#and the leaves hold onto me. not i them until i crave from exasperated desperation

[made-of-ghosts-and-fire]

i never gave my all in anger when you were around. no competition even when constantly competing.

#only once i gave it my all #racing with our separate baggages weighing us down #it came to a draw #i hated losing #from then on i became okay with losing #idk why #maybe because i wanted to keep the belief in my heart that i could always be better than circumstances #so i never gave my all because it was extremely painful to do so #but for some reason... i gave my all with you #multiple occasions of this kind were drawn out of me #and i dont think ever again #except for college #idk #life said 'lol. get rotated nerd.' #only leaves are left #no flowers #only leaves #and the leaves hold onto me. not i them until i crave from exasperated desperation #my unwanted survival response #where the fuck did yours go #to the grave with you i guess #lucky

[kingkunigami]

@dark-mnjiro I think you’re right, Reo is a dirty little pervert xxx

Warnings: 18+, piss kink.

It’s mean— borderline cruel, the way he holds you down on one of his muscular thighs as you plead for him to let you go.

He’s the filthy pervert for suggesting it, and you’re the nasty girl for enjoying it, aren’t you? You’re both as bad as each other, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for this man is there?

“What did I say, Angel?” The sweet lilt to his voice masks the depraved thoughts that ruminate in his skull, “if you wanna go, just go.”

“Reo,” You warble, salty tears cling to your lashes as you try your best to pout your glossy lips at your boyfriend.

You want to tell him you can’t, that you’ll ruin his expensive denim jeans or worse the antique chair beneath him. But you know he doesn’t care, excuses like that won’t work on a man with more money than sense.

“Come on, sweet girl.” Mikage presses, he’d always been impatient. Happy to tease you until a point, the line that hasn’t been crossed and he still doesn’t have what he wants.

Thick fingers delve between your parted thighs and beneath your pretty dress to press against your crotch, rubbing the soft cotton of your panties as he hones in on your clit.

“I thought you said you needed to go to the bathroom,” He teases, but he already knows the answer. Tugging you onto his lap in one of the large armchairs in his home, watching the way your face contorts as you try desperately to hold back the urge.

“I do,” You sound pathetic, the way the words drag along your tongue in some kind of song, wanting to clench your legs together in a pathetic attempt at holding it in but you can’t with his thick thigh between them.

“Told me that you were desperate,” He scoffs, a pearly white grin sets his features as he begins to bounce his leg, deliberately pushing against your clothed slit. The movement drags a needy whine from your throat, your eyes to the ceiling as you try to focus on anything but the man beneath you as he presses his fingers into the curve of your hips. His thumbs dangerously close to your pelvis, if he just puts the slightest pressure against it, you’ll find that relief you desperately crave.

“I am,” You heave an exasperated sigh, but you can’t- not like this. Your cheeks flushed as your entire body heats up, his grip almost suffocating as he wills you to comply, to do as he says.

Because men like Mikage are always used to getting exactly what they want.

“So do it,” He pushes, his thumbs putting pressure against your pelvis to mirror his words as you feel yourself letting go. The surge of relief floods through your body and the pleasure is near orgasmic, the rush has you feeling lightheaded as you feel yourself let go, your hands pawing at his shoulders for some semblance of reality as a string of curses leave his lips.

It’s filthy, degrading and downright lewd the way you gush all over him, nails dig into his broad shoulders as your eyes roll back, but Mikage doesn’t stop talking, the smooth timber of his voice only adds to your pleasure.

“That’s it— fuck, my good girl,” He coos, “Making such a mess of me.”

But it’s exactly what he wanted, lifting the hem of your skirt so he can see the liquid seep through your panties and soak his thigh. The washed out denim now looks dark blue as he keeps his eyes trained on you, lust blown pupils drink in your expression of pure bliss.

“Look at the mess you made,” He grins when you bury your face in his neck to hide your embarrassment, “Told ya you could do it.”

And you hate how much you love it, you hate how much you enjoy him ruining you like this. Making you do things you’d never dream of doing unless it’s with him, and you’d do it again in a heartbeat. The pleasure still courses through your veins as you feel your heart begin to slow to a soft pitter patter.

Mikage’s cock strains against the rough denim of his jeans as he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek, bringing his hand to your wrist as he brings it down to his crotch so you can feel exactly what you’ve done to him.

“See, sweetheart.” He murmurs softly, lashes fluttering as he feels your hand pressed against his cock, “This is what you do to me.”

“You’re such a freak,” You whine, feeling his fingers brushing through your soaked folds as he tugs your sopping panties to the side, shuffling your body so you’re straddling his hips before moving his hands to his belt buckle.

“Yeah? I hate to break it to you, Princess.” He grins, “But so are you.”

#tw:piss #trigger:piss #bllk smut #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage smut #mikage smut

[n-agiz]

ALONE TIME FOR TWO ㅤ roommate! nagi seishiro x fem! reader — smut [ 0.6k+ wc ] cws masturbation + fingering ! MDNI

ㅤmoments like these were not the ones you had expected to share with your roommate.

you were a mess.

your vision was watery, glossed over eyes losing their focus all too easily as you tried to concentrate on continuing to circle the pads of your fingers over your clit, sliding them down and pushing them inside you whenever you craved more stimulation, frustrated it was taking you so long to reach your high, your lust so overwhelming it made you want to scream out in desperation. you felt clammy, the air around you hot and stuffy, not even the disposal of all your clothing enough to make you feel any freer, stuck with a weird sensation of breathlessness and perspiration, exasperated that you couldn’t seem to make yourself cum alone even when trying so desperately.

“let me help you” and there he was, the cause of your maddening arousal. “i’ll make you feel good, i promise”

how you and your roommate got to that situation was unimportant — what did matter, however, was that even without ever coming close to touching you nagi had been able to turn you into a pool of nothing more than overwhelming lust, the view of his thick, leaking cock enough to affect you that much, the way his hand stroked it so slowly and made drops of pre-cum wetten his flushed tip beyond sinful. it wasn’t right, the power he had over you unfair, and the fact that you wanted so deeply to allow him to finally make you trip over the edge in an explosion of pleasure definitely embarrassing in one way or another — but even with all that, you nodded, watching closely as he showed you a faint smile, free hand ever so slightly moving his hair out of his eyes before he was kneeling in front of you, face all too close to yours while he pressed his fingers around your wrist, moving it away before finally touching your cunt, spreading your folds apart slowly before pushing two digits into you, the squelching noises your slick made as he did so leaving you even more ashamed, if that was even possible.

“so wet, and so pretty” nagi mumbled to himself, eyes finally drifting to your middle as he started to slowly thrust in and out of you, heavy cock resting against your thigh, visibly twitching anytime you walls clamped down around his fingers, your contained moans eliciting low groans to flee through his lips.

“seishiro…” you mewled, both hands holding down around his arms in hopes of finding some support. he was starting to pick up a faster pace, two fingers easily sliding in and out of you while his thumb toyed with your puffy clit, his other hand still wrapped around his cock, squeezing his base every so often but not actually stroking the entire length.

“i want you to cum for me, you can do that, right angel?” he asked, the nickname sounding sweeter than it should when coming from him, and all too enthusiastically, you shook your head up and down affirmatively, already feeling the first sparks of a building orgasm form on your lower stomach, glee warming your chest and speeding up your high as the relief you had been so relentlessly seeking finally started to show. “that’s it, yeah…” nagi praised, movements swift but also precise, hitting every spot you seemed to love and that appeared to get the most reactions out of you repeatedly until, all too quickly and somehow unexpectedly, the knot in your belly snapped, pure pleasure finally washing over you in crashing waves, taking over your body and mind for a few seconds as you relished in it, holding onto him harder than before while enjoying the release he had finally given you.

steadily, nagi slowed down, helping you ride out your high without wanting to overstimulate you. although he didn’t voice it, all that he could think about in that moment was how pretty you looked while cumming — especially when he knew that he was the one giving you that pleasure.

N-AGIZ '22ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

#nagi seishiro #bllk nagi #blue lock nagi #nagi seishiro smut #bllk smut #blue lock smut #smut #nagi x reader #nagi x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #nagi bllk #nagi blue lock #blue lock fanfic #bllk drabble #blue lock drabbles #nagi drabble #nagi imagine

[forest-falcon]

Very fluffy/cheesy fic. Hope you enjoy!

Cravings

Gordon shrugged on an unbuttoned shirt. Their most recent rescue, aiding the passengers of a downed airliner at sea, had exceeded both Virgil and his flight hours by a whole extra mission. It was not regulation, but everyone else at Tracy Island had been tied up with their own back-to-back missions, and speed had played a crucial factor for this particular rescue. It had to be a Thunderbird. It had to be them.

Now, back on Tracy Island he'd been able to shower away the mud and grime from earlier call outs, so his next objective lay with his stomach and the kitchen.

Hair still dripping, Gordon made a somewhat blinkered beeline to the refrigerator. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he was vaguely aware of Virgil, most likely nursing a hot coffee.

His older brother cleared his throat but it failed to register. Gordon's stomach had taken over from his brain, leaving him somewhat preoccupied.

The aquanaut all-too-quickly discovered that the fridge was in desperate need of restocking.

Butter, mustard, marmite...eww, whose was that? No bread.

He sighed. The fatigue was hitting hard.

"Ah!" The second youngest Tracy reappeared and guzzled a mouthful of squirty cheese.

Virgil tried again. "Gordon, you have a visitor."

Gordon slowly turned and, on seeing Penny, visibly gulped too much of his mouthful down. He grinned sheepishly, and for a moment looked to return the canned cheese to the fridge, then paused.

"Ahhh...in for a penny, in for a pound!" he shrugged.

Tipping his head back, he reloaded his mouth with the aerosol cheese.

"Gordon Cooper Tracy! Before you landed me in this condition, you at least practiced a modicum of refinement. I rather fear you've turned into a bit of a slob."

Virgil snorted, almost choking on his coffee.

"Gords? Refined? You should see the lockers in Four - she's a submersible trash can!"

Gordon gave a mock wounded look before a mischievous glint flickered about his eyes.

"Don't knock it until you've tried it, m'lady." he winked, pushing the can towards her.

Penelope visibly shrank away from the offending product.

"It's good food!" he grinned.

"Yes, well I'm afraid our definitions on what food can be classed as good would seem to vary rather wildly." she sighed.

Gordon was undeterred. The notion of Lady Creighton-Ward indulging in aerosol cheese appealed to his sense of comedy.

"In fairness, you don't seem to be enjoying your salad much, and the cheese would be a definite improvement on...what even is this?" He quizzed, holding up something green.

"Wilted Arugula." Penelope offered.

"Looks like old lettuce that somebody sat on." Gordon snickered, letting the limp green drop back onto the plate. Penny rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, well, it would appear that this child has yet to refine his or her palate." she said, returning the untouched food on her fork to her plate.

"What? Gone off spinach not having the same appeal? Don't blame the kid! There's eating your greens and there's eating...that. If you'd have told me earlier, I could have saved you the money, and scraped some out of Four's rear thrusters! the aquanaut laughed.

"Gordon!" Virgil's baritone boomed from across the room. Kayo entered and looked a little confused at whatever interaction she had just walked in on.

"No, no, it's quite alright Virgil. I know exactly how to handle this." She calmly folded her hands in her lap and turned to Kayo.

"I'm not really sure I care for your brother mocking me. Although I could manage his misdemeanors myself; I was wondering if you would care to remedy the situation?" Penny said, pursing her lips and smiling ever so elegantly, though the mischief flashed in the sapphire of her eyes.

Kayo gave a discreet half nod. A hint of a smile crossing her own lips.

Gordon, seeing Kayo heading towards him, leapt over the sofa and made for the door.

Kayo, being Kayo, was of course faster still, and in a blink of an eye, had his arm pinned behind his back.

"Say you're sorry Fish!" she warned, her tone betraying an edge of enjoyment as she bent his arm yet further up his back.

There was a small scuffle and Gordon broke free. Clearly his self-defence lessons with his sister had been paying off.

"Ho ho ho! Didn't see that coming now, did ya?" Gordon countered, standing more victorious than when he had received his olympic gold medal.

It lasted mere seconds before Gordon fell flat on his face - literally. Kayo had her knee in his back and her brother let out a sharp yelp in pain.

"Okay! Okay! I yield! I'm sorry!" he cried.

Kayo held him there for a moment longer, waiting to see that small flicker of fear cross the squid's eyes. He had been slightly too smug for her liking.

"Try not to break him Kayo." Virgil admonished without turning his head.

His sister released him, giving him a small shove as she did so.

"I was only teasing anyway...yeesh!" Gordon said, dusting himself off. He walked over to Penny and draped his arms around her from behind. Whilst kissing her head, he paused.

"You know I love you?" he said genuinely.

Penny emitted a contented hum and rubbed her fiancé's arm.

"I do." she smiled.

Kayo made some guttural sound at the back of her throat signaling they were now being far too sentimental for her liking, and left the room.

"Though I stand by my original comment. Both you and bumpy here are going to need more than a few leaves and veg to keep you going. The kid's part Tracy after all!" he smiled impishly.

"What can I get you? We have a half consumed jar of mustard. Erm... Kayo's into her veggies. I think the bean sprouts are hers."

Penelope chuckled despite herself.

"I can get Scott to pick something up on his way back but I'm not sure how much longer he'll be." Gordon said, kissing her golden hair again.

"It's quite alright. I wasn't really all that hungry." She inspected her manicure for an invisible imperfection.

As if on cue, her stomach betrayed her, loudly bemoaning its hunger for all to hear and Lady Creighton-Ward allowed herself a wistful glance at the aerosol cheese.

"Could have fooled me!" Gordon said, squeezing her shoulders.

"You can have my sandwich if you like?" Virgil offered, forcing an exhausted smile.

"Don't you dare Virgil Tracy! You need your food and rest. You're all too chivalrous, the lot of you!"

She paused and smoothed a small ruffle in her skirt.

"I'll... I'll try some of... that."

"The cheese?" Gordon's face lit up with glee.

Virgil, who had been hunched over his coffee, sat a little straighter. The brightness returning to his own eyes.

"Yes. Fine. And don't you dare speak a word of this to anyone." She fixed both the bemused brothers with a glare.

Virgil handed Penny a spoon. With an air of exasperated reluctance, the London agent extended the utensil towards her fiancé.

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Gordon squirted a small amount of the orange cheese onto the spoon.

His lady pinched her nose and hastily consumed the cheese - if it could at all be called that. An offense against dairy produce would be more apt.

"Well?" Gordon probed.

"Oh, it's utterly ghastly!" She grimaced with a shake of her head.

Virgil chuckled and Gordon rolled his eyes, taking the spoon from Penny.

"Wait!"

Both men paused.

"As it would happen... your child would appear to share your liking for this beastly... cuisine." Her shoulders dropped with the admission. Gordon's face danced with surprise, laughter and just a tinge of pride.

"That's my boy!" he beamed triumphantly, returning the refilled spoon to the disgruntled mum-to-be.

"Quite." Penny agreed. Her musical voice struck a chord somewhere deep inside of him. She polished off her second spoonful and looked up from under her eyelashes with a guilty smile. God he loved her.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #thunderbirds fanfiction #gordon tracy #lady penelope #virgil tracy #tanusha kyrano #thunderfluff

[tom-holland-parker]

Kinktober Day 3

Daddy Kink

Pairing: CEO!Tom x reader

word count: 1133

Warning: 18+

Kinktober masterlist// masterlist

Beep beep beep

Tom quickly moved to turn off the alarm before it woke you up. He sighed, staring at the time 3:00 AM. He regretted booking the flight so early but shrugged and rubbed his eyes as he moved to get out of bed.

Unbeknownst to Tom you’d been up for the last 30 minutes thinking of ways to get him to stay, so when you felt him move to get out of bed you instinctively gripped onto his t-shirt. He quickly turned to face you, “You should be asleep, it’s 3 in the morning” his voice was laced with exhaustion he bent down to kiss your forehead

You let out a low whine, “Don’t leave me”

Tom sighed, “we talked about this, it’s just a quick day trip” 

“But I’m gonna miss you” you finally sat up resting your back against the headboard of the bed, “Don’t leave please” You lips formed a pout as you did your best puppy eyes

“No don’t start pouting, you need to sleep”

“But I don’t want to” You let out an annoyed breath, biting your lip as you conjured ideas to make him stay longer, “Can I at least have a kiss please?”

Tom rolled his eyes, “One kiss then it's back to bed for you” 

You smiled and moved closer to where he sat at the edge of the bed, swiftly straddling him and pulling him for a kiss before he could say anything. The distraction worked for a minute as your hips began to grind down on him, “What are you doing?” He chuckled, gently pulling away from you. 

You rolled your eyes are you began to kiss his neck, “I wanna play, it’s been forever since we had sex”

“We had sex last night, you just don’t want me to leave” Tom groaned as your hips moved faster on his growing hard on.

“Just cancel” You whined in his ear as your fingers played with the back of his hair. Tom shook his head, grabbing your hips to forcefully stop your movement, “I’ve had this event planned for months and I’m not going to cancel it because you want my cock. Stop being a brat or I’m gonna be late”

His strict tone made you wet as he pushed you off his hips onto the bed. You let out an exasperated sigh as Tom stood up. You watched as he quickly got ready, putting on his suit while you laid in the bed naked and needy.

“Don’t be so upset” He turned to look at you as you sat up on the bed, “I’ll be back tonight”

You bit back a smirk at your eyes trailed up and down his body, god he looked good in a suit, “Please Daddy”

His jaw clenched as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew how much he loved it when you called him Daddy. You stared at him with innocent eyes as he let out a deep breath, only two words leaving his mouth, “Come here”

You smiled, not breaking eye contact as you crawled towards the edge of the bed where he stood. His hand roughly grasped your chin, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he smirked. “Unzip me” 

You silently did as you were told, holding back a smirk as you unzipped his pants and pulled them down. Tom watched as you waited for him to get you permission to touch him. Smirking as he nodded, gesturing for you to take him out, you couldn’t stop yourself as you placed a kiss on the thin fabric of his boxers before pulling them down.

His cock sprung free, hitting the white fabric of his dress shirt. “No baby” Tom grabbed your wrist as you tried to reach out and touch him, “you’re gonna sit there and let Daddy fuck your face”

Your hands fell to your thighs as you opened his mouth, in one swift motion Tom was thrusting roughly into your mouth. His hand tangled in your hair as you began to gag on his cock. Spit dripped down your chin as tears trailed down your eyes. 

Tom pulled out quickly, you gasped for air but moved desperately towards him in an attempt to have him back in your mouth. His hand wrapped roughly around your throat as he held you down on his cock, the taste of his precum making you moan.

“Fuck just likes that” a loud groan escaped Tom’s mouth as your hand reached up to massage his balls, you knew that he was close from the way his thrust into your mouth became sloppy. He pulled away again, taking a deep breath before looking down at you. 

Your lips were red, wet, and swollen as you looked at him through tearful eyes. “Daddy please I need you” You pleading, needing to be touched

“Turn around” you silently demanded, turning around and lifting your hips. You gasped in anticipation as Tom’s fingers gently trailed through you wet folds, “Look at this, so wet for your Daddy” he teased 

“Please Daddy” you whined, trying to push your hips into him. Your eagerness landed you a harsh smack on your ass, you moaned at the impact. Tom smiled as he hit you repeatedly, watching the way you became a weeping mess in need of him.

He aligned himself with your entrance, rubbing his tip against your clit, “You want to be fucked, you have to beg for it. Ask Daddy to fuck you”

You groaned in frustration, “Daddy please fuck me. Please” You moaned at the feeling of him rubbing against you, but craved to have him inside, “Please I need it, I’ll do anything”

Without warning Tom roughly thrust inside you, his pace quick as his hand snaked around your body to rub your clit. Your hands gripped the sheets and Tom manhandled you however he liked, moving your body in whatever way he wanted. 

You legs began to shake as you got closer to release, “Daddy I’m gonna cum” You whined

“Hold it” He demanded, making you wait until he was close. You clenched around him as a painful yet pleasurable feeling took over your body. Tom quickly became sloppy again as he was closer to cumming. 

“Fuck baby, Cum on Daddy’s cock” He moaned, his fingers rubbing quick circles on your clit as you came around him. He followed shortly, filling you up with his cum. 

He pulled out watching the way his cum poured out of you, he smiled grabbing his phone to take a photo. Your body fell limp on the bed as you tried to catch your breath. You smiled as Tom moved your body to cuddle against him, 

“I’ll just catch a later flight” he said as he kissed your forehead.

---

tags: @awesomebooklover17 @tomsholland2412 @mskatharinak @justiceemarieee @writesforholland @wildxwidow

#tom holland #CEO!Tom #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland au #tom holland smut #Smut #CEO!tom smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader fluff #kinktober masterlist #kinktober #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #CEO!Tom x reader smut

[seriouslysnape]

Pleasurable Silence

__

Remus Lupin x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 2,123

A/N: This was originally a request, but I just realized after I wrote this that this wasn’t what the requester asked for. So this is just a repost.

“Did I stutter? Get on your knees.”

__

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” Remus snarled, his arms crossed angrily over his chest.

“Remus, you’re being absolutely ridiculous. Sirius is your friend, he has never looked at me that way,” You huffed; “You’re making this up in your head.”

This argument had been going on for far too long now. You had been at each other’s throats for almost an hour. You were tired of fighting, and tired of trying to make Remus see that he was being immature. You and Remus had been at a dinner party of sorts. It was Remus and some of his old friends from his days at Hogwarts. Of course, Sirius Black was included in this group.

“I’ve known Sirius for a long time. I know how he is. I know exactly what he was thinking by the way he was looking at you.” Remus growled, angrily loosening his tie.

Remus had been having a great time, until about halfway through the dinner when he grew quiet. You had noticed that his jaw was clenched the way it did when he was aggravated, and his pupils were dilated about 2x their normal size. You knew something was bugging him, but you decided to leave it be until you were back in private.

That’s when Remus let it all out.

He was pissed about how Sirius had apparently been boggling over you all night. You were sure that Remus was being paranoid, because Sirius had never said or done anything out of pocket in the few years you had known him through Remus. Remus had always been a little insecure, but never like this.

“What’s the matter with you, Remus? You weren’t so nervous before.” You pointed out, removing the pins from your hair.

His tie had been discarded and he ruffled his fingers through his hair to unstyle it. He was fuming.

“I’m not nervous. I just don’t like seeing my best friend eye-fuck my wife.” He hissed.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. This was beyond insane. You were annoyed that, after all these years, Remus still got uptight about stuff like this. You supposed that it was better that he was upset opposed to not caring, but it made you feel like he didn’t trust you.

“You’re out of your mind,” You sneered; “Sirius is your best friend. He would never do that.”

Remus rolled his eyes. His cheeks were burning red and the tips of his ears matched his face. He was almost ready to explode.

“For the love of- stop. Just stop talking.” He said turning on his heel to enter the bathroom.

You felt a rush of anger. There was no way you were going to let him talk to you like that. You caught the bathroom door right before it completely closed, Remus looking to you with an agitated expression. You basically marched up to him, just centimeters away from him.

“If you want me to stop talking,” You began, not at all anticipating what this would lead to; “then make me.”

Remus froze for a moment. He quirked a stoic brow and ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He gave a cocky chuckle.

Challenge accepted.

He stared at you for another moment before crashing his lips roughly to yours. He brought his hand up and grabbed a fistful of your hair. He backed you into the bedroom once more, pushing you up against the nearest wall. His hand was still in your hair, yanking your head back and sucking hard on your neck. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but enough to surely get your attention and send waves of pleasure through you. He growled low in his throat and continued to nip at your neck.

“I can make you stop talking,” He announced, his voice muffled in the skin of your neck; “I can make a hell of a lot prettier noises come out of you too.”

“I’d love to see you try.” You tried to say confidently, but it came out more of a desperate whine.

You let out a surprised gasp when he suddenly kissed you again, nothing short of rough and hot. You let out a hum, and he pulled back and looked at you with so much lust that you felt a shiver travel down your spine. His hands were tight and firm on your waist, keeping you completely pressed against him. His pupils were blown twice their usual size.

“Get on your knees.” He instructed seriously.

You didn’t immediately respond, a little jarred and very aroused at his sudden assertiveness. This had really riled him up. When you didn’t move, his grip loosened on your waist but his eyes narrowed a touch.

“Did I stutter? Get on your knees.” He ordered again, much more sternly.

You slowly sank to the floor, your knees hitting the carpet. You looked away for a split second to get situated, but his hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Eyes on me.” He said, looking down at you.

