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admiringlove · 2 years

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exes.

synopsis. hq boys bringing up their exes during an argument.

genre. headcanons; angst to fluff.

characters. sakusa kiyoomi, kuroo tetsurō, oikawa tōru.

warnings. swearing, crying, etc.

author’s note. i contemplated publishing this, it’s been sitting in my drafts for a month :/

navigation. main menu, hq menu.

— SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

sakusa was a very private person. so, dating him came with the fact that he had boundaries. and his career wasn’t easy on you either, because he preferred to keep your relationship private.

you weren’t the type of person to argue with that. in fact, even you preferred it this way. it would be way easier if the two of you were hidden away from the crazy fans and the invasive media. so you went along with it. you’ve known kiyoomi since college; you’ve adjusted to his mannerisms, his quirks, his ups and downs—everything, really. he couldn’t be more grateful to you.

but everything came crippling down when you thought that it had been too long since the two of you started going out. that maybe, just maybe, you and kiyoomi could still lead a private life if he just announced to his fans that he has a significant other—just mentioning it, or posting a story on his instagram or any other social media. the first time you had brought it up, he’d dismissed it lightly. you’d tried again and again, but he just wouldn’t budge.

just like today. but something was off about today as well. you hadn’t exactly had a good day at work, and neither had he. but you approached the argument either way, even though you probably shouldn’t have.

“we’re happy, aren’t we?” he asks in a taunting way, “why do we need to tell the whole world we’re together if we’re content.”

“omi,” you take in a sharp breath, “we have been together for eight months. eight. that’s more than half a year.”

“yeah, so?” he raises an eyebrow, shrugging. you hate the way he’s so dismissive whenever the two of you come to a disagreement. while you’re usually level-headed, you tended to have a complete change in personality when you were arguing with someone. just like today.

“do you- oh my god, kiyoomi!” you huff, “i’ve been nothing but patient for the past seven months, but this is a limit that you’re crossing. i thought that after so much time you would be comfortable but no-”

“this is getting annoying,” he sighs, “why are you acting out like this? everything was fine until last month.”

“because,” you grit your teeth, “i don’t wanna be some secret fling anymore. if you can’t take responsibility then i don’t want to be a part of whatever this is.”

“you do realize you’re behaving just like nami, right? that nagging pain in my ass who kept telling me to make our relationship official even though we dated for only two months.

“w-what?”

“what else do you think?” he taunts. you can tell he’s lost his cool but the things he’s saying pricks at your heart. it hurts. it hurts so much that you don’t know how tears start flowing down from your eyes. sakusa isn’t looking at you, he’s pouring himself a glass of water in the open kitchen while you look at his back in disbelief from the living room. you wipe at your cheeks and when your boyfriend finally turns around is when he realizes how badly he’s screwed up.

“[y/n]-”

“save it, you jerk,” you spat, “go find another pain in the ass to sleep next to tonight, i’m going over to atsumu’s.”

sakusa’s eyes widen in fear, he keeps the half-empty glass on the counter haphazardly, following after you like a lost puppy until you slam the door on his face. he flinches, breathing unevenly and irrational thoughts racing in his brain.

“i’m sorry,” he says, leaning his forehead against the white door, “that was a jerk move.”

he hears shuffling on the inside—it felt like you were sliding your back down on the door. he heard a few sniffs, and guilt ate away at him. he didn’t mean to hurt you at all, but the words came out on their own. maybe it had been the swarm of fans outside the gym today because of hinata’s birthday that ticked him off. or the fact that one of his tires punctured on the way back home from work. he doesn’t know why all of this happened, but he wants to go back to how the two of you would be in the bathroom applying lotions and creams to your faces before going to bed. you would make jokes saying that kiyoomi looks like a ghost and he would say that you don’t look too different either. sometimes he’d poke your waist before leaving the bathroom just to see how you’d react. sometimes he’d kiss the top of your head and immediately make a yucky expression because some of the lotion got onto his lips and made his whole mouth taste like bitter, soapy flowers.

he doesn’t get a reply from you. but he still stands there, waiting for you to open the door or give him an earful.

and after around fifteen minutes, you do come back out. but with a bag filled with some essentials, and a mask covering your face. sakusa’s eyes perk up, “where are you going?”

“move,” you seethe, “i’m going to atsumu’s for the night.”

“i can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head and trying to cup your cheeks. you take a step back from him, and his heart breaks. he tries to look into your eyes but you’re looking everywhere but at his own.

“well excuse me if i don’t wanna be a pain in someone’s ass,” you mock, “now, move.”

“i didn’t mean it,” he cries. his eyes are red, and he looks miserable. you roll your eyes, even though you want to believe him, “omi, i’ve known you for five years. you say shit you mean when you’re angry.”

“i wasn’t angry,” he reasons, “i’ve had a bad day, and i know that doesn’t excuse anything but you’re not like her. i’m so sorry. you didn’t deserve it. i don’t deserve you.”

“look, kiyoomi,” you sigh, “figure it out, okay? i don’t wanna be treated like crap. i’m leaving for now, but i’ll come back later.”

“[y/n]-”

“no, omi,” you say, walking away from him, “i said, figure it out. i’ll be back tomorrow night. until then, sort your thoughts out. okay?”

you turn, walking towards the door and opening it. you glanced back one last time to say goodbye when you catch a glimpse of his face.

“please don’t leave me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. your eyes soften, “i’m not leaving you, dummy. i’m just goin’ over to atsumu’s to cool off for the night. i’ll be back tomorrow. till then, just. reflect, or something.”

“o-oh. um, okay. uh, can i ask you a question before you leave?”

you nod, humming as you grip your bag tightly. his voice is quiet, “are we gonna be okay?”

“i don’t know, omi. i don’t know. but we can try.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

kuroo was always sophisticated. you appreciated that about him. in fact, it's what drew you to him more. he was so ambitious in college; he could go on about volleyball for hours. it would be like that on your dates at first. you, him, a muffled movie, blankets and random talks about your futures together.

but when your futures are what drift you apart, can you really blame each other? you weren't college kids anymore—the pipedreams you shared weren't real, life caught on and jobs became hectic. schedules didn't fit with one another anymore. you grew up, and so did he.

and that might've taken a turn for the worse. the complete opposite of what you had imagined it would be.

"tetsurō," you say, losing your patience by the second, "i'm only asking for you to make time. you work overtime way more than you need to and it's honestly affecting our relationship-"

"does your job not affect our relationship?" he asks cockily, raising an eyebrow. you scoff, "you know i gave up that promotion so we could spend more time together. why can't you put in some effort too? it's not like i'm asking for much!"

"i'm only working overtime for us, [y/n]. where the hell do you think all the money goes? it's savings. for us. i work for us. what, am i just not supposed to do that anymore?"

"i didn't say that," you pause, "make time for me, tetsurō. that's all i'm asking from you."

he grumbles, running a hand through his gelled hair. and then, he says something under his breath that you thought would've never come out of his mouth.

"nari wasn't like this at all. tch."

you blink, tilting your head to make sure you heard him correctly. he's taking his coat off and hanging it in the rack. he doesn't see the way your eyes fill to the brim with tears as you whisper, "what?"

he pauses abruptly, turning around, "love, i didn't mean-"

"your ex didn't give up her promotion for you because she was fucking her boss behind your back," you grit your teeth, "if you want me to do that too, all you had to do was just say so."

kuroo stops in his tracks. mouth opening and closing like a goldish’s. he looks shocked at the sudden change in your attitude, but he knows it was deserved. you run up the stairs, locking yourself in your shared bedroom as your fiancé paces around the apartment in worry.

he fucked up. and that too, terribly. it took him a long while to move on from his first love—and who was the one who helped him throughout the process of him returning home drunk off his ass or needed soothing? you. you, his best friend, his roommate (at least, that's all you were back then), and someone who was irrevocably in love with him but never uttered a word.

it took him a long time to convince you that he was over his ex, and that he'd realized he was in love with you all along. college kids might've been all you were, but you were intelligent enough to know that he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. his corny chemistry jokes, your clumsy habits, him being better at sports and you being better at video games, him knowing how exactly to make your coffee in the mornings, you knowing just what he needed whenever he was sick. you two just clicked. there was nothing complicated about it, really.

he was the one who proposed to you. and now, it seemed like he was the one who was breaking your relationship into pieces. kuroo cursed, taking his shoes off and racing up the stairs. just then, you stepped out with a bag.

"i'm going over to kenma's," you mutter, "leave me alone for now."

he shakes his head, "no."

you raise an eyebrow at him. your somewhat calm composure scares him, but he continues, "i can't let you leave. i need to fix this."

"you can't just ‘fix this’, tetsurō," you say, trying to walk down the stairs. but he grabs your arm, "i'm sorry. none of that should've been said."

"but you said it anyway, didn't you?" you retort, "what, you want a fortune cookie for apologizing?"

"[y/n]-"

"go back to your so-called nari if you miss her," you snarl, "i'm done."

"no," he cries, "we aren't done. stop."

you continue walking towards the front door, and he grabs your bag. you tsk, trying to take his hand off. but his grip is too strong.

"stop walking away and listen, will you?" he says. his voice is barely a whisper. your eyes cloud with anger, "i've been trying to talk to you for the past hour. but all you've done is demean my feelings for the entire time, and you even had the audacity to compare me to your ex. do you know how hard it was for me to date you in the beginning?"

"i-i do," he sighs, "please, just listen to me. i'm sorry. reminding you of my ex was uncalled for. i won't do that ever again. it was an honest mistake, i swear."

"tetsurō," your voice cracks, "do you even know just how much you hurt me tonight?"

and he sees it. you break down. you stop acting like everything is okay, and your eyes finally let out tears in front of him. you had probably already cried in the bedroom as you packed your overnight bag, but here you were, sobbing as you tightly held onto his dress shirt, hands forming fists. his eyes soften, and he cradles your cheek with his hand, "i know saying 'sorry' isn't gonna be enough. but i really am sorry. i love you, and i can't lose you because i was an idiot and said shit i didn't mean."

he looks up, a few tears of his own falling from his eyes, "i'm sorry. please, just-"

you place your head on his chest, your forehead making contact with his clothed skin. he looks down, abruptly stopping as his hands reach the back of your head, caressing your hair. your cries are quieter than before, tuning down to mere sniffs, "you hurt me, tetsurō."

"i know," he says, nodding, "i shouldn't have said any of that."

"do you," you pause, as if to wonder if you should really say it out loud. to save yourself of the pain, maybe. but you keep going, "do you still think about her?"

kuroo cups your cheeks, forcing you to look into his eyes, "i'm gonna be honest with you. i found some old high school photos on my laptop today. it's the only reason i even thought of her."

you whimper against him. god, how he hates seeing you like this. he kisses the top of your head before reassuring you, "you don't have to worry about me thinking about anyone who's not you. i can assure you that literally everyone around me knows how much i love you."

you almost roll your eyes. he lets out a sad chuckle before continuing, "no, really. kenma gets annoyed by how much i talk about you sometimes. so do some of my co-workers. i was gonna ask you to come to the expo with me, and they were all going to complain about me to you."

a giggle escapes your lips as some tears fall. kuroo presses a kiss to your nose before whispering, "you don't know how much i love you. the words simply aren't enough. and i hate myself for making you think any less."

"tetsu," you let out a sound before wrapping your arms around him. he laughs, wiping a stray drop away from the corner of his eyes. kuroo lets out a strangled sigh, "you don't know how much it means to me that you're calling me that again."

"tetsu," you say again. he looks down to see you peering up at him, "i love you. please don't say anything dumb like that ever again."

"if i do, i give you full permission to throw concentrated hydrochloric acid into my eyes."

— OIKAWA TŌRU.

you were embarrassed by your fiancé today. again.

oikawa tōru was your high-school sweetheart. he was your first love, your everything. his smile made your heart skip a beat, his touch made you forget about the rest of the world, hs gaze made you think all your problems were tiny compared to your love.

until he had to leave, that is. that was probably one of the most strenuous parts of your relationship—life, maybe. he loved you too much to make you feel the pain of his absence, and you loved him too much to let him go without you. so what did you do? you applied to universities in argentina for your courses.

and you got in. the day you broke the news to him through a surprise party with your friends by your side, you saw him be the happiest boy on earth. his eyes went from the dullest brown to being as bright as the sun. his smile returned, and you embarked on a journey. together.

years flew by. you grew older, more mature and responsible. you had some ups and downs—one really bad argument happened back in college where the two of you took some time off and thought about everything you wanted from life. but then he showed up outside your friend's apartment(where you were staying then). it was raining heavily that night, his hair was slopping wet and sticking to his face. he was with someone during your time off, and he realized that everything that he wanted in life was you.

because it was you, who understood him. you, who supported his dreams. you, who he was so irrevocably in love with that he compared everyone else to you. the three-month break meant nothing. the words he had said during the argument meant nothing. he was yours; he was always going to be yours. ever since he met you at the park as a child trying to chase his toy car, he was yours. remember that time when the two of you had your first kiss while star gazing on the roof of your home? yeah, he still blushes while thinking about it.

you were bitter at first—that he'd gone to someone else after the two of you had taken a break. but with time, you understood that too. he couldn't ask for more.

but today irked you. the past two months irked you. you were grown-ups now. you had responsibilities. just as how oikawa was your responsibility, you were his. so why is it that, in the past two months, oikawa tōru stood you up on every single date the two of you had meticulously planned to fit into both of your schedules? all six of them.

"tōru," your voice is stern, "what part of 'you stood me up' don't you understand? even after i spent a week trying to plan tonight out? i get that your career is important but you spending extra hours at the gym practicing isn't work. it's you being stubborn."

"if i'm stubborn then you're a hypocrite," he retorts, "you pin the blame on me all the time. do you not remember how you kept postponing because of your dumb endless meetings? when i was the one that was free? when it wasn't volleyball season?"

"those dumb meetings are why i earn so much more than last year," you're firm as you pour yourself a glass of wine, "you're being childish, tōru. do you know how embarrassing it was for me? at the same restaurant where you've been abandoning me for the past few months? it's been six times where i've had dinner alone."

"oh, so i'm being childish?" he asks, in a mocking tone. his voice gradually getting louder, "i was at work, [y/n]. i had to work. because i have a game next week. what part of that is so complicated for you to understand?"

"what part of 'we planned this beforehand because you have a game next week and won't be free then' is not understandable for you?" you retort, sipping from your glass as you walk toward the living room. the hardwood floors feel nice against your feet, and just as you're about to sit down on the couch, you hear something you never thought you would.

"tch. yuri wasn't like this at all when i was with her."

the glass of wine in your hand almost falls, but you get a hold of your grip in time. the mature argument you thought you were having isn't 'mature' anymore. oh no, it's much more. you place the glass on the coffee table before looking at him with fury.

"excuse me?" your voice is much ruder than before, "the girl you pity fucked? the girl you were with for the three months when we weren't together? the girl you fucked, pretending that it was me? really, tōru?"

he flinches at your sudden change in tone. his lips are pressed in a straight line as he finally looks at you. your eyebrows knitted together in confusion and betrayal, your eyes covered with rage—but oikawa knows that there are tears behind the clouded anger, ready to spill at any given moment. you were an open book to him, but right now, you were building walls between the two of you that he wasn't sure he could break.

