corrupt me, but I mean. It’s one night.” She follows Lena inside when she opens the door, surveys the untouched room with a quick, satisfied glance. “Just as long as you don’t get me into trouble.”

“I’ll try my best not to,” Lena says, making a beeline for the couch to inspect James’s emergency bag; she pulls out an oversized T-shirt with an exhausted sigh. “Can you unzip me?” Already she’s pulling her hair off her shoulders, exposing the graceful slope of her neck, and Kara almost forgets to lock the door behind her.

“Y-yeah,” she stammers out, once again fiddling with the glasses that she doesn’t need, and she knows it right then and there: Lena Luthor will undoubtedly get her in trouble. And judging by the way Lena gazes so shyly at Kara over her shoulder, she knows it.

(But, well. In the grand scheme of things, Kara figures a little trouble never hurt anyone).

#vaguest storyline but i was getting TOO invested in the plot for a oneshot omg i had to stop myself #i just have a lot of feelings about this AU okay #supercorp #supergirl #book-nerd1216 #i need a fic tag #occasionally i finish prompts <3 yknow

239 notes · View notes