You looked up at him, eyes shining with desire and expectation. His gaze studied your every move and expression. You went to quickly put your hair up, but he stopped you.

“Don’t touch your hair.” He said, holding it up himself.

You ran your hands over his hips, trailing to his pants. You unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He sprung forth in front of you, and he moved one hand to the top of your head. You eyed his tip for a millisecond, so quickly that he didn’t even notice your break of eye contact.

“Can I...?” You said, opening your mouth just ever so.

He smirked down at you.

“Be my guest.” He replied.

You put your mouth over his length, suddenly gagging when he shoved your head further into his crotch. He pulled out.

“You better take it like I know you know how to.” He said, shoving back into your mouth again.

You were prepared this time, swallowing around him and working through the reflex. You sucked and kissed, a moan escaping from the man above you. His grip was unchanged on your head, but his fingers were stroking gently. His words came out a bit mumbled as he continued to slam back into your mouth.

“Such a good girl...” He muttered.

His hand in your hair pulled your head back and he rocked his hips roughly into your mouth. Then pulled back and rocked into you over and over.

“Every time you’re such a pretty girl on your knees for me...taking me so well.” He groaned, tossing his head back.

You hummed in affirmation, almost giggling at the way his eyes rolled back into his head. He thrusted a few more times before removing himself from your mouth, watching you swallow his pre-ejaculation. You noticed the fire in his eyes had returned.

He pulled you from the floor forcefully, snatching the zipper on the back of your dress down and pushed it off of your body. He stopped cold when he realized you hadn’t been wearing anything underneath it the entire night. You fought the urge to grin at his face. His eyes raked over you, he was hungry for you.

“Seems I’ve forgotten your favorite thing to take off...must’ve slipped my mind.” You snickered.

His expression was dead serious, as he pulled you to his half-naked body. You began to unbutton his shirt, whipping it off of him in a flash.

“Get on the bed.” He demanded.

With the sound of his tone, you wasted no time getting on the bed, laying back on the pillows. He grazed over your body, taking it all in. A hot flush ran through your face, almost being tempted to look away. He dove down and buried his face into your neck, sucking just as hard as before. You arched your body upward to meet his, an appreciative praise coming from him.

“You’re so damn beautiful.” He said in an almost whisper.

Your hands gripped at his biceps as he left bruise after bruise along your neck, spending extra time on the spots that he knew were most sensitive. Your breathing was heavy, your body wriggling in impatience.

“Remus...” You whimpered.

He looked down at you, a few tufts of his supple hair had fallen onto his forehead.

“What, baby?” He purred, knowing he was driving you crazy.

He captured your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. You moaned out and arched against him. His teeth just barely biting down.

“Please...” You pleaded.

You threw your head back in frustration when he withdrew his mouth from your breast. He was going to drag this out as long as he possibly could.

“Please what?” He egged you on.

“Please fuck me.” You begged.

He gave a thoughtful hum. He looked over you once more.

“I don’t know...you’ve been awfully bad tonight,” He replied, a devious grin on his face; “Wearing absolutely nothing under your clothes, knowing that you had more attention than just mine.”

You rolled your eyes. If he wasn’t going to please you, then you’d do it yourself. You reached your hand down to your aching, heated sex. You went to rub your throbbing clit, but he grabbed your wrist so hard that you let out a little yelp.

“Don’t you dare.” He warned.

You gave an exasperated sigh, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Merlin- Remus, please.” You cried out again.

He pinned both of your hands above your head to keep you from trying anything. He let out a seductive chuckle.

“You are just so eager tonight, kitten.” He mumbled.

He shifted to where he was towering over you, you wiggled excitedly in preparation. You knew you were about to get your world rocked. He lined himself up and pressed into you finally. Your heart fluttered at the feeling you had been craving for so long now. He pulled out almost completely and slammed hard back into you.

“You feel so good.” You panted, trying to get your hands free of his hold.

He lifted your leg over his shoulder at that, giving him a better angle so he could go deeper. Remus then slid out and slammed in as far as he could, groaning at the feeling and the sounds you were making. Delicious noises were coming from both of you, pure feelings of ecstasy and desire. He began to fuck you hard and fast until the sounds of your cries and his moans were echoing off of the walls.

“Could Sirius ever make you feel this good?” He asked breathlessly; “Could he ever fuck you like this?”

You shook your head in response, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Answer me.” He ordered.

“No. He couldn’t. Only you.” You cried out.

In response, he rubbed hard circles on your clit. A new round of whimpers escaping your chest. The hot coil in your belly was growing quickly. He could feel it. He sped up his pace, feeling you tighten around him as you released.

He slammed into you again, his cock pulsing hard before filling you completely. He groaned into your shoulder as he came. He collapsed on top of you, your moans were replaced with erratic breathing. Remus looked at you as you regained control over your body again. He had let go of your hands, your fingers running lazily through his hair. He purred contently, a feeling of pure bliss and serendipity washing over him.

Your mind was reeling. You had never seen him like that. He had gotten worked up and angry before, but he had never put it into motion like that. You thought about your fight and how upset he was. Although, now he didn’t seem so agitated anymore. You continued to scratch lightly at his scalp, calling his name out softly.

“Remus?”

He looked to you again.

“Yes?”

You kissed his forehead, a warm glow appearing on his face.

“You know I’m all yours, right? I would never want to be with anyone else.” You assured him.

He knew that deep down. He knew you loved him the way he loved you. But sometimes he just became worried. What if he suddenly wouldn’t be enough? What if someone more charismatic or more...handsome came along? He tried not to think about it.

Based on the way you were looking at him now, though, and the way you were touching him, he knew it wasn’t something he had to think about. He peppered you with much softer kisses now. He felt an overwhelming amount of care and love. This is exactly where he wanted to be.

“I know.”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x female reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x female #remus lupin smut #harry potter lupin #harry potter remus lupin #seriouslysnape

[boop-le-snoot]

stephen strange x oral fixation selfship

it made me horny writing this goodbye. i chew on stuff when i am focused and if were dating you better be giving me your fingers to chew on, bubs. and lemme make-out in your lap for 102828 hours. 😤

cant wait for borders to open so i can go to germany and get my tongue split finally.

based on a sex dream. thank you benefits cucumber for being sexy as fuck.

"You're going to bite it clean off one day," his amused voice interrupted her thoughts briefly, causing the girl's fingers to stutter in-between flipping pages.

She raised her eyes upwards, unbothered by the apparent disrespect for each other's space bubble - neither of them was sure when or how they crossed the lines; perhaps, she was naturally that casual about touch and he didn't have the heart to react in any negative way. He craved it almost as much as she was ignorant of pesky things like societal norms and whatnot.

"Yes, Stephen" true to herself, she offered an exaggerated agreement, emphasizing his name, still worrying that damned, plump lip between her teeth. He could see the miniscule wounds, the healed scar tissue below the line of it. It was a long-time habit for her. "That's why I got my fangs filed," teasing, she smiled, baring her teeth. The inhumanly jagged incisors glinted at him mockingly.

"Kids these days," he continued the familiar banter, fighting the smile at the corners of his mouth. Stephen didn't pretend to understand why she decided that fangs and split tongue was something a human being should possess but he wasn't one of those people who told others what to do with their bodies.

Having thought about it more than strictly necessary, he had decided it did suit her, to an extent, to be as peculiar outwardly as she seemed to be on the inside. Stephen's attention slid back to his own book, he almost managed to ignore the tiny girl sitting in-between his outstretched legs, flipping through several tomes at a time.

Every now and then, a focused sigh would emanate from her and he would have no choice but to briefly cast a glance towards her; the little crease between her eyebrows betrayed the intense thought process she was in. Her foot was twitching against his knee, she never seemed to be able to sit still and even more so when her brain worked overtime.

She reminded him of Tony, which in turn, made him want to just wrap her in his arms and never let go. Just like the engineer, behind a wall of sass and snark, there was a gentle, sensitive person with a world full of colors.

Her lips were steadily turning crimson. The more she got into it, the more she chewed.

"Anything of value?" Stephen couldn't bear to look at it anymore.

"Nothing new," she replied absentmindedly, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. Feeling his eyes glued to her face, she raised her head in confused. "Huh?" The eyebrow arch, the exasperated face.

"Do you need a chew toy?" His own face must've mirrored her because her frown deepened.

The very tip of her tongue snuck out, running over her chapped lips.

He followed the movement with his eyes, tenatively reaching out a finger to brush against the puffy, sensitive flesh, torn between watching himself touch her and the miniscule flutter of her eyelashes as she very obviously tried to conceal her reaction.

A worm of malicious glee took a home in Stephen's chest; as much as she liked to act cool and nonachalant, sometimes they did catch her slipping: lingering looks and quiet sighs.

The corner of her mouth rising slowly, derisively should have been a warning enough. But he was just a man, burdened by his vices and at times, weak. Leaning into him not more than an inch or two, she wrapped her lips around his thumb, the dull scrape of her incisor causing his blood to suddenly run cold. Stephen's toes twitched as she readjusted her position, butt on her calves, a hand firmly planted next to his inner thigh.

As gently as she could, she chewed on his thumb, eyes drooping shut in a gesture almost pornographic. Stephen exhaled, noisy, a breath he didn't know he had been holding, at the seemingly innocent bite to his hand.

Breath hot on his hand, he had no choice but to watch the fine hairs on that arm stand up in response to her. Eyes laughing, she may have been mocking him, waving the ambiguity of their friendship (or was it something else?) as a banner of his stubbornness and her own insecurity.

"Like this?" Briefly pausing the gnawing, her tongue snaked out to scoop up the moisture at the opposite corner of her mouth, briefly enveloping his thumb in her hot, wet mouth strictly more than necessary.

"You..." Stephen was at a loss of words, which only prompted for her mischievous smile everybody was secretly afraid of grow.

"Me," she replied with a nod, resuming the slow, delicate gnawing.

It was a head rush. He was sure, if she'd wanted to, she could easily draw blood, pierce his skin with the gentlest of touches. The thought of it was what broke the camel's back.

The free fingers of his hands wrapped around her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. "You're trouble," he stated, slowly pulling her in and giving her the time to pull away, should she change her mind.

"Mhm," denying the obvious wasn't in her nature. She obediently followed the movement, shamelessly wrapping her mouth fully around his thumb, shuffling closer to his chest with small movements until she had no other option but to hold onto his shoulders for balance.

He decided quite liked her on top of him, not like that was anything new. As the distance between them closed, Stephen easily slipped his thumb from her mouth, leaving a wet trail of spit on her chin and down her neck as he repositioned the hand from her front to her nape.

The side-smirk was still glowing smug in her face, too adorable for someone who just masterfully trolled a sorcerer twice their age. Stephen leaned in first, catching the plump of her abused lip gently between his own, eyes sliding shut at the sensation of the slightest, most reluctant tremble coming from the girl in his lap.

There were small cues almost all the time she was around any of them; now, Stephen could feel the hitch in her breath, the desperate clutch of her fingers on his collarbones as she displayed the reactions she denied herself out of spite on a daily basis.

His tongue slipped in without any resistance as the barest hint of a moan leaked into the kiss; he wasn't as patient as the girl in his lap, gathering her closer was a feat as quick as it was rewarding. The noises grew louder as she felt the results of her little games under her hips. All want and no finesse, her knees and calves landed noisily outside of his thighs, her center planted firmly over his erection.

Now, it seemed stupid for Stephen to ever have had thought that he stood a chance against her. The hot, wet and messy kiss was just the beginning.

#Stephen Strange smut #doctor Strange smut #buns selfships

[goldenshoyo]

Summary: You’ve always felt a connection to Kageyama Tobio, and he’s always taken advantage of that. Even knowing this, you can’t help but come to him each time he gives you the tiniest bit of attention.

Warnings: Mean and possessive Tobio, fem!reader, choking, degradation, finger sucking, 1 face slap, senpai kink, a sprinkle of angst, friends to lovers kinda, (let me know if I missed any)

Word count: 2.6k

A/n: This was supposed to be a short drabble but I uh couldn't stop writing so here we are with a full-length fic. Thank you so much @terushimooo for being my beta, I appreciate it and you sm <3 <3

---

It’s ridiculous, you know that, looking down at your phone screen while the world comes to a halt. Whatever story your friend has begun telling, you couldn’t care less as you see his name pop up on your phone accompanied with the latest picture you snagged of him when he was sleeping after the last time you met up.

The way he makes you feel is dangerous. Ever since high school, whenever Kageyama Tobio beckoned, you would come crawling to him like an abused puppy; even when your friends begged you not to. He was clearly an addiction, and one you had no intention of seeking treatment for.

“Dude!” Your friend snaps at you. “Anyone there?” She dramatically taps on your forehead and you smack her hand away as the phone call ends, sending him to voicemail.

Fuck. He calls again, your phone vibrating on your lap again.

“Yeah, sorry. I just need to take this,” you tell her and excuse yourself from the table; ignoring the look she gives you as you go.

“Hello, Sorry-”

“Why didn’t you answer the first time I called?” The irritation cuts through you, instantly making you regret not excusing yourself earlier.

“Sorry, I was with a friend and needed a minute.”

“Okay. Anyway, I’m in town for a few days. Lucky for you, I’m free all day and night.”

You sigh, leaning against the brick wall of the coffee shop. “I have plans today. I can’t just abandon my friends, Tobio. I don’t know why-”

“Do you really have something better to do than letting me fuck you?” The chuckle that follows is dreadfully delicious.

“Why would you say that,” you spit back. “That’s so rude, Tobio. What’s gotten into you?” He’s always been like this, so you’re not sure why you ask.

“You know I’m right,” another laugh. “I’m in room 504 at the normal place. Oh! Wear that pretty little blue thing you had one last time. I liked it. See you in… let's say an hour?” He hangs up before you can answer.

You lock your phone, slipping it into your jacket pocket before going back to sit with your friend.

You can’t resist him, never passing up the opportunity to have him split you in half. It just feeds his ego, making him more forward and prone to taking advantage of your feelings for him. And, every single time, you let him.

“I suspect you’ll be leaving now?” She raises an eyebrow at you, the rest of her face looking exasperated and disappointed in you.

“Please,” you beg, “leave it alone.”

“Stop letting that man-child take advantage of you!” She says as you stand up. “This time at least make him buy you a fucking meal.” Her taunting laugh lingers as you walk out of the shop.

She’s right, you do need to stop putting him in front of anything else whenever he feels like popping back into your life. However, it doesn’t stop you from going home and slipping into the dark blue lingerie he mentioned, or fixing your hair and touching up your makeup that he’ll inevitably ruin and mock you for. How could you resist that? Every time you think about the smile on his lips while his thumb smears your mascara with your tears after making you choke on his cock, your thighs burn and your stomach fills with butterflies. It’s impossible to resist.

His location is still saved in your GPS from a few weeks ago. The Adlers always stay in the same hotel so you’ve never had to delete it. The burning between your thighs is embarrassing, but fueling your confidence.

In the past, you were a nervous wreck when it came to fucking Tobio, but after years and years of this same arrangement, you’ve finally become comfortable enough to never worry about it.

Parking in the guest lot, you lock your car and enter the lobby. You don’t see anyone you recognize, making it easier to hurry through to the elevator and to Tobio. Knocking on the door you anxiously wait for him to answer, hoping none of his teammates happen to pass by and see you waiting by his room again. It’s too many times to count.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbles as the door swings open and he pulls you in by your wrist, making you trip over your feet and into his chest.

“Fuck, at least I came here. You weren’t very nice to me on the phone,” you tell him before pushing yourself away.

“You didn’t answer me when I called. I was obviously irritated,” he shrugs pushing you back onto the bed so you’re sitting at the edge.

Letting your purse drop to the floor you remove off your jacket and toss it to the side as well. Tobio pulls his shirt off before kissing you and pushing you down against the bed fully. His bodyweight on yours feels so familiar and warm, you can’t help but moan already. It’s frustrating how your body reacts to him, clinging to him like he’s your life support when he’s around. You bite his bottom lip gently and he hisses before sliding his hands underneath your shirt. Feeling the lace beneath his fingers, he pulls away and smiles.

“Good girl,” he coos. You sit up to let him pull the shirt off your body, his lips attack your neck first. Making his way down your shoulder, and then your collarbone, you whine each time his teeth sink into your soft skin.

“Tobio, please,” you beg.

He’s not touching you as much as usual, and it’s infuriating. You’re aching for him, and you had hoped his irritation would have pushed past his liking of extended foreplay. Apparently, it’s just made him want to tease you more. The light pinches on your nipples between his thumb and forefinger barely do enough to perk them up.

“Why are you taking so long?” You reach out, palming him through his sweatpants and finding he’s already hard.

“Can you please shut up,” he growls, pushing you down by your shoulders and slipping his pants off. Sitting up on your elbows you smile seeing he’s decided to go commando for this. He rolls his eyes watching you gawk at him before stroking himself once.

“Tobio, please. Don’t make me beg for you.” You squeeze your thighs together before lifting your ass up enough to slip the shorts off your body. “I even wore your favorite set. Pretty please, Senpai.”

The smirk that takes over his previous unamused expression sets butterflies loose in your stomach. He always liked being called Senpai, even if he was just a year ahead of you. You can’t deny it also makes you feel something more, feeling dirty when you say it as he strokes his cock with his pretty hands.

“I like when you beg.” His free hand grips your thigh, squeezing tight and making you squirm. “But, you are being a little less annoying than usual. So,” he holds his middle and forefinger up to your lips and you part them for him. “Good girl.”

Sucking slowly and keeping eye contact with him, you let him force them in until you’re choking while squeezing your fists together so tight you think you might break the skin of your palm. He pulls them out and laughs, using your saliva to coat his cock.

“More,” you pout wanting to have his fingers in your mouth again. You’re not sure why you like it so much. But, something about the way it makes you feel so small and so below him, you crave that more and more each time. His hand connects with your cheek in one and your face stings before you feel warmth replace it.

“Just because I was nice once, doesn’t mean you get to start acting greedy no. Got it?” You nod, your fingers reaching up to touch the warm skin. “Now flip over, I’m getting impatient.”

You pull your loose shirt over your head as you turn over, elbows and forearms holding you up as Tobio slides your shorts off your body and pushes your thong to the side. He holds it there with his thumb, the rest of his fingers digging into your skin.

“Senpai!” You cry out while his fingers prod at your hole, thumb teasing your clit.

“Fuck,” he chuckles leaning over your body, breath teasing your neck. “You’re already soaking wet down here. I don’t think I need to prep you at all. What a treat,” he hisses the back of your neck before his fingers are replaced with the head of his cock.

It stings, stretching your walls with every inch until he’s fully sheathed inside of you. He holds your hips tightly, not moving. Sneaking a peek behind you, you see his head is falling back with his lips parted as he enjoys your tight warmth. Falling forward, you force him to start thrusting so he can get back inside of you fully. He’s always so rough, balls slapping against your cunt every time he thrusts.

He pushes down on your hip, and you remember the bruise from bumping into a counter corner at work. You whimper, the pain tolerable and making your body burn with ecstasy as he fucks you. He presses harder, this time you turn back to look at him and he looks irritated.

Only Kageyama Tobio could possibly look this miserable while fucking someone.

You roll your eyes and focus on the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your walls and hitting the bottom of your cervix. The room fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, moans, and of course, the almost comical sound of skin slapping. It’s fast, the first one always is. A mix of desperation and built-up tension destroying any sense of self-control he had before. The only thing that matters to him now is filling you up.

“G-gonna,” you cry out, “cum. Tobio please!”

He slaps your ass, hissing something that sounds like ‘it’s senpai’ through a moan. His erratic thrusting signals he’s close too. You clench around his cock when it hits that spot that always forces tears to brim around your eyes. You cum, crying out his name into the mattress while he fucks you harder, chasing his own orgasm. When he finally finished, he tightens his grip on your hips, grunting and holding you still against him before pushing you back and forth twice to milk out the rest of his high.

Throwing himself down onto the mattress beside you makes your body bounce before you crawl up closer to him. He’s warm, but not sweaty. His stamina is truly something he should be proud of. While you know this wasn’t long, it was intense. Anyone else would be tired by now. Your core aches at the thought of another round, but you savor the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his skin against your cheek while he strokes your hair as he mindlessly stares up at the ceiling of the hotel room.

“So,” he says awkwardly. The tone of his voice is different from usual. Normally he becomes softer, more willing to treat you like an actual person and not some piece of meat he uses to get off every time he makes it back home. “Who gave you that bruise?”

Turning to look up at him, you see he’s not breaking eye contact with the ceiling. He’s jealous.

“Who?” you giggle sitting up and poking his side. “What’s it matter?”

“Well,” he sighs through gritted teeth. “I’d like to know, that’s why it matters.”

“Who I fuck in my free time isn’t your business, Tobio.” You’re just teasing him, but it’s true. Why is he so concerned with what you do outside of this room? He’s never cared before.

“It is when you’re still fucking me.” He shouts, anger taking over and he rolls to his side before sitting up and getting off the bed. “You’re mine! I don’t know how you don’t have that through your thick skull already!”

Your mouth drops open with how intense he is now, looking at you with wild blue eyes and running his hands through his dark hair. His body is tense, no longer relaxed to be around you. He turns away, picking up his sweats and pulling them over his body. He’s still close enough to touch, but you’re hesitant.

He’s never shown this much interest in you beyond hooking up. You always assumed he was fucking others while away, even if he would call you at odd hours of the day when traveling, begging you to help him get off over the phone.

“If you don’t get that by now, we can’t keep doing this.” He turns back around, his cheeks turning pink and his eyes glossy. “You can go if you want.”

“Stop,” you grab his arm and pull him down closer to you. His face is right in front of yours, your noses nearly touching. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you. But, I can’t keep doing this if you’re going to keep yelling at me.”

“I won’t yell at you anymore.” He says softly, his cheeks a deeper pink now. “I’m sorry.”

He pulls away and you yearn for the closeness again. You hold onto his arm as he sits beside you, leaning your head on his shoulder. “The bruise in question is from hitting it on a counter at work a few days ago. I ran into the corner of it.”

“Idiot,” he scoffs, laughter following shortly.

“You’re the idiot who got jealous of a bruise.” You say softly, knowing not to push him too hard.

While he’s always put on this tough exterior, you see now it’s easy to crack through when he feels like he’s not the only one in your sex life.

“Whatever,” he looks down at you and kisses your forehead. “Don’t expect flowers and chocolates from me. But, just so you know, you’re the only one I’m seeing.” He tilts your chin up to make you look into his eyes. “I’d appreciate being the only one you’re seeing too.”

You sigh, pulling away. “I’m not promising you anything. It’s been this way for what, six years now? If you don’t want me to actually be your girlfriend, then you can’t control who I do and don’t fuck.”

“God fucking dammit,” he throws himself back against the bed. “Can you please work with me here? I’m really trying to ask you out, ya know?”

You frown, smacking his leg. “I’ve been working with you for few years. You could be nicer and more direct.”

“I’m not nice.” He spits back. “It’s not like you’re easy to read, either. You could act interested in me. You never call or text.”

“You never call or text me unless you want something!”

“It’s the only time I get your attention!”

You’re not sure why it happens, but you both start laughing. Laughing hard enough you double over on the bed, clenching onto your stomach. It’s ridiculous, you think, the way you both have been fighting this internal battle of what you want and what you pretend to want when you’re with one another.

“Well, since I have nothing better to do than let you fuck me…” you tease, “I guess I have nothing better to do than let you date me.”

#kageyama tobio smut #haikyu smut #kageyama tobio x reader #tobio kageyama smut #tobio kageyama x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut

[honeysidesarchived]

WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

interlude ii ( read on ao3 ) ( masterlist )

words: 2.4k

warnings: none really! just an impending, pervasive sense of doom.

rating: m/t

notes: so happy to have finally gotten this little interlude edited and pieced together! just more soft moments because they deserve it considering what's going to be coming up. thank you everyone who has been reading/interacting with this little love project of mine; it took a minute to get myself dug out of the trenches and posting bite-sized chapters because this is a short-fic is definitely doing something to me (lmao) but we're here!

as always you can find translations on ao3, where it's easier to store them in a place that doesn't get in the way.

There is very little time between when Santino cooks her dinner and when he moves her into his apartment. It happens without much acknowledgment from her; she finds herself swallowed up in moments of casual intimacy that break her down to nothing except a girl in love.