"i-i didn't mean that-"

"oh yeah?" you taunt, stepping a little closer, "what would you do if i went back to the one-night-stand i had when we took a break, huh? what then? do you want me to tell you he was better than you?"

he winces at the words. gosh, he doesn't remember the last time you lost your cool in this way. the last time you two had an argument as serious as this, was in college. both of you were childish back then. but now? you were the one who was trying to stay calm and talk it out, whilst he acted like a total buffoon.

"you know what?" you voice cracks, "screw this. screw you. i'm going over to a friend's. fuck whoever you want."

your footsteps are like pins pricking into his heart when you walk up the stairs of your home. the slam of your shared bedroom door makes him flinch, and his eyes close. when they open, he sees your degree hung up on the living room shelf where his trophies and medals sit.

fuck.

he remembers how he'd warned you that argentina would be nothing like japan. back when the two of you were just kids. back when you left your country and came here, just because he would be alongside you.

he still remembers the day you’d shown him your acceptance letter. you moved halfway across the world for him. you didn’t even bother applying to japanese schools because of him. you learned a whole another language for him. and what did he do in return? he told you that the two-and-a-half month fling he had was better than you.

he curses himself as he runs up the staircase. when he opens the door to your bedroom, he finally sees you. sitting at the edge of your side of the bed, clutching a bag as small sobs escape your lips. your ring sits prettily on the nightstand, staring back at him in horror. the ring that was always on you, that you never took off, was sitting somewhere that wasn’t your finger.

he walks up to you slowly. taking in a sharp breath, he kneels down in front of you. he takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against your skin. you choke back a sob as you ask, “what do you want now?”

“i’m sorry,” he voice is soft, “whatever i said down there was uncalled for. i was acting like a child. you shouldn’t have had to go through that. i’m pretty sure that one-night-stand you had would treat you better than how i’m doing at the moment.”

you chuckle before mumbling, “all i wanted was to spend time with you. we even planned it together because i didn’t wanna bother you with the upcoming season.”

god, how he wishes iwa-chan was here right now so he could get a beating. this is probably the first time he wanted to get beaten up by his best friend willingly.

“i know. i’m sorry. i love you, and i think i just,” he pauses, as if thinking of what to say. or confirming in his mind that it’s the right thing to tell you, “i think i said what i said because you weren’t agreeing with me. i got so used to you doing things for me that i took you for granted. and you didn’t deserve any of that. you deserve someone way better than me. hell, you studied your ass off in high-school so you could come to a whole new country just because of me. you did so much for me. i guess... i guess that got to my head a little. you love me so, so much and i’m so grateful. but [y/n], i proposed to you because i don’t think i can even breathe properly without you by my side. so call me selfish, but i still want you to stay. please don’t leave me because i was an arrogant idiot who said things he didn’t really mean.”

“i’m not going to leave you, tōru,” you murmur, “i’m not going anywhere just because we had a stupid argument. we’re both adults.”

“do you um,” he’s scared of completing his sentence because you might say yes, “still need to go over to your friend’s house? i can drop you if you’d like. i don’t want you driving while you’re feeling so low.”

“no, no,” you wipe away your stray tears with your other hand, still holding onto oikawa. you pause, pondering if you really want to say the words you’re thinking, “tōru?”

he hums.

“please don’t say anything like that ever again,” you look at your lap instead of his honey-brown eyes, “i don’t know what i’d do if you did.”

he understands what you mean. he gets it. he knows that you will leave if he repeats his mistake. because as complacent as you were, you still had a lot of respect for yourself.

“i promise.”

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musingsinmountains · 5 months

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Masquerade Chapter 10

Synopsis: Your name is Keisuke Baji and it's your third year of studying veterinary medicine in college. Now that the semester is almost over, you’re in danger of losing your scholarship because of your chemistry lab. You may be a pretty smart guy, but that’s not gonna save you. Maybe your lab partner can (even if she’s a bitchy nerd)? Maybe the extra credit you’re gonna get for going to the fine arts festival to support one of your mysterious colleagues? Who knows what happens when the house lights go down and the curtain opens.

C/W: AFAB!Reader, making out, cursing, nicknames, suggestive themes, fluff, angst, College AU,

Pairing: Keisuke Baji x AFAB!Reader

Previous Return to Masterlist Post

Chapter 10: Your Reveal

“It’s always been you,” he whispers, lips moving softly against your ear. The anticipation and butterflies are making you feel like you could vomit. The air between you and Baji crackles with electricity.

His fingers expertly untie the ribbons until your mask begins to slide down the bridge of your nose.. You hold it in place until his hands glide past your ears and to the mask. The feather touch of his fingers over your cheek feels like wisps of fire licking at your skin. There is a part of you, deep in your soul that wants to run off that stage and never return to the university. Another part of you wants to kiss him right now.

Time slows. You feel your eyes flutter shut as the mask is peeled away from your face. When you open them, you are met by his deep whiskey gaze. The MC girl goes on to announce your name and that you are in veterinary medicine. That doesn’t matter. The theater fills with applause. That, also, doesn’t matter. What matters is the gaze of the man in front of you. What matters is that Keisuke Baji, your lab partner, the pain in your ass, and the guy you’ve been crushing on for the last year, is standing in front of you awestruck. You blink a couple times before turning and taking your bow. Taking his hand, you pull him with you to the green room. “Wait here,” you say looking at the ground. You change and grab your bag. “Thanks for waiting,” you whisper from within arms reach.

Baji steps toward you and gently lifts your chin, “We should talk.” “Yeah, we should.” Your face turns red. “Shall we walk?”

He nods and the two of you head towards Reflection Lake and the bridge that spans it. “I had a feeling it was you,” his voice was soothing. “I didn’t know you could sing. I’ve never been so moved by music before.” “I don’t advertise my talents often,” you sigh, bumping into him. “I’m a performance minor.” You watch as his eyes go wide at the soft contact. Then it was your turn. He takes your hand, weaving his fingers with yours. There is silence for a moment. “Last night,” he begins, “you turned me down, and that hurt a lot. I think it hurt you too. I could hear you cry.” “You heard that?” you blush, “I was overwhelmed. I wanted to kiss you… But I wanted to be sure that…” “It’s always been you, even when we were fighting. There was part of me that wanted to kiss you when you exploded at me d-during lab,” he stammers. It’s obvious that he was not good at talking about his feelings, but he was trying so hard to communicate.

“I’ve liked you since our biology class in the fall of freshman year,” you stop walking at the center of the bridge, arm going taught as he keeps moving. “I made my song selections after the first night with you in mind. I wanted to draw on the feelings you create in me.”

He stops, dead in his tracks. Your confession makes his heart skip a beat. “What? You mean…” He sounded confused. “But that one was about how the woman was hurt by the actions of her husband.” He turns, his brow knitted as he’s thinking. You can't help but notice how adorable it is that he’s thinking so hard about the meaning of the song. You feel your heart flutter at how much attention he paid to your performances “I mean yes, but it's also about how much she loves him deep in her soul,” your breath stutters. “Later in the show that song is from, they come back together, albeit due to tragedy, slowly rebuilding their trust and love.” You step towards the railing of the bridge, “Kind of like how we slowly built our relationship… friendship from the ruins of rivalry.”

He approaches and puts his hands on the railing on either side of you, subtly pinning you to the rail. Baji looks at his feet briefly before looking up at you through a few strands of hair that fell in his face. “I would never cheat on you. You don’t do that to someone you say you love.” He lifts his chin and leans closer. His face is so close, you can feel his warm breath on your face, it tickles but you stifle the giggle as a piece of your hair falls from its place. Baji brushes the errant lock out of your face.

Your eyes go wide at his touch, pressing your cheek into his hand. Baji seizes the moment, closing the distance between your lips. The kiss is gentle, but passionate. His lips are softer than you imagined that they would be. Your lips part, allowing your tongue to memorize the contour of his lips. He sees this as an invitation to map the topography of your mouth to his memory.

“Baji,” you breathe as you pull away, catching your breath. “Mouse,” he replies with that signature Baji smirk on his lips.

“I think I’m in love with you,” The two of you say in unison. This is followed by matching surprised expressions. “Really? Thank God,” the both of you break out in soft laughter, just to silence it with another passionate kiss.

This particular kiss lasted for what seemed like forever. The moon was hitting the water of the lake just right and it shimmered, lighting up everything with a silver glow. It was magical and exactly what you dreamed of.

******************

The next two years were a blur of classes, performances and tests. Yes, school became a stressor and it did take a toll on your relationship at times. Baji was still navigating how to deal with emotions and stress. You were still navigating vulnerability with another person. Over time, this became easier; learning when to give each other space and when to comfort one another. Soon graduation came and you both walked and got pictures after together. His mom was so proud of the two of you.

Later in the summer after graduation, you were his date to his friend’s wedding. Every now and then he’d glance at you and shoot you that grin that made you melt. At the reception, you caught the bouquet as Emma shoved you onto the floor. Your face turned red as you looked up and met Baji’s gaze from across the room. He held up the garter that he caught with a huge smile on his face.

The next day, as the two of you are headed home from the hotel, he pulls off at an overlook of the river and the lush valley, littered with cherry blossoms. “That was a blast, my friends should get married more often.” He laughs, pulling you close by your waist.”You think maybe we could get married? In a few years or so once we both are settled into our careers.” He pulls a simple white gold band with a single tiny white sapphire. “I promise you that.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you nod, smiling and kissing him sweetly as he slid the ring on your finger.

The End.

Part of the @enchantedforest-network

Dividers by @benkeibear

© All works belong to musingsinmountains. Please do not pirate or translate my work onto other platforms. Support my releases with likes or reblogs on Tumblr and Kudos on AO3. Please support the official release of Tokyo Revengers.

#Keisuke Baji x Reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #keisuke baji #tokyo revengers #masquerade

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allthingsfook · 11 months

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helloooo could i possibly get a ship from u? :) i’ve been seeing ur posts and they r so extremely cute omg.. keeping this anon, obvi LOL

i’m 5’2 (she/her), i have extremely long, black hair, brown eyes and naturally tan skin. i love the palazzo pant, tiny tank top look with big earrings!! gold is my jewelry of choice :)

i keep my hair long because i dance hula & tahitian! dance is truly my first love. besides dancing, i’m a self-proclaimed gym rat & i love lifting heavy.. my favorite day is leg + glute day 🫣 i also love to crochet, knit and bake! i also have a really bad shopping addiction lol. aaaandddd i have a mini dachshund named oscar who has my entire heart <3

i’m generally really shy & awkward when you first meet me, but you’ll def know when i’m comfortable w you when i literally never stop talking/cracking jokes. i like going to get silly (alcoholic) drinks with my friends and all around just hanging out. i like to think i glow the brightest during the spring & summer time bc i gravitate towards my bed during winter (i love the warm sun!!). i’m always open to listening to new music & i think i definitely broadened my horizons in the past 5 years.

i also recently graduated from college with a bachelors in psychology & am looking to apply to masters programs in counseling starting fall 2024! i aspire to be a licensed marriage & family therapist :)

thank you so much <3333

Thank you so much! This blog has basically turned into a ship blog 😂😂

I got mixed vibes while reading your blurb, but my heart says….

Josh 🍃🥝💚

First off, I think your free spirit, modern hippie vibe would attract him. In a room full of blonde VSCO girls (i have no idea what the 2023 term for those are 😂), you’d pull his attention!!! When he gets enough liquid courage to introduce himself to you, he’d be genuinely intrigued by all your interests and future plans!!

When you tell him about hula and Tahitian dancing, he’d scooch to the edge of his seat and listen intently. Over and over again, the boys say Josh is a worldly guy. He’d love to learn more about that culture, music and form of dance. Once you get to know each other better, he’d most certainly ask for a private dance in a cheeky sort of way 😂

Josh is certainly attracted to a woman who takes care of herself. Now that doesn’t necessarily mean skinny, because I’m convinced he loves a little curvier girl. Lucky for him you really do be working that 🍑

Josh would appreciate your creative outlets, and encourage you to gift them to your loved ones around the holidays. I can see the two of you baking together in the winter. You’d be tossing unmeasured ingredients into the bowel and josh would be glued to the recipe. “Wait, how much sugar did you put in?” He’d question with concern. You’d just shrug your shoulders and tell him that you measure with your heart! And when your dessert is done baking, he’d agree that straying from the recipe paid off!

As eclectic as Josh can be in areas of his life, his wardrobe is falling short 😂 At least from what we see. Please drag that man to a vintage or thrift store and spice his closet up! I get the sense he’d be uncomfortable in some bold options but with your reassurance and compliments he’d grow to like them! Let’s not forget Oscar!!!! I picture Josh sorta being like the dad that doesn’t wanna get a family dog, but the kids convince him and then they are like best friends in a few months 😂 Josh will be a little apprehensive of a dog at first, not because he doesn’t like them or doesn’t want one, I think it’s just a huge adjustment and responsibility. Give him a month or so and he’ll be bringing toys and treats home left and right, rolling around on the floor with him, and taking up the whole bed to cuddle with Oscar.

Honestly your shy, inverted demeanor when your first meet Josh might be perceived as refreshing! After all, he spends a lot of time around people who recognize him and wanna chat his ear off! I think he’d like a girl he had to chase after a little bit. When you finally let him in and things are going steady, the fact that the both of you are so similar would make your relationship effortlessly fun.

I think Josh thrives in the sunny months as well. He’d admire your glow and beauty in those seasons; calling you his summertime sweetheart💛

Having such a diverse taste in music is important if you are with Josh, otherwise your brain would be drowned out with shit you’ve never heard of. And while you do have a broad taste, Josh probably still will do exactly that. His taste in music is everything BUT mainstream. He’d definitely introduce you to a lot more!

Lastly, he would be so proud of your educations. Proud and attracted. As I have mentioned before, he definitely likes a woman with a head on her shoulder and someone who can carry an intelligent conversation. I don’t believe for a second he would enjoy someone who just always agreed with his opinions; if anything he’d want someone to challenge him just to engage in a healthy debate. Psychology 100% intrigues Josh, so I think he’d really enjoy talking with you about various psych topics; picking your brain for hours on end.

Well, I think that sums it up! I hope to hear back from you on how accurate you think the ship was! Even if it isn’t your lane, I still like to hear. The great part of his fandom is most people love all the boys!!! Here’s a little collage and song ship just for you!

#greta van fleet #gvf #peaceful army #starcatcher #gvf ships #ships #gvf moodboard #moodboard #gvf imagine #imagine #greta van fluff #josh gvf #joshkiszkaship #josh kiszka #joshua michael kiszka

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0613magazine · 2 years

Text

221010 Proof Collector's Edition

Jimin

Between the past, present, and future, which one do you think of as most important?

In the past, I thought the future was more important because I knew exactly what I was dreaming about. More than thinking about what kind of situation I was in right now, I thought more about what I should do to look even better in the future. But now I think ‘present’ is more important. I don’t think that the past of me is that important either.

The word “past” what does it mean to you?

I think it’s something that can hold/support my present self.

What is your first-ever memory?

This is a memory that grazed my mind one day. I think I was around two years old, I slightly remembered my father putting me on top of a green table and taking a picture. So I asked my mother if it was right, and my mother showed me the picture and asked me how I was remembering it. I think that would be my first-ever memory.

Another strong memory is, I moved when I was five and at that time I was holding a rice cooker. My job was to hold the rice cooker. At that time I was very excited but it was later on when I found out that we had to move because our family situation wasn’t good. My younger self was just excited holding the rice cooker by himself.

Is there something you miss from life when you were young?

When we shot the music video for ‘Permission to Dance’, we shot it with little kids. During that time, I just said ‘I’m tired’ and the little kids hugged me. At that moment, I thought that I would have had times when I was like this too. I miss the untainted pure innocence, beauty, and such.

What is your first meaningful place/space?

Practice room. There was a practice room that I used to dance in when I was in middle school. Coming up to high school, I had the dance room, during when I was a trainee, I had the practice room that many of our fans know. Because the practice room is the place I first started my dream, the practice room, the start of it, pops into my head first.

When was the “Moment of Proof”?

When I got confirmed as a member of this team. I think that was luck. So proving that I have the qualification as a member of this team is an important task of proof.

If I can prove it, I think that moment would be the ‘Moment of Proof’ but I still need to go through it so I am not sure when that moment will come.

Not to the world but is there something you want to prove to yourself?

I ask myself a lot, ‘Could I be more cool/awesome?’ For me, that is a very important part. Can I be better, do better, become more cool. I want to be confident in myself with the answers to those questions.

In your mind, how old do you put yourself as?

I think I’ve been remaining as a 19-year-old. I wasn’t able to attend my high school graduation nor was I able to experience college life properly. So I think I feel like I’m just remaining at that age. It still hasn’t sunk in yet that I have become an adult.

While living as BTS, do you think there was a change that made Park Jimin, as an individual, more clear or blurred?

I think it’s been blurred out for quite a long time but I think recently it has been becoming more clear. If I were to blatantly say it, I think even parts that I have trouble understanding myself are becoming more clear.

Looking back, what was the darkest moment for you?

There were too many moments that it was hard to choose just one. There is a saying that goes ‘The answer is within you’ and I believe in that. Looking back, in the end, I think I overcame those literal dark moments. Only you yourself know why you are having a hard time and the problem is, it’s hard to recognize the issue. No matter who you ask around you, they won’t be able to give you an answer because the answer is within you. Of course, until I was able to find the answer that was within me, people around me were with me by my side. I was able to find the way to the answer in me by talking with others.

If you were to write a letter to yourself in the past, what would you want to write?

“Work harder. You are not working hard. Just know that.” People tell me that I am a hard working person but I am not too sure. Personally I have many points that are a little disappointing. So I think that ‘I am still just not enough’

During the day, what time do you think it’s your time for yourself?

I think it is early morning time. I sleep really late. These days I sleep at 9 in the morning. It’s not that I can’t sleep. When I do fall asleep, I usually sleep for a long time but I have schedules and such that I end up sleeping late. The reason why I like the morning hours is because of their calm silence. I like spending time on my own in silence when everyone is sleeping, so I feel like that time is a time of my own.

How similar is your usual self in your daily life compared to the BTS member (you are) shown to the world?

I would say I’m about 85% similar. I don’t think that it’s bad at all that there are differences. It’s not wrong either. In fact, I think that it’s the right thing to be like that and also feel that it’s better. But I’m also not very good at showing the different side of me too. More than saying the remaining 15% is ‘different’ I would say ‘I haven’t shown it yet’ is more correct. But that 15%, I also think it’s a side that I am not able to show.

What is “you yourself as it is” like?

Just ordinary. It’s really just ordinary.

Is the current ‘Me’ and the past ‘Me’ different?

My personality changed. I was introverted but I changed to a little extroverted. My MBTI also happened to change from ENFJ to ESTJ. I think I naturally just changed as the job we have involves being active. If I hear others talk too, it seems like there are a lot of people whose personalities changed as they worked. I think I’m the same.

What are things that changed and things that haven’t changed as time went by?

I think everything besides the feeling that I have for this job changed. Whether it’s the situation or what. About changes, I honestly feel half positive and half negative. It has always been half and half and it is still the same.

Do you have a belief that you uphold firmly?

“Express your feelings” I think I do anything that can express my feelings. I think I have been keeping that well.

Who would be the person that would be able to talk about you well the most?

Members. Members are people who know about things that I can’t even talk to my family about.

What do you like to be called the most?

I like it the most when I am called by my name. I never particularly like, liked my name, but I think they have given me a good name that people can easily remember.

If there is something in life that is an indispensable existence, what would it be?

Cell phone. Going through the pandemic, I realized once more how important cell phones are. It was the only medium to communicate with other people. If it wasn’t for cell phones it would have been hard to talk to people. It was the only thing that became my friend during the hard times of the pandemic.

Is there something you have been constantly telling yourself recently?

I legit say “what should I eat” a lot. I believe that that question belongs to one of the 3 conundrums of the world. In the past, I didn’t ask these kinds of questions. It was questions like “Am I ok these days?” These days I don’t really get interested in other people that much. I focus on what I should eat. I think it might be because I can afford more room for myself.

How fast in km do you think you are going right now?

A light, not tiring running speed for an average adult male? About 17km I’d say? I think I am running where I am not being dragged or pushed. Running while I slowly adjust my own speed.

Out of the dreams you had recently, are there any that are memorable?

In the dream, I was with my friends in my room. Time was before the sun went down, there was sunset. The orange light came into my room, some of my friends were lying down, others were sitting down having a conversation. Was comfortably having a conversation. In my dream, I didn’t think it was a dream. It was that comfortable which made it a very interesting dream. It ended without much going on. It was just a normal daily life dream that had nothing special, but in fact, that is why I liked it more.

Is there a dream that you do not want to wake up from?

Dream about flying in the sky. I fly very often in my dream. I feel really happy. I wish all people could see this dream together. It feels very free. Also when I dream about flying I’m inside a beautiful scenery. A scenery that you cannot see in real life, something that just doesn’t make sense. Feel kind of like I have become Iron Man?

Are there any characters from a movie or a drama that you would like to resemble?

Iron Man. The person, how should I put it, he’s very tough. He’s also cool and awesome. There is no way that even if my personality changes I would have a personality like that. No matter how extroverted I become, there still will be some introverted side of me that is left. I would like to try being a person like that once because I won’t be able to become someone like that. I envy people like Iron Man.

If you could leave to go somewhere right now, where would it be?

Any place where I could see the ocean. It could be Jeju Island or even abroad. It would be nice if for a few days I can just sit at a place where I can see the ocean.

If you were to look at life as one road, how far do you think you came now?

I think I am in a place that I don’t know at all. It’s not that I lost my way. I don’t have a forked road in my path. Though I have a few obstacles…

If there is a door at the end of this road that you are passing, what do you think is behind the door?

I never thought that there would be something at the end of the road. But if there is, I hope people who I like are there.

Do you think you are currently standing at a crossroads of change?

Yes, so it’s interesting. I wasn’t really particularly interested in things like MBTI. But doing it made me realize that my personality did change a lot. There are many times when I answer the same questions differently. So I think to myself ‘I am getting older.’, ‘I am becoming more of a realistic person.’

Do you believe there is a predestined fate?

I am the type that believes choices are made by myself. So I don’t really like things like destiny. If there is fate I think I would think “Then why am I doing all this.”

If you were to make a documentary about yourself, which song do you want to put on the ending credit?

Bruno Major’s ‘Nothing’. I think the mood of the song goes well with me very well.

Which color do you think best describes you?

Sky Blue. When I was young, my mother used to tell me while she was putting clothes on me that I matched sky blue well. So it’s a color I like. Sky blue is also a color that feels peaceful.

If you were to put yourself as a scent, which scent would it be?

I would like a light scent. Rather than an artificial scent, I think a simple and light scent would suit me well.

Personally, what is the most meaningful album out of the whole BTS discography?

I would say <The Most Beautiful Moment in Life> Series. That was the time when members all had the most thoughts. Personally, moving on to my twenties, I started feeling insecurities for unknown reasons, and it’s an album that went with me from the start of those feelings to a point where I was able to organize my thoughts. I cried the most and I laughed the most.

Through the <Proof> album, what message do you want to deliver?

For the last few years, I believe that there were many messages that we screamed out and that our fans screamed out. But there were almost no moments where we were able to talk. So through this album, I hope we can have more deep conversations. Rather than us delivering a story one-sided. I hope we share stories together.

FILTER

What does this song mean to you?

I believe it’s a song that best expresses myself. Even if the situation changed and my personality changed, the feeling of wanting to show this side of me to others didn’t change. I put a lot of those feelings into it.

If you look back in time what type of filter do you think is overlaid on your memories?

Filter of a film camera. Feels like a camcorder filter is also on it. Probably because it’s a memory.

There is a lyric ‘mix the colors in the palette’. Which color do you think yourself is right now?

Whatever color it is, I feel like it would be watery. Light color. If I put it this way I am worried people might think depressingly but it’s not that. I feel that it used to be a more contrasting color. Now it should get brighter again. I should put on colors. Adding more painting to it! Been thinking that I should put more passion these days.

Are there filters of your own that you have not been able to show yet?

Yes. There are a lot. If I were to say the filters that I have shown so far as colors, I think there were only red, blue, and yellow. I think I’ve shown about half of it. There is still way more left to show you.

The moment you are fully immersed on stage, how do you feel?

I feel like I’m in a trance. As if I came to a completely different world? I think it’s because I’ve become fully immersed in it. When that happens, nothing else comes to my mind. Since I was young, I’ve stood on stage because I liked that feeling. I still do.

If you had ‘Genie’s Lamp’ and you were about to make three wishes, what kind of wish would you make?

First, please grant me a hundred more wishes. From the second wish, I would ask every small thing. Small things like ‘Give me wings to fly in the sky’. ‘Please let my body be free from toxins.’ ‘Please let me not gain weight.’ ‘Please stop my age at 28.’ ‘Please give me a trial ticket for a supercar.’ For this, you can just give me a free trial ticket.(Laugh) ‘Please give me the power to heal people.’ Because health is the best. ‘Please give me the power to teleport.’ ‘Please allow me to breathe in outer space.’ ‘Please allow me to not feel heat and cold.’ ‘Please allow me to be okay from not sleeping.’ ‘Please let me sing well.’ ‘Please let me become the best dancer in the world.’

Friend

What does this song mean to you?

It has a big meaning as it’s my first song that I participated in producing. It is also a song that I really like.

What is a definition of soulmate to you?

There is nothing that can define it but a relationship where there is nothing you want from each other? I think that’s what a soulmate is. A relationship where you are not expecting anything from each other.

If you can just have one day with your friend that you can spend freely, how are you going to spend your time?

Wake up around 4 pm. Then eat. Walk a little outside. Then play games. Then have a drink. I often spend time with my friends like this. I can spend a whole week like that.

Are there other memories where you felt that V was your soulmate?

There was a time when we performed at Zepp Fukuoka in Japan for a tour.

It was a venue where the capacity was about 1k seats. The hotel we stayed at back then was right next to Fukuoka Dome. I snuck out with V saying “we should go to the dome!” Like that, the two of us went out, bought a bunch of stuff from the convenience store. I think it was really good back then. I feel that because there are memories like that I like to think that he is my soulmate.

Which are you more familiar with, taking care of others or being taken care of by others?

I am more familiar with taking care of others. I just become like that. And I tend to take care of others in detail.

Out of all the memories you have as BTS if you were to pick one that feels like a dream, when would that be?

I can’t pick out just one moment. In videos that the company makes or edits, there are ones where they go over BTS’ history. Every moment that would be moments in those types of videos is a dream-like moment. When we debuted, when we first held our concert at Olympic Gymnastic Arena. When we went on a tour, and the trips with members that we had in between, all those moments.

What does the album <Proof> mean to BTS?

I think it’s an opportunity to look back at the times that passed and look forward to the bigger future of BTS. When the moment comes when fans can look at this album and have a sincere and honest talk with us, I think we will be able to feel a bigger meaning for each other.

English translation by: bomharu1230 Photo credit: mahoneysuga

#2022 #bts #jimin #proof collector's edition

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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devoidwrites · 2 years

Text

LAST FIRST KISS • Lee Felix

Summary: Felix was your best friend’s twin brother, and the two of you would flirt back and forth. Which one of you will admit your feelings for each other first?

Words: 1.9K

Genre: non idol au, college au, fluff

Pairing: Lee Felix x Reader

Warnings: none.

“Girl, what would you do? Would you wanna stay if I were to say?”

“Mr. Moon has lost his mind if he thinks i’m going to kiss Yang Jeongin on stage in front of hundreds of people.”

You snickered at your best friend. “Oh come on Maya he’s not that bad.”

“That’s the problem!” She whined. “He’s so hot. How am I supposed to hold my composure when he’s the Romeo to my Juliet?”

She had been freaking out about this play for weeks. At first their director said he was cutting out the kiss scene, but he changed his mind. That lead to you having to listen to her ramble about Jeongin for days on end.

“You enjoy the couple of seconds you get to kiss him?” You suggested. You stepped into her kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. “Literally every girl on campus would kill for your spot.”

“Better make sure your food isn’t poisoned.” A voice chimed in. Felix waltzed into the kitchen with a grin on his lips. “Who knows what those girls would do to get your spot.”

“I hate both of you.” Maya muttered before opening the fridge. You glanced at one another with a knowing smirk on your lips. As her best friend, and her twin brother that was obviously a lie.

“If you’re that against it Y/n and I can take over for you.” He suggested. He quickly got on his knees and turned to you with an over dramatic expression. “O- Juliet my dear. Will you run away with me and we’ll spend the rest of our lives together?”

You were quick to jump in. You grabbed his hand. “Oh Romeo. Of course I will. We’ll spend the rest of our days together.”

Your performance was clearly inaccurate since the two of you were not majors in theatrical arts. However, it made Maya laugh. So, a job well done.

“Good thing you two are majoring in different subjects.” She chastised.

It was a fair point. You were far better at remembering bone fractures and sicknesses than reciting a poem. It didn’t bother you a bit. You preferred becoming a doctor over an actress anyways.

“Maybe, but Felix will always be the Romeo to my Juliet.” You teased, giving a smile towards the brunet. He placed a hand over his heart longingly.

“This is why we always go to your place.” Maya groaned in annoyance. “I’m tired of seeing you guys flirt all the time.”

“Would you rather us date instead?” Of course, Felix’s remark was teasing, but you couldn’t help the way your stomach flipped at the idea of actually dating him.

He was charming, caring, and beyond attractive. He was a package deal, and anyone would be lucky to even get a chance with him. You stayed to the side and didn’t bother with it. He was your best friends brother. You didn’t want to cross any unspoken boundaries.

So, you played it off with a scoff. “In your dreams Chef Boyardee.”

“What? Is a chef not good enough for you?” He stepped closer as if he was daring you. He was always playful, and you hated yet loved it. You wanted nothing more than to kiss that stupid smile off his face, but you had to play it cool.

“I don’t know. Maybe you should show me what you’ve got.”

“Really-“

“Bye.” Maya grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the kitchen. You heard Felix laughing on your way up the stairs and into her room.

You flopped down onto her bed, spreading out while she took comfort in her desk chair. She placed the chips on her desk, opening her computer for only she knows what.

She let out a sigh. “I wish you and Felix would get together already.”

That got your attention. You sat up, giving her a wild look. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try and play dumb with me. I can see past all of that harmless flirting.”

“Please, I’ve known Felix for years-“

“And i’ve known both of you for longer. He’s my twin. He can’t hide something like that from me even if he wanted to. And you? I can read you like an open book. My only question is; why haven’t you asked him out yet?”