Santino wakes her up by kissing her neck and pulling her against his chest; she makes him dinner barefoot in the kitchen, all of the recipes that her mother taught her, and he drags his hand along her hip to reach over her into the cupboard; he stands still and obedient while Euphemia slides his tie into place, and when he zips her dress for her, he peppers her shoulder with kisses. He tolerates taking a walk through the park, even in the chilliness of late Fall or Winter, because Euphie can’t stand to not get some fresh air once a day. When one of her friends asks why he lets her bully him into the cold weather, he wraps his arms around Euphie with a sly smile and says, “How could I not, when I am the one who gets to warm her up after?”

He is an exceptionally tactile man. There is always a reason for him to touch her, trace each line of her, put his lips against her skin. Santi isn’t a man who loves; he covets. And Euphemia shouldn’t like it as much as she does, but she does. Her therapist says that it isn’t uncommon for a girl who grows up without touching to crave it, desperately, like an addiction.

So, she finds herself living in his loft to feed that addiction—which becomes their loft—and teaching him words in French, and feeding him olives while sauce simmers (and does not boil), and kissing the red-wine taste from his lips. It’s all very romantic and greatly overshadows the moments where Santino comes home raging mad, or when his bad mood takes over their conversation and stirs a fight between them. They’re both hot-headed—her more so than he—and he knows all of the ways to diffuse her while she knows none about him.

But it doesn’t matter, in the end; because Santino always kisses her, and always says, Mi dispiace, cara mi, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, lip-locking between each break in words until her lungs ache.

Euphie has never wanted to be loved sensibly, anyway.

Making money stops becoming an issue. Santino might have been fine letting her wrap up her loose ends, so to speak, encourages her, even—“You should never leave business undone, my Euphie,”—but he’d never tolerate her continuing to skim out of the pockets of his associates. Not out of respect for them, of course, but because Santino is more than happy to provide.

“I have to do something,” Euphie insists, often. But Santino clicks his tongue and shakes his head, inspiring indignation in her. “That money goes to my mother, Santi.”

“Princesa, what are you worrying for?” He replies every time. In this instance, he is reading over some documents, his voice casual, simple, effective at bringing her to heel. “If your mama needs money, she’ll get it. Tutto quello che vuoi è tuo.”

Euphemia used to think that he was doing it to be generous, but as time goes on, she knows that isn’t the case. If Santino didn’t think he was benefitting from sending her mother money every month, he wouldn’t do it: but he does. Euphemia stops playing at arm candy for other powerful men; he endears himself to her by taking care of her mother; he endears himself to her mother; he’s afforded a sense of control. There is no facet of it where he isn’t getting something out of it. And she thinks, too, that maybe Santino likes it like this, where she is completely reliant on him for everything.

She doesn’t mind so much.

She would, if Santino didn’t drench her in his longing, if he didn’t make her feel, every day, that he is desperate to treasure her. She has always heard about this kind of love—and it is love—and never thought she would have it for herself.

But she does now, and she doesn’t want to let it go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Tea or coffee, mama?”

Santino is busying himself in the kitchen. They’ve been together for a little over a year now, and they’re on a tour of Italy—not for fun, necessarily, but for integration. They have just spent the last week with Santino’s father and sister, and now they will spend the next two days in the Tuscan countryside with her mother.

Two days for her mother, instead of the week that they gave Santino’s father and sister, in part because his father deserves more time and in part because Euphemia doesn’t think she can tolerate her mother in much more than two-day increments.

“Coffee, please,” her mother says, very charmed by Santino.

“Tea,” Euphemia interjects. She looks at her mother—her face is tired, and older than she really is. Euphie knows that this is a side effect of heavy, abusive drinking and years spent in emotional terror, not the passage of time. Still, she finds it hard to drum up anything except distant pity in her heart. “You don’t need the caffeine.”

“Oh, you always ruin my fun.”

Santino re-enters the room with a small cup—it’s an espresso cup, but he’s poured it with regular coffee.

“A compromise,” Santi explains, handing the cup to her mother, smiling handsomely. “To make both of my girls happy.”

Her mother preens, glows under the affection. “You are so sweet, Santi. A perfect son-in-law.”

He has always called her and her mother his girls. His own mother had passed since before Euphemia; and while he knows that Euphie’s relationship with her mother is strained at best, he does what he can to ease it. Because it makes her happy, he says, and if she’s happy, he’s happy.

“Not yet a son-in-law,” Euphie corrects, and Santino flashes her a quick, amused little smile.

“You see how cruel she is to me, madonna? I have asked her to marry me, you know.”

“Santi,” Euphemia sighs, but it has had its desired effect; her mother looks scandalized, mortified at her daughter’s resistance to marrying a man as good and handsome and charming as Santino.

“Effie, tell me that you haven’t been bullying Santino like this?”

“Mama, there is no reason—he is just teasing. Ascoltami, you don’t need to look so horrified.”

“I do not know where I went wrong with you, Euphemia Sancia.” Her mother clicks her tongue, muttering something under her breath and taking a drink of the coffee Santi made her, and Euphemia can’t bring herself to say that not everything she has done wrong in her life is a slight against her mother’s parenting skills.

Santino smiles and leans across to Euphie, bringing her hand up to kiss it.

“Don’t worry,” he says to her mother, his voice blooming with practiced warmth. “I will ask her as many times as it takes for her to say yes.”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest. She knows that he means it; he’s suggested it to her three times, now. It seems to be the only thing he doesn’t mind asking more than once.

“She’s always been fussy, my Euphemia,” her mother says, breaking the magic of Santino’s eyes on her. “Never happy with what she has, just like her father. Except for you, Santi—you are the only thing she holds onto.”

Exasperation and disgust flood over her. Both the mention of the man considered to be her father and any similarities they might share has her mood souring. “Mama—”

But Santino is sweeping in, like he always does when he can tell Euphie is getting tired of her mother, coming to a stand and asking her, “We should get started on dinner, cara mia, don’t you think?”

Just like that, he’s taken control of the conversation again. He sees her flailing and steadies her. Euphemia is certain that he doesn’t love her mother—that he doesn’t even like her—but that he can spend his time tolerating her with charm and grace despite knowing what her mother allowed to go on under their roof is indicative of the man that Santino is.

“Yes,” she replies, standing as well. “You look tired, mama. Take a rest while Santi and I make dinner.”

She wanders into the kitchen with Santino trailing after her. As soon as they’re alone, he winds his arms around her waist and kisses the juncture between her shoulder and neck.

“Is it true?” he asks coyly. “That you don’t hold on to anything except for me?”

She doesn’t want to tell him very much, because he knows already, and because to say it out loud will give it legs. A year together, and she still doesn’t want her feelings for him to have legs. Santino splays his fingers against her sternum and kisses her jaw.

“You know that it is,” she says at last, her voice a little unsteady. She can feel Santi smiling against her skin.

“Euphie,” he purrs, “marry me.”

Yes, she wants to say, as her eyes flutter shut. Yes, I’ll marry you, Santi. Anything that you ask. I’ll do anything for you, if you would just keep saying my name like that.

She wants to say it but the words won't come out. There is nothing quite like the feeling of Santino peeling back each individual layer of her defenses, piece by piece; so close, she knows, he is so close, but not quite. Not yet. She is most comfortable keeping him at arm’s length as much as possible—to kiss and to fuck and to let someone hold you at night is one thing. To let someone in past the barbed-wire of defenses is yet another, impossibly reckless. To be seen feeling anything deranges you, as the poets like to say.

“Sancia, hm?” he continues instead, when she can’t bring herself to answer, as the words stick in her throat. It’s one of those things where Santino seems to exercise a surprising amount of patience, this whole ordeal of to marry or not to marry; later, Euphemia will come to understand that it is because Santino believes their life together to be inevitable, that she will always say yes to him, one way or another.

For now, she turns in his arms, cocking a brow at him. He continues, “It means sacred.”

Euphemia nods sagely and props herself up on the counter. “Buon ascolto, my love. I suppose that means you should work very hard to worship me well.”

Santino laughs. He leans in, trapping her against the counter—though it isn’t much of a trap if she’s a willing participant—and noses the slope of her jaw.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “I suppose that it does.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

On the last leg of their tour of families, Santino insists that they spend a few days in Rome by themselves.

The days are used mostly for doing a lot of nothing; neither of them are particularly interested in sight-seeing, but rather interested in seeing each other, a thing which they don’t seem to tire of particularly quickly. Instead, they shop, or lay in bed together until the afternoon, or go out to eat when street lights kick on and the city takes on a life of its own.

“You are much happier, Euphie,” Santino says one evening, smoothing out his napkin on the table absently, “when you are not around your mother.”

It’s not a question, per se, though she knows that he expects an answer. But she is still young and a little petulant, and she likes to push his buttons and make him say exactly what it is he means, so she takes a sip of her wine and replies, “Yes.”

He arches a brow at her. He looks particularly handsome like this, she thinks—not around his family, just eating dinner in a streetside restaurant in Rome, illuminated in warm candlelight and the glow of the streetlights outside.

“Are you going to tell me why?” he asks, amusedly.

“If you ask.” Euphemia sets her wine glass down on the table, and when Santino reaches for her hand, she lets him take it, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But it is so boring, Santi, to talk about my mother. Why don’t you ask me about something else?”

The brunette’s mouth is curving in a little smile. “Like…?”

“Like…” Euphie gestures with her free hand, like she has to really think about it. “Euphie, how did I get so lucky to have a woman like you? That is a good place to start. Or, what will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel? Or, Euphie, will I ever be so fortunate as to call you my wife?”

Santino laughs, leaning into their conversation, bringing her fingers up to kiss them. He has long lashes; soft, and dark, and they brush the tops of his cheekbones when his eyes close. Santino glances from her fingers up to her, that boyish grin on his face.

“I already know the answers to the first and last question,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal, but he’s grinning wickedly at her when he says it. She scoffs.

“Dimme poi,” Euphie insists. “I am dying to know, Santi.”

His expression is very sage, very wise, and he nods his head. “Il destino,” he says, winding their fingers together, “e tra un anno.”

There is something very heart-stopping about the way Santino articulates il destino, as though it is fact, as though there is something undeniable about their coming together.

“How do you know?” she asks. “In a year?”

“Because if you do not want to marry me by then,” Santino replies matter-of-factly, “then I am certainly not suited for marriage at all.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a drink of her wine and savoring the way his eyes trail over her, admiring, drinking her in.

“Well?” he prompts. She looks at him expectantly, and he reiterates, his gaze set on her, “What will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel, belladonna?”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest when he looks at her like that; like she is the only person in the entire universe, like she has become the sun that snags him in her planetary pull, like he will never, ever grow tired of looking at her. It sweeps the breath out of her.

“Anything, mio amato,” she murmurs. “Anything you want, if you promise to never stop looking at me like that.”

#john wick fic #santino d'antonio/original female character #santino d'antonio #c: euphemia volpe #f: where there is no temptation there is no glory #spilled ink #john wick oc #i'm fine we're fine this is all fine nobody panic #gonna #q #this so that i can pretend i don't see it djhfbjdf #x: senza tentazioni senza onore

[whatsmyline-pb]

The Art of Quitting

Part 3 of Inspired, Part 2 of Peaky Summer Bingo.

Tags: Fluff, humor, a bunch implied smut

Zalatwic (Polish): to accomplish something in a way that is either illegal or bends the rules, usually involve a bribe, political clout/connections, or simply personal charm

--

If asked, Alfie would deny that he loves Tommy. Not because he doesn’t (he absolutely, 100% does) and not because he’s some bumbling idiot who thinks himself above such emotions and is afraid to admit them to himself, but because Tommy is some bumbling idiot and Alfie’s not quite ready to risk scaring the little fucker away.

So Alfie holds back. He bites his tongue in uncharacteristic self-control and doesn’t let loose the mounds of adoration he so desperately wishes to bestow upon Tommy. One day he will, when Tommy is good and ready (or more likely okay and nearly ready), but not yet.

Instead, Alfie forces himself to focus on the bad— he needs something to keep him grounded, after all. Tommy has many flaws, so it should be easy. But the problem is those flaws are a strange amalgam of fortitude and hesitancy that should make loving him impossible but instead make not loving him a ridiculous, laughable endeavor, and in the end, Alfie’s left with his head in the clouds.

So it’s the trivial things that Alfie latches onto. Tommy’s smoking has been his main focus for weeks now, and he’s determined that Tommy quit the disgusting habit, even though he’s not once expressed the desire to do so himself.

Alfie takes a Pavlovian approach to it, at first. Every time Tommy lights up a fag Alfie delivers him a swift smack to the head, which has earned him uncountable glares and just as many blows in return. It’s gotten a bit out of control, Alfie has to admit. Tommy will flick his lighter with a wary eye trained on Alfie and Alfie will pretend he’s paying no heed and only when Tommy seems to have relaxed does he move to strike. But then Tommy’s only been feigning relaxation and is in fact ready for his assault and a ridiculous struggle ensues.

More than once this has led to them wrestling like adolescent fools on the streets. They inadvertently knock into an old lady one day who exclaims, cheerfully, “Goodness! Really boys, save the horseplay for the bedroom!” Tommy blushes a deep red and Alfie could kiss the woman. He refrains, instead scooping up the groceries that she’s dropped and escorting her to her car. (“Handsome and a gentleman to boot,” she beams. Alfie does kiss her, a polite peck on the cheek.)

Tommy’s long gone when he returns and Alfie has to ask a passing stranger, “You see which way a smoking man with brilliant blue eyes and a ridiculous haircut went?”

He finds him moments later, around the block, moodily stubbing his cigarette out. “You really need to befriend everyone we meet , Alfie?” he asks, and Alfie grins widely, throwing an arm around him.

—

When this counter-conditioning fails and leads only to the endangerment of the public, Alfie takes a more direct approach. He resigns to simply snagging each newly lit cigarette from Tommy’s lips and flinging them carelessly to the ground. Tommy, without fail, refuses to acknowledge this, fishes another from his pack in feigned indifference and lights it, only to have that one too snatched and thrown away, until the ruse leads to a pack fully spent and Tommy stalking off to the nearest corner shop in a storm of unbridled annoyance.

A sane person would retreat, take his newly purchased pack home and leave Alfie in the dust. But for some, inexplicable reason Tommy always returns, knocking impatiently on Alfie’s door minutes later, replenished and ready for more.

—

When Tommy at last addresses Alfie’s new approach it is night, and they’ve just had a spectacular and rather vigorous shag. Alfie’s just slipped out of him and Tommy is a puddle of bliss, pliant and open and satiated, cock soft and spent against his stomach. So naturally, it’s his next move to reach to his bedside table to extract the stowed pack, and naturally, Alfie plucks the pack quickly away and chucks it firmly against the furthest wall.

Tommy levels him with a look and Alfie shrugs.

“Die on your own time, sweetie,” he says.

It seems just the opportunity Tommy has been waiting for. He heaves himself up with determination and grabs his phone, scrolling through it, before shoving the screen into Alfie’s face.

And there they are, displayed in all their glory, the slew of photos Alfie had texted him just hours ago.

Alright, so yeah, Alfie had been craving a cigar earlier today, and yeah, he’d forced Ollie, burgeoning photographer that he is, to take some choice photos of him. Because Alfie knows how he looks while puffing on a cigar; knows that cigars are decidedly phallic and that Tommy's mind is as dirty as his and that, above all else, it is Alfie's humor that turns Tommy on, no matter how desperately he denies it. So, of course, he’d taken those photos for Tommy, sending them in an obvious attempt to rile him before their date that evening.

It had worked, hadn’t it? He's had Tommy moaning and writhing beneath him for the better part of two hours and they’d missed their dinner reservations entirely.

Now, Tommy displays those photos inches from Alfie’s face and triumphantly proclaims, “Hypocrisy at its greatest.”

But Alfie just laughs, wraps his hand around Tommy’s soft cock, and says, “Was just reminding you what this mouth could do.”

—

This gives Alfie another idea. He begins tallying on his phone just how much Tommy smokes in a day. At the end of the first day, as soon as they've entered his flat, he exclaims, “Seventeen!”

Tommy blinks at him blankly, says, “What?”

“That’s how many cigarettes you’ve smoked today and that’s how many blow jobs you owe me. So on your knees and pay up.”

Tommy does his best to look affronted but in the end, after a long silence, cracks a lopsided smile. “Alfie, you can’t keep it up for three blow jobs, let alone seventeen.”

Alfie is undeterred. He pins Tommy with the most serious of looks and declares, “Challenge accepted.”

He makes it to four.

—

As delightful as it was, this experiment backfires stupendously, because now every time Tommy has a fag resting casually in his lips Alfie’s mind goes quickly south and he squirms with arousal and Tommy sends him knowing, satisfied smirks.

“Alfie,” Tommy says, “is something the matter?”

“Tommy,” Alfie says, “Go fuck yourself.”

And so a new routine emerges, in which Alfie pretends he doesn’t care and Tommy sucks down too many cigarettes and Alfie has to eventually leave the room .

—

One night, when they’re undressing, Alfie realizes he’s forgotten to notice the smoking at all that day. Forgotten to notice because there hasn’t been any, and only when Tommy is laid beneath him bare and naked but for a small square patch on his arm does Alfie still in alarm.

He stares and blinks and catches his breath with a determined calm.

“You… Do that for me?”

Tommy rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Just sick of your antics.”

In Tommy-speak that’s a resounding yes. Alfie feels a bit lightheaded. He brings him in for a kiss, long and deep, and when they part it just happens, just slips out on its own accord.

“Fuck, but I love you,” he says.

Tommy huffs out an exasperated sigh, mutters, “For fucks sake,” and tries to pull away. But it’s undeniable, that Tommy’s cock had leapt at his words (practically bounced off Alfie’s hip, hadn’t it?) and it spurs Alfie shamelessly on.

“Fucking love every little thing about you, don’t I?” He grins, cupping him suggestively, nosing against his throat. Tommy shoves him away.

“We've been over this, Alfie. Smaller than yours doesn’t equate to little.”

Alfie smiles broadly. It’s just too goddamn endearing how incapable Tommy is of letting a compliment simply stand. He pulls him back in.

“Don’t worry, treacle,” he says, “you’re just perfect, ” and proceeds to prove to him just how true he believes this to be.

#Tommy/Alfie #tommy x alfie #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #peaky summer bingo #prompts #fluff

[heli0s-writes]

Saga*

Summary: Bucky is in a mood.

A/N: HELLO. Here is the much-awaited bunny saga. How did I get here. Why did you guys do this to me? Thanks everyone who cursed me with this, especially @softbiker​ who put the bath-time idea into my head and had me dry-heaving about it. 🧡

Warnings: Smut! 18+ DomBucky. Rough sex. Mild comeplay. Anal fingering. Over-stimulation. Crying. Possible Dubcon. Please I don’t know. 2.5k words.

It’s nine-thirty and hazy when you get home. Another day spent poring over paperwork and e-mail chains, tracing lines of command to seek the right department head to question and scrutinize. Senators and budgets. Bureaucracy and posturing. Your affixed scowl and bared teeth when you berate men making wrong decisions for half the free world.

Most of the time, your job is fulfilling and fits you perfectly. However, it’s been an entire week of fuck-ups to resolve and you’re overwrought. Sleep-deprived. Pissed-off. Permanently on edge. Thank God the house is quiet, at least.

You break the silence almost guiltily, calling his name. Nearly seventeen hours you’ve been gone—and it’s been like this too long. Now it’s Friday and you texted him near lunchtime you’d have to be in tomorrow, too.

Radio silence ever since. Naturally, you’re anxious.

Down the hallway, Bucky’s voice echoes. “I’m in the bath, sweetheart.”  

Instantaneous relief.

-

The door swings open and buttery vanilla greets you first. Then notes of garden rose cuts through the cream. Moisture hangs heavy in the air. Thick. Warm. You marvel at the view.

He’s leaned back, shoulders and chest exposed above the swirling bubbles, hair tied up with a smile on his pretty lips. His reflective left arm rests on the smooth edge of the porcelain, motioning you forward with shimmering candlelit fingers. Silver bowing to an orange-golden glow.

“Been waiting for you.”

Droplets roll down his neck, gather in the space between his collarbones. It’s heavenly. You slip in the tub and heave a sigh. Oh, he’s good. Always so good at taking the day from you. Always known what you needed.

Since the first time he caught you grilling Tony at the compound, flicking off Steve on your way out in half-jest half-sincerity because their levelling an entire block meant a mess-ton of work on your end and a headache into next year, he’d known. He asked you out, then, as an apology. Something about the mission being his fault. Lemme get you a coffee, please. And you had snapped up yours, Barnes, but met him the next day anyway. Twenty minutes turned into two hours and by the time you were leaving for home, he was coming along with you. One broken bedframe later and you were gone for him.

Exactly what you needed.

“Buck...” You rest your head on his shoulder now, grateful. “Mm... Sorry I haven’t been home much.”

“I know you are.” It’s a mysterious reply, but you’re too worn to raise questions.

Bucky’s breath fans over your shoulder, hotter than the water on your skin. A kiss to your throat. His torso rubs against your back. His legs and arms shift, rearranging himself around you purposefully and it feels like you’re being eased into a trap.

A groan when you discover his game. Exasperated and on edge, reflexive with attitude because you’ve spent all week telling men what to do, you put on that voice you reserve for work: sharp. Commanding. “I have to be up early; I need to sleep.”

Petulance is his reply. Equally decisive. Even sharper.

“I don’t care.”

Under the flickering glow, Bucky sucks the inside of his cheek between his teeth, peers up from behind darkening eyes, and you feel your entire soul tremble.

“Go lie down.” His timbre is steady, indifferent, as if he’s got the entire situation in the center of his palm. He rumbles from deep in his chest, and the trap is revealed. Turning gears and metal mechanisms clatter. Bucky’s finger on the trigger. “Be good, bunny.”

Fuck. You bite down a wince. That pet name. He only uses it when he’s feeling a certain way— dominating, maybe even vengeful. Tired of missing his girl and chasing her shadow. His pupils are blown wide and hounding your every move. Voracious and predatory and you feel very much like his prey now. Defiance flees. You’re barely audible.

“Bucky—“

His tongue flicks over a canine and your stomach leaps into your throat.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

The cage door crashes down. Locks itself shut with you ensnared.

-

Harried thoughts about how to escape his wrath swim through your mind on the bed. You love him. Jesus Christ, do you love him, but you have to get more than three hours tonight. Your eyes are still shut when you feel big hands slide under your calves, behind your knees, lifting you up and right onto his face.

Leisurely licks despite his urgency. Up. Down. The pad of his tongue wet and loving, slicking you up with kisses and spit. His tender affection tucked within impetuous craving. A bruising grip to your hipbones, settling your body, ignoring your pleas when you attempt them.

“Haven’t gotten to touch you in days. You know what that does to me?” Another long, soft suck as you quiver. You can hear his mouth. Smell your own scent threading through the rose and vanilla atmosphere. Sweet and tangy. Alive and keening. Undeniably eager for him. Your pulse feels attached to every effort of his fingertips.

“Gonna have you all night---” Low timbre, curling deep. “—till you’re falling apart for me—” You try to catch your breath. “—shaking the goddamn bed—oh--”

At the first clench of your orgasm, Bucky smiles against your clit, flicking sharp lines as you jerk the tender bud away.

“Stay still.”

His left hand wraps itself around the base of your throat, pressing enough to keep you compliant. The plates shifts and clicks. You break out in a shudder at the sound of it whirring. His other fingers begin their real work, heel of his palm hitting your throbbing clit with every manic shove. Squelching. Smacking. Your desperate whimpers. And then a final loud yelp and you go slack for the second time.

On the comedown, your bones melting into the mattress, you attempt to swat him away, but he’s faster— of course he is— and in a flash he flips you. A crack of his palm and agony shoots up your side like fire.

“I said, stay still.”

You yelp when he does it again, squirming helplessly because he’s barely touching it now— the swollen skin on your ass blistering. He’s dancing on the edges, teasing, lifting— and then—

Another one. You’re stuck in his grasp. Your vision blurs. He leans forward to kiss newly formed tears at the edge of your eye into his devilish mouth. Your spine is electric like a live wire.

Tracing your inflamed wound with his finger-- light touches around the edge of the hurt-- he dips past your flushed cheek with a grin. His tongue is hot when he licks the salt between your teeth. That teardrop he pulled from you, traded from his mouth to yours.

“Cryin’ so pretty, baby.” Bucky praises against your trembling chin, tasting another droplet collecting along your jaw, “You’ll be good now, won’t you?” A weak nod. Captured game spellbound by all his power.

“Get up there with your fucking face in the pillow.”

Metal grasps the back of your neck, tangling your hair, pressing your cheek into the cushion. A slow nudge, he parts your entrance, giving just a tiny bit of him, making you squirm and clench already around his cockhead. Beneath his grip, you pant, nodding, inhaling lungfuls of fresh detergent on the sheets, steeling yourself.