“He’s your brother.” You reminded her. “Plus I never got the vibe that he likes me back.”

It was her turn to look at you as if you were insane. “Are you serious? All of that flirting and you have the audacity to think he doesn’t have feelings for you?”

“He flirts with everyone?” You told her, although it came out more of a question.

“The only other person he flirts with is Changbin, and that’s just because it embarrasses him. With you it’s different. I can tell he’s waiting for the chance to jump on you.”

“Is this you trying to set me up with your brother?”

“If it means that I don’t have to listen to your horrific flirting anymore then yes. That’s exactly what i’m doing.”

You let out a sigh as you peeled Maya’s arm from around you. You had no idea what time it was, but it had to of been near midnight since you started the moving a little after ten o’clock.

Like usual, Maya passed out an hour into the movie, leaving you awake on your own. Pulling the blanket off of you, you stood up to go downstairs and raid their kitchen.

You tried to be quiet going down the stairs, but seeing the kitchen light was already on, you figured Felix was awake too. Your suspicions were confirmed when you saw him standing over a mixing bowl.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve caught him down here at midnight, making whatever he could think to make. Judging by the flour and the chocolate chips on the counter, it looked like he was making cookies.

You stepped into the kitchen as he placed the sheet into the over. “Whatcha making?”

He jumped slightly, but then turned to you with a smile. “ My specialty.”

“Didn’t realize you had one of those.” You teased. It was clearly a lie. His specialty was cookie. They were perfect. With just enough chocolate chips and a soft gooey inside they tasted like heaven.

He gave you a playful glare. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me y/n l/n.”

“We’ve been friends for five years. I know enough.”

He set hit whisk to the side, turning to fully face you. “You think so?”

“I know your favorite color is yellow. You used to have a problem with your freckles, which is bullshit by the way- they’re beautiful.” You counted off your fingers. “You took a band course on high school-“

“We don’t talk about that.”

Snickering, you continued. “You’re terrified of anything slightly scary. Your favorite kind of movies are comedies. You love playing league. When you can’t sleep you stay up late at night baking-“

“Okay. okay.” He held a hand up, stopping you from rambling on. “Are you sure your aren’t just stalking me?”

“You wish.” You rolled your eyes in a playful manor. “Unfortunately for me, in the last six years of knowing Maya i’ve gotten to know you too.”

“Would you like to get to know me even more?” There it was again. The flirting that drove you absolutely mad. The sly grin on his lips made your heart race.

“Don’t say something you don’t mean Felix.”

He took a step closer to you, tilting his head slightly. “Who says I don’t mean it?”

You couldn’t help the scoff that slipped past your lips. “You’re always flirting with me.”

“Maybe i’m doing it in hopes you’ll actually catch on.” He gave you a pointed look. With furrowed eyebrows, you tried to understand what he was talking about.

“What-“

“God, how could you be so smart, but so dense.” A smile made its way to his lips. “You can name every single bone in the body, but you can’t see that I have feelings for you?”

“That’s not funny.” You shook your head. You thought he was only playing, but the look on his face told you he was serious.

“I’m not laughing. Y/n, I’ve liked you ever since I first laid eyes on you.”

It hit you like a train wreck. He didn’t flirt with you right when you met. He didn’t start until after you broke up with Kim Seungmin. From that point it just kept on, even after you’ve dated Choi Jongho and Choi Soobin.

He had been honest with his feelings this whole time. You were the one that was too stupid to realize it. “Are you the ones that scared my exes off?”

“In my defense, they asked me to stop hanging out with you and i told them that was up to you and not me.” He shrugged.

You gave him an incredulous look. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to make things awkward between us and Maya if it didn’t turn out how i thought.” He took another step closer. This time he placed a hand on your cheek. “She may or may not have told me you liked me back.”

You couldn’t be mad at her for that right? She was trying to help the both of you out. You’ve had a crush on Felix for almost eleven months, but he’s felt like this for four years.

“So what do you think Y/n? Will you let me be your last first kiss?”

The words itself shocked you. Last first kiss. That meant he wanted to spend forever with you. Can’t say you didn’t feel eased at the idea.

“Not feeling bold anymore?” He teased you. “What happened to the y/n that would tease me back?”

“She’s currently trying to figure everything out.”

“Let me help you then.”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. His lips were soft as you had expected, but it was so much better than the dreams you had about him. It was so much more caring. So much more real.

You kissed him back almost instantly. Bringing your arms up, you wrapped them around his neck to pull him closer. His slipped around your waist, gripping your hips as your lips continued to press together.

You pulled away from him, staring up at him with wide eyes. He chuckled. “Did that help any?”

You almost wanted to pinch yourself. To make sure you weren’t dreaming. A smile found its way to your lips. “I don’t know. Maybe you should try to convince me again.”

“hm, alright.”

Your lips pressed against his once more. This time the kiss was more passionate, and a lot more heated. He picked you up and placed you on the counter, letting you wrap your legs around him to pull him even closer.

His hands tickled your sides, making you squirm slightly. You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past your lips, but you didn’t pull apart until-

ding!

The sound of the oven going off made the two of you spring apart. Felix pulled out of your grasp to go check on the cookies. Hopefully they weren’t burnt. You could really go for one about now.

“You almost made me burn my cookies!”

“You’re the one that started flirting with me first!”

195 notes · View notes

appplepii · 3 years

Text

tears over beers (jean kirschtein x fem!reader)

genre: angst w a happy ending, fluff, modern au

warnings: unprotected sex, mouth spitting, praise kink kinda?? choking, etc VERY NSFW hehe, fuckboy eren (slight eren x reader), mentions of alcohol and drug use

word count: 4.1k

summary:

You don’t know your own worth, and Jean is getting sick of it.

Jean remembers the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He remembers the way his stomach flipped when you sat in the empty seat next to him and introduced yourself, a kind smile on your face. He also remembers the moment Eren walked in and caught your eye, and the dread that laid heavy in his chest when your cheeks grew pink. Despite the fact you had just met, he couldn’t help but have distain for the boy the moment he smiled back at you, causing you to become shy and flustered. Why weren’t you nervous to talk to him?

That’s a question the boy came to ask himself more times than he would ever admit, despite the fact that it’s been years. You and Jean had become a constant for each other, someone that was always there no matter what happened, or how much time passed. It was no question that you had become his best friend (except Marco, of course). There were certain things keeping you together that had Jean convinced it was fate keeping you in his life, from the moment you had graduated high school and decided to go to the same college that was hours away, to you working at his favorite coffee shop near the campus. That philosophy was not a strong willed one, being shot down every time you would tell him about a certain boy you were still hung up on. It was times like that that Jean thought maybe you in his life was a sort of punishment. What did he do to deserve the feeling of having what you want most in life in arms reach and never getting it?

Years had passed at this point though, and Jean got used to the feeling of pretending he didn’t care. It got easier over time, the boy had become accepting of his fate. He was, and always will be the best friend. It was a little hard on his pride, but it definitely beats not having you in his life at all. That’s why Jean thought he would be fine when he accepted the invite to Marco’s party in which the entire friend group had been invited. A part of him was excited, knowing it had been awhile since the last reunion. Another part of him thought about the fact that he would be there, and he felt frustration slowly build inside him.

“Ah, I’m so excited! It’s been a minute since we’ve seen everyone, huh?” The smile on your face made up his mind, knowing he could never say no to you. Jean chuckled and shook his head “Yeah yeah, it should be better than staying in that cramped dorm room doing homework” You furrowed your eyebrows, halfheartedly pushing his arm. “Oh shut up, not everyone has a mommy who can pay for a nice big apartment on this side of town.” You snickered, and Jean froze up, redness rising to his cheeks. “S-shut up! She has nothing to do with this, plus you know I’ve invited you to move in how many times now? I have an extra room that just sits empty, you know.” You shook your head and smiled “You know that my part-time job is not enough to cover rent and bills, Jean”. It was at this point Jean dropped the conversation, knowing he was fighting a lost cause. He tried explaining to you many times before he would let you stay for free, and Jean realized just how much you dislike charity work, even if it was never that to him.

“Anyway, are you ready yet? We’re gonna be late now.” Jean ranted, looking up at the ceiling and scratching the back of his head. “Yes, you can stop complaining you loudmouth.” You bent over and put on your heel, standing back up and flattening out the wrinkles in your clothes. It was then Jean had taken a proper look at you, taking in the nicest outfit he had seen you wear in a long time, albeit quite revealing. His eyes trailed up your bare legs, and he could feel himself go slightly weak in the knees. You really were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He cleared his throat, bringing his gaze back up to your face (though unable to look you in the eyes). “Okay, we can take my car.” He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, opening the front door and waiting for you to walk out first. Jean’s attention was brought back to you when he noticed your hesitation. His face grew a curious expression as he looked at you expectedly. “y/n? Are you-” “Are you sure I look okay? I mean.. Eren is gonna be there, do you think he’ll like my outfit?” Your eyes were glued to the ground, and your blush had become apparent as you played with your fingers.

Jean swallowed, pushing the dreadful and nauseous feeling from the fact you had been thinking about him down. He knew you had kept Eren in mind, but he wished he could ignore it just a little longer. “You look amazing, anyone who would pass up the chance to have you is a fucking idiot, y/n.” It was at this moment you made eye contact with the boy, the gentle smile he saw when he first met you making itself visible. “Thank you, Jean. I really couldn’t ask for a better friend.” Although you had meant it as a compliment to him, all it seemed to do was twist the knife he had in his stomach for so many years that much deeper. All he could bring himself to do was smile and nod, gesturing for you to go out the door to the car.

He unlocked the doors to his blacked out Camaro, the top coming down to reveal black leather seats (his favorite birthday present, that car was his baby.). After opening the door for you, something he had made a habit of these past years, he got into the drivers seat. Putting the car in drive, you connected your phone to Bluetooth. He always let you play the music whenever you drove together. “Ooo, I have to turn this up!” You said enthusiastically, pushing the system in his car to its limit as you screamed the lyrics and danced. Jean let his eyes leave the road for a moment to glance at you, his heart swelling at the way your hair flew around you face from the wind. He really did have it bad when it came to you.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure this is Marco’s new place. Should we head in now?” He asked, taking the keys out of the ignition and turning to stare at you. You heaved in a deep breath before fixing your hair in the mirror, and nodding to the boy. “Yeah, let’s go.” He said nothing as he got out of the car, immediately going to your door and opening it. That was something you had to get used to, you didn’t like to feel like you were of some importance. You let it go though, once you saw how insistent he was on doing it, ranting about how he had to be a gentleman or something like that. You grabbed the hand he offered out to you, standing up and walking to the front door of the home.

Jean didn’t bother knocking, instead opening up the front door and walking in like he owned the place. This didn’t surprise you though, besides yourself Marco was Jean’s closest friend. The two were like brothers and you knew Jean was excited to see him after so long. “Jean! I missed that stupid face, how are you, loser?” Ymir hooked an arm around the boy’s neck, clearly already slightly intoxicated. Jean let out a string of cuss words, wrestling out of the tall girl’s strong grip as you turned your attention to her much smaller girlfriend, Historia. “Hey Historia! It’s been awhile, huh?” You smiled at the girl. She had always been so sweet, and you thought her and Ymir balanced each other out perfectly. “It has! Although it doesn’t look like those two have changed much.” You laughed at the pair and how ridiculous they looked before turning your attention to the kitchen.

“Jean,” you tugged on this sleeve “will you come with me to get some drinks?” You didn’t let him answer, knowing it would be a yes. He silently followed you to the kitchen, smirking at himself when he realized how assertive you had become, especially when you used to be so shy. You began pouring yourself a shot of vodka, “Damn, this early?” Jean laughed as you shrugged your shoulders before downing the drink, wiping your lips on the back of your hand. “Look, we gotta get the night started somehow, right?” You raised your eyebrow as you held out the next shot you poured to his face. He gave you a smug expression, knowing you were challenging him although he has proven on more than once occasion that he can out-drink you. He kept quiet though, and threw the shot back with ease. You smiled at him, each of you taking one more just to get started.

“Oh shit, when did you get here dude?” Marco stepped into his kitchen, going straight to Jean and did a simple handshake. “Not too long ago. Anyway, look at you! Got this big ass place all to yourself, huh?” Marco shook his head and laughed, not good at taking praise. The two friends talked for awhile, Jean feeling himself relax with the slight buzz from the alcohol. It had been only a couple minutes the conversation lasted, you talking a little when you had been mentioned. Jean’s attention was pulled from Marco when he saw you tense up from the corner of your eye, noticeably becoming more shy than you previously were. His gaze followed yours, when he was met with the one thing he really hoped not to see.

Eren sat on the couch, leaning back into with his arms spread out against the back of it, a beer in his hand as he occasionally took drinks from it. Your stomach turned when you saw him because fuck, he looked really good. His black long-sleeve and jeans were simple, but maybe it was the bun he had in his hair that made you almost start drooling. It took everything in Jean’s power not to let out a scoff at how obvious you were being, and how stupid the entire situation was. “Just stop, Jean. It’s not worth it. She doesn’t want you.” His own thoughts definitely brought down his happy mindset, trying his best to ignore the sympathetic look Marco was giving him.

He watched as Eren’s eyes met yours, his smile growing as he gestured you over to sit next to him. You got impossibly redder as you nodded and smiled, looking up at Jean and silently asking if he was okay on his own. He didn’t hold back his scoff at that, waving you off. “These are my friends too, remember? I’ll be fine, go ahead.” Your smile widened as you immediately turned and bee-lined to where Eren was sitting. The pain Jean felt had a sort of sick nostalgia to it, reminding him of the day he witnessed the blush on your face when Eren had walked through the door. Taking a deep breath and clapping his hands together, he feigned the most convincing smile he had and turned towards Marco.

“I need another shot!”

“So what was that about?” Eren laughed lowly, tilting his head toward Jean after you took the seat he offered. “Huh? What do you mean?” You questioned, completely oblivious to what he was hinting at. “You looked like you were asking him for permission to sit with me or something, he isn’t your boyfriend or anything right?” You didn’t know why, but this comment slightly annoyed you. Maybe it was the condescending tone he put on, or the subtle diss to your best friend. You didn’t know, but it didn’t sit right. Shrugging it off you decided he probably didn’t mean in that way and you put on a smile. “Nah, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t ditching him. He’s my best friend.” Eren gave an exaggerated sigh of relief as a smug expression took over his features. “Well, that sure is a relief.” He says smoothly, putting a hand on your knee.

You felt nothing but confusion when you didn’t get butterflies, but another hint of annoyance. What is wrong with you? You’ve liked Eren for years, this should be a dream come true! But it wasn’t, and things were moving too fast for you at the moment. It’s not like you were a “prude” or anything, you just couldn’t push down the bad feeling you had in your gut. “Uh haha, yeah! Can you give me a sec? I really have to use the bathroom!” Eren assured it was no problem, and you quickly stood up causing his hand to slip off of your knee. You walked a little faster than you normally would to the bathroom, turning and locking the door behind you. You felt nothing but frustration toward yourself, why are you being this way? Before this moment, if Eren would have asked you to hook up, you thought you would have gladly said yes. You enjoyed texting him and you found him very attractive, so what is this dread?

You fixed your hair and outfit as much as you could, trying to freshen up before you go back into the crowded living room. On your way back to the couch where you were sitting, you decided to stop at the kitchen and take two more shots. Maybe it was your nerves and the anticipation that caused your hesitation, the alcohol should help with that. Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself and headed back to your spot. Turning your gaze to where Eren had been, you froze. There he was, with a random girl sitting on his lap as he whispered in her ear.

Jean sighed, stepping into the guest bedroom and sitting on the bed. He ran his hands through his hair and silently cursed himself. He wanted to have fun, he really did. But the moment he saw that flustered expression of yours from Eren’s presence, all he wanted to do was go home and feel bad for himself. His thoughts were racing, and it was probably the alcohol but he found himself becoming more angry than sad. Why didn’t you want him? He deserved you, he had always been there and he knows he could treat you so much better than that douchebag ever could. You deserve better, and fuck, so does he.

The sound of the door being pushed open broke him out of his thoughts, and he was more than surprised to see you entering. He could already tell you were upset, he just couldn’t put his finger on the reason why. “Weren’t you with-” “I go to the bathroom for two minutes and he immediately starts trying to get into another girl’s pants? Can you believe that? I mean honestly” You continued your rant to Jean, but it was falling on deaf ears. He was getting more and more frustrated, the feeling settling in his bones as he tried to calm himself down. “I mean we aren’t dating, but all of our friends saw me sitting with him, you know how stupid he made me look? I just-” Jean whipped his head at you, a sharp glare meeting your gaze. “You want me to be real with you, y/n? He didn’t make you look stupid. You do that yourself pretty well.” The room went dead silent. You considered for a moment he was messing with you, and you let out a laugh of disbelief. “Jean what the fuck-” He stood up from his spot, his glare only hardening.

“No! Just stop for a second. I’m so sick and tired of you fucking complaining to me when it’s you who chooses to settle for assholes who obviously don’t care about you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just a fucking idiot. But I know you’re not, and thats what frustrates me so much, you know that? You treat yourself like shit and then want me to be there to be the person who makes you feel better. I can’t do it anymore, I really can’t.” His voice had risen a little, but that wasn’t what got to you. It was the seriousness in his tone, you knew he was being genuine. Your eyes welled up with tears, feeling like you just got punched. “Jean, I-”

“Let me finish y/n. I have always been there for you. Always. Despite the fact that you never got over Eren. Every time he ghosted you, who was there? You know what that’s like? To watch the person you’ve been in love with for years settle for the first asshole who comes her way? Do you have any idea what that does to me? You do realize you’ve been fucking torturing me for the last four years, right?” Your mouth went completely dry, and for the first time since this conversation began, you looked him in the eyes and felt even worse when you saw the glassiness of them. Your breath got shallow as your emotions intensified, your mind racing of all the times you had literally cried on his shoulder, and you thought of how bad he must have been hurting. He kept it to himself for your sake, not wanting you feel upset or worry about him, and you never noticed a thing. Fuck, how could you have been so selfish?

You didn’t even think about it, your body moving on what felt like autopilot when you grabbed the boy by his collar and pulled him into a kiss. He stiffened, obviously very surprised at your action, before putting his hands on your shoulders and pulling back. His face was a cherry red when he searched your features, shaking his head with a sad expression. “y/n, I don’t want you to do this out of pity. Plus, you’re probably shit-faced right now.” You shook your head and put your hands on his wrists, keeping eye contact with him. “I’m only buzzed Jean, and this isn’t out of pity. A part of me has always loved you. I just have a habit of ruining things in my life and I really didn’t want you to be one of them.” Your eyes got impossibly wetter and a part of you was surprised they hadn’t fallen down your cheeks yet.

Jean remained silent for what seemed like hours as he examined you expression. His eyes softened and you heart stopped when his hand went to the back of your neck to pull you into another heated kiss. It was a natural reflex the way you gripped onto the front of his shirt, your heart beating at a race you didn’t even know was possible. “Damn, he's a good kisser.” you thought to yourself. You gasped slightly at the feeling of his tongue brushing against your bottom lip. You deepened the kiss and fell back on the bed, pulling him down with you. He pulled away, breathing heavily when a smile grew on his face. “Where are you?” He got up from his position on top and walked to the door, turning the lock with a click. He stalked back to where you were sitting, standing between your legs as he towered over you. “I’ve waited for this for years, I’m not going to wait any longer.”

Excitement bubbled in your stomach as you looked up at him, a slight pout to your lips. Jean reached his hand down to your face, squeezing both of your cheeks to even further tilt your gaze towards him. “How about it then, pretty girl? Wanna have some fun?” You didn’t hesitate to respond, trying your best to nod in his tight grip. “Yes, please Jean, please.” Although your voice was a little muffled, Jean got the message loud and clear. He gave a soft smile, furthering his hand down to lightly squeeze your throat instead. “Okay then, open wide angel.” You felt a little confused but listened anyway, opening your mouth wide for the boy above you. “What is he gonna-” your thoughts were cut off when you watched, almost in slow motion as Jean leaned over and spit into your open mouth. You froze for a fraction of a second, your mind racing as the excitement grew within you. That’s not what you were expecting but you were not complaining. Jean’s long index finger tilted your chin up, closing your mouth as he kept eye contact with you. “Swallow.” He said in a gentle yet demanding tone, and you knew you couldn’t make yourself say no to him. You swallowed the spit slowly, choosing to keep quiet and wait for his next move.

“Look at you, such a good girl.” he pushed your body further up the bed so you were laying rather than sitting and once again hovered over you. “Gonna have to thank you for that, huh?” You squeezed your thighs together at his words, anticipation growing impossibly higher. He sat back on his calves, sitting between your legs as he spread them apart around him. His fingers ghosted up your legs, stopping at the hem of your shorts. He didn’t move an inch after that, looking at you expectedly. “Well, I’m waiting? You know all good girls ask nicely, right?” He couldn’t stop the smug expression from taking over even if he tried. You squirmed in his hold, desperate for some sort of contact. “Please Jean, I can’t wait anymore. I need you.” You closed your eyes as you felt him unbutton your shorts, sliding them off with ease along with your panties. “Gotta make sure you’re comfortable baby, tell me if it hurts, kay?” He slowly entered a finger inside you, his thumb circling around your clit slowly. Your lip was pulled in between your teeth as you bit down hard enough to almost draw blood. “Oh, fuck.” He softly laughed at that, going slightly faster to elicit more reactions from you. “That’s right baby, lemme hear you, yeah?” You didn’t hold back, letting out a moan knowing the music blasting outside would drown it out. Jean added another finger and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you had never felt bliss like this before.

“E-enough Jean.” You let out through strained breaths, and Jean felt himself grow cold for second with fear. Fuck, were you regretting this? “I don’t want to wait anymore, I want you inside me. Please.” Jean’s chest filled with relief as he shook his head at you. “You needy baby, alright, I’ll give you what you want.” Jean pulled his fingers out of you, and stuck them in your mouth with no hesitation. “You sure you ready for me, sweet girl?” He pulled his pants and boxers off, lining himself up with you. You nodded frantically, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. Jean pushed himself into you, pulling away from the kiss to let out a deep groan as his head fell onto your shoulder. “Fuck, you feel so good around me baby. You’re so good for me, you know that? I’ve wanted this for so long and it’s more than I could have ever imagined.” He ranted on almost senselessly as he was overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you so much, sweet girl. So so much.” You felt tears prick your eyes, from both the pleasure and his sentiment. “I love you Jean, I love you.” those words had more of an affect on him than anything else you said that night, and he felt himself coming close to the edge. “I think I’m gonna-” “Me too baby” he interrupted, placing his hand back on your throat and squeezing. “Cum with me, angel.” His words and the pressure on your neck was enough to send you over, raking your nails down his back leaving marks. He collapsed on top of you, his head resting in your neck as a tired smile rested on his face. You brought your hand up to scratch his scalp, completely fuck-drunk and forgetting of anything else that happened prior to this moment.

“So that’s why you always open my car door for me, huh?”

✧༺☆༻∞

omg omg im so nervous to post this, not only is it my longest fic but this is the first time i have ever written anything remotely smutty before😳 if its not good pls be patient w me i am very new to this hehe

#attack on titan #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein smut #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan smut #jean x you #jean x y/n #eren x you #eren x reader #eren jeager #jean angst #jean fluff #shingeki no kyoujin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader

1K notes · View notes

pennylanewrites · 3 years

Text

＊Smile＊

minors dni!

description: Armin Arlert loves sweet, innocent things, especially when he can ruin them with his very own sickening sweetness.

pairings: Armin Arlert x gn! reader

word count: 2.4k

contains: smut duh, modern au, private college richboy armin, mild obsession with reader, oral (male receiving), use of the word ‘whore’, like one slap, unprotected sex (nothing spills inside dw), lowkey manipulation (what else y’all expected from armin?)

!!reader is afab(assigned female at birth), gender neutral and of legal age (around their 2nd year of college)!!

)^o^(

Whatever Armin Arlert wanted, Armin Arlert got. Cars, VIP seats, answers to exams, anything you can imagine. Being one of the most well-respected alumni of Paradis Institute's only son definitely had its advantages.

Girls and boys begged for a chance to be noticed by Armin Arlert, who wore his Prefect pin proudly and monitored the halls with his head high, but to no avail. Armin had long forgotten about sex, he found it appalling and unnecessary, unless it was with you.

You, who walked with your head high just like him. You, who would talk with classmates and wonder why they sprinted away as soon as the Prefect turned a corner. You, who could swear you heard a few camera clicks every time you used the communal showers. You, who despite being beautiful and charming, could not get a significant other for the life of you. Yes, your classmate, Armin had made sure the only person available to you would be himself; the handsome, smart and rich Prefect.

"Can I help you, Arlert?" Were the only words you spoke to him when he entered the science lab you were trying to work in.

"Am I bothering you, ___ ? I can leave." You took one look at his big, ocean blue eyes and sighed, taking your glasses off.

"No, sorry."

"Rough day? I'm sure it's nothing a massage can't solve." He offered, walking around the table you were working on and immediately placing his hands on your stiff shoulders. You shrugged them off quickly and faced the other way.

"Are you sure you don't want a massage from the person paying for your scholarship?" He whispered in a low voice, which would be very attractive if you weren't intimidated by him. You gulped and nodded, allowing him to happily massage your shoulders and upper back.

"I heard you're having a hard time with the new lecture."

"I-I do." You tried withholding a pleased sigh. The massage was definitely working.

"Be at my dorm around seven. I'll help you with it, ___." Armin left with a polite smile and bow of his head, leaving you to wonder how he looked so sweet yet acted so bitter.

At seven sharp, you stood outside of Armin Arlert's dormitory, patting your hair down, fixing your shirt underneath your uniform pants and looking around nervously. With a deep breath, you finally knocked on the wooden door, which was opened almost immediately.

"Come in, ___!" Armin's face lit up the moment he saw you and he stepped away for you to enter his room. A kitchenette, a double bed, a desk and a bookcase filled all the space, just like every other dorm on campus. And as you set your books on the desk, you could have sworn you caught a glimpse of tiles, running water and a nude person as the lock screen on his laptop, which he was quick to close before you took another look.

"Would you like a coffee, ___?"

"Yes, please."

It was getting past ten and your head could barely stand up on its own. You leaned back on the chair and stretched your arms out, yawning into one of them. Armin noticed and closed your book, his hand lingering on it.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" ,he exclaimed and opened a drawer, "I have some flash cards for you!"

"Oh, it's not necessa–"

"I insist." He said firmly and looked through some neatly filed papers. Once again, your eye caught a few pictures of someone's back profile and you could swear they had the same lower back tattoo as you. You, however, dismissed it once again. Boys tend to have pictures of pornstars, right?

Flipping through the flash cards, a picture fell out and Armin rushed to pick it up before you could. This time, however, it was loud and clear that the person in those photos was you taking a shower. At the time, you didn't know that all those pictures were set up on purpose. For you to see and become vulnerable in front of Armin Arlert.

"Armin, what's that?" Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper instead of the clear and stern tone you were planning on.

"Just something I'm planning on posting on the college's site tonight." He grinned.

"Wh-what? Why would you–"

"I don't know, ___. You tell me." He leaned closer to you, holding his weight on the arms of your chair. His blond hair fell over his eyes, making it the perfect shade of dark blue under the shadows.

"I have to go." You said sheepishly and started picking your books up, but an arm around your waist stopped you.

"Why do you keep on resisting me, ___?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I want you. And you want me too, right?"

You were confused. Heartbroken. You always thought of Armin as nothing else than your classmate. So, what was this sudden urge to lock your lips with his?

Looking up, you were met with a dark look in his eyes and a grin that seemed almost evil. You knew deep down he had dark intentions, but at the same time, you needed to know what those intentions were.

“I’ve never seen you wearing a skirt or a dress...you always act so modest, but the way you touch yourself so desperately in the shower...” his hand ghosted over your clothed thigh and stopped at your hip, “you just want to get fucked like a whore, right?”

“A-Armin...”

“Why don’t you put a little show for me? Undress yourself.” He sat on his chair and opened his legs, shamelessly showing off the tent in his uniform pants.

With a blush decorating your cheeks and a trembling bottom lip at the embarrassment suddenly hitting you, you slowly unbuttoned your white dress shirt and let it drop on the floor. Kicking the Oxford shoes your school required off, your hands made way to the side zipper on your pants. This time, your eyes locked with Armin’s as your pants dropped on the floor next to your shirt.

“Those too, doll.” He ordered, referring to your underwear. His demanding tone went straight between your legs, which you rubbed together in an attempt for some friction. You quickly unclasped your bra and removed your underwear, but before you could do anything else, Armin extended his arm and pulled you closer to him. With his arms around your waist, his forehead came in contact with your lower stomach, taking in the sight before his eyes with a deep breath.

“On your knees.”

You did as he said and watched his hands, decorated with a few gold rings and a bracelet, unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. Pushing his boxers down slightly, his member spurted out and hit his lower abdominals. Chuckling at your wide eyes, he led your hand to his cock.

“Consider this a thanks for your scholarship.” He leaned back on the chair, one hand behind his head and the other gripping your hair. You nodded and brought your mouth closer, licking on the tip that dripped with precum. As one of your hands massaged his balls and your mouth started taking more of his length in, a few groans escaped Armin’s lips and the grip on your hair tightened. But he had had enough. Both of his hands found your hair and pushed your head down, earning a gag at the sudden contact of his tip with your throat. You swore you could hear the smirk in his groans as your tongue worked around his length while he pushed your head up and down rapidly.

“Just like that...good...take it all.” You would be lying if you said his words didn’t make you rub your thighs together, desperate for something, anything to fulfill your need.

Before you could lead one of your hands between your legs, warm ropes of cum hit the back of your throat. Armin thrusted in your mouth a couple more times, milking his orgasm and overstimulating himself enough that a few more drops of the hot liquid joined your saliva. Removing himself with a squelch, he grazed his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Good. Swallow like the whore you are.” You did as he said, your eyesight blurry and your head dizzy from the facefucking you just went through. Without wasting another minute, Armin got up, pulling you with him and leaving a rough, needy kiss on your swollen lips. With a knee spreading your legs and rubbing right at your core, he kissed down your neck and collarbones, allowing you to let out the most quiet moans.