Another mindful lean. He’s so thick. You shimmy desperately, throbbing for more. “Needy fucking girl.” A scrape of his teeth to your shoulder. “Jesus, you got me all slicked up and wet.”

He sinks in-- all the way—easily and so, so deep you swear the air’s been punched clean out of your body. Bucky holds you beneath him, dick pushing deeper and deeper and god how is he doing this.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby—” A grunt. “--maybe too hard, huh?” His breath chases a shudder down your back. “I’ve been wound up—can’t help myself anymore.”

You struggle, shake your head, feel yourself choking up another sob, toes curling until they feel stuck.

“Come on it,” he commands, “Squeeze my cock, sweetheart. Make it filthy with your pussy.”

“Ngh— Buck, you’re gonna—“

A wilted cry tears itself free, smothering itself out on the pillow beneath. You’re still reeling when he picks up his pace, hands gripping your ass, spreading you to admire the sight of him welded inside. You’re trembling-- twitching, overstimulated and overwhelmed—sniffling quietly. You’re shivery and hot, raw and exposed.

He drives in again.

“You ain’t going back to work tomorrow. You’re gonna stay right here— all— fucking—day.” You punctuate his syllables with gagged moans—lilt high like you’re injured, fisting the blankets, tears catching in the pillow.

“Sweet girl,” Bucky croons, wolfish, “Does it feel good?”

He sticks his fingers back in your mouth, thumb under your tongue where spit has collected and drags out a line of it. “Look at you… drooling everywhere, bunny. You’re so fucking messy for my cock.”

Bucky drags his hand down your back, takes his time traveling over the swell of your ass, into the dipping line and prods gently against your tight hole. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Yeah?” A wiggle of his hips, “Tell me you want it.”

Your brain is—not quite working. A little crinkle of static here, a little drone of magnetic humming there, realizing how embarrassed you feel. Submissive and helpless, sloppy and displayed, but you have enough bearing to nod. Get a quiet agreeance out. “Y-yes.”

And it’s enough for him. A lazy kiss to your shoulder, stilling his cock, spreading what’s smeared around your pussy and his base up to your hole, driving in slow and deliberate. The little sense you have flees entirely. You want it so bad, lost to him.

Grinding, grinding, grinding. Deeper and deeper. Dragging all the way out and then back in.

“Too much? Hm? You’re gonna take it, though, aren’t you? Yeah--” He’s harder now. Stiffens up with his own goading, you tensing beneath him, sheen of sweat on your brow and back. “Fuck, I love your pussy. Love your ass. Gonna fill you up at least twice.”

Sometimes the pros of being with an enhanced super soldier is the sex. Sometimes the cons of being with an enhanced super soldier is the sex, too. Twice is a walk in the goddamn park for Bucky. It’s a promise and a threat.

One finger becomes two, hooking slightly, rubbing the back of his knuckle down, feeling the stroke of his cock through your swollen layer of muscle.

“Oh,” you whine, “Bucky—ah—ah.”

It hurts like the way a long morning jog does— aching muscles, worn and overworked, thrumming voltage and adrenaline— and you’re high on it. Clumsy grunts and gasps, blabbering compliance, head spinning. Your vision bursts white. Or black. Or stars—whatever. You’re finished, that’s for sure. Gone for him. Like always.

But not Bucky. Hell, he keeps going, crams another finger inside of you, other arm underneath your belly now, elbow crooked, thighs splayed around your hips, shoving himself in so fucking furiously it rattles the entire room.

The realization dawns that you’re not coming back down. It feels like you’re being torn apart. Skinned and stinging and the most incredible sensation in the whole damn world with him wrapping your entire being around his desire as he fucks into you. You feel claimed. You feel owned. You feel infinite.

“Jesus, baby.” He grunts, “Jesus—fuck—yeah. Fucking good-- all mine.”

Near inarticulate and filthy. He gets this way when he’s close-- tongue-tied as much as Bucky can be, because he’s always got the kind of clever vocabulary that makes your entire body burn without ever having to touch you. So now, when he’s stuffing you full and saying those kinds of things, you don’t stand a chance.

Bucky grips your hair and peels your throat exposed, sucking a mark on the pulse point, and comes so hard he knocks you both into the headboard with the back of his hand cushioning the blow.

His cock is covered when he pulls out, still half-hard and stroking himself, using it like lube. You push your palms over your face, move your knees together but he wedges them apart so wide they smart.

His ruddy cheeks glow beneath the searing blue ring of his eyes, a microscopic corona encircling the darkness of enormous pupils. He holds you frozen with a single look-- ravenous. At least twice floats into your head. Oh, god.

It doesn’t take long the second time, like he’s propelled straight through his first and pitched right into the next. He buries his face into your neck, jerks to a halt with heavy pant, hair splayed over your collar. The sound of it, the smell of it, the feel. His cock, painfully hard. His come, shoved deeper. Your insides, bruised tender and sore, throbbing, stinging, still fluttering for more. Pleasure blurs into pain and back again.

He pinches your nipples hard. Squeezes your jaw, your cheeks. Fucks your mouth with his hand and smears your spit down your sternum.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?” He leans into a thrust, “Tell me.”

Bucky sits you up into his lap, wraps his limbs around you lovingly. The world is hazy and incoherent. You let him do as he pleases, making only choked-up sounds and half-attempted replies.

“Yeah.” Quiet crooning, shushing in your ear, soothing your frantic heart, “I got you. I got you, baby. I got one more for you, alright? And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you? You’re gonna learn your lesson.”

You sob his name with each thrust, chew on your lip distraughtly. You can’t. It’s too fucking much. Stop, you think, please. More, you think, please. Every time you feel thrown off one edge, he takes you to the next one, even higher. He fucks you raw and open and loose and when he finally comes for the last time, you dig half-moons into his arms, curl into the shape of a wounded animal and tremble in pleasure.

-

He cleans himself up. Cleans you too. Soft caresses on the parts of you he marked up, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, imprinted with the creases from the pillowcase. Bucky lays you down slowly, brushes the damp hair from your jaw, settles in next to you with sweet kisses and mindful aftercare.

God, he’s good. Always known what you’ve needed even before you realize it for yourself. Your man.

Wrapping you up his arms when you need warmth. Giving you space when you’re feeling restless. Loving you slow when you’re withdrawn. Loving you hard when you’re aching.

And oh, you ache.

Your body sinks into the sheets. Every synapse shutting down, feeling a rest so deep every cell hums.

“What’re you gonna do tomorrow, bunny?” Gentle prodding, just a little sharp. Hypothetical, of course because he already knows your answer. Already knows you belong to him for the rest of the weekend.

Bucky tugs up the comforter around your shoulders, slotting himself behind your body, enfolding both of you safely. Your lids flutter shut. All the stars in the sky pitch themselves out. The night closes black and endless, eats your mind until you’re lost to sleep.

He pulls you tight to him. Possessive. Caged in. One final scrape of his teeth over the back of your neck like a warning before he muffles a satisfied moan into your hair.

You’re trapped. You’re caught. It’s heaven.

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #smut #fanfiction #reader insert #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bunny saga

[overly-b]

Dreams and Bandanas - JJ Maybank

-Request: Hi! I’m not sure if you write smut but if you do can I request * JJ has a sex dream about the reader while they’re laying together and she hears him murmuring about her in his sleep.

-Request: pleaseeee write 14!! 

-Request: Hey! I saw that ur thinking to write something off of my prompt list, I’d looove for someone to do 3 & 14 if you want requests - @maybankstho

I got these requests separately  however I’m combining them and making them into one big imagine, I hope that is okay! 

Prompt requests came from this list by @maybanktho 

3- JJ has a sex dream about the reader while they’re laying together and she hears him murmuring about her in his sleep. Get creative with it, do what you will.

14- We love Dom JJ but what if for one night, you take that bandana and use it on him ? Is that controversial?

Warnings:smut smut smutty smut smut, swearing 

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: yall let me tell you that this was something else to write. also i wrote half of this on my new macbook and I’m still getting used to the key board so please don’t mind all of the errors that I know are in there lmao. Sexual content under the cut!

It was a night like any other. JJ had fallen asleep before you, tired from the long day he had. You were still up, scrolling aimlessly on your phone. He was cuddled into your side as you sat slightly upright in bed, his arm around you tightly. He had been asleep soundly for about an hour when he started twitching slightly. JJ was dreaming. 

It started as small movements, then quiet mumbles that you couldn’t quite make out. At first you panicked, thinking that he was having a nightmare as he sometimes did, however it became clear that it was a good dream. 

However it wasn’t until he moaned that you knew that it was a different type of good dream. Your eyes widened as a soft moan escaped his lips. You quickly brushed it off, thinking that maybe you were overthinking it. But then he moaned again, a little louder this time, and you know that there was no mistaking that your boyfriend was having a sex dream as he slept beside you. 

You stifled your giggles with your hand, not wanting to wake the apparently aroused JJ. 

You shift your position slightly, turning to lay down and face him. You watch as he licks his lips in his sleep, rubbing his hips against you softly. You purse your lips together tightly, squeezing your eyes shut, nearly crying in laughter of the situation you found yourself in. 

He began muttering your name in strings along with profanities, similar to how he does when you go down on him. You allow him to press his waist to yours, giving the pressure he so desperately craved. He let out a small whimper as you rolled your hips to him. His eyes wandered under his eyelids, a wild dream he must have been having, you wondered if you could make it a reality. 

You pressed a gentle kiss to his unmoving lips, trying to steal him from the grips of his sleep. I was working, because his eyes fluttered softly. 

Opening his lids fully, he was met with your staring gaze. Assessing the look that you were giving him, the way he was laying, the way your hips were pressed to his, his hard length pulsing in his shorts, and the dream that he was having, he put the pieces together quite quickly in his sleep hazed state. 

“Uh, I-” 

“Having an interesting dream baby boy?” You ask in a sinful tone. 

“Um,” 

“You were saying some naughty stuff there,” You tease, batting your lashes. “What were you dreaming about?” 

“You” He chokes out, growing intimidated by your gaze, and the fact that you had caught him. 

“Me?” You question, already knowing that he was. 

“Yeah.” He swallows. JJ watches as you move to straddle his waist. You felt his stiff length under his shorts, rolling your hips softly. You relished the control that you held over his head. JJ was usually the one to take dominance in the bedroom, however this time you had the upper hand, and you decided to run with it while you could. 

“Must have been some dream you were having.” You smirk down at him. He was already squirming at the contact that you were giving him. “You’re already so hard.” You purr. 

JJ’s eyes were still glazed over with sleep, but you sitting over him was an image that he hoped would never leave his mind. You were in short running shorts and one of his tee shirts. Your braless chest is evident through the thin material. Your hair was in a messy bun, sitting loosely on your head, and your glasses sat atop your nose, having taken your contacts out earlier that evening. 

The thin fabric of both his shorts and yours caused a delicious friction to be created as you grinded on his lap. 

“What exactly happened in this dream of yours?” 

“Um,” JJ couldn’t remember, the feeling of you on top of him in this moment was better than any dream he had ever conjured up before. “Fuck,” He hissed at you as your movements got faster. 

“Mind going blank?” Your lips curled into a devilish smile. You prized that you made him feel this way. “Well if you don’t tell me how the dream went, how am I supposed to know that to do?” 

“Fuck please just keep going.” JJ exasperates. 

“Needy are we?” You raise a brow, roaming your hands around his bare chest as you lifted your hips away from his. He groans loudly at the lack of contact, looking up at you and asking you with his steel blue eyes what the hell you were doing.

“Why’d you stop?” He whines. 

 “Too needy.” You state, kissing his lips sloppily. He holds you tight, kissing you back with a sleepy yet forceful passion. “Tell me what you want baby.” 

“You.” 

“I’m gonna need you to be a little more specific,” 

“Fuck Y/N I just need you,” 

You smile at his desperation. Looking over to the night stand, you find his bandana that he had been wearing during the day. Something clicked in your brain, and you figured that JJ was rarely the sub in the relationship, so you decided to see how far you could milk it. 

“I have an idea.” 

“Anything just do it now.” He mewls. 

“Do you trust me?” You ask him, forcing for a moment of seriousness between the two of you. 

“Of course I do,” His voice was low and full of sleep and a husky sexual desire. “What’s your idea?” 

Your devilish smirk excites him, and you lean over to take the fabric from the night stand. 

“You want me to blindfold you?” He questions you. You shake your head no. “You, wanna blindfold me?” You nod your head yes. “Oh.” 

“Would you be okay with that?” 

He is hesitant with his answer, but nods with a glint of desperate lust in his blue eyes that would soon be covered with the red patterned fabric. 

“Remember the safe word if you need it JJ” You remind him, and he nods in compliance, thinking about the first time you had ever fooled around, and you made a safeword just in case. 

Gently, you wrap the fabric around his eyes and tie a knot behind his head. 

“All good?” 

“Mhm.” He hums, still painfully hard from the dream he had and the friction you allowed him before. You take his face in your hands and lead his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply. You surprise him by grinding down on him roughly. His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a strangled moan against your mouth. “Fuck.” 

You kiss his neck, and down his tanned chest, pressing your lips against every chiseled dip and curve. His labored breathing was heavier than normal due to the fact that he was missing his sense of sight. 

“So needy,” You kissed his tip through the confines of his shorts and he lifted his hips as you pulled away. “So so needy baby boy” 

“Shut up Y/N” He grumbles, not used to you being in the dominant position. 

“So demanding for someone in your position.” You nip at the skin above his waistband before pulling his shorts down. 

JJ hisses as the cold air of the room hits his hard length. He jumps slightly as you run your fingertips along him, feeling every vein, every inch, teasing him and leaving him in near agony. You spit softly, letting it drip from your lips to his shaft, and use it to move your hand smoothly. Slow and light strokes don’t seem to please JJ for long as his hips buck eagerly. 

You pull your hand away, leaving him to wriggle for a moment. 

“Why’d you stop.” He whines. You don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you tease him more, kissing and licking around his dick. 

“Tell me what you want J.” 

“Fuck I want you, I need you so bad Y/N.” 

From base to tip, you lick a long, slow stripe, sucking gently at the tip when you reach it. 

“Oh my fucking-” You cut off his words by dipping your head down his shaft and bobbing at a leisurely pace. After a few minutes, JJ’s moans are enough to make you wet, so you shift and begin rubbing yourself. Rubbing lead to fingering, and fingering lead to sounds the JJ could pick up. 

“Are you,” JJ began between groans. “Are you touching yourself right now?” 

“Mhm.” You hum, mouth still on him. 

“Holy fuck that’s so fucking hot.” 

“Yeah baby?” You take your lips from his cock. “You hear how wet I am?” 

“Fuck Y/N I need you.” 

“You’ve said that plenty of times JJ tell me what you need.” 

“I need to be in you.” 

“Beg.” You demand. 

“W- what?” JJ whimpers. 

“Beg for it,” You tease him with your tongue, circling around his flaming red tip. “Tell me how much you want it, how much you need it.” 

“Fuck please I need to be in you so fucking bad.” He whines, writhing at your light touches. “Please Y/N ride me I need to feel you right now.” 

“Well,” You state as if you are pondering the matter. “Since you asked so nicely.” You roll away from his midsection and shimmy out of your soaked pajama shorts. His dick was already lubricated with your spit, so all you had to do was climb on top of him. 

His hands instantly gripped your hips tightly, holding you close to him. Sitting up, you smash your lips to his, rubbing your bare core onto his cock. You push him back down to the mattress, rolling your hips a few times before taking him in your hand and pressing his tip to your entrance. Inch my inch, you sick down onto him until you hit his base, and the tip of him brushes over your sweet spot. JJ lets out a pornographic moan as you do so, and as you continue by rolling your hip. 

“Oh my god you’re so fucking wet. Fuck you feel so good.” 

“That’s it JJ, who’s pussy makes you feel this good.”

“Shit- yours” JJ hisses, a new level of turned on by your dirty words. 

“And who’s the only one who can fuck you this good?” 

“Oh my god you Y/N, all you baby, fuck I’m so close.” 

“Shit me too,” You whine, slowing your strokes into grinds. You were surprised how worked up you have gotten from your own hand. JJ’s hand fumbles but finds your clit and starts rubbing it, wanting you to reach your high with him. You moan and lean over him, bouncing your hips. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” JJ hitches. You reach behind his head and take the bandana off his eyes, allowing him to see once again. His eyes find yours and you rest your forehead on his as you pound your self down, slamming your pelvis to his over and over. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he spills into your tightening core. You cum undone just as he finishes, and he massages your clit to run you through the rest of your high. 

You collapse onto his chest, breathing heavily. You remain in that position for a while, with JJ still sheathed in you. 

“That was something else,” JJ admits. 

“A good something else?” You ask, previous dominant nature fading away in seconds. 

“A fucking amazing something else.” JJ reassures you. “I gotta say I dig the blindfold, but it’s your turn to wear it next time.”

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[dclsbaby]

mykonos-crossed lovers (part iv) 🦋

🎶playlist for part iv

prologue

part i

part ii

part iii

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smut smut smutty smut this is dirty AF please read at your own discretion

Author’s Note: to all my lovely babies thank you so much for being so patient with me as I endure one of the toughest months of my life. the reason why it had taken me so long to write was because i had uni and my mental health was at an all time low, so thank you a thousand times over to those who’ve written me to check up on how i was doing, it truly means the world 😭 after completing part 4, i felt like dom and (y/n)’s love story isn’t over yet, so a sequel is definitely something I’m considering, let me know if you would like to see that! I hope you enjoy part 4, and thank you to everyone who’s written me so many lovely things about my very first fic. i love u i love u i love u 🤍🤍🤍 xxx

Gif:

***

***

***

“She said no mate. Get the fuck away from her,” Dom interjects. You look up to him with thankful eyes. “And who the hell are you? Her boyfriend?” the blonde responds. Brave, Dom thought. “Fuck off,” he steps in front of you, allowing you to hide behind his tall and strong figure. After all this time, protecting you is still an instinct he has yet to unlearn. “You’ve got two seconds to get out of my sight, or you will get hurt,” Dom sternly says, emphasising every syllable. “Fine! Chill out mate I’m gone,” the blonde quickly retreats.

You exhale a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for the man who has brought you comfort so many times in the past. “Hey, are you okay? I’m here, I’ve got you,” says Dom as he embraces you in a hug. He rests his chin on top of your head and holds your head with one hand, and wraps his other arm around your body. You were terrified of that creepy man, you were confused from the alcohol, the lack of control is sending you into a haywire, so you are glad to be in the presence of someone familiar. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he repeats as he tries to calm your shaking body. “Thank you,” you say as you look up to him with teary eyes, with the palm of your hand on his chest, as you once again, break his heart all over again.

After a long embrace, you pull away, leaving him feeling empty.

“Let me take you home yeah?” asked Dom, and you nodded without much thought. You two make a quiet exit as he guides you out of the club, his hand on yours as you move past sweaty bodies, careful not to bump into anyone. Dom was a little drunk too, but he knew had to take care of you.

When you made it outside, you let go of his hand, a little too early for Dom’s liking. The affection, the touch were all too familiar to him, a crave he never thought he had until you let go. It was as if a simple touch had countered all efforts to move on.

You give him your address and he calls on a taxi for your two. He texts his friends as well as yours, letting them know what had happened and why it was best for you to call it a night.

Take care of her mate.

Thanks for letting us know, be safe on the way back. We’ve got her purse

***

The taxi didn’t take too long to come, and you quickly hopped into the car, followed by Dom, and gave your address. You sat by the window and leaned your head on the window screen, your fingers laced between each other as you rested them on your thighs. Dom wanted nothing more than to hold your hand, make you feel safe, to be your rock. That’s all he ever wanted in your relationship, be given the chance to be there for you. All the pent-up anger and frustration he had over you for breaking his heart dissipates. As much as it would have been a lot easier to move on with anger, he can no longer suppress his feelings for you.

Despite his desperation to hold you, he decided against holding your hand, and stayed within boundaries. He didn’t want to overwhelm you after the night you’ve had. You kept your eyes closed the entire ride back, occasionally opening your eyes to remind yourself of where you are. Dom notices this, and keenly listens to your soft breathing, and watches your chest rise.

Minutes later, you arrived back in your villa. “Hey,” he touches your arm softly. “We’re here,” he quietly says, careful not to surprise you. You slowly open your eyes, still feeling a bit delirious. It’s the same face you would make when he used to gently wake you up to say goodbye before he leaves for training, he thought.

“How long was the ride?” you ask, discombobulated, as you rub your eyes, smudging the last bit of mascara you have on. “Not long enough,” he mutters, wishing he had more time with you.

Still a bit tipsy, Dom helps you step off the taxi. You carefully place your foot down, cautious to not have your heel stuck between the concrete, and make your way towards your villa.

“You coming in then?” you ask as you turn to face Dom. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to come in,” he replies as he stood by where the taxi was. “Don’t be silly. It’s late,” you said, gesturing to him to come in.

You took out the house card that you’ve thankfully kept in your pocket, otherwise you’d be locked out. As you step into the villa, you make your way to the wooden bench by the shoe rack to take off your strappy heels. After fumbling with the straps too much, you grew frustrated as you were just too drunk to figure out how to take them off.

“I’ll help you,” Dom says as he kneels in front of you to remove your painfully annoying heels. He gently grips the back of your calf with one hand, and carefully tug on the straps of your heels with his free hand. His touch sent goosebumps throughout your legs that you hoped he did not notice. “I’ve always liked these heels,” he comments. “Mmhm,” you gave him a smile, remembering all the times he’s taken those heels off you.

“Let’s get you some water eh,” he guides you to the kitchen. You follow Dom’s lead and plants yourself on the kitchen island. He asks you where the glasses are and takes two for you and him. “Thank you,” you look at him. “For taking me home.. and for getting rid of that guy,” you said. A reminder of the creepy man made him shudder, “Don’t mention it, please,” he says, a little too seriously, with two meanings. He did not want to be reminded of another man ever being close to you.

“I’m sorry again Dom, for everything—“ “—are you though?” he cuts you off, the last bit of alcohol in his system forcing him to speak his mind. “What?” you asked, a little taken aback. “Are you actually sorry?” Dom repeats himself. “Y-yes of course I am, how could you ask that?” you were surprised at his interruption.

“I don’t know, it seems everywhere I look, you’re there, and doing something that absolutely does my head in.” he says a little annoyed, and takes a sip of his water to calm his nerves. “Dom,” you sigh. “You know I didn’t leave you because I stopped loving you-“ “-Then why did you?!” his raised voice caught you off guard, almost slamming his glass on the counter.

“We have gone through this so many times! I’ve given you every reason I have to make this easier for the both of us!” you replied with frustration. Dom reacts with a surprised face, eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head. “The both of us? Nothing you’ve said has made it easier for me, so don’t ever try to speak on my behalf,” he says with offense.

You look away whilst shaking your head. “I honestly can’t do this right now Dom,” you place your hands on your hips. “I’m exhausted, totally worn out, this, us,” you point your index finger to yourself and him. “Seeing you on this trip, talking to you for the first time in months,” you sigh, “it’s all too fucking much,” you said exasperated. “I’m going to bed, there are plenty of guest bedrooms, feel free to find yourself one,” you say as you hop off the island.

“No,” Dom says, almost a demand. He pulls you back in front of him and pins you against the counter. “We are not done talking,” he lifts you and places you back onto the counter.

He is standing between your legs, with the palm of his hands on the island, palms planted next to either side of your thighs.

“I’m done fucking about, (Y/N),” he stares into your eyes. “You know how I feel about you. Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll leave you alone,” he breathes by your face. “Once and for all,” says Dom as he gives you an ultimatum you never expected.

Dom is breathing heavily, and you could see his chest rise with every breath he takes. The tension between you two was so strong, it could be cut with a knife. You stare into his eyes as you decide on what to say. Those green, almost hazel, beautiful eyes you miss waking up to every morning, eyes once sparkly and full of life now replaced with dark, lustful ones. His pink, flushed lips from the alcohol subtly quivering in anticipation of your response. You are left speechless by his ultimatum.

Against your better instincts, you take his face in your hands and desperately kiss his lips.

To your surprise he kisses you back, with so much passion that it’s borderline aggression, and wraps his arms around your waist. His desperate arms crawl itself from your waist to your back, then your neck, pushing the back of it so he could feel your lips better. The familiar warmth of his lips sends a thrill down your spine, a feeling you have missed for the longest time. He lets go of you for a second to grab your ass and pull your body closer to his, which you responded by wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting your skirt up in the process. You quickly unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt, eager to see more of him. Taking the hint, Dom rips his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere but that is that last thing on his mind right now.