“Look at you. At this rate, you’re gonna get off using my leg.” You could only respond with a hum as he tackled you on his bed, not wasting any time in taking his clothes off before getting on top of you. His hands roamed your curves and yours stayed around his neck, fidgeting with the gold chain around it. A sudden moan escaped your lips when two of Armin’s fingers scissored your slit open and entered with ease. His eyes fixated on your face; the way your lips trembled and your eyes rolled back with every pump of his slender fingers, oh how he wished he could spend every second of the day looking at you like this; so sweet, so vulnerable, almost too innocent, yet so perfect for him to ruin.

“Please, Armin...’m gonna-”

“Aww, too bad.” He removed his fingers and laughed at your disappointed face, which soon turned into a surprised one when he grabbed both your legs and placed them over his shoulders. You both let out a gasp when his pink tip entered your hole. Armin was not like anyone you’ve been with. He didn’t care about letting you adjust to his girth, thinking it was much more pleasurable to see you struggling not to make a sound.

“Armin...”

“Yeah, say my name, love.” He thrusted harder into your walls, hands gripping your hips to ground you in your spot. Another thrust from Armin and another moan from you, each time the thrusts getting quicker and your soft voice louder, not even beginning to think that there were people on the other side of the thin walls.

“Why so quiet, love? Do you not...like...the way I’m fucking you?” He said between quick thrusts, not giving you the time to make out a single word. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the knot tied low in your stomach was ready to come untied.

“Answer me.” He ordered, the grip on your hips now almost painful. You opened your eyes to see him leaning down, your legs now almost next to your head on the pillow. Armin hovered over you, now fucking your hole with more ease. You noticed he let out soft, needy whines every time your walls clenched around his cock, to which you grinned slightly. Bad choice.

“Do you think it’s funny? The way you let me fuck you so easily?” A hand now met your hair, pulling your head back into the pillow a bit.

“A-Armin!”

“That’s right. Say my name, whore.” He closed his eyes, taking in the sound of his name coming from your mouth. Your walls clenched around him as the knot finally came undone, and you were sure your juices were spilling on the sheets.

“Please...too sensitive...I can’t-” Your words came out in stutters, your legs closing involuntarily only for Armin to push them open again every time.

“Say my name.” He moaned out, thrusting inside your cunt now almost inhumanly fast.

“Armin!” Your second orgasm was on the way and your legs were starting to shake from the overstimulation. Armin didn’t fail to notice it and he wouldn’t lie if he said he wasn’t close as well, but he had learned to control himself. He couldn’t let it be over so soon. Not when he finally had you where he wanted you all along.

In the heat of the moment, it took you a few seconds to notice a stinging on your cheek, but when you did, you looked up at the blond, who was smirking down at you, hand still on your red cheek.

“Who’s fucking you? Huh?”

“You! You’re fucking me, Armin!”

“Louder.” He grunted, finally giving some attention to your nipples by slapping them teasingly.

“Armin! Armin! Fuck, I’m gonna–”

“Cum on my cock...fuck, ___.” Armin couldn’t take it anymore when your walls clenched around him once again as you orgasmed for the second time that night. Between moans and gasps and whispers of his name, you felt a wave of air hit your core and you realized Armin had pulled out.

He was now rubbing his swollen cock over your stomach, the other hand desperately massaging your breast. To help him, you led his hand to your other breast and took his cock in your own, thumb grazing over his red tip to make the beads of cum coat the rest of his length. Armin tilted his head back, not shy to moan loudly at the way your hand rubbed his length so...perfectly.

“Fuck, just like that. Just like that, love.” His legs shook slightly as his warm cum drew on your stomach and breasts, shooting almost up to your neck due to the overstimulation he went through. Exhausted and out of breath, Armin fell on the pillow next to you and planted a rough kiss on your lips.

“Let me take a picture of you. Don’t move.” Shocked, you couldn’t even blurt out a word at what he suggested, but something deep inside you made you nod in agreement. Maybe that tiny crush you had on Armin for one month on your first year finally decided to come out and play.

“Look at the camera, love. Now, smile. ” He ordered, getting on top of you with an old-fashioned polaroid in hand. He took one of your breasts in his big, soft hand and snapped a picture that he’d later pin over his bed, a reminder for himself and everyone that Armin Arlert always got what he wanted.

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

Lmao I hope y’all liked this otherwise it’d be embarrassing. Anyway, requests are always open, leave some for me to do while I procrastinate! <3

#armin arlert #armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #aot lemons #attack on titan x reader #lemons #attack on titan #snk x reader #armin aot

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stufftippywrote · 3 years

Text

not an astronaut

This is based off a personal experience. Tw for fat-shaming, homophobia, and general assholery from an asshole kid.

The bell rings cheerfully as Bitty steps through the doorway. This was one of his favorite places when he was younger. The eclectic curios, every shape and size and color, packing the shelves were an endless source of fascination for young Eric Bittle, and the owners were friends of the family, so they knew Bitty well and didn't freak out when he picked up a ceramic pepper shaker or glass figurine and held it in his hands like an ancient treasure.

He walks through the store with that same sense of wonder now, 30 years later, and brushes his hand reverently over the shelves. They’re not looking for anything in particular today, but Bitty has told Jack about this place so many times, he simply couldn’t help but visit. Besides, you never know when you might find the perfect accent piece for the new home.

Chicken-shaped serving bowls, a porcelain figurine of a girl dancing, a set of silverware in a dusty wooden case. Bitty is spoiled for choice. As he browses, there’s a movement at the back of the store, and he catches a glimpse of someone hauling boxes through a door. He wonders who runs the place now. The sign still says Thompson’s Antiques, but he knows Mrs. Thompson passed and Mr. Thompson is getting on in years. Could it be that…

A prickle of fear runs through him.

The figure in the back drags the box to a nearby aisle and starts unpacking it, placing items on a low shelf. Bitty’s curiosity overflows. He moseys into that aisle and begins to speak, but the man raises his head before he can get a word out. He has to catch his breath all over again.

The man’s face goes slack. “I know you,” he blurts.

Eric puts his hands on his hips and gives a bright smile. “Davey Thompson. So you’re here after all!”

~~~

“Davey, this is Eric. Eric, this is our little boy Davey.” Mrs. Thompson’s smile is bright as she urges her son forward. “Why don’t you two go play at the playground while Mommy and her friend talk?”

The kid is tough-looking, with ruddy cheeks and a thick build. Eric reaches out his hand to lead Davey along the way. The minute they’re out of earshot, Davey snatches his hand back like he’s just touched a hot stove. Eric turns, surprised.

“You’re fat,” Davey says.

Eric blinks.

“You look dumb,” Davey adds on. And thus a quote-unquote “friendship” was born.

~~~

Davey stands up. He still has the same tinted cheeks and stocky build that Bitty remembers, but his face is sunken somehow, and he’s built up muscle where baby fat used to linger on his arms and shoulders. He’s got a tattoo on one arm – a Japanese koi fish, mid-splash.

“Nice ink,” Bitty comments.

And Davey Thompson, for possibly the first time in his life, smiles at Bitty. “Thanks.”

“The shop looks nice,” Bitty says, surveying the shelf like it’s his domain. “Hasn’t changed much since I used to come here.”

“You’re – you’re Eric Bittle, right?” Davey says, sounding almost scared of the answer. “From school?”

“From way before school,” Bitty responds. “You’re looking good.”

“Uh. Thanks. Same to you.” Davey looks uncertain, almost sheepish. There’s a moment of awkward silence. Davey tries to break it. “Um. So. What are you –”

He doesn’t seem to have the strength, or the will, to come up with the rest of the sentence. Bitty picks it up. “I’m a pastry chef,” he says. “I have a bakery and I cater, and I’ve put out three cookbooks. Can you imagine that?”

Davey looks kind of stunned. “Wow,” he says slowly. “Good for you. Where’s the bakery?”

“Up in New England. Providence, Rhode Island, to be exact.”

Davey snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you went to college up there. For hockey, wasn’t it?”

~~~

Bitty takes a swing at the ball. He misses, and it goes tumbling behind him into the net.

“Hah, you’re the worst goalie,” Davey says.

Somehow, Bitty finds the courage to say, “Let me play forward.” But his words are swallowed by the passing of a car on the cross street.

“What?”

“You be goalie.” Bitty gives the phrase all the menace he’s got in an eight-year-old body.

Davey laughs, a cruel laugh that sounds like ripping paper in Bitty’s ears. “Why? I can score on you all I want. That’s why we made you goalie.”

Resentment simmers like a low sun in Bitty’s gut. He wants to challenge Davey to play him on actual ice. He knows Davey can’t skate. As bad as he is, Bitty can’t possibly lose to him there. But the words stay stuck inside, plastered to the inside of his stomach, making him feel sick.

“Worst goalie ever,” Kevin chimes in.

“The worst, the wooooorst,” all four of them sing to him.

Bitty crouches low and is glad they can’t see much through the oversized goalie mask. Someday, he thinks, someday I’m gonna get them.

~~~

“Something like that,” Bitty answers easily. “And you’ve been here running the store?”

“Pretty much.” He doesn’t look very proud of that fact.

“I remember you used to say you were going to be an astronaut.”

“Ah, well –” The rose tint on Davey’s cheeks grows a shade deeper. “We were kids. I figure I missed my shot to make something of myself.”

All of Bitty’s nurturing instincts come alive. “Don’t say that. You’re doing well. Doing good, honest work. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Nah, man. It was just the easiest thing to do, once Mom got sick. I had to be here for her, and I … just stayed.”

Bitty gazes at him. This isn’t the attitude he expected from Davey Thompson, not in the slightest. He seems so defeated, as though Bitty’s arrival has reminded him of everything he isn’t. Bitty doesn’t want to be that for him, but he doesn’t think he has a choice in the matter. He quashes the small, self-satisfied demon that’s cackling in the back of his head. He’s not that kid anymore, either.

Just then, the chimes jingle at the front of the store. The babbling voice of a young child brightens the room. “Ah,” Bitty says, “there they are. He had to keep them outside a while before they calmed down. Little kids just work themselves up into a dither sometimes.” He offers an apologetic smile to Davey and retreats down the aisle toward the front of the store.

Suze is quiet, but it’s clear she was crying her eyes out earlier. She hangs on to her Papa with a fierce fist. Robby’s eyes are bugging out at the sight of the store. “What’s that?” he keeps asking, tugging on Jack’s slacks. Jack himself looks a little the worse for wear, but happy. That kind of tired-happy that they see in each other’s faces every night once the kids are in bed.

“Come on, Rob,” Bitty says, holding out his hands. “Want to see Daddy’s favorite store?”

Robby holds out his hands to be picked up. Bitty obliges, despite the warning creak of his back. He turns to take Robby further into the store and sees Davey standing there, staring them down.

He points. “I know you, too.”

“Ah, here we go,” Bitty says with a laugh.

“Were you in school with us? I don’t think that’s right, but—”

Jack holds out his hand for a shake. “Jack Zimmermann,” he says. “And you are?”

“My old friend Davey,” Bitty fills in. He can’t help but put a pointed emphasis on the friend part.

Davey clasps Jack’s hand but doesn’t seem to want to let go. “You’re Jack Zimmermann? The hockey player?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

Davey pumps Jack’s hand about four more times before finally letting go. “It’s – it’s good to meet you.” He looks at Suze, still curled up in Jack’s other arm. “And these are your kids? Or—” He turns to Bitty, face contorted in confusion. “Are they your kids?”

“Both,” Bitty answers cheerily. “Davey, meet my husband.”

Davey Thompson very nearly has a coronary right there.

~~~

“Hah, you’re just small all over, aren’t you?” Davey says with a pointed glance at Bitty’s crotch.

“You can’t help how you’re born,” Bitty retorts, but he pulls up his boxers right quick.

“Yeah, some people are just born stupid,” Davey agrees. Bitty instantly regrets replying at all.

Kyle whispers something in Davey’s ear. They both laugh.

“You’re right,” Davey says. He turns back to Bitty. “He’s right. They do say things about you.”

Bitty’s heart drops to his stomach. “W-what things?”

“You know! That you’re—” Davey flaps his wrist.

He doesn’t seem to have the nerve to say the word, but he doesn’t have to say it. The others in the locker room laugh.

For not the first time, Bitty is tempted to just ask, “So what if I am?” But he can’t. Not to these people. This isn’t how he wants his coming out to happen. So he just turns away and pulls on his sweatpants, ignoring the rills of laughter that echo against the lockers, and feels small. Small all over.

~~~

Davey recovers from his shock and nods his head rapidly. “Oh, I get it. Uh, congratulations. Uh, Bittle, could I talk to you a sec?”

He has that sheepish look again. Bitty watches as he retreats into one of the side aisles. “Gimme a sec,” he tells Jack, setting Robby down, and follows Davey.

When they're isolated, Davey turns to him sorrowfully. “I, uh—” Davey looks at the floor. “I was pretty mean to you in school.”

It isn’t what Bitty expected, not at all. To be honest, demons in the back of his head aside, this sort of thing doesn’t bother him so much anymore. Why should it? He’s married with two kids and a brand new home. He doesn’t spare a lot of time thinking about the distant past. “Um,” he starts, suddenly terribly embarrassed.

“No, let me—” Davey raises a hand. “Just let me. I said a lot of nasty things to you back then. I’m really sorry about it. I think about it a lot, and I’m just – I’m really sorry.”

There is a piece of Bitty that’s happy, even smug, at hearing this apology. But mostly he just pities Davey at this point. What a thing to carry around your whole life. “We were kids,” Bitty says. “Kids say dumb things. It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Still.” Davey says.

“I can’t say it didn’t hurt me,” Bitty goes on. “But I turned out okay, don’t you think?”

Davey laughs grimly “Yeah, look at you … and look at me.” He shrugs.

“You seem to be doing all right,” Bitty says charitably.

“I’m not an astronaut,” Davey says.

Bitty laughs. “Neither am I. We’re all good.” He pats Davey on the shoulder. A moment passes between them, silent, as they both listen to the sound of the past giving way to a new, kinder present.

After the moment passes, Bitty grins “Come on, I’m going to introduce you to my kids. Do you have kids?”

Davey flushes. “Yeah, I got a teenager. A real smartass. I wonder where he learned it.”

“Pictures!” Bitty declares. “Get that phone out, I demand pictures.”

Davey struggles to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket. This time, he flushes with pride. He narrates the story of each photo as they walk back toward the front.

#i hate writing endings: a novel #check please #omgcp #omgcp fic #omgcp ficlet #zimbits #but more really about bitty himself #stuff tippy wrote

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

if i forgot you please lmk!

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

me time (m)

summary; the first time virgin!mc meets her mans (but she doesn’t know it yet) pairing; jungkook x virgin!mc genre/warnings; fluff, college!au, boarding house!au, based on the virgin!oc discourse, female masturbation (thanks to the pretty bridgertons), a lil sad and longing at the end w/c; 1.3k a/n; y’all really brought manhater!mc and virgin!mc to life! this couldn’t be done without all of your fabulous input and support. obviously the virginverse is freeform at this point—think of this more as a prequel for these two. set in freshman year of college, when they’re just acquaintances. (do you guys think of cher from clueless when u think virgin!mc? very outgoing n’cute but also very innocent?) anyway, happy valentine’s day i hope you and your boo (whether digital or in-person) get your me/we time💖

Your wooden lap desk is toppled to the side. Good thing the space between the mattress and floor is small, your pink monstera-shaped rug softening the blow when your water bottle, pencils and laptop fall to the floor. In the back of your head you know everything is fine because the last episode of Bridgerton is still playing, an orchestral version of Ariana Grande’s Thank U, Next continuing on as if nothing’s astray.