He takes your face in his hands and presses his forehead against yours. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he says as he goes to plant kisses on your neck, down your shoulders and collarbones, pressing his lips against yours once again. “Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he breathes by your mouth. “Tell me you want me,” he asks from you. You sigh at the pleasure you didn’t think you’d ever feel again. You missed this. You missed him.

“I want you,” you hastily say to him, looking at his lips and then deep into his lustful yet loving eyes.

After your last syllable he kisses you again, more aggressively this time, and lifts your body up to pull your skirt off you. You help him unbutton his pants and feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him.

You and Dom move in sync, in the same rhythm, on the same wavelength. It was as if no time had gone by. The bond you have with him is one in a million and cannot be replicated with anyone else. A connection so deep it’s a blessing and a curse, with so much happiness can occur so much pain.

You desperately try to quench your thirst for one another by exploring each other's bodies, after what feels like a lifetime apart. Hands everywhere, limbs entangled, your face on his. He’s wanted this for so long. Dom has dreamt of what it would be like to be intertwined with you again. Though then it was a nightmare, as he would wake up to an empty bed. Even his subconscious wants you.

“Are you, you know?” you ask, hinting to an obvious question. “I haven’t been with anyone else,” he looks at you in the eye. You nod at him, saying “I believe you,” through your eyes, which he received. His admission got you more excited for what’s to come.

Dom pushes your bodysuit fabric to the side, and inserts a finger in you, causing you to gasp. You try to hide your muffled moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that early. “Wet for me already?” he smirks as he pumps himself. Unflattered by his comment, you decide to tease him a little.

“How about I go back to the club and find that blonde again?” you threaten him. “Nah, fuck that,” he says angrily, pushing himself inside you without warning. You let out a deep sigh as you roll your eyes at the pain and pleasure. “Holy shit,” you curse at his size, still needing to adjust to the fullness. “Tell me if I’m hurting you baby,” he whispers in your ear before planting a kiss on your neck. “Keep going,” you say as you wrap your arms around his neck for support.

He slowly pulls out and pushes back into you several times, before pulling out of you completely, leaving you frustrated at the cold emptiness. He quickly thrusts himself back inside you in a quick pace, his tip hitting your core in one go. “Fucking hell,” he whimpers.

He has never felt anything as good as you, your warmth, your tightness around him, nothing could ever replicate that. His pace quickens by the second, leaving you a moaning mess. “Look at me baby,” he growls, yearning to see your face as you’re pleasured by him. The sight of you looking up at him with your eyebrows furrowed, mouth shaped an ‘o’, your chest rising, the sounds of slapping skins nearly made him finish. But that man has the stamina of a machine, and has self-control like no other, except when it comes to you. It takes every inch of him to make this moment last.

Craving to see more of you, he pulls your bodysuit strap and yanks the fabric down, revealing your breasts. Dom has always been good with his hands, he knows how to fuck you, make out with you, and play with your breasts at the same time. Desperate to feel every inch of you, he lifts your leg and rests it on his shoulder and holds your waist to push you into him as he takes control of the rhythm.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan at the change of position as you feel him hit your spot with every beat. “You feel so good baby,” he whimpers in your ear, turning you on even more and pushing you towards a high. You two are a whimpering mess, bodies intertwined, hungry for each other. A strand of his curls hangs out of Dom’s tied hair, occasionally sticking on his glistening forehead.

“Fuck baby, I’m not going to last much longer,” he says as he cranes his neck down to look at himself thrusting in and out of you. “Me too,” you whimper out. Dom’s pace gets sloppy as he is losing control. “Baby I’m gonna cum,” he cries out. “I’m on the pill,” you said. His eyes widened. “So I can-” “-yeah,” you quickly replied. “Fuck, okay,” the thought of spilling himself in you pushed him to a climax. “Shit, baby!” he releases himself in you. You gasp as you feel his juices shoot into the walls of your core. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeats himself as he rests his forehead on your collarbone. “Cum for me baby,” he whispers in your ear as cum is still spilling in you. “I’m gonna—fuck!”, you moan and grip his biceps for support as you crane your neck back and roll your eyes and join his high. As you both catch your breaths, he rests his forehead on yours, planting a lasting kiss on your lips, then your forehead. You stay breathing on one another for a short while.

“Holy--fucking--shit, that was-” “I know”, you cut him off. Dom slowly pulls himself out of you, which made you jump at the sudden cold emptiness. He watches his cum ooze its way out of you and trail down your thighs. “Fuck me that’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” he says in awe. “Think I just did,” you joke, earning a chuckle from Dom. He has been wanting this for so long, to hold you, feel you, and have you in his arms again. You have been longing for a touch you have missed, an emptiness you have yearned to fill.

“I would never have thought I’d be taking you on the kitchen counter on this trip, considering the circumstances,” he smirked. You raise your eyebrows in confusion, signalling him to elaborate. “I mean I knew I’d be fucking you, but somewhere normal,” he laughs as he picks up your clothes and his off the floor.

“Are you saying that I’m easy?” you asked rather annoyed, crossing your arms at what he said. “No!”, he quickly says, afraid to be misunderstood. “I meant, I’m here, on this island because of you, I planned this trip for us,” he paused.

“Remember when I showed you our plans for the summer months ago? When we were, you know, still together?” he asked. You nodded, feeling slightly guilty. “Well, I booked it that same night,” he adds. “What do you mean?” you asked confused. “When we broke up, I tried to cancel the trip, but the travel agency wouldn’t give me a refund, so I brought the boys along and called it a lads trip instead,” he replied. “Oh, I, I didn’t know you had actually planned a trip for us,” you said, looking up at him with remorseful eyes. “I wanted to surprise you, you know. We’ve both never been, and I wanted to make it special for you,” he says, giving you a smile which you matched, apologetically.

“Look babe, I know this probably isn’t the right time to bring this up, considering I’ve just fucked you on the counter and it reeks of sex in here,” he says as you roll your eyes and chuckle at the innuendo. “But if tonight has taught me anything, if this entire, petrifyingly coincidental circumstance of seeing you in Mykonos has taught me anything, is that fate wants us to be together,” he pulls and kisses your hand. You pull his hand away to tug on his loose curly strand. “I don’t want to spend another second without you by my side, I am so madly in love with you,” he reveals and mimics you as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ears. “I don’t think I ever stopped,” he looked back into your eyes.

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking away. “You seemed like you hated me when you first saw me again,” you shrugged. Dom’s demeanour changed a little bit, looking almost guilty. “I never hated you, granted, I probably wanted to. It’s much easier to pretend than to face reality, you know?” he asks. You knew, of course you knew. You did the same thing. “But it’s impossible to forget you, I’ve tried everything, and I mean everything to get you out of my head. Some things I admit, I’m not proud of, but I’ve never felt pain like that before, I didn't know how to cope,” he confesses. You look at him once more before looking down on your hands.

“Baby,” he takes your hands in his, “will you come home with me?” he pleads. Your body jolts at his request. “I will give you all the space in the world if you ever need it, support you in every step of the way and will only help you if you ask me,” he cups your face with his hands. “Just please, give me the chance to be there for you. I’m not asking you to need me, but let me be there, please,” he places a hand on your cheek. “I love you,” he adds. Your heart bursts at his confession. You responded by planting a deep kiss on his lips. “I love you,” you said as you caressed his hand on your face. “I’ll come home.”

***

By dawn, you’re showered, cleansed from the events of last night, tucked in bed with the love of your life. A case of the “right person at the wrong time”, resolved, as Dom breathes down your neck, holding you close to him with his arms around you, occasionally pressing kisses to your neck. To him, the one that got away came back, the empty space he had been forced to get used to was replaced by your body pressed against his. Dom steals a smell of your sweet-scented hair, reminding himself that this is his reality, and he no longer has to pretend.

A tale of star-crossed lovers reunite on a blue night in Mykonos, on a tropical escape meant to erase every trace of one another in their hearts and minds, only to bring them back into each other's arms.

***

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #football fanfiction #mclfic

[moonlightjeno]

ten things and then some | l.j

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 :: jeno x reader 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞 :: based on the poem from 10 things i hate about you if you haven’t watched it fo yourself a favor and go watch the movie bc it’s a m a z i n g. ty 𝕨𝕔 :: 15.5k this is the longest thing i’ve ever written wow. 𝕒/𝕟 :: y’all jeno fits the concept to this p e r f e c t l y, and no i am not being biased :) and a massive massive thank you to @smoljh​ for helping me and giving me feedback, you’re the sweetest. and ofc to my soulmate girl yk i love you to the moon and back, and i hope you enjoy this piece @mangotexts​ ( truly the best hype woman anyone could ask for ).

everything in bold is part of the poem, from “10 things i hate about you”

I hate the way you talk to me,

Sweetheart. love. angel. The words that spin from his mouth every time you hear him talk to you, made you aggravated. It was a constant stream of words that had begun as a prick of annoyance. Every time, he opened his mouth, looking at you with his dark brown eyes. 

“Earth to y/n” the snapping of fingers disrupts your train of thought, eyes glancing back to the dark-haired boy on the other side of the school grounds, before landing back on your friend. 

“What?” the words slip from your mouth with disinterest, a lack of concern for whatever your friend had been rambling on about for the past five minutes. The small amount of conversation you’d registered was she’d been talking about a party that johnny suh, school alumni, and constant talk around school grounds were throwing as a “welcome to the end of high school”. Though as parties went, you were almost sure that it would encompass school graduates, seniors, and the occasional sophomores and freshmen that would manage to sneak their way in, eyes glittering with excitement as they entered their first high school party. 

“Are you coming?” her words were drawn out as if she’d ask you five times before, she might have, and it was only now that you had finally heard the question. The question slightly baffles you, because everyone in school knew you didn’t go to parties since freshman year. 

“Uh, no. you know what i think of parties, they’re a waste. An excuse for seniors to think they're above everyone else, as they tell off the younger students that they’ve deemed aren’t ‘cool’ or mature enough, while the freshman walks around with some sort of desperate hope in their eyes as if the world will drastically change if they show up at a senior party. Someone should tell them” you say, looking past your friend whose excited smile has dimmed to a small frown, eyes slightly annoyed, something that doesn’t surprise you at this point. It isn’t a secret what you think of parties either, even if you are best friends with the queen of parties herself. You stop yourself before your eyes have a change of drifting to the brown-haired boy with a leather jacket that tends to sit by the foot of the football field, whom you can’t seem to find, probably smoking the thought is bitter and places a scowl on your face before you look back at your friend,  “nothing changes''.

“Just once, one time is all i ask of you” the pleas that come from your friend make you focus on her, her hair is loose ruffled by the light wind that has blown over the course of your conversation. It’s almost enough for you to agree to go to the stupid party, when you see her glance towards mark lee, the boy she’s been crushing on for as long as you’ve known her. It hadn’t surprised you, that she’d fallen for him, when you saw him. The boy who made most girls swoon, but who had somehow managed to beat all the stereotypes of “hot” because mark was also talented, more than you’d like to admit when it came to music, he’d helped you a couple of times when you’d been stuck on a composition, always a smile on his face. so when she glanced towards him, the glittering in her eyes and rose tainted cheeks as mark looked back, flashing a small smile, you couldn’t help but give in. 

“I’m going to regret this,” you say, the words a mix of a grunt and an exasperated sigh, but your friend is almost jumping up and down, giving you a quick hug and promising that you wouldn’t regret it, not at all, you’d have the greatest time before she was turning around a skip in her step. A smile graces your face at your friend’s happiness, and it remains there unfaltering until you hear “hello love”

Brown hair made its way into your view, as jeno’s face presented itself in front of you, a cocky smile grazing his features that made your smile falter and eventually turn into a scowl.

“What” the word isn’t a question, more like a complaint as you try to turn around and head in the opposite direction, away from jeno and his sweet words. But his voice trails behind you only a couple of steps away before he’s next to you leather jacket glaring against the end of the summer sun, and you wonder only for a second how he isn’t passing out from the heat. 

“Oh come on angel, a lil smile wouldn’t kill you” his words are filled with a tone you can only describe as intolerable, making you slightly gag.

“A smile wouldn’t kill me, but i might kill you” you smile at him, a grin adorning your features, “luv” the words that left your mouth are meant to push jeno away and have him leave you alone, but the boy is persistent and though his smirk falters slightly at the glare you give him, the grin is up and running again as he stops in front of you. 

“And then who would you have to glare and fight with luv?” the moment the words leave his mouth he turns away, proud of his line. The dumbass, you think, insults quickly forming in your head and ready to be thrown out towards him but your phone pings, and you thumb it open. The message “see you at the party angel” makes your blood boil slightly, but you can’t hide the way your cheeks slightly turn red and the smile that slowly grazes your face before you make a vulgar gesture to the sweet mouthed boy, and turn away.

As much as you hated to admit, you looked forward to the party only just slightly more than you did five minutes ago, the small nicknames swarming around your head. 

And the way you cut your hair.

The too-loud music and blinding lights that could be heard and seen from multiple blocks away, and you almost stopped in your tracks, ready to turn around and head back home. But a pull from your friend as she squealed in excitement at maybe having a chance with mark managed to keep your feet moving towards the flashing lights. 

Strong alcohol, tequila, or vodka is something you’re hoping they have at the party so that you can attempt to get away from the sex-craved teenagers that are lined up against the walls, pushing against each other. Just walking into the house, and the stench of cigarettes, weed, and sweat floats through the air almost enough to make you gag, as your nose scrunches up at the sight and smell. 

Drinks are set far too far from the entrance of the house, the kitchen seems to be miles away not close enough for your liking until you finally reach it. Johnny, black-haired slicked back, the sunflower tattoo on his forearm a stark contrast to the leather jacket he wears and it makes you smile just slightly at the different personalities the dark-haired boy has.  Yet you can’t deny his loud and extravagant personality as he talks from person to person whether senior or freshman, making drinks, even if some of the spillover the sides, you sit by one of the stools ready to get a mixed drink of whatever the alumni is able to concoct before getting the courage and energy to head back into the party and socialize with people you really have no interest in socializing. 

In the short minute that it takes johnny to get your drink, the lemon drink shot with a strong tequila is set in front of you just as your friend has left you with the only warning being a sharp look, as she smiled to a brown-haired boy that you can only presume to be Mark, by the way, her face flushes, and she takes a swig from the drink in her hand before leaving you, and you yell a sharp “go get em” before gulping down the liquid inside the red solo cup. 

Alcohol you’d forgotten burned down your throat, it’s lingering sharp and bitter taste leaving a tang in your mouth as it traveled down your mouth. You forget that the effect of the drink doesn’t come into effect a little later, where you are jumping up and down on the table, dancing from side to side as the music pumps through your blood and body. You won’t be able to tell that it’s the alcohol that you’d sworn you wouldn’t drink unless surrounded by friends, but most definitely not in a social gathering, that makes you jump from table to table and grab other’s next you as you dance with them. Hair slightly plastered to your face from the sweat, and though you’re dancing your words are slightly fuzzy from the multiple drinks you’d had from random tables you’d pass by.

A sharp tug and pull gets you off the current table and you begin to complain, wanting to continue to let loose to the rhythm of some constant beat song that sounds all too vaguely familiar to your ears, but the arms that are wrapped around you feel oddly warm and comfortable and the protest die slightly on your lips as you turn around to see who’s holding onto you. 

Dark brown hair, almost black frames the boy’s face perfectly and you want to run your fingers through it. Some sense of longing for love and being loved passes through you, and now you’ve realized how drunk you truly are as you push down the emotions of attraction to the boy in front of your face showing only the traces of what would be a smile if he wasn’t so concerned for your safety. 

“y/n?” the boy asks, and you’re still in a light haze of alcohol that buzzes through your skin and blood making everything fuzzy that you can’t quite picture whose face it is in front of you, whose voice that is soft and gentle towards you and sounds so familiar, to which you only manage to nod your head slightly hair falling in front of your eyes as you smile. It’s small, fluttering, and the boy in front of you smiles too, as he repeats your name, and then the words that leave his mouth make him click into place. 

“y/n? Luv? How much have you had?” The word luv, makes you push away from the strong arms that hold you, the classic leather jacket that tends to adorn his body has somehow managed to be wrapped around you, and you realize that you are no longer inside the house with loud music. Instead the music and flashing lights have been replaced by trees and twinkling lights that flash in the dark sky and the distant background of loud music that is too low for your ears to register anything more than a constant drone. Your smile has been replaced by a scowl, and you grunt at the jacket you’re wearing, hating to admit that it’s warm and comforting. You try to speak, the words a slur before you hurl, holding onto your stomach as the content of your lunch and too much alcohol are spilled on the grass floor in front of you. 

The acid from your stomach burns your tongue, a bitter taste seems to linger even as you chug down the water that jeno offers you, a small smile gracing his features. And you blame the alcohol, but you smile back at him, and can’t think that maybe he isn’t as bad as you thought he was. You can’t shake the feeling of his hand wrapped around your waist, another holding up your hair as you hurled, and coughed no mocking grin or satisfactory smirk making their way onto his face. Instead a small smile was present, his dark hair that you finally admitted to yourself, made him look hot, was tousled and messy by the wind and it looked cute. 

You blame the day’s events and the words that were thrown at you at the beginning of the party making you head straight to the intoxicating drinks. You blame the chemicals that are still in your system, as you sit on the grass dragging jeno to sit next to you, hand intertwined with his. The grass that is cool against your touch, making your skin feel less hot, less sticky, and more conscious. You blame the alcohol and everything it changes in your core, for letting you lean your head against jeno’s shoulder, as his arm wraps around your shoulders pulling you in only slightly, scared to scare you away. You most definitely blame the alcohol as the words that fall from your mouth as you hold onto jeno’s calloused hand. 

“I like it” the words are a mumble, whispered into the night air, and it causes jeno to turn just slightly his lips almost touching the crown of your head, “like what?” he whispers back, and you can almost swear a small kiss is placed on the crown of your head. 

           “Luv” 

I hate the way you drive my car.

It seems that the stars want you to hate jeno more than you already do, as he half carries you half drags you to your parked car. The moon shines on the car surfaces mixing in with the dull yellow lights from the evenly spaced streetlights. You wished that you could walk straight, but you still stumble a little, your steps not sturdy until jeno has placed his arm around your waist lifting you up, that you manage to walk to the old vintage car that is parked under one of the dimmed out streetlights. 

The sequence of opening the door and you get inside the car occurs in a slight blur, but you find yourself on the passenger seat, head resting against the cool window that makes you jump slightly from the contact. It isn’t until you turn your head as the engine roars to life underneath you that you see jeno by the wheel, adjusting the rear view mirrors to his height and gripping the steering wheel. 

Time seemed to stop as you lay in the grass, head tucked in between jeno’s shoulder and his head. It stopped when the last words that had left your mouth had made jeno’s smile widen and his eyes match the moon that shone brightly above the two of you. The droning music has stopped, flashing lights no longer as constant as they were when you had first dragged jeno into the cool grass. In that position did you two lay for hours, a comfortable understanding and silence settling between the two of you until your breaths became constant and your eyes had begun to droop threatening to close that jeno shook you lightly. The only response he got was a small humm that you were still awake, as he pulled you up and started to make your way to the car. Something that seemed almost impossible as jeno had absolutely no idea where the fuck your car was and you didn’t seem to quite remember in your hald drunken half sober very much about to fall asleep state.

Jeno could have almost jumped from joy when he’d seen your eyes brighten up at the sight of a beat-up old red mustang, and you pointed towards it. The moment he had opened the passenger door you had climbed inside curling up next to the door like a cat, and he couldn’t help but think that you were adorable, even when you snapped at him for taking your keys. It was a different side of you that he’d never seen, and he doubted many people did see. One where you weren’t putting on a sort of facade of hating everything around you, but instead you let your eyes relax holding a sort of brightness and glow jeno hadn’t seen before but now couldn’t stop himself from looking at. Stop, jeno scolded himself as he turned to look at the road, car roaring to life.  

“Nu-uh” you grunted at seeing jeno aggressively change gears, “stop being so aggressive,” you say as you sit up. The smile that adorned jeno’s face turns into a grin, as he continues to aggressively switch gears as he turns the corner, and you regret ever thinking he was kind. 

“My car doesn’t deserve this” you grunt out, and jeno chuckles looking at you from the side, and he loosens his grip slightly on the gear stick. 

“You mean my presence? I’m gonna have to agree, sweetheart” you’re not sure if it’s the light trace of chemicals that still surround your brain, or if you’ve really wanted to do this for a while but you don’t stop your fist as it punches jeno in the arm. 

“The fuck” leaves jeno’s lips, as he rubs his arm where you’d hit him and you do a little dance on your seat, “don’t hurt my car dumbass” is your only answer before you continue to laugh at the face of confusion and mocked hurt that jeno fakes. 

Your laugh rings around the car, and echoes through the street, as the windows at some point where rolled down. The way jeno looks confused makes you laugh harder, and he turns just slightly, his eyes narrow and eyebrows slightly scrunches, and he looks like a confused dog. Alcohol might have made you hit him, but you can’t fathom why you would be laughing at jeno, no not at him but with him as his laugh has joined yours as he drives the car down the street. The ridiculousness of the night catches up with, making you hold onto your stomach as jeno parks into your driveway smile never faltering. 

From the way, both of your eyes shine from joy and amusement one could almost swear that the two of you were friends, almost lovers by the way jeno looked at you. But no one was looking at two in the morning, and no one can be there to tell you that the way you two look at each other is in a new way. No gazes filled with mocked sympathy or non-wanted flirtatious remarks, instead, you two seem to gaze into each other’s eyes for what seems too long if it weren’t that neither of you seemed to mind. 

And because you are still slightly tipsy, and the stars and moon make jeno look like some sort of angel as his hair is illuminated by a white light, that lights up his face making his eyes a warmer brown that they usually are that you think about opening up yourself to him. Maybe he isn’t as bad as you think, maybe just maybe the nicknames he gives you make you feel a flutter because he could be someone to trust. 

Possibilities for the maybes and wants to fill your head, and you don’t realize your eyes have fluttered shut and you are leaning in only slightly a sway towards where jeno is until you feel his hand on your shoulder stopping you, a pitiful gaze grazes his features and you are almost sure you want to go crawl in a hole. Instead, you push him back, opening the car door and slamming it behind you, chin held up as you walk back towards your house, the water in your eyes threatening to spill. But you manage to make it, as you walk into your house, and slam the door behind you the words “maybe not now” replaying in your head, because why the fuck would he actually like you. 

You don’t notice when you go to sleep music blasting from your headphones that you’ve wrapped yourself in the leather jacket that smells slightly of cat and boy, the lingering stench of cigarettes and fire from the jacket given to you by the boy who had managed to hold your heart for only a second. 

 I hate it when you stare. 

              in and out. Your breaths match the classes metronome, a constant beat to keep your breaths even and focused on whatever the teacher is saying, which happens to be the importance of pentatonic scales when composing a new song. He drones on about the way modern pop music isn’t really music and that the same fours chords and rhythmic patterns are used over and over again with a slight variety to them. You would have looked around the class, taking in the beautiful instruments that are set on display around the class, most of them hanging on hooks and nicks that cause the brass instruments to gleam in the classroom light. Admiring the way the guitars were filed neatly, basses next to them and the small ukuleles that the school's “hipsters” would pretend to play every so often at the talent shows. Some of the guitars and ukuleles were decorated by the art classes, the flowers blooming from one end to the other making it impossible to tell the difference between where the original brandished wood begins and ends. It almost seems at times like the flowers in full bloom are consuming the wood, taking away its air and nutrients that then allow the students to play melodica tunes without the professor yelling at them to tune their instruments. You would be admiring the piano that lay at the front of the class where your professor is currently pacing back and forth, his hands waving in grandiose gestures that make you cough an attempt to hide the rising laughter in your throat. The piano that you’d heard most of the students in the class play and almost lull everyone to tears or sleep depending on who it was, as the keys would rise and fall with each stroke. 

Admire. Stare at the instrument you longed to strum and let out the bundle of emotions that were piled up in your stomach, taught and knotted together waiting to be untang;ed by the strum and finger pattern of the acoustic guitar. That’s what you would be doing if you weren’t slightly interested in the way that your professor was taking down and criticizing modern day music which you could only nod your head too, agreeing with most of his points. The rest of your class seemed to be disgusted, their faces shriveling and eyes rolling to the back of their heads. 