Yet you’re nothing but astray, forgotten about the episode and writhing against your too-small twin as you let yourself cum for the umpeeth time.

You’ve lost track at this point (how couldn't you? Bridgerton is hot) but from the way your hair mats to your face like a second skin and your pussy feels spent and battered, it’s been awhile. This should be your new Valentine’s Day tradition, fucking yourself until you pass out on your vibrator.

“Ah, ah fu—uck, yyyes!”

The sheets are sopping. The grey cotton fabric does nothing to hide your juices that seep from your bare cunt to the mattress. Flinging your silicone toy to the side, you pull your hair up and out of your face.

Water, you need water. Maybe a cup of green tea with a dollop of honey. Sugar always helps the immediate low after a good couple of rounds.

However, you’ll never get used to the feeling of cleaning up yourself. The feeling that you’ve done something completely lewd all on your own, no one to assure you the things you’re doing are weird. It’s okay though. You love to be alone, it takes a lot for you to feel lonely.

You slip on a pair of dolphin-cut shorts, too tiny that they are drowned beneath your emerald green slip dress. Quickly opening the door to your room, you’re met with absolute silence. White walls containing empty rooms and a living room without a soul. Just like you’re expecting in a college boardhouse on Valentine’s Day.

What you’re not expecting however, is Jeon Jungkook staring at you the second you crack your door open.

“If you’re screaming that loud, your partner must be doing a good job.”

Jungkook lives on the other side of the boarding house, therefore you’ve never really interacted with him. Excluding the landlord there’s only five other tenants, a group large enough that you’ve never had to have one-on-one with him.

You really didn’t think anyone would be in the house on Valentine’s, especially Jungkook. He’s an absolute cutie pie, even though you don’t know anything about him. The only thing you really know is that his sparkly brown eyes are to die for, they remind you of coffee milk tea, a craving you only indulge in at the end of finals season.

To your surprise, Jungkook looks like he hasn’t gone out all weekend. Him, single? As if! Yet you can’t justify any reasoning behind him being home if did have a girlfriend or boyfriend. His dark hair is fluffy and freshly showered, and you can’t ignore the smell of linens from his soft sweats and long navy hoodie.

Normally, you’d be quiet during Me Time. You’ve perfected the art, stuffing your mouth with your pillow or playing action movies to muffle out the sound. You thought you were in the clear. The thought of Jungkook overhearing you turns you on a little, makes the dampness between your panties even more evident, but you keep that self-indulgent secret to yourself.

“Oh, well,” you curl your lips in a smirk, closing the door behind you so he doesn’t see that your room is actually very much devoid of life, “she’s very powerful.”

She, meaning your favorite vibrator in your entire world. It has ten settings and a heating mechanism. More importantly, it’s rechargeable. You don’t know how you’d survive freshman year otherwise.

“Okay, TMI,” despite the fact Jungkook’s blushing he’s chuckling, holding a hand out for you in the narrow hallway, “after you.”

You quickly slip past him, walking into the shared kitchenette. Bare feet slapping against the hardwood, your eyes immediately gravitate toward the upper cabinet. Jungkook is following you, presumably to get his own late night snack. When you lift your arms to reach your mug, you feel a little bit of cool air brush against the uppers of your thighs. It’s a nightgown, a pretty satin slip that falls over your curves and leaves much to the imagination. A couple more centimeters to get your mug and you’ll be definitely flashing Jungkook.

“Um,” you practically hear the twisted face he’s making.

“Sorry—I’m sorry!” you blurt, waving your fingers to catch the handle of your mug, “I’m really not trying to flash you—please don’t fill a harassment report! I just can’t reach my mug.”

“No, that’s my mug.”

“What, no! I’ve been drinking from this mug all year!”

“You’ve been drinking from my mug?” Jungkook is affronted, walking past you to easily grab the mug you’ve been struggling to reach for the past minute. He flexes the bottom part of the mug in your face, where his initials are painted in black. “This is my mug, my parents put my handprint on it when I was a year old.”

It’s then you notice on the lower shelf, there’s an identical mug. This mug has been buried all the way in the back, dust collecting on the rim. It also has a baby handprint on it, although upon closer inspection it’s smaller and in a more faded shade of black. That’s your mug.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you feel your heart fall all the way to your ass, feeling guilty, “I’m so sorry. I’ve washed it and everything, if it makes you feel any better.”

He frowns, holding the white porcelain between his hands. A litany of ideas run through your brain. Is he disgusted by using the same mug as you? Have you potentially ruined a prized family treasure?

Thrusting the mug into your chest he says, “Make me a hot chocolate and we’re even.”

You smile a little, eager to please. You quickly get to work, simmering the pan with warm milk and melting chopped chocolate. You rinse your mug with some hot water, letting it sit next to his awaiting mug. For a bit of flair you add a capful of vanilla extract, all while Jungkook watches you with mild awe. The smell of sweet late night confections fill the kitchen, a fitting theme for a Valentine’s night.

“You’re not burning the milk,” Jungkook murmurs more to himself than you, watching as you pour the hot chocolate in cups without spilling a drop.

Jungkook is known to burn things in the house. The only thing he doesn’t burn is ramen, and that’s purely due to survival skills.

“What can I say, I’m an expert,” you wink, handing him his mug and you holding yours.

With matching mugs, the two of you take your first sips of the melty beverage. You lean against the stove facing him, while he faces you against the marble island. Jungkook smiles and a bit of cocoa touches his petal pink lips. He says it’s perfect and you smile into your cup, absolutely swelling with pride.

Jungkook’s probably working on his photos. He always says his editing bug is itchy at night. While in passing you’ve said you’d love to see his work, however that gesture of kindness never really amounted to anything. Maybe tonight’s the night. You like art, you’d love to be a little more educated with it. Just as you’re about to ask and strike up some conversation, Jungkook beats you to it.

“Well, hope you and your partner have a good Valentine’s,” Jungkook holds his cup in salute, walking back into his room, “just keep it down.”

Oh well. You sigh to yourself, letting Jungkook walk away without a fight or a retort. After all, it was you who implied you were sneaking in a bed partner tonight. Sinking your eyes into the brown liquid, you fall into a lull. The creamy liquid swirls in your grasp, making your muddied reflection ripple away.

You love to be alone, but it takes someone like Jeon Jungkook to remind you that life gets a little lonely.

#ficswithluv #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btsguild #btswritingcafe #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts smut

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uwuwriting · 3 years

Text

Zoom meetings with the kids w/ Kuroo, Akaashi and Sakusa

Request: I have been stuck inside the house with my three year old brother for the last three weeks and he keeps coming inside my room and entering the zoom call with me. So that had me thinking. How would our favorite Haikyuu dads Kuroo, Akaashi, maybe Kenma or Sakusa react to their toddlers coming into their room and joining their meeting. - anonymous.

Awww I love haikyuu dads!!!! I have begun making the smau and I’m already like 3 chapters in but I won’t start posting until I’ve finished it or I’m about to finish it. I wanna be sure that I’ll have a trustworthy upload schedule lmao bc my midterms are coming up next week and I’m dying. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warning: fluff

Kuroo Tetsuro

-He was in a meeting with the firm for the past three hours.

-He was absolutely exhausted and the only thing he wanted was to take a nap with his two year old daughter.

-You were still at the hospital, your shift finishing in about two hours so he was basically alone.

-Your daughter was playing with her toys in his office, being as quiet as she could but exhaustion started to win her over little by little.

-Yawn after yawn left her lips but since the sound was so small and barely above a whisper, Kuroo hadn’t realized that his little princess was tired.

-Standing up with wobbly legs she grabbed her cat blankie and rubbed her eyes as she slowly made her way to her father.

-With one arm hugging her blankie and the other wrapping around Kuroo’s leg, she rested her head on his leg and slowly sank down to the floor, not tugging at his pyjama leg as he expected.

-Looking down at her he didn’t think twice before bending over and bringing her into his lap.

-She let out a small sigh before she clutched his shirt in her small fists and was off to dreamland in record time.

- “Kuroo-san what do you think?”

- “Sorry my daughter distracted me.”

-And with that he went back to his meeting.

-Throughout the rest of the meeting Kuroo rested a hand on her back, cupping her little head lightly rubbing soothing circles on her skull, staring down at her every now and then a smile adorning his features every time he saw her nuzzling into his chest.

-She was a female version of him now that he thinks of it.

-She had his crazy raven hair and stunning amber eyes while her face structure reminded him of both you and him.

-Her personality though was all you.

-He knew she was very young but she reminded him of you when you two first met more and more each day.

-Right at that moment she let out a small yawn again, her eyes opening slightly as she repositioned herself on his lap and went back to sleep.

-He couldn’t love her more, at least that’s what he believed.

-Each day she proved him wrong.

-Saying goodbye to his coworkers he shut off his computer and went to the living room couch, laying down with his little girl in his arms.

-Giving her one last kiss he fell asleep, a smile still present on his features.

Akaashi Keiji

- “The author said that those new chapters need to be edited by the end of the month. He will send you the rest when you are done with these.”

-His eyes were bloodshot from the endless hours he had been staring at his screen.

-Rubbing his eyes he answered every single question that was thrown at him, wishing that this one would be the last one.

-But the universe wouldn’t have it that way for poor Akaashi making him stay up late again.

-Thunder rumbled from outside and he wondered whether or not you had taken your son to bed with you.

-The four year old boy was terrified of storms from a young age, always looking for comfort in either you or Akaashi.

-But ever since his sister was born he pulled away from you two, he didn’t ask for help anymore even when he needed it and he didn’t wake you up during the night when he had a nightmare.

-Akaashi was amazed to say the least.

-Neither of you had said anything to him about how your attention would mostly be on the baby and you guys had never dismissed his needs because of your little girl.

-It worried him how fast his son closed in on himself.

-He was already a shy and quiet kid but now you barely heard his voice and it broke both of your hearts.

-Akaashi was determined to help him get out of this phase and be by his side but this assignment took up more of his time than he would’ve liked.

-Light danced across the room as the door slightly opened but no one stepped in.

-Keiji was about to stand up when he heard little sniffles and the light pitter patter of feet on the carpet of his office.

-And soon enough his son rounded the corner of his desk, one arm wiping away tears as the other clutched the stuffed owl his uncle Bokuto had bought him.

-Without losing a beat Keiji pushed his chair back and brought him in his lap, giving a small apology to his boss before momentarily turning off both camera and mic.

- “I’m sowwy.”

- “Shh I’m here, nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

-Giving him a kiss on each cheek Akaashi let him snuggle in his chest, a strong arm supporting the toddler while simultaneously making him feel safe and protected.

- “Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt but could we end it here? My son had a nightmare and I want to calm him down.”

- “Of course Akaashi-san, give my regards to the little man. Goodnight.”

-And with that the meeting was over and Akaashi was left with a crying child in his arms.

- “Hey hey, I told you that nothing’s going to hurt you while I’m here. Why don’t we go sleep with mommy hm?”

- “I’m sowwy…”

-Akaashi kissed his head again bringing him into a tight hug as he got up from his seat.

- “There is nothing to be sorry for now come on, mommy would want cuddles.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi

- “If we use the new quick that Atsumu and Hinata have been practicing then we would have the upper hand momentarily.”

-Kiyoomi let out a sigh as the meeting he had with the team would not seem to end.

-They had been discussing tactics for the last hour and a half while the rest of the time they had been informed of the new managers they had been assigned.

-Kiyoomi never expected to be in a zoom call while being an athlete.

-He thought that it would be useless.

-What were they even gonna do while in the meeting? Practice?

-But he was proven wrong once the coach called the first meeting and now Sakusa was ready to pull his hair out.

-Thankfully he was just laying in bed so at least he was comfortable.

-You had gone out for some much needed grocery shopping leaving Kiyoomi with his son, not wanting to take your child outside with the virus contaminating people left and right.

-Sakusa loved spending time with his son.

-He was a low maintenance child, just like he was when he was young, adopting the same hygiene patterns as his father even at the early age of two.

-He had just started talking and you wouldn't stop having conversations with him, the baby only uttering a simply “dada” or “momma” or even maybe a “yes” or “no” if you were lucky.

-It made you happy though, seeing your son slowly becoming more independent.

-Sakusa was also happy but he was also reminded that he wouldn’t stay this young forever; before he knew it his son would be off to high school or college and he wouldn’t fit in his arms anymore.

-Lost in thought Kiyoomi hadn’t seen the toddler make his way into the room until he felt the covers being pulled as he attempted to get on the bed *and failed bc he’s just too short*

-Letting out a chuckle Sakusa pushed his laptop to the side and leaned down to grab his son, who was now pouting an expression that was a little too similar to yours.

- “Is that mini Sakusa I see?”

-Kiyoomi ignored Atsumu as he settled his son on his lap letting the baby wave at the camera as his “uncles” waved back.

- “Do you mind if he joins?”

- “Of course not, every Sakusa is welcome.”

-Giving his son one last kiss on his head, Kiyoomi went back to listening to the boring tactics letting his son play with his fingers in the process.

-Okay maybe it wasn’t that bad now

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses @threeamwriting @letscheereachotheron @ezoyscorner @storage11037 @wolfkid22

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aenaxes · 3 years

Note

OMG ok for the 200 follower celebration (based on your smoking post) PLZZZ write sharing a spice blunt with cross or any batcher of your choosing I would simply die 😩💅🏻❤️

vapor trails

[crosshair & hunter x f!reader] you don't really run with the fett twins' crowd, but you find yourself at one of their parties anyway (in reference to this post lol)

warnings: college!au, recreational drug use, suggestive themes, but consent is sexy & mandatory & sober babes

w/c: 3.8k

a/n: anon, you ask for one batcher, but why not two? thank you for enabling me nonnie & @mallr4ts lol (im so sorry to all the previous requests for the event, this one has just been needling in my brain all day and i had to get it out hsdfs)

event details here! requests are open until july 4th!

You don’t know much about the Fett twins.

They’re something like campus legends even though they’re only a year your senior and at the tail end of their fourth years. But as much as you’ve heard their names slung around in weekend plans and excited chatter, you’ve never once met them, much less seen them yourself. Between idling class whispers and dining hall conversations, all you can piece together from the rumors is that: one, they’re from a big family (you’ve heard anywhere from two to twelve other brothers, yikes); and two, as much as they work hard (because the venture capital and pre-professorial tracks seem rigorous enough), they play even harder.

It helps that they apparently own one of the biggest apartments off campus, one in which you find yourself hopelessly and miserably lost. And overdressed.

Great.

It hadn’t occurred to you that your roommate, who is nowhere to be seen, had been dressing up for her girlfriend, and that most people who had half a mind would wear something comfortable that could withstand a few spilled drinks and ash. So seeing the rest of the room in rumpled tees and sweats has you and your little black dress seeking out the nearest wall as you fiddle with your questionably sweet cup of margarita mixer.

You feel like a first year, and it sucks.

But for once, with everyone too busy mingling amongst themselves over the heavy thrum of some mumble rap beat, you manage to slip by unnoticed.

Every now and then, you dart your eyes around the ever shifting landscape of faces in the dim room, looking for even the vaguest familiarity that might let you feign being tipsy and join a group for the night. But every time you try, there’s no luck.

Fuck, you haven’t even seen anyone here before.