“Well yeah, music today doesn’t, well shouldn’t really constitute for “real” music. It shouldn’t be dictated by a constant talk of sex and the drugs, what about the power in music? The way that it is in itself a universal language?” you speak out of turn, your arm coming down slightly aching from having to hold it up for so long with no acknowledgment. The moment you speak you can almost feel the class sigh and grunt, their heads dropping slightly. 

“Now miss y/n” his voice is grainy and unpleasant, but you nod, eyes defiant at whatever critique will come your way even if you just agreed with your professors point of view, “did i ask for your opinion on the universal language and power it has on your feelings” 

“Well no but-”

            “No buts” you want to roll your eyes and flip him off, and decide to do both as you sigh, “not like you’d understand what that is” you mumble loud enough for your the boy at your right to hear you and his mouth falls slightly open, and you roll your eyes flipping him off as he turns around facing the scribbled blackboard.  

You can feel eyes staring at you, analyzing the way you bite onto the top of your pen or how you doodle across the margin of your paper, random notes and lyrics that pop into your head as your professor drones on and on about the theory of music. It’s a pity you think that it’s those eyes that make you want to stand up and hit someone, those eyes that seem to want to dig a whole through your brain are what cause the feeling of uneasiness in your stomach every-time you turn around. 

in and out. The metronome beeps constant again, and you loosen the grip on your pencil. Turning around slowly before locking gaze with jeno, who seems startled, you turned around and looked at him in the first place. Replaced is the mocking grin by a sheepish smile, and you can almost swear there’s a speck of guilt in his brown eyes as he looks at you with a small pleading look until you flip him off, mouthing the words “fuck you” into the air. But he seems to register them as he breaks the contact, eyes darkening and head bowing down just slightly, making a small smile graces your features. 

Tick tick tick - ring. The bell goes off and you can’t seem to get up and out of your seat quick enough, following pursuit of the other students that have already packed and are counting down the seconds until class is over. You’re almost at the door, fingers stretching to reach the handle when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, a brush of your hair to the side, as you swirl around. You bite down the curse that is about to slip through your lips as your professor stands in front of you an amused smile on his face as he tells you that even though you’re an exemplary student you should tone down on the whole “power to the people” role you hold and you have to stop yourself from turning around and walking away. “Uh sure…” you are ready to leave, feet beginning to turn but your professor isn’t done and he holds you back telling you about the inconveniences of being a teacher at this day and age and you wonder what the man had wanted to be if not a teacher but the question and pity are quickly erased when he tells you that you about the end of the year assignment, “a project of sorts” he drawls, one hand stroking the light beard that sticks in odd patchy places around his face. “that will test what you’ve learned this year” you say nothing, waiting for what the punch the goal of the assignment is, “a song based off shakespeare’s sonnets” 

You don’t have time to clap and jump from joy at the assignment and thank your professor before the fire alarm goes off and you are walking towards the football field. You don’t have the time to register the way people are looking at you, the way jeno is staring at you with a goofy smile and hopeful eyes as the intro chords play to i.f.l.y  by bazzi and he gazes towards the crows that has gathered around him, eyes finding yours. 

I hate your big dumb combat boots,

The clunk of boots against the aluminium causes the bleachers to shake slightly, a vibration of clashing echoing through the field as it mixes in with jeno’s voice. The dark haired boy that scares the school away on most days bounces along from one side of the bleachers to the other. 

You can feel the warmth spread to your cheeks, the heat spreading through your body and you shake your head slightly at whatever is going because you truly aren’t quite sure. The only thing you know is that it seems to be the whole school’s eyes are darting from you to jeno, who can’t seem to take his eyes off even as he jumps from one row of bleachers to the next the microphone on his hand a he raps along to the lyrics to the song. Lyrics that sound as familiar as a midnight drive and cooling moonlit fields. 

*

The way he conveys the words and raps is not something you hadn’t heard before, you’d heard him speak his poems to you that late night in the midst of summer heat when you had been in a need of escape from the world that surrounded you. The summer heat had been too much, too suffocating that in a whim you’d driven to the highest point in the city. City skyline had been laid before you, the hues of the city changing as the sun slowly dipped itself over the buildings, and it seemed to want to disappear like you did. Slowly, leaving a mark in the world as it reached past the buildings and water that lay far beyond the city, stretching it’s red flames that would slowly flicker and turn into different hues of pink and purple. It was mesmerizing, a way to get away as the sun went down and the moon shone brighter than the city lights, no amount of light pollution that littered the air enough to you were in your own world. Your mind travelled to that safe and peaceful place that would only come out when you were surrounded by the twinkle of stars that seemed to flicker hope, while the moon remained a constant reminder of the light in the darkness. That is until the crunch of leaves behind you, a sign of the coming autumn disturbed you from your silent peace.

Moonlight shone on black boots, the combat boots seemed to dull the moonlight, taking away all it’s light by absorbing it as it crunched the leaves underneath them and stopped in front of you. Eyes landed on a hooded figure, their black hoodie being slightly too big, as it drooped over their frame, reaching slightly past their hip, where you could see the tears in the boys jeans, and you hated to admit that the outfit wasn’t bad. The boy’s face wasn’t visible from the shadows caused by the moonlight, but it wasn’t that it mattered as you went back to looking at the city below you, waiting for the boy in front of you to sit down next to you. It would have normally bothered you to be disturbed in what you had claimed to be your “spot” but maybe it was the way the boy held his head down, or the way the stars shone and illuminated portions of his face, maybe it was just that there was a mutual understanding between the two people that had seeked comfort in the middle of the night underneath the stars. For whatever the reason, you stayed next to each other not touching, not leaning against each other but there was a sense of comfort by each other’s presence and a mutual knowledge of what each wanted. The silence was one of comfort, a blanket that seemed to surround the field that two of you sat in, and when the boy with the worn out combat boots began to speak, a light melody and rhythm to his words all you could do was nod along and enjoy the melodic and soothing sound of his voice. His words shocked you, reaching somewhere inside of you that seemed to be dormant for a long long time. 

“Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing.  But when the stars shine, and the sun goes, Summer becomes a lil less lonely Little less wasted Because when i'm with you  Time’s gonna stop” 

You couldn’t help but feel drawn to the warm voice that rapped next to, as he talked about lost time and love that seems to be a long lasting one that makes you feel like you’re gonna burst from everything that you feel for them only for them to leave in a quick second. And though you don’t know the boy next to you, you don't know his story, you don’t know why he decided on this very day much like you too climb to the top of the hill and admire the busy world from afar, you know the melody. The song that follows his heart, it’s something out of a movie you think, the way the two of you met, lost souls finding themselves by watching everything around them fade into the dark. You don’t know each other but you do, you know the way his song goes and it’s an understanding beyond words beyond actions as the two of you sit next to each other, hours passed midnight a boy with combat boots that crunch through leaves and a voice with thoughts that seem to connect to everything around you, and you. A lost soul with music in heart, that sways and calms down in the brightening moon of the night, as you give each other mutual company in a field of moonlit flowers, and blinking concrete. 

*

Jeno has made his way down the bleachers, his cheeks are red and you can’t help but feel amused and honored. Because as much as he annoys you and makes you want to hit something you can’t deny the way your heart flutters when he smiles at you as he is doing right now, steps bringing you closer and closer to you, his warned out combat boots make you laugh because you’d never seen him wear anything else. You can feel the anger fade away from the week, anger at him for embarrassing you, anger for not feeling loved like you wanted to be loved, but there was a sort of bond that was formed when the school's resident bad boy decides to sing a love song to someone he’s hurt and cares for. There’s something vulnerable by the way he looks at you, a light in his eyes and embarrassment and all of a sudden he’s in front of you. Faces only centimeters away, his breaths fanning your face slightly, their heavy and uneven but he’s smiling tune slightly off-key as he sings the last verse. 

“So I guess what i'm saying” the mic is lowered, and the space between the two becomes your own world. No longer are aware of the hundreds of teenagers surrounding you, some of the whistling others video taping. 

“I guess what i'm saying” you hum back, smiles adorning both of your faces, 

“I fucking love you”

And the way you read my mind.

It seemed as if the world had suddenly shifted. No longer where you are grounded on earth, goals set to go to the other side of the world away from your family, instead you feel alleviated. Where the ground used to be now there was air, a lightness to your movements and words that weren’t there before. It isn’t that the world suddenly changed, the clouds didn’t suddenly become more bright, the world didn’t suddenly become a bright ball of colors and sunshine. 

Falling for someone was based upon the little moments spent together. The way the world seemed to feel a little less heavy, a little less lonely when brown eyes would meet yours, greeting you with a lopsided smile. You had read in books that falling was like falling asleep, slowly and then so quickly that you didn’t even notice the way your heart would take skips when hand touched hand, calloused fingers from constant strumming of a guitar, grazing yours. They say it’s supposed to be too fast for you to notice, as if you were in a dream state that you had fallen into and slowly when your heart is shattered or turned over do you wake up from the dream-like state wishing you had stayed in it. In your opinion falling was neither of those, and it was both. 

Falling was being dragged out of an arena, filled with a whole school student body, where laughter trailed behind you as the boy with worn out combat boots took you to the place you first met. It was the way his eyes would light up their dark brown becoming a lighter color, almost matching his honey colored hair when the sun would hit him from behind, when he looked at you while you talked about the project you were working on. Falling seemed to be the way that the first sentences after the boy sang bazzi’s confession song was a banter over why the song was chosen, you two debating which of his songs was better, an ongoing debate whether smile or i.f.l.y was a better show of emotion. The argument lasted the whole car ride, you drove and it hadn’t taken much convincing after you threatened to keep his leather jacket, that you had shoved back at him only previously that morning. It was only a matter of seconds after that conversation, that jeno pride smile on his face opened the passenger's seat to the beat up mustang and let you slightly, well more like lecture him on how to be gentle on the old car. If jeno would have been tested on the way that your hands would flit back and forth, moving from side to side and up and down making grand gestures and soft ones in order to justify and further prove your point, jeno was sure he would ace the test. But if it came to what you were talking about, how he shouldn’t force the car to change gears or how one button should be pressed before the other he would have passed, he loved hearing you talk passionately about anything and as much as he loved to get on your nerves to see you get flustered cheeks growing slightly red, but would have failed on purpose just for you to smack him in the arm. The punch, which he would never admit kinda hurt the first time you’d hit him what seemed like ages ago, but was really only a season ago, had softened and felt now more like a “you’re stupid but i don’t mind it”, it made him smile. Banter that flitted back and forth between the two of you, constant little arguments that weren’t truly arguments but more of a facade at the emotions and hidden feelings that grew between the two of you. 

The coming winter air was sharp against your ungloved hand, making you shake it up and down, which only caused jeno to look at you with a confused look. 

“You know luv” the nickname no longer made your blood boil, and you’d finally admitted to yourself that it made you feel warm, “there are pockets for a reason” he put his own hands in the stitched pockets of his leather jacket for emphasis, and you huffed. 

“And then how would i be able to carry this?” you lifted your hand, the what had been hot chocolate was now cold all thanks to the new barista at the cafe, jungwoo you think his name was. Your fingers that had seeped up all the warmth they could get from the previously steaming cup of hot chocolate were now pink at the ends, the cold biting into them, and you slightly shook from the cold air you hadn’t been ready for these type of temperature when jeno had sent you a message this morning, the contact “soft bad boy” appearing repeatedly in your phone, with the vague instructions to get ready to go out in the span of fifteen minutes, he’s been by your door in fifteen minutes leading you to your car where he opened the driver's seat for you as he headed into the passenger. It had taken you arriving at the snow covered school to realize where jeno was taking you, and when you had realized it was the school protests were coming. Questions such as “jeno? It’s winter break, why the fuck are we in school?” and “fuck it’s cold”, or jeno’s favorite which you were almost sure he would forever tease you about, “my hands weren’t made for this” you’d been talking about the numbing of feeling in your thumbs when you had been holding the chocolate, keys, phone and wallet in your hands because your jeans had been made without proper pockets. Fuck the patriarchy you hat thought. Jeno has heard the whole situation out of context, and has made it his life goal to tease you on and on about your small hands. It was torture. 

“You could ask for help?” his little bow almost made you laugh, but you rolled your eyes pride getting in front of his help

“And hear you brag about how you don’t feel the cold” you sigh, changing the drink from one hand to the next letting the pocket in your hoodie heat up your hand slightly, “no thank you”. The next thing you know though, is jeno’s jacket is placed around your shoulders, their warmth heating up your bones, and his hands are wrapped around yours, “no, i’d just do this” his voice is next to you, breath stirring the hairs at your ears, warmth sweeps through your body, by the contact his skin makes with yours, and for a second you want to turn around and kiss him. You want to know what it’s like to kiss his lips that seem so soft, want to know what it feels like to wrap your arms around his neck while you kiss him, and play with the black strands of hair at the back of his neck. The feeling doesn’t leave as much as you try to push it away, as jeno holds your hands and drags you towards the school gate, and into the music room.

Falling is about the invisible things. Falling is noticing the way he can read your mind like no one else can, falling is making dumb jokes at each other smiles on both of your faces, it is the way you seem to have conversations about what you want from the world at two am and still poke fun at each other in a passing by through school. Falling you think you finally understand, isn’t singing i.f.l.y by bazzi in front of the whole student body because you don’t want someone to be mad at you, no. falling is the way from summer to fall to winter you get to know each other, until your hearts seem to be in-sync with each other, as jeno who fiddles with the rings on his fingers tells you to sit down on a chair in the music room. It is the way he picks up the guitar your breath catches on everytime you see it, the flowers swallowing and making the wood more vibrant than it was, and looks at you in the eyes. Falling is how his hands tremble slightly when he begins to strum the guitar, and his husky voice fills the empty room, as he sings about the way you make him feel less alone, and part of the universe.

But there’s a thing about falling, there’s the way that you can feel your eyes tear up when he finishes a goofy smile plastered on his face, the last g chord ringing throughout the room and into the hallways. When you fall, you can never tell when the bottom hits, you can never be prepared for the way the ground lurches before you, a slap in the face, right as you let go of the moon boy in front of you breaths still a little uneven from the shared kiss, which made a star fall seem small. Once that rock bottom is hit, the world falls back into place and you aren’t held at freefall, when you hear the “click” and whoops and yells from the hallway and you try to ignore the invasion trying to take in the boy in front of you, until your phone dings and then so does his. A new text message from an unknown contact, with a photo image attached,

“Turns out the bad boy took the bet after all, and y/n isn’t as cold hearted as they seem”

I hate you so much it makes me sick;

Crashing, falling and burning. Emotions that seem to curse through you days, a weeks later after the text is sent, the one that follows is worse. 

“Turns out, jeno was being paid all along to make cold-hearted y/n to fall for him. If you don't trust us, ask him” you knew the message was a taunt, a test to see if you would break but you’d plummeted down down down, and the way jeno’s eyes had shuttered and the light was no longer the way gave you the answer you wanted. 

A breaking point is what they call you’ve heard when one can no longer hold in the anger or sadness or any sort of emotion that seems to be too much. The breaking point that causes one to lose control over their actions, or thoughts because things you thought to be true, are flipped on their side, and the worst part is you wanted yourself not fall for the boy with the easy smile that shone like the moon, and sweet words that made your blood boil and melt all at once. 

Sick, that’s how you felt when you pushed him away, leather jacket dropping with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. A twisting and turning of emotions rammed through you, anger coming out strong as you shoved him away again before walking out of the room, leaving jeno mouth wide open as if he’d wanted to say something, hands clenching and unclenching as if he’d grabbed onto to you or hadn’t let you check your phone it would change the world worked. The light that had shone in his eyes left, it seemed to be squashed out by the water that threatened to escape because it was true, he had been paid. It isn’t something that made him particularly, it wasn’t that he wasn’t intrigued by you, from the night you two first met all those months ago under the moonlight. 

Payment, green paper that would be slipped into his hand by haechan, a fellow senior he barely knew apart from the school’s biggest flirt accompanied by na jaemin, he did wonder at times how they weren’t at each other’s throats most of the time, but substantially he truly didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him the more he got to know you, the more he held your hand and felt the way his heart would swell and at times skip a beat or two, maybe even three if you looked at him with light in your eyes, laughter ringing in his ears from a joke he had said. 

The first time he’d been offered the paper, fifty bucks to see if the cold hearted bitch that everyone seemed to fear was capable of giving her heart to someone, he had denied because as much as the world thought of him as a cold hearted human being he truly just didn’t want to be bothered or be torn apart from his music and dance.  The second time haechan offered, he accepted on a whim. There had been a sort of argument in music class, you leading the conversation against something he couldn’t quite remember but he remembered you taking down student after student, a defiant look in your eyes as you gave point after point on what you believed was right. He had accepted, because seeing you standing on top of your chair, passion driving you away from the textbook and to speak clearly voice ringing through the room, made him wonder if it was even possible and if he gave up with what he thought was to be your overly cold demour then at least he's earned some money and the freshman that had walked up to him that morning telling him about the plan they’d set up would work. The plan chenle, a boy who was taller than him, but a freshman nonetheless broke it down in simple steps, it was entertaining to say the least, the way he discussed how he would get his new found jisung to go out with your sister, but that would only be possible if you would date. If he wanted to lie to himself, he would say that he accepted the deal because he wanted to help the kids out, but he was never one to not follow the truth. But now, his hands feel cold and empty, lips still feeling the ghost of yours against his, and he remembers a quote he read not long ago on the story of how the sun died everyday in order to let the moon live at night. 

Jeno is sure that he should be the sun that should die, not because the sun was where the world gravitated towards but because you were the moon. The moon that seemed to hold him together and stand by him even after the lies that are spun about his background at school so when you walk out the door, and he sees the tear’s shining beneath the classroom lights he knows he’s lost. If only you knew that he had stopped taking any sort of money the moment he caught feelings, if you only knew the money that he’d earned had gone to help his fostered cats that hung out by his house every now and then. But even if you did now it didn’t make him any better than Haechan who had sent out the text message, informing the world about the stupidities and decisions he made and had regretted two weeks later when you had scolded him about how to drive your car. 

Sick. From your stomach to your head a loud and never ending thump went on and on like the metronome in the music room all those weeks ago. The headache seemed mocking of your developed feelings for jeno, and you could feel your heart twist into itself, as you went over the events of the last few months. What was real, what was done as an act, you didn;t know but you hated it. You hated the way he made you feel, hated the way one text one yes or luv had led you into this snowball and fall that had hit harder than you’d ever wanted it. You hated him so much, it made you sick. 

It even makes me rhyme.

Melodies follow structured patterns, like the rhythm to a song and the lyrics that accompany it, never missing a beat a simple dun dun dun that tends to lead people into a dance like trance. Yet that was the problem with melodies, it was the way that they held onto certain chords, following the same stroke of keys the same vocal riff or bass slap that would drive you insane but would also drive modern days love songs whether they dealt with the infatuation that was love or the consequences of that love which lead to the inevitable heartbreak all followed the same sort of patterns and lines. 

Rhyming, that’s what you did as you recited the end of the year Shakespeare inspired song. A mixture of words with similar sounding words with the same syllables, like car and stare or hate and fate a juxtaposition between the two. Rhymes where everything you tended to avoid, the stereotypical and overused notes digging into your brain, playing and replaying over and over but you didn’t care anymore, as you recited the scribbled lines on the old piece of notebook paper. Some of the yellow had faded from the drops of tears that had dropped weeks ago, as your mind thought of jeno, his smile no longer the same comfort it held when he drove you out to the beach and led you late at night to admire the stars and watch the sunset. Some of the blue ink bleeding through, making smudges across the paper you were to run in, the doodles that had been scratched and re-drawn only to be scratched and drawn in different shapes the notes written down almost everywhere except in the five bar staff that was supposed to hold the notes. 

The shaky breath you let out helps you calm down as you look out into the pinned up pictures of the bedroom wall and the view that gives out to the dying sun set out in the horizon making space for the ever present and shining moon in the blue now purple and lilac sky. Hands grip at the paper, making it crinkle slightly at the force being used, and you read halfway through the lines you can’t fully get through before tears begin to spring up at your eyes. 

I hate it, i hate the way you’re always right.  I hate it when you lie. 

The words feel raw, and posion, vile seems to rise up at your throat the further you go down, and thought the tears don’t fall heavily they steam. A dashing race down your cheeks and back into the yellow notebook paper, as if they were being recycled. The words on the page breaking you, the emotions a sway of everything they say you aren’t, written by you to the boy who shared his heart and then stole it taking it far far away. Salty water drops onto the paper, until they dry up and then they fall again the next time you read them, and you read them and fix them and read them again rhymes embedded into your brain until the tears no longer fall and the paper is no longer in crinkles. 

I hate it when you make me laugh,

The memory flits back to you when you are met with brown eyes on the first day back from winter break. The air is no longer sharp and threatening to cut into you, but nevertheless you wear your sweater, hoodie slightly up, headphones popped into both ears. You didn't realize the figure in front of you, until you’d bumped into the halfway through a new invented dance move you had decided to create as you bopped and moved to the music that surged through your headphones. The toppling into one another was fast, rushed almost as you collided against each other, a stutter back from both of you before you saw who exactly you had crashed into. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, you should have realized who the boy was from the worn out combat boots that had been dyed black again, and the leather jacket that had a couple of new patches adorning it’s sleeves. 

“Sorry” jeno murmurs, but you don’t hear music still flooding in, and you are too focused on the way his eyes shift from your face to your hoodie, and then back to your face not being able to look straight at you, it causes you to scoff. Of course he was able go behind my back, get paid to play with me, and when he gets caught he can’t even look me in the eye, the thoughts are slightly disappointing but not surprising - boys you had learned tended to follow patterns. It isn’t until jeno shifts his focus entirely from you, brown eyes darkening that you are intrigued by the change emotion, guilt and a sort of plead to apologize is wiped from his face and you soon realize the purple haired boy, who couldn’t help himself from laughing at your situation, calling more students to him that had set jeno off. 

“If it isn’t the schools biggest joke” haechan’s voice is mocking, and you truly don’t know why the rest of the student body is laughing with him, when there isn’t anything humorous, sadly this is what you expect from the school by this point, it happened in ninth grade there was nothing to say it wouldn’t happen again. You think about ignoring his comments, there truly was no use getting involved, haechan just wanted a reaction, that is until he flaunted his money around, the constant taunt of how you had been manipulated thanks to the douchebag in front of you not leaving your mind for a second and you’d had enough. Haechan or his group of friends couldn’t have stopped you even if they tried, as you walked up to him, hood down, the rings on your fingers shining in the morning sun, as you punched him. 

“Bitch!” his voice broke as the word escaped his lips, blood beginning to swell on the side of his face, “i have a photoshoot tomorrow” you punched again in response, this time his lip was cut, and you snickered. 

“Hmmmm” you hummed looking at the boy’s eyes, they held anger and a hint of mist that threatened to escape and not being the schools ‘perfect’ boy, “guess they’ll have to find someone else, you know someone that’s actually, how do i say this in the nicest way possible” placing a hand on your chin you pretend to think about it before a grin spreads on your face, “nevermind there isn’t a nice way because you don’t deserve shit. rot in hell fucker” the last word is almost a yell as you’ve turned around and have walked away from the scene, a shit eating grin on your face, at the look of defeat Haechan held. 

It isn’t the way Haechan looks at you with disgust, no that gives you some sense of pride by taking him on, it’s the way jeno’s eyes are filled with pride and warmth. A plea to hear him out at least just once, and as much as you try to deny it his eyes take you back to hot chocolates on random days, snowball fights late at night and random drives through the city to calm you down, music blasted through the stereo of your old car. Memories of him being next to you, arms around yours holding onto you as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Memories that as much as you wished wouldn’t flood up every time you saw him did and though you kept telling yourself that it was just an act, you can’t help but think that maybe just maybe not all of it was an act. The hope you hold close to your heart, is what leads you to be stuck back in the place that the mess started, stuck inside the music room yet again, jeno hand centimeters away from yours which just gets you to sit far far away from him. 

“So…” he starts, fiddling with the bracelets that adorn his wrists.

“So…you gonna say something or can i go because i have class to attend to” the words come out harsh, as your annoyance slightly rises, mixed in with being emotionally exhausted you really weren’t here to sit around the boy who had played with you. 

“The cafeteira is having french fries today” the second the words leave jeno’s lips he regrets them, because how stupid is he to start an apology by talking about food, when he looks at you he sees you laughing. Laughing so hard that he manages to walk closer to you so that you are only a couple of feet away from each other, but it isn’t a laugh that fills up the room. Your laugh is dry and humourless, empty and broken, it reminds him of the way one laughs when they have nothing to lose and have given up all hope.

“You know” you start, willing the tears to not fall, your voice to not break because just being in the room with him feels like too much, like one wrong step and the glue that has tapped your heart back together might diffuse into thin air, “for a second, a short second i thought you were gonna say something meaningful” the words are like poison, as you spit them out wanting them to strike and hurt the black haired boy with the perfectly chiseled face to hurt as much as you do, as you begin to head out of the room, the tears threatening to spill again. You’re about to reach the door before you hear your name being called, and you wouldn’t have stopped if it weren’t for the desperation that was laced with his words. If it weren’t for the words that followed your name, “Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing” the lyrics, the way they roll off his tongue as if he’s heard them a million times catch your breath and make you turn around. 

“Stop” you hold your hand out in emphasis, trying to calm your beating heart down, trying to stop the idea that this boy, the one that held your heart and broke it is the same boy that made you feel at peace in a day of chaos, on a midsummer night. But he tries again to talk, a small smile on the ghost of his lips and you have the urge to laugh and smile at him. 

“Just stop” you almost plead, and jeno takes a deep breath, waiting for you to continue, “stop because dam you have no right to sing that. You had no right, no right at all to make me laugh like no one else that day and day’s after, you had no right”  

Even worse when you make me cry.

Jeno has never been one to convey emotions with words. It was never, his forte as people call it, but in the music room that felt stuffed and almost suffocating he reached for words. Any word that might be sufficient, no, not sufficient, words that would convey his truth. Somehow, some way to get rid of that look of disgust, anger and defeat in your eyes that made his heart ache. He can feel you pull farther and farther away even if you are only a couple of feet away from, a couple of inches until if he held his arm out he could catch your hand in his. There was some part of him that thought the moment you two shared what seemed to be years ago, would help, would stop your eyes from shining every-time a light would hit them, the tears he knew you were holding back, because you weren’t one to cry in front of others threatening to spill.  In response, he could feel his heart ache for longer, his hands clam up, eyes look at yours pleadingly. 

“I know” his voice is defeated, almost as broken as you feel and the way it still manages to pull at your heart makes you look up at him, willing if only for one second, or to prove yourself that you can listen to him. The pause seems to make the room feel slightly more bearable, less stuffy, a little less suffocating, because two words are more than just an acknowledgement at the past but also at the present and the recent fuck ups. You hear more than see jeno take another shaky breath before he opens his mouth, closes it and opens again, a hand squeezing his eyes shut before he begins. 

“I know” the words are repeated again, and you aren’t sure what to make of them but he isn’t done, “i fucked up” you scoff, and jeno has a faint smile, “i know that anything that i say will seriously not make up for anything i did because no one in there right mind would ever accept to what i did. No one who knows you, would ever even consider agreeing to being paid to approach you. No one, because being around you, getting to know you is a gift itself. And yes i did agree at the beginning, it’s a long story” the words become clustered, a mumble and you want to leave again, because they feel like an excuse, 

“A long story, that still ended with you winning right?” the words snap from you before you stop them, and jeno is left wordless for a second before his eyes focus in again, mind running at a million, “yes?”

“No. no, i mean no” the sound that escapes from his lips confuses you, it’s a grunt and a sigh but he looks exhausted, “this isn’t going well”

“You think?” The question is more of a fact but that doesn’t stop jeno’s lips twitching slightly upwards, and you're mirroring his. Banter is good? I guess jeno thinks. 

“What i mean” he starts again for the uptenth time, “is that the moment i saw you smile, the moment i got to know you, not the cold exterior you present the moment you laughed at something stupid i said, because for some odd reason you seem to find my jokes funny when no one else does. The moment you... i saw you, eyes dazed as they looked at the sky i knew that the whole thing was stupid. And i stopped it, i promised i stopped taking money from haechan the second i knew you because you didn’t deserve that. Does that make me any less of a shitty person? No it really doesn’t” he stops for a second, catching his breath and you're trying your best to not let the tears drop to not scream or yell or hit him over and over again, but he makes it so hard. So fucking hard when his voice and eyes seem to convey everything you need to hear, everything you want to hear, but then the word money is said and you remember what he did and you can feel yourself recoil back, but not before a silent tear slips. 

“It doesn’t make me a better person if i had stopped the moment i had accepted the deal because I considered it. But y/n the way I feel about you, the way you manage to center me and be the single thing that keeps me afloat in this hell hole. The way that being next you whether it’s holding your hand that tends to be cold because you hate wearing gloves in winter and rather let them freeze'' another smile, and another tear slips making its way down your cheek, “can make me so happy and completely infatuated to the point i don’t know what to do with myself. It is the way I can feel your body next to mine hours after you’ve gone home from one of our random late night drives, or the way you steal my jacket and then i can feel you with me even when you are in class. It’s the way the stars and moon seemed to align that summer day, when we were both lost and found each other in the same lyrics, the same words and melody that sang to us. So yes, i was so stupid, so dam stupid for ever thinking i could be anything other than a stranger to you, and accepting that. But I can feel the way my heart seems to forget how to beat, anytime you look at me, and you smile, and unlike what the world wants us to believe. You aren’t my sun, or my stars. You are the center of the universe that i stand for, the moon that no matter how much i tried to get away from continues to rise and remain even on the never ending days, because i didn’t mean it all those months ago in the bleachers when i just wanted you to stop being mad at me for being the dumb ass i am, and i will never be the best when it comes to words and emotions luv, but i mean it now. I truly truly am sorry, and -” his voice breaks, and his hands shake, a tear slips from his eyes and you can see it’s reflection by the light. 

“St…” you take a breath, the word not leaving your throat, your breaths are shaky and jeno tries to reach out to you, tries to wipe away the silent flow of tears that continues to stream down your face, “stop”. The word finally manage to leave your lips, harsher than you wanted them too but it stops jeno from grabbing your hand, from taking away the warmth of his hand against your cheek, his eyes that had begun to light up slightly to be shut down again, as if someone had doused water on him. 

“Luv…” the moment the words leave his lips you know you have to leave, because if he does say those words, the ones you know you’ve been dreading to hear because you feel the same way. Because you have fallen and though you have hit rock bottom, and have been smacked back into reality your heart has never stopped reaching towards his. It doesn’t help, when his eyes look at yours with love, and you want to forgive him, you want everything to be okay, and in order for that to happen you can’t break down in front of him. Slowly do you shake your head, arms wrapping around your body as if they could provide some type of warmth, and heat up your bones, give warmth back into your eyes the way they do when you look at jeno. Which is why you don’t look at him, why you turn away leaving his arm outstretched and hanging. You can feel his eyes trail you, as you open the door the noise of the outside world rushing into the room, startling you for a second, but jeno doesn’t seem to hear it. The only thing he can focus on is you leaving, your footstep getting farther away, and his world becoming a little darker, more grey. The last thing he sees is your - well what used to be his - grey hoodie, the marking of sharpie that have been used to doodle on the piece of clothing one late night, flashing before the wooden door closes shut, surrounding him in a lonely silence again. 

I hate it when you’re not around,

The world seems to mock you for falling for lee jeno. The black haired boy seemed to follow you everywhere you went no matter how far away you tried to get away from the memories that plagued you. Days had passed since the world had yet again seemed to shift on its axis, and you had seen jeno less and less, but that didn’t stop your mind from making you remember his laugh anytime you heard a bad joke. 

No longer did brown eyes meet yours right after school ended in the cafe next to school, you weren’t greeted by the easy smile, that turned eyes into moons, or called the obnoxious pet names of angel and luv that used to make you want to punch a wall, only for you to find the words to be missing from your everyday life. Moments when the radio would play the song about summer and hazy love would worm their way into your heart, and it was like he was there. Smiling at you, his hand intertwined with yours as you drove your car to the top of the mountain where you first met, and just when the chorus would hit the two of you would belt out the song at the top of your lungs. It was only when the song ended, the melody fading into the back and replaced by the rapid voices of an ad for some car dealership you really didn’t care for, that you would look to find an empty seat beside you. No boy with a leather jacket, and combat boots that might have been propped up on the dashboard much to your protests, instead the seats were either empty and cold with no presence or soul in them, and the car would suddenly feel small and distant. 

Other times, the pang of not hearing his laughter diffuse into the air, over your clumsy self either tripping over words or almost falling over due to there being a small rock in the sidewalk. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t have friends. Your best friend, the same one that had dragged you into that party all those months ago, would never miss a beat to be with you, to take you out for a random karaoke night or a late night drive on her car. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them, you loved how they would always make time for the small nuisance you would bother them about, even if it was just to tell them about a new meme you’d found but the way their presence would fill only a small space in your heart made it hard. Especially because you would see how happy they were anytime they talked about Mark, the stories of their lazy dates filled your heart with happiness and joy. It had become a habit to prioritize other’s happiness above your own, and soon it became a habit to prioritize getting jeno out of your memories out of the place in your heart he had seemed to crawl into and not leave. 

Memories you come to realize are fleeting, and unpredictable. They are made from what one process to be from the emotions they feel in the current moment that the memory is being stored into your brain. The thing about memories, it’s a thing that they don’t tell you in 12th grade biology class. School or teachers don’t teach you about the different emotions and images that memories bring along with them. The figments that surround every memory you have for the past year seem to somehow always lead back to jeno. He comes when you think about your favorite drink, hot chocolate, and the drink transports you back to jeno bringing you hot chocolate late at night after long after hour practices. His black hair makes a presence, when you think about the essay you had to turn in a week ago, you don’t remember much of the project but your brain, against your conscious will remembers the way jeno’s hair felt through your fingers as you played with his hair one late afternoon. The threads come together slowly, on a random day, in which the sun seems to almost be desperate to stay on the earth’s surface, as it turns the buildings around it into purple hues. It almost seems like it’s gasping for air, and as the purple slowly turns into pink and lastly disappears beyond the horizon it’s last breath taken and long gone you realize something. Like the sun, and the threads that are tied together in order to form memories, in order to form the segments of life that when pieces together form a picture that lets one create the story of a person or a setting, jeno seems to form in front of you. You sit on top of the mountain where you first met, but this time you are alone, the skyline displayed out in front of you. The trees have lost their leaves and some of them even still have some white specks of snow in them, that with one push of wind would make the tremble and shiver, letting go of the white covering. 

Jeno is next to you, his hand only a mere centimeter from yours, but you continue to look at the sky, the buildings that go on for as long as you can see. His memory, the way you rest your head on his shoulder and he listens and listens no judgement ever from his eyes, only support and encouragement to let you choose what will make you happy. A memory that repeats over and over again, but that isn’t your favorite memory from jeno. The last memory that forms in your head, after the roadtrips, to sweet make out sessions that led you two to leave whatever homework you had to work on for another time, or the sweet messages left at your phone that would bring a smile to your face even if he just texted you about the weather, to then get a back hug as he called you angel. 

Your favorite memory was the day you had been on the exact same spot you where now, except jeno had been next to you, breathing a little harder than normal he had just shown you a dance routine he’s been working on for as long as you could remember. His eyes didn’t shine like they usually did, they didn’t take in the light around him, and his face didn’t have traces of a grin that you had grown so used too. Instead he pushed you away, dark roots from his bleached hair he had decided to try out for the month had begun to show and you could see the stress that seemed to suffocate him. This was a different side of jeno, a side you hadn't seen, one that you tried to approach with a joke, only to be quickly shut down. A small argument over school and life had formed, in which you two had gone from being right next to each other to being feet apart, a scowl on your face, the same one that jeno bore. It was this memory that was your favorite because it had been the first time you had truly seen jeno be vulnerable, it had been the first time from the weeks you had gotten to know each other that you felt that the walls on walls he built around himself, the walls you built around yourself had been torn down. There had been no shared kisses, no shared moments in which one hadn’t jokingly filtered with the other until the first droplet fell down jeno’s face. The only reason you had seen it was because the sun, punctual as always, had descended flickers of light reflecting in his face. It was a small action but enough that there was some part that managed to push aside your pride and you approached him, arms wrapping around his waist. The memory makes you remember that it took him a second to wrap his arms around you, but in that moment, it seemed as only for a second in which you could provide some support for the boy in front of you, then he could give you the support you needed. Threads of the memory are vague, movements in which you can’t fully pinpoint what happened in between or later, in which you know that at one point music had begun to make its way up the mountain from one of the daily parties the teens would throw, but you two held onto each other. The song, isn’t one you can seem to recall, but it wasn’t one that people slow dance too, it wasn’t one in which you are supposed to hold onto the boy in front of you arms around his neck, as his eyes looked into yours, smiles grazing both of your features as your foreheads touched, a small kiss placed on your forehead. Moonlight cascading the both of you, pushing away the shadows that surrounded you both. 

It was any memory that you had in which jeno took part, in which you could feel him next to you, that was your favorite. Memories, you remember reading somewhere are your subconscious telling you something, it is the way the body and mind admit what you are too scared to take in for yourself. Memories of jeno next to you, and then not are what make you realize how much you hate not having the black haired boy, with the overly kind personality next to you. 

And the fact you didn’t call.

Days turn into months, as the winter snow leaves the tree’s branches leaving them barren. Only for the spring rain and occasional sun to let the leaves and flowers begin to spring back up again. Teachers are at the point in the year whether they aren’t quite sure if they want to give everyone in the class a pass just so they don’t have to hear the constant complaining on the amount of assignments a student has due by tomorrow, or if they’ll give more work, more assessments as a sort of payback for the hardships they’ve had to endure throughout the year.  

You are in music class, your professor going over the final assessments guidelines one last time before they are presented at the start of class tomorrow. The weight of the written sonnet feels heavy, and though the physical copy of the assignment is types out neatly somewhere in your computer, the original draft that you had begun to draft all those months ago is crumpled up in your jacket pocket, a constant reminder of everything you want and everything that you feel you can’t have. 

If you close your eyes just for a second you can see yourself back in your room, until the space changes and you are no longer in your room but are at the school’s roof. The warm spring breeze tangling your hair, and making the page in front of you flutter. You didn’t need the paper, the lyrics to the musical sonnet that had been shakespeare inspired seemed to be embedded into your brain so that when you weren’t thinking about the thousands of words you still had to write when it came to the labs for biology class, or the analysis of catcher in the rye for english class, the words would replay in your head over and over. The soft melody accompanying them. Humming to the song had become a habit, one that had developed like how one realizes that they bit ethier lip, or thumbs when they are stressed or bored. A habit that once you realize it’s there you can’t help but notice it every time you do it. The notebook paper continues to rustle, and you fold it and place it into the pocket of the black jean jacket, taking a deep breath as you do so. Unlike summer nights and winter afternoons, spring doesn't feel suffocating when the sun is out, because the clouds do a job of covering the sun before it burns your skin. The wind dies down, and you begin to humm to the sonnet, the words so familiar you were almost sure if your memory was to be taken, those words would remain embedded, and make their way back up because they were an acceptance of everything you were and everything you felt. 

The final bell has rang, and you can see the swarm of teenage bodies rush out of the school, some go directly to the bus stop in groups, others head to the grass fields that make up most of the school's building. You don’t think much about where others go, don’t dwell much if they get home safely or if their parents will pick them up. Dwelling too much on thoughts a feeling never helped anybody, it’s a mantra that has been drilled into you and almost every other teenager and young adult in this lifetime as movies and books tell you to focus on the present never on the future and most definitely not in the future. Yet you wonder if these books written by great authors that make you question the world around you, or movies that seem to transcend time if the authors themselves that preach about not dwelling too much on one moment if they themselves spent too much time focusing on the sound of their love’s laughter, or the way their nose would scrunch up a reaction to the world around them anytime they found something amusing. You wonder if the person or memory they were told or did think about so much that it caused them heartache had the ability to make them write the poems you had written. So you try to not dwell on the people, no larger than your thumb as they rush from one side of the campus to another, because if you thought about him, it, for too long the memories would rush back in. Instead you look down, the light vertigo causing you to snap back into some realm of reality. 

 Sitting down on the roof’s edge, legs dangling off the edge you continue to hum and sing to the melody that plays in your heart, confession to yourself, a confession to the dark haired boy that captured your heart. The tears seem to swell up over and over as you reach the bridge, and they stream silently, down your face. They run down landing on your hands, on the ripped jeans and doodle converse. Your mind drifts to the memories connected with the lyrics and the fact that as much as you wanted to not want to hear jeno’s voice especially after you had pushed him away, you couldn’t get rid of the way he knew you. He knew you better than at times you almost thought you knew yourself, it was a nuisance the way your heart would skip beats months after everything went down, how it would still accelerate when you two would make eye contact because he had apologized and you don’t know if it was because you had never felt this way before, or because you two kept meeting underneath the moonlight the same song that seemed to connect the two of in one string of fate that you had forgiven him. But forgiveness didn’t mean forgetting, it didn’t mean that you had wished he’d called and you hate him - or lack thereof to do so - when days passed and the beep boop ba a compilation of random noises jeno would make whenever he was confused, and your ringtone for him didn’t disturb you. 

Your voice breaks slightly as the melody in your head falls, fading into a non-existent background. The sun had begun to fall, but you don’t notice, eyes closed as you take in the world around you. Notes ending, song and the hum of love never confessed, never expressed, stolen by the wind. And that’s the thing about having your eyes closed, oblivious to the world and the people around you, because you don’t hear the opening and closing of the slightly rusted door. You don’t notice the boy with a leather jacket, hair almost covering his eyes that are filled with so much love but confusion by the words that leave your mouth. It’s the thing about the wind, that it takes a message and delivers it to whom it wants you unlike a phone call that is directed at who you choose. The wind is a free spirit, and it doesn’t travel far. To be more exact it travels the short span of a mere seconds, a mere feet to jeno whose mouth has fallen at the sound of your voice so raw and pure. It is the wind that calls him to you, the wind that makes him take slow steps to you. 

Wind, a warm breeze in the coming summer air, love that you don’t realize you have, you need until it’s wrapping its arms around you.

                         But mostly i hate the way i don’t hate you.

The moment you feel arms wrapping around you still. Every bone in your body stops moving, your legs stop swinging and your voice catches in your throat. It isn’t until you spot the small cassette tattoo on the wrist of the arms wrapped around you that you breathe again and push yourself back, a curse escaping your lips. Laughter rings in your ears as jeno holds you up from where you sit, and turns you around so that you face him. You begin to push him away, on instinct from weeks of telling yourself that you wanted nothing to do with the boy in front of you. That the way his eyes dimmed, and lips curved down by the light gesture of pushing him away didn’t affect you. It was a mantra, push him away, don’t get hurt, a mantra produced by a time of hurt and fear for being broken again. Something that you had come to realize though in the past week, the past day, past couple of minutes when someone’s arms had warped around you and you had wished it had been jeno, that the heart and the mind don’t always coincide. 

It is when you look up again, and jeno is already looking at you, hair illuminated by the descending sun, as it casted flames dancing across his features, and lighting up his eyes, that you smile. Some sort of smile that repairs something in jeno, because his eyes seem to be filled with hope again and he opens his mouth ready to speak, ready to tell you everything he wanted to say again, mostly to apologize but when he opens his mouth the words seem to be caught in his throat. Stuck, as if there was some force pulling them back, not letting them escape and reach you. Mouth opens and closes again, and it’s the sound of your voice as you call to him, and say something he can’t quite process, blocked by the noise that doesn’t leave his head that he can finally speak again. 

“June 21” those weren’t supposed to be the words that lef this mouth, and your confused look didn’t give him any confidence to continue whatever the hell he was gonna do, which at this point he truly didn’t know because this was supposed to be an apology but he had already apologized. Jeno decided to do his best, and try again, “that was the day we met. The day you helped me finish composing this beautiful song that helped me get into music school. The day where the second i heard you singing off the words i threw out into the open air hoping for someone to grab onto, you did, and my heart seemed to begin it’s freefall” a small smile graced your features, as you remembered the day, not knowing how much life would change. The small smile is all jeno needed to continue, gaining confidence even as happiness filled every inch of you, tears that you promised you wouldn’t shed in front of him steamed but not from sadness or anger this time. This time they were from a place of loss and happiness to the boy whose eyes conveyed so much more than the words he spoke, whose hand had come up to your cheek wiping away the spare tears that would come down. Ever so gentle and full, always him. 

“It was something I didn't think was possible, you know? Coming to this new school, everyone had come up with their own ideas of who i was, because of stories they had heard, only to find you. Headstrong as ever, always standing by whatever you believe even some like pluto is still a planet” you both laugh, it’s a quick one, more like a chuckle but it’s filled with joy, at the memory. “You who didn’t care what the world thought, only that if you put your mind to it you would get it done. I never meant to fall in love with you, never meant to make you cry because of something that shouldn’t have ever happened, I never meant to get you too hate me the way you probably do” his eyes softened, and he pulled away ever so slightly, “but here I am. And i now i most definitely don’t deserve it but y/n, i can’t deny it because since i first heard your voice that late night i think i fell for you, and it has been a constant free fall from there. So when i say it now, i mean it i fucking love you” the end was more of a ramble, a long list of words that made your heart flip and expand in your chest, making your smile grow and you could see the doubt in his eyes, you could see him retreat back into himself, he completely let you go when you spoke up again, “you want to know what i hate the most?” you didn’t wait for a response before speaking again, grabbing his hands in yours, and you willed him to look at you. 

“I hate the way that I don't hate you” you take a step closer to him, your faces so close the sun casting glows on you both. Two shadows becoming one behind you as the sun set, as one confessed to another the way they felt. “Because i don’t hate you, jeno. In fact it’s the opposite, because hate is not even close, not a tiny bit in resemblance to what i feel you for you,

Not even close, Not even a little bit,  Not even at all.” 

adfghjk and it’s finally done !!! i had so so so much fun writing this piece and seriously hope you guys enjoyed it !! im such a sucker for jeno and this movie in general lol. i struggled w the ending so i hope it came out well :) n e ways,,, please please tell me your thoughts on it, what you liked? what you didn’t like? things i could improve on. much love to you all !!

masterlist

#nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #nct imagines #luna writes #nct scenerios #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno imagines #lee jeno #nct dream #nct dream scenerios #nct dream imagines #jeno scenerios #jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #fanfic

[evilzoldyck]

Strawberry Mushroom

“Is something wrong?” You finally asked as you watched your exasperated boyfriend stab another handful of berries into his fork, his brows furrowed together upon his usually gentle and fair face as his lips turned slightly into a frown. 

Going out for a quick breakfast in a nearby café had been your idea, you thought it to be suitable to start such a beautiful day as his usual work being a covert examiner for the hunter association left little to no time for you both to spend together.

The sun was shining blindingly from the east, there was also a cool breeze in the air as the occasional wind rustled the trees soothingly. The cafe was surrounded by inviting smell of coffees, various types of pastries, breakfast food and yet, Wing’s aggravated mood was enough to dampen the spirits of a lovely Sunday morning. 

“Nothing,” he replied bluntly. For someone with such a stern and intuitive nature, Wing really does wear his heart on his sleeves. It was clear that he was upset and yet you haven’t had the slightest clue for the reason of his discontent. Halting his slightly violent ministrations on the poor strawberries by placing your hand on top of his, you forced him to finally stop and acknowledge you properly.

“Please tell me,” you softly pleaded as you looked into his eyes sincerely.

Wing sighed and averted your look by dropping his gaze before muttering out, “you seemed to be quite interested in that tattooed up barista.”

That was it? You couldn’t even remember your interaction with said man, not to mention his name or his face. Whatever happened previously, it seemed enough to upset your boyfriend.

“What do you mean? Nothing happened back then,” you attempted to assuage him while also genuinely not knowing what he was so irritated about. You didn’t see it but the way Wing clenched his fists underneath his pockets whenever that barista that burnt his coffee flashed you a charming smile and a joyous jest made him want to jump over the counter and strike him down.

Wing knew you might not notice his lecherous, wandering eyes that lingered on you for far too long for it to be a common friendly service but as your man, he couldn’t help but wished that you were more self-aware. In his perspective, all men are the same, sly and perverted waiting for someone naïve enough to toy around with before discarding them carelessly. 

“Sure and you didn’t just flirt with him in front of me.” His retort took you aback. You stared at him in shock as he resentfully ate a small piece of his breakfast, unable to form a comprehensible string of sentence.

“What are you talking about? Of course I didn’t- I would never!” You felt your heart drop at his awful accusation. He hummed dismissively before pushing his chair back to promptly stand up and grab his jacket. You continued to watch him in disbelief, feeling your eyes starting to sting once you knew he wasn’t going to stop.

“I’m going off to work,” before you could argue back that it was Sunday, he brusquely added that he had leftover work to finish to justify his absence; and just like that you were left by yourself, leaving a bitter sting on the brief breakfast date.

Holding back your tears, you didn’t want to start a scene in front of all these people as the door closed behind him with a soft jingle. You could sense where the future for the both of you will end up, you could feel the strain in your relationship as you progressed the days further with him and to be completely honest, you were scared.

You don’t know why but Wing’s inferiority complex grew each day when you were with him in which left him completely different from the man you once met and fell in love with. He was constantly paranoid of your faithfulness for him. Your loyalty, trust and respect all dissipated with the presence of another man in the room. He’d always imply how you would soon leave him for a better, a more attractive and rugged man if you had the chance, continuously putting himself down as if you were too good to be with someone like him.

It seemed like there was no words you could say were enough to convince him otherwise. His jealously was constantly festering and infecting him, detrimenting your once pure and beautiful connection.

All your friends have heard your troublesome tales with the martial arts teacher and each time, they pressingly urged you to leave him, growing weary and outraged by how the seemingly innocuous man was treating you. However, no matter what they say you couldn’t bring yourself to end it. How were you supposed to forget all the times you spent together? You held onto those memories on days like these, where his words didn’t prick at your heart and he was still here with his arms firmly held around you in a loving squeeze.

You never felt anything for anyone as much as you did for him. So you guessed that the old adage is true when they say love is blind, because you clearly were when you were with him. Overlooking his past transgressions and never delving deep into the root of the problem, only choosing to look on the surface and forget about it the very next day.

Clearly you had fallen for Wing so much that you couldn’t see anyone besides him. When he said you should let him take care of you since if the both of you was working it would be nearly impossible for you both to see each other. You weren’t much for departing with the work you clearly enjoyed but before him you did because you loved seeing him smile, seeing him happy because of you, the way he woke you up each morning, the way he shook your father’s hand and meeting your mother.

You don’t want to ever lose that.

When you returned back to your shared apartment and left behind your untouched breakfast, you chose to spend the day by trying to forget that the whole ordeal ever happened, filling your time by talking to your friends, running small errands and reading the daily news. You knew how much his job occupied his time and so you waited until the moon was at its highest for him to return.

Truth be told he hadn’t expected you to be awake when he retired back to the bedroom, instead he was pleasantly surprised when you languidly laid by the couch wearing nothing but the short silky robe that he liked with the strip hung loosely around your waist, showing much of your smooth skin that he loved to caress so much.

You stood up at his arrival letting the delicate garment fall of your shoulder in the process, nevertheless you didn’t care enough to fix it back in place once you saw Wing holding a large bundle of white roses for you. Walking closer towards him with a delighted turn of your lips, you waited for him to snap out of his daze and finally say something.

Red dusted his cheeks as he quickly stammered clumsily to get some words out. No matter how many times he had seen it, you never failed to take his breath away. The way your hair fell so prettily among your face which framed it perfectly, your alluring and graceful features that made his knees buckle at the very sight, and your smile that was so sweet he could admire it for a lifetime.

“F-For you,” he stuttered as you gratefully took it with a wide beam and a brief chuckle.

He couldn’t help but melt at the sound of your enchanting laugh that sounded like twinkling bells. It was at times like this is why he was the way he is, why he couldn’t bare it when other men looked at you knowing that they saw what he did. Wing wouldn’t admit it aloud in front of you, but he would rather die than to let others have you, just thinking of such a thought riled him up to no end that he had no other choice than to exert out his frustration on some test dummies back at the training grounds.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly blurted out, filling the thick silence. “For leaving you, for getting angry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that I-“ his words were cut off when you pressed your lips desperately to his. 

Wing’s hands automatically grabbed at your sides, pulling you close to him so he could feel more of you during this passionate moment. He assisted you in putting the extravagant bouquet aside on the bed as the piece that meant to signify his hopeless feelings served more as a barrier between you two.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling it through his endearingly dishevelled yet soft locks, you deepened the kiss entangling your tongues in a further exchange. One of Wing’s hand raised up to graze his knuckles along your plush cheek before grabbing the back of your head lovingly to support it.

He let out a small breath of bliss as you parted from him. There was much he wanted to say, how much guilt he felt when stormed out earlier this morning, for not keeping his emotions in check sometimes and how much he didn’t deserve the love you’re giving him right now. 

 Wing suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when you pushed him decisively to the couch where he dutifully took a seat as you lowered yourself down to the floor, never taking your effervescent eyes off of his. He couldn’t deny that the lustful yet somehow demure look from you stirred a pool of desire within him, craving more of your touches on him as he took in the lascivious view avariciously. 

Getting on your knees, he gingerly spread his legs for easier access. He inhaled sharply when you began to rub the bulge in his pants experimentally, slowly unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers to release his length from the confines of his painfully constricting piece of clothe. Your eyes strayed from his to his crotch instead where you saw a tent forming underneath his briefs. 

Wing didn’t know he could get anymore shameless as he watched you, with half lidded eyes, pulling down on the thin fabric to reveal his already hard cock. His length stood up to attention with the tip matching the pink hue on his face. It took all the will he had within him to remain calm and keep himself from losing composure by the intensity of your admiration towards his dick.

It was a size that satiated you, his girth was one that was appropriately proportional to him but you were more than happy to learn that his length was a bit bigger than average, letting Wing hit heavenly spots inside you that you alone could never imagine to reach with your dainty fingers. Taking in his cock in between your hands, you jerked him off in a slow and careful motion, watching him get even hotter as he struggled to keep his breath steady. 

“A-Ahh..” he gasped and clenched onto the edges of the couch furiously as you stroked him lazily, paying extra attention on the underside of his dick where his vein pulsed out slightly. 

Pretending to not notice his stifled whimpers and shudders, you’d hope that this would encourage him to let out his voice more. A bead of cum suddenly came from the tip of his reddened head as you squeezed onto his cock attentively. Wing saw exactly what you you did to him as his gut further constricted into a tight rope when you wiped the pearl of cum with your thumb and placed chaste kisses around the tip instead. 

Gulping down the air greedily, he grit his teeth down harshly as he shifts his face when you gave him tiny licks around the tip of his dick, playing around with the edges of his head and his slit. Finally you took his whole head into your mouth where your soft and wet tongue freely enveloped him for a sweet moment before that pleasure intensified by you rubbing your silky soft mouth further into him. The kind of pleasure that had his toes curling and his eyes rolling back.

He couldn’t contain his moans anymore when you began to zealously suck at it, gripping at his base and occasionally rubbing on his balls. You hummed down pleasantly on his cock as you went further down on him, he could feel the repercussions of your vibrations travelling through him, pulling him closer to the edge. 

This was a problem that Wing faced. If you continued to suck his dick while looking up at him with that pretty face of yours he’s afraid he could combust at any given moment.

In the midst of you going back to the tip of his head and teasing the slit to lap more of his precum before going back down to the base, Wing suddenly held onto your head to pull it back gently as if he would hurt you in the process.

“L-Let go, please l-let go sweetheart.” He hissed when you did so with a slightly audible pop as his cock recoiled up immediately after, slapping into his stomach with a wet sound from your saliva. 

Guiding you back up on the seat with him, you straddled him with your legs on either side as he pulled your hips hesitantly closer towards his. You let out a breath of laugh when you found that Wing’s glasses has been crooked all this time. While you found it endearing and so heart wrenchingly cute, you pulled it to the side safely on a nearby table as he smiled sheepishly.

His slim fingers trailed slowly closer to your cunt, pleased to find it coated and dripping in your own slick. Shyly rubbing on your entrance you let out a dreamy sigh and held onto his said hand with the other on his tensed shoulder. Lifting your hips up higher his hands moved securely up to your sides. Looking up at you in a dazed state he could’ve easily mistook you for an angel by the way the moonlight was hitting your skin, making you glow ethereally. 

As your lips hovered the tip of his cock, Wing tugged on your loosening robe letting the fabric pool down to the floor swiftly, revealing your bare self for his eyes only.

“Wing..” you sang before him as you sank slowly down on his dick, wrapping your arms around his neck and arching your back heavenly when you bottomed out. Gyrating on his length sensually, you felt him hitting your most sensitive parts with ease making you grip onto him as he hoarsely whispered out your name.

Pinching one of your peaked buds into his slightly calloused pointer finger and thumb, he rolled it fondly while he looked up earnestly at your response, going just a little rougher when you urged him on through your weak whines. 

Mewling when he tugged and pinched onto your tits, you pushed out your chest out towards him more as he eagerly fondled your mounds, tracing his lips up from your sternum up to your neck kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin affectionately. Raising your hips up only to sink back down made your tight walls drag along his cock in all kinds directions sent butterflies flying in your stomach. 

“You’re so pretty...” he breathed out absentmindedly as his thoughts were too preoccupied with how your plush walls hugged him in hot and sticky embrace. His hips moved up to meet yours, holding onto your ass this time, squeezing and groping them as he bounced you up and down.

“Wing,” you called out softly and in an instant he’s listening thoughtfully like an obedient little puppy. “Kiss me.” Immediately he leaned in to fulfil your wish, lips melding in with each other while encouraging you to open your mouth by flicking out his tongue occasionally in between to meet yours. 

Though you felt like you were on floating with the stars, it still tugged on your heart strings that no amount of sex could ever placate his jealousy. Wing may say that regretted what he said, feel remorse or become apologetic but nothing in his words implied that what he said wasn’t true. At this point you were stuck in a cycle of his envy, forever trapped in trying to balance the fine line between his ever raging emotions into one that is complacent and calm.

However there’s no telling he would ever change soon. Sometimes you feel as if you might break down by trying to pick yourself apart and build yourself up to satisfy his ever so capricious moods. You don’t know how to be good enough for him, to be something he could trust, to convince him that he had you completely besotted. 

Many might commend you for your love and patience for this man, his rancorous jealousy was one that wasn’t easy to handle. As words didn’t seem to work on him and so you naturally came to the conclusion to give him something in an attempt to show your feelings for him in the purest form. 

It was something beyond sex, a conduit to express how much you cared for him and where he stood in your heart. Looking into his eyes, you attempt to show him how much you appreciated him, how much you were dedicated and loyal only to him, valuing every thing he taught you and expressing your gratitude for every time he made you feel loved and special. 

Wing murmured out your name as his hips rocked furiously into you, feeling himself get closer to his edge. “A-Are you close?” He timidly asked as if wasn’t continuously 

bouncing you on his cock. You nodded and cried out loud when he desperately rubbed onto your clit instantaneously making you see sparks fly. Holding onto Wing, you buried your face into his neck and muffled out your moans hoping that your cries didn’t traverse too much from your bedroom and into the quiet night. 

Your orgasm was still coursing through you in jolts of electricity as he pumped his cock vigorously inside. Your plush, silky walls pulsed down on him tightly from your recent release had Wing closing his eyes and clenching on his teeth from the intensity. With a broken groan he buried himself forcefully all the way inside, letting his cum erupt from the tip and coat your cunt in white. The speed was unceremoniously welcomed, bursting out faster than you anticipated feeling the thick liquid filling up your insides.

Wing was heaving by the time he finished riding out his orgasm. Sweat perspired from the both of you as you could feel a bead rolling down your back and one along his face. He pulled out carefully and laid you against his chest, holding onto your hand to briefly kiss it on the back before rubbing it soothingly, basking in the  serene afterglow that always came after.

“I hate it when we fight,” you murmured weakly while looking up at him languorously. Wing returned your pained eyes, bearing a guilty look. 

“Me too,” he replied softly, holding your body even tighter and kissing at your shoulder sweetly. 

The night always ended with him embracing you securely in his arms, the time where you felt the most safe and loved. Though there was a whisper at the back of your mind that reminded you this wasn’t the end, that you would have to endure far more of these days with him but nevertheless, you were going to continue to fight for him. 

You’ve always pondered how long this would go on for but you have yet to contemplate on an even bigger conundrum. It wasn’t the matter of the time you should be worried about but when he would finally snap is the question. 

#god i wanna peg him #wing x reader #yandere wing #yandere wing x reader #smut #yandere x reader #reader insert #reader #toxic relationship #hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #Hunter X Hunter #Hunter x Hunter 2011 #yandere

[artemis-verse]

friend

summary: ��Seeing how completely different he is compared to when they grew up with each other then stumbling onto him now makes her realize that even after all these years—she still doesn’t know who Kuroo Tetsurou is.”

note: features time skip! kenma + kuroo and side characters that aren’t related to haikyuu. some scenes include flashbacks. all characters in the present timeline is 21+. fem! reader. she/her pronouns. symbol: ~ indicates flashbacks

song: friend by gracie abrams word count: 2,284 words warnings: mild swearing and alcohol use genre: angst arthie’s note: this is part 2 out of 5 from the minor series!! i’m sorry if it’s a bit late as i’m currently struggling with a bunch of things atm (╥_╥). i searched up gracie’s meaning for this song and it was rlly interesting however i added my own twist to it. oh! forgot to mention, there’s like a flashback scene when we get to see their relationship so i hope it doesn’t get confusing! as always, i hope all of you enjoy! be sure to listen to the song recommended to get into the mood ^^ ↳ main masterlist ↳ minor series masterlist »»————-　➴　————-«« Achoo!

The vacuum whirred against the rug, suctioning all of the dust that’s been piling up after years of neglect. She rubbed her nose, mentally slapping herself for not cleaning the house properly. It was finally a day off from work and in the words of her mother— “stop worrying all the time and clean your damn house! It’s covered in dust everywhere, you’re gonna get sick if you don’t clean it.” Obeying her mother’s nagging, she spent the whole day cleaning the house and throwing out items that weren’t a use to her anymore.

»»————-　➴　————-««

“Thank you for the food.” She says as she picked up the chopstick. Savouring the taste of her mother’s leftovers, she hummed happily whilst watching a movie on her phone. Gulping down the cold water, she glances at the room that’s been abandoned for quite some time. A mental note made up in her mind to go check out the room after eating. With an exasperated exhale, she grips the doorknob and turns it, opening the storage room.

Ah.. so many dust.. and so many things to unpack..

Groaning, she trudges inside and decided to start with the herd of dust, vacuum in hand.

20 minutes later, the room is now free of dust. She glared at the boxes, why do I have so many of these boxes?! I lived here for 3 years already, she cursed to herself.

Starting from the biggest box down to the smallest; she began to unpack and rummage inside.

On her 4th box, it was a shoe box. She shrugged before opening the lid and seeing the components.

Huh, what’s this? She picked up the note— goodluck on your chemistry test y/n-chan! i hope you do your best and if you don’t, i’m always up for another study date ~ jk jk... or am i? anyways i’ll treat you to ramen afterwards! meet me at the front gate - tetsurou <3

She swallowed the lump in her throat, gently placing the note down. When she examined the other items, she came across photographs of her and Kuroo.

In the first picture; they were only 15. Starting high school and eager to learn about the world. Both holding up peace signs and grinning happily in their uniforms.

It made her feel older, reminiscing the old times of when they were together. Pushing away the thoughts of him, she sets the box aside and wrote “DO NOT TOUCH” onto it.

With that, she resumed cleaning other parts of the room and left the box alone.

»»————-　➴　————-««

“Here’s to Nakano’s promotion!” Everyone clinked their glasses together, drinking the beer to celebrate their colleague.

“Oh! By the way, I invited my friend over. He’s coming in...” “Oya? Did you guys start without me?” Nakano grinned and looked up. “Now! Everybody, meet Kuroo Tetsurou!”

Ishida assured Kuroo to his seat, “Welcome Kuroo-san! Make yourself comfortable.”

He uttered a thank you and gaped at the food displayed on the table. “Are we having a feast or what?” 

Morita nodded, “Yup! Nakano-kun got promoted to be a manager and he’s treating all of us!”

Kuroo smirked at his friend, “Wow! You’re amazing, Nakano!” He pats his friend’s back, congratulating him.

Nakano gave a sheepish smile, “Yeah, yeah. Oh! Everyone, feel free to introduce yourself to Kuroo.”

Everyone introduced themselves to him and made small talks, often asking him questions about his job and personal life.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” She announced when she approached their table. Everyone stared at her, “Ah, it’s okay Y/n-kun! There’s plenty of food left for you!” Nakano reassured.

She smiled at him and her colleagues until her gaze landed on the man she least expected to see.

“T— Tetsurou?!” She stammered, shocked upon seeing him.

He beamed at her, “Y/n! You’re here!” He exclaimed as he engulfs her in a hug.

“Oh? Kuroo-san, you know Y/n-kun?” Morita asked, eyeing the two of them.

He nodded, slinging his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah! We’ve been friends for 7 years now.”

She refrains herself from blurting out a sarcastic remark since she’s in front of her colleagues but God, she’d wish for him to shut up.

“That’s great! Tell us more about it, Kuroo!” Nakano urged, pulling Kuroo off of her shoulder and listened attentively to what he says.

She sighed, sitting down on the empty seat and glance at anywhere but him.

The rest of the celebration goes on till midnight and Nakano decided to call it a night when one of them vomited in their food.

Grabbing the door handle, pushing it open however a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She glanced back, “Can I talk to you for a second? Please.” Kuroo begged.

Shoving her uneasiness away, she replies. “Okay.”

They walk in silence, not knowing how to start the conversation first and occasionally bumping into each other due to close proximity.

She hugs herself and stared at the ground, avoiding Kuroo’s sharp gaze.

“Are you cold?” He asked, sensing her discomfort due to the cold weather.

She shook her head, “No. I’m not.”

He smirked, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/n. Here.” He takes off his work coat and wrapped it around her, immediately warming her up.

“Thanks.” She muttered.

Before the silence could continue, he groaned. “Look, I didn’t offer you a proper explanation as to why I left and I...” He bit his lip, averting his gaze to the lamppost.

Huffing, “I never wanted closure anyways.” She admitted.

He frowns, “But still... I wanted to give you one.” Rolling her eyes, “I don’t want it.”

His head bowed down like a puppy getting upset for not getting a treat. They resumed walking in reticence.

Questions racing through each other’s head, craving for answers but they’re both too cowardly to say what’s on their mind.

The night grew into stillness— it’s unlike of Kuroo to ran out of things to say however that night, all of the words he had wanted to say died down his tongue, leaving him speechless.

»»————-　➴　————-««

A week passed by since their last encounter and Kuroo had somehow managed to get her number through Nakano, who without a doubt, gave it to him with no hesitation.

He was constantly texting her, wanting to reconcile their relationship.

The coat he gave her was still hanging in the closet. At the thought of that, she rolled her eyes and whipped out her phone.

Y/n: Tetsurou, are you free this Friday?

Not even 10 minutes had gone by and the answer came through like lightning.

Tetsurou: Yup, why?

It’s funny, she thinks, that he always tries and keep in touch with her despite knowing what he did before they separated their ways.

She sighed, it’s unbelievable that he doesn’t know what she’s feeling. After all of what happened; how could she ever move on?

»»————-　➴　————-««

At 4:00pm, she stood nearby the playground whereas kids giggled loudly and ran around with their friends.

The sun shining brightly, birds hovering above the ground, flapping their wings as they soar through the sky.

She observed the kids, a wave of nostalgia passes through like a snowstorm, igniting memories of her and Kuroo when they were children.

“Hey.” The man she anticipated arrived as she spun around and took in the sight before her.

“Hi.” She greeted back, clutching the plastic bag that contains Kuroo’s coat inside.

Inhaling, she spoke up. “Here. Your work coat.” She handed out, gesturing him to take it.

A smile creeped on his face as he grabs the bag, muttering a thanks under his breath.

Amber skies mixed with warm greens of spring, flowers blooming proudly despite the chilly breeze.

“So.. what have you been up to?” Does he think I’m here for small talks? She thought to herself bitterly. “Listen.” She said sternly, “I’m not here for small talks nor do I want you to keep texting me. So please, stop bothering me.” He nodded his head shamefully, “Okay.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at the girl defending the little boy from bullies. “Since there’s nothing left for us to talk about or discuss, I will be leaving now.” As she walks away, a hand grasped on her arm. She turned around and saw Kuroo pleading, desperation evident in his eyes. “Please, just let me talk. I just wanna explain.” Her hands clenched, “I don’t want your explanation!” She snapped, looking at him with irritation as he gazed down bashfully. “Tetsurou... you’re 3 years late. You left me without looking back. You know what I was dealing with at that time and you still.. left me.” She muttered the last part, feeling the tears building up. Shaking her head, “I can never forgive you for what you did. Ever since you met me at Nakano’s celebration dinner, you’ve been constantly texting me as if we’re friends!” “But... we are still friends.. right?” He murmured, watching her closely. Her lips pressed into a thin line, “No. We are not friends. How could you think I’d be your friend after all that you’ve put me through?” He stared at the ground, guilt sprawled all across his face. “I’m sorry.” “I don’t need your apology. Just— don’t bother me anymore, please. I’ve had enough. Just leave me alone.” She yielded, tired of the burden that she’s been carrying. “Okay.” He said. “I won’t bother you anymore. I promise.” Relief seeped into her after hearing those words, definiteness embracing her. Without uttering a goodbye, she walked away from him, finally being able to breathe in the crisp air, all of the weight is no longer heavy on her. She can finally move on from those haunted memories of him. »»————-　➴　————-«« “Y/n! You’re gonna be late!” Kuroo yelled, hurrying her before they miss their bus. She sprints as fast as she can and interlock her fingers around him, stepping inside the vehicle. ~ “Y/n-chan! Are you gonna study that all day without eating?” He asked, concerned laced in his voice. She nods her head tiredly, forcing her eyes to stay awake. He sighed, grabbing her arm. “C’mon. Let’s go rest a bit and eat, okay? Afterwards, I’ll teach you that topic.” She hummed, letting herself be pulled up by him as he drags her to eat. After eating, she fell asleep on his shoulder due to staying up studying all night. He brushes her hair, staring at her fondly, admiration and infatuation glinted in his eyes. “Sleep well, Y/n-chan.” He kisses the top of her head, fluttering his eyes closed. ~ “Congrats on getting into your dream university, Y/n-chan.” Kuroo beamed at her, ruffling her hair. “Don’t you ever forget about me, okay?” ~ She blows her nose into the tissue, throwing it into the trash bin. “Ah... being ill is no fun.” She sniffed, watching the TV. Footsteps echoed on the other side of the room and she hid herself under the blanket, peeking at the mysterious intruder. “Y/n-chan, you should’ve told me if you were sick.” Kuroo eyed her, examining her frail figure. A sigh escaped his lips, “Well, Yaku brought some soup for you and I picked up the meds from the store earlier. Eat these up. Let me take care of you.” They spent the whole day, resting on the couch, watching soap opera whilst Kuroo occasionally helps her get snacks from the kitchen or the store.  ~ The tranquility comforts the both of them, arm to arm, avoiding each other’s gaze as butterflies swarm in their stomachs. She bit her lip, pondering about what’s on his mind when he suddenly spoke up. “We can’t be friends anymore... I will always see you as something else.” A startled gasp emitted from her as she gawked at him. “W— what?” Images of them furthering their friendship into something more pace in her head, leaving her eager and wanting to turn it into reality. He gathered every ounce of courage he had and held her gaze. “I’ve known you since... forever. I can’t imagine my life without you.” With shaky hands, she reached out to his touch, caressing his hand. “I feel the same way too.” Hopefulness surged up inside him, intertwining their fingers together. “I’m glad you do.” ~ Kenma recognized those expression of forlorn that etched on her face— eyes gleaming with dejectedness and tiredness. “What did Kuro do?” He blurted, sipping on the iced coffee. Watching intently, he noticed the way she slumped her shoulders and gaze ahead of her daydreams. “He left me.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand found its way to held her closely. “Well.. that sounds like something Kuro would do.” He rubbed her back, comforting her. “Why?” She asked meekly. Swallowing down the guilt, he explained. “Kuro.. he’s a complex person. Sometimes he does things without a solid reason. Maybe he left because he was getting too constrained in the relationship.” Upon hearing that, she broke down. Kenma hugged her, “It’s not your fault, I assure you. That’s just.. how he is, unfortunately.” »»————-　➴　————-«« Remembering Kenma’s words from the past; she felt as if she could finally let go of him. Seeing how completely different he is compared to when they grew up with each other then stumbling onto him now makes her realize that even after all these years— she still doesn’t know who Kuroo Tetsurou is. The anger dissipated into a limbo, just a mere reminder of what she used to feel when looking at him. Every traces of him melted away, the pain and dissatisfaction latched out of her and now all that’s left is the bitter memory of them together.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! fanfiction #kuroo x y/n #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x y/n #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo testuro #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! angst #artemisverse minor series