But there might be a god watching out for you yet when the crowd shifts just enough that you catch sight of the couch, and on it, someone you suspect to be one of the twins as he greets a few girls with a disinterested nod.

Emboldened, but mostly nervous that in the crowd of bodies and red solo cups you’re still helplessly alone, you push off the wall and squeeze past huddled cliques of conversation to make for the dark couch.

By the platinum bleached hair and big-name consulting group quarter zip, Crosshair—at least you think it’s him—lounges over the couch. He isn’t the only body on the suede seats, but he keeps to himself, his head dipped low as he works one hand over a small metal canister in his other palm.

If you weren’t having luck with the other nameless faces around you, maybe the Fett twin would keep you company—at least until your roommate came back to find you (if she did). And worst case, you’d just slink back to your dorm and mope until your roommate apologized to you with your favorite overpriced smoothie bowl the day after.

Mustering every ounce of courage you have, you plant your feet by the couch and finally speak.

"Is your name actually Crosshair?" you ask.

The man on the couch pauses, his motions stilling over the small metal cylinder in his palms, and he lifts his chin just enough to flick his eyes up towards the sound of your voice.

You always thought the girls in your droning 9AM gen-ed were wildly exaggerating his hype for their own devices, squealing over his (apparently) brooding charm and sharp looks to nip at his stash for free. But for all the vague haze surrounding your perception of the twins, you never thought that they were telling the truth.

If you had been in broad daylight under the incandescent glow of your creaky lecture hall lights, you might have called him cocky, almost haughty, how he meets you with an unreadable look for having interrupted him. But in the purple LEDs and heavy haze of vape juice and shitty tequila, he’s captivating, all dark eyes and perfectly lit skin, marked only by the needle-thin design tattooed over the right side of his face and a worn wooden toothpick bitten between his teeth.

You swallow down the dry lump in your throat when you catch him flick his eyes from your face, down the short length of your dress, and back up again.

"Smoke with me; maybe you'll find out," he drawls, toothpick bobbing as he speaks. He twists the cylinder once and offers you a wry smirk. And when you stay, speechless but there all the same, Crosshair scoots to the side and pats the narrow space between him and the couch arm, inviting you close.

"I've never smoked before," you admit a bit shyly as you drop down beside him. Your dress hikes up your thigh, and you shiver when your skin presses up against the soft denim of his jeans.

"Not even cigs?"

You shake your head. And you tell yourself that when he leans close and brushes his shoulder up against your arm, that he’s only doing it because someone’s boosted the bass, and you can’t hear him over the reverb.

"Well, good thing I'm here, yeah?"

He gives the metal canister a final twist and sets it down on the coffee table before you. Swapping the canister for a small brown sleeve, you watch in a daze as he pulls a semi-transparent leaflet from the folder and tears a strip of cardstock straight from its flap. He has pianist fingers, you think wistfully, neatly kept nails and slender grace, and you wonder if he’ll entertain you if you ask to compare your hand to his.

“What’s your name?”

You scrabble back to the present at the sound of his voice. “Uh, y/n,” you offer.

“Well, y/n,” he says with a soft laugh, having caught on to your daydreaming. “Step one, you fold your filter.”

You nod along absently as Crosshair artfully crimps the thick paper into a neat roll. As if there isn’t thirty-some odd people crammed into his apartment, he quietly takes you step by step, offering you the filter, the paper, then the contents of the canister (a grinder, he explains) like it’s a game of show and tell. But with every piece he places into your hands, you gravitate closer, closer, until you’re flush against his arm and practically hanging over his side to watch as he gently taps a line of bud over the paper.

“Here, let me give you a better look,” Crosshair says.

You expect him to bring the neat line of bud to you, but when nothing comes, you look up and find him waiting for you, one arm open in invitation as the other pats once on the dark denim of his thigh.

“Uh—”

“Sit,” he says as if you haven’t just met him fifteen minutes ago. “Front row seats if you want ‘em.”

On one hand, you barely know Crosshair outside of the rumors you hear on campus. On the other hand, he’s a genuinely pleasant person, careful to accommodate for your boundaries and offering a snide playfulness that’s banished your nerves from earlier in the night.

He’s also really fucking hot.

“Okay,” you murmur, and you let him wrap his arm around your waist and tug you onto his lap. And he’s right. Perched over his thighs, you see with perfect clarity (and without the strain in your neck) as he gently folds the paper over the mound of bud and carefully twists. It’s the prettiest joint you’ve ever seen—though it might be because it’s the only one you’ve seen.

"Final touch," Crosshair's voice rumbles over your back, shooting straight into your core as he lifts the paper's vellum edge to your lips. “Lick it for me.”

Since you sat down with him, you’ve only been the passenger, nodding along as Crosshair’s long, nimble fingers creased over filter paper and patiently pointed out things like the stray pistils in his baggie and the keef gathered at the bottom of his grinder for if you really want to get fucked up. And even though you aren’t doing much (because licking paper doesn’t really seem too crazy), it’s a step forward from the comfortable rhythm that had settled between you, and you twist around in his lap to shoot him an uncertain glance.

“Just,” Crosshair flicks his tongue over his lower lip, flashing a brief glimpse of a ball piercing towards your wide eyes. And if you weren’t so flustered, you might have recognized the coy playfulness in his gaze. “Give it a lick, right over the edge.”

“I—uh, what if I—” you stammer.

“You’re not gonna mess this up, darling,” Crosshair chuckles. If his hand squeezing brief over your waist wasn’t enough to bring heat searing over the tops of your ears, his next words, crooned low and breathy into your ear, certainly do. “You’re a smart girl. You can do it.”

"My brother giving you trouble?"

Another voice cuts through the din of the party, sparing you your stammering nerves as you whip your head up in its general direction. You’re greeted with the sight of his brother, peering down on you as he takes a sip from his cup.

“You’re such a killjoy,” Crosshair mutters, drawing his arm tighter around your waist as he jabs the half-rolled joint to where Hunter sprawls down onto the couch beside him. “No, I’m not being a creep. I’m teaching our pretty underclassman here how to roll.”

Oh.

Heat rushes over your cheeks, and you can’t decide whether you want to shrink into yourself or bask in it and beg for more.

He called you pretty.

“With her in your lap,” Hunter snorts into his cup.

“It was your idea to invite your entire fucking rugby team. Where else would we do it?”

“I’m so sorry he’s like this,” Hunter laughs, tilting his head and looking up at you through his (unfairly) long lashes. Where you thought Crosshair’s tattoo was bold, Hunter’s practically blows him out of the water, a well-worn swath of ink on the left half of his face, curving into neatly stylized teeth right at the edge of his lips. “I’m Hunter.”

Huh, maybe you do have a thing for tattoos.

“Y/n,” you squeak. “It’s, um—it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he says as he offers you an easy smile. “Has my baby brother been treating you right?”

“God, two fucking minutes,” Crosshair snaps. You hear the embarrassment seeping from the vitriol, and it strikes you like a shot to the head that he’s trying to play cool in front of you. “I come out two minutes after you and—”

“We’re fraternal, and I got all the oxygen in the womb. Explains why he has awful people skills,” Hunter fake-whispers loud enough for Crosshair to hear, and you giggle as the other man groans from behind you.

“No, he’s been really nice,” you say softly once you realize that you’ve been laughing a little too loud. “He’s teaching me about weed.” It sounds juvenile when you say it, awkward and clumsy on your tongue. It’s a dead giveaway that has Hunter’s smile mellowing into something soft.

“Your first time?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Cross here’s high as shit at least four hours every day. Says it helps him do the math. I hate to say it, but you’re in good hands.”

“You try running a nonlinear regression sober,” Crosshair snorts. “Anyways, we were just finishing up this joint before you decided to kill the vibe.”

Crosshair lifts the half-rolled joint back up to your chin, and this time, he leans forward and presses his chest close against your back as the playful snark leaves his tone, in its wake, something patient and calm as his voice rumbles by your ear.

“You gonna help me finish the job, sweet girl?”

You surprise yourself when the initial trepidation vanishes as you tip your chin down and stick out your tongue. Maybe you’re showboating now that you have an audience, feeling Hunter’s dark eyes on your lips when you touch the tip of your tongue out over the edge.

Whether it’s your lip gloss or the fine crumbs of bud stuck to the roll paper that fills your mouth with something earthy and sweet, you can’t say. All you know is they’re both following you with that intense intent, the bass and blend of voices faded out around you; just you in Crosshair’s lap and Hunter pretending to care about the drink in his hand as you lift your tongue off the far corner of the paper and close your lips.

“Good job,” Hunter muses, and you’re pretty certain he’s not talking about the joint when you feel his gaze boring into you alone.

The smell of smoke pulls you out of Hunter’s gravity, and you look back in front of you to see Crosshair snap a scuffed metal lighter shut and toss it onto the coffee table. He brings the joint back down in front of you, blowing a neat stream of whitish gray smoke past your ear.

“You know how to pull?” Crosshair asks, and his chin brushes over your bare shoulder as he speaks. He’s so close. You can smell the burn, acrid and sour, but it doesn’t matter that it doesn’t smell like some bubblegum vape when you feel his breaths curling over your skin. You just want more.

Mutely, you shake your head.

“Mm, you know how to shotgun?” Hunter offers, and you hear Crosshair huff laugher from behind you. “Might be easier for your first try.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s,” Hunter pauses, and his brows knit close as he thinks for a moment. “It’s kind of like a kiss. But not really. I take a hit and you catch my smoke. That sound okay?”

You don’t think it matters that someone’s hit shuffle on the playlist, filling the room with a hard electronic beat that might have otherwise drowned out all sound. All you hear is your heart pounding in your ears as you nod and watch Hunter lift the filter to his lips and inhale deep, then pass the joint back to Crosshair.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, white trails of smoke curling over his upper lip as he lifts one hand to cup over the base of your neck.

“Open,” Crosshair whispers.

Wordlessly, you obey. Your lips part just as Hunter pulls close, so close you feel the heat of his skin spreading warm over your cheeks, and blows a soft stream of bitter smoke into your mouth. It can’t be more than a few seconds, but all the while, you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his.

“Breathe in, deep,” you hear Crosshair instruct as he begins to rub one thumb over the curve of your hip.

The smoke is thick, sluicing down your throat and filling your lungs like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s not bad, just new, and pressed between the twins over the couch, you think it just might have been worth being ditched by your roommate earlier in the night. But your lungs ache, and you slowly exhale, watching as your vision fogs with a loose cloud of smoke until your chest feels clear again.

“And you didn’t even cough,” Hunter smiles. His calloused fingertips follow the slope of your neck, lingering one moment more before he pulls away. And you aren’t sure if the low buzzing in your fingertips is the weed or their combined warmth as Hunter rubs over your knee and Crosshair leans his head against your neck. “Good girl.”

“Wanna do it again,” you whisper as the buzz begins to crawl up your neck, fizzling around your temples as you lean your cheek over where Crosshair nuzzles into your shoulder.

“With him or me?” Crosshair murmurs, his lips brushing over your skin.

“You,” you say dreamily, and Hunter laughs, a sound that suddenly seems so far away as you tip your head and press close against Crosshair’s silver hair.

Crosshair leans into your touch, pressing his cheek up against your neck one last time before he’s lifting his head and bringing the joint to his lips. You hear the hiss of his inhale, smoke curling up through the narrow body of the joint as the charred end glows warm beside you.

And instead of Hunter’s approach, level with you, Crosshair looms above you, meeting your wide eyes with something of a fond smile. Dragging his hand up your chest, he follows the line of your neck and holds snug over your chin. He squeezes softly, and your jaw falls slack, lips parted in a soft ‘o’ as he dips low. He's closer than Hunter as you feel his mouth just brush over yours and breathe smoke over your tongue.

This time, it’s easier.

You swallow down the smoke and hold, just a beat longer than before. But both Crosshair and Hunter notice as your lips stay parted, and they share a soft laugh that has you exhaling smoke and pride all at once when you finally relax your diaphragm and breathe out.

“Fast learner,” Crosshair muses, nosing up under your jaw as you sink back against his chest.

You mumble incoherently, chasing his touch as the high creeps heavy and warm from your chest to your collar and settles at the back of your throat. It anchors you, molding you up against Crosshair who feels nothing short of perfect as he circles his arms loose over your waist.

You turn your head to thank Hunter when you distantly register him pressing a cool cup into your hand (water, you think you hear him say), but the words slip back down into your throat, your eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy and coarse over your blurry vision.

“You wanna lay down?” Hunter offers, and his voice comes to you like you’re underwater, warped and bubbling past the din of the party around you.

You're pretty sure you nod.

For a few moments, you catch traces of an unintelligible exchange between the twins, only aware of the rumble of Crosshair’s voice at your back, and then you’re being lifted up off the couch, the music and raucous laughter fading behind you.

A door opens, squeaking half-shut, and you wince as a light clicks on beside you. Whoever was carrying you sets you down on something soft and cool, and you sway as the light dims and you settle into your seat.

You’re on a bed, you think.

Crosshair’s, judging by the shock of light hair that you can make out through your lashes. He helps you into a worn tee that reaches past the short hem of your dress, and you wiggle into it with a soft whine, holding it tight.

But where you expect a familiar weight to dip down next to you and pull you close, your eyes fly open when you see his figure turn away from you and towards the neon lights of the party outside.

“You aren’t staying?” It's the most coherent you've been through your first high.

“Not tonight,” Crosshair says softly. He turns back towards you and reaches up to fix the strap of your dress as you sit on his bed. “Baby’s first tokes got you all dopey. Right now, what you need is this,” and he presses a plastic bottle of vitamin water he’s seemingly produced out of nowhere into your palm. “This,” he adds, pressing your phone into your other hand. “And a good night’s sleep.”

“And what if I say I need you, too?” you pout.

Some part of you—the conscious part locked away in the back of your skull—bangs up against the hazy high at the crown of your head because when you’re good and sober and when Crosshair inevitably turns you down, you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for the next semester.

But he breaks into a smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes before he leans down to press his lips to your forehead. It’s just a split-second of warm, chapstick-soft lips on your skin, but it floods you with an indescribable good from the top of your head all the way down to your toes.

And as high as you are right now, you have a hell of a hunch that the flutter in your chest is going to stay, even when the room stops wobbling around you.

“When you’re all sobered up in the morning, we’ll make you breakfast, and we’ll figure it out from there,” Crosshair says after he’s pulled back, reaching up to smooth his palm over your hair. “Sound like a plan?”

You nod, probably with a little too much enthusiasm, but you’re rewarded with another low chuckle that’s practically music to your ears. His hand gentle and firm over your shoulder, Crosshair guides you down onto the bed and pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Now text your roomie so she doesn’t call the cops on us, get some sleep, and drink all of that, okay?”

“Okay,” you respond.

“Good girl.”

And when the lights click out, you curl into Crosshair’s pillow, breathing in cold, fresh notes of his cologne, and then you’re asleep.

You climb out of bed the next morning, your minidress rumpled under a long shirt. It's not like a hangover, no, you just find yourself a bit lightheaded and throat parched, and the disorientation makes your head spin as you’re greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and something savory—

Your roommate doesn’t wake up earlier than you, and she can’t cook for shit. And why were your sheets grey? Whose shirt were you—

Oh.

Fuck.

You practically burst out of Crosshair’s bedroom, and you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you hadn’t expected to see Hunter sipping mildly on a mug of coffee while Crosshair pushes something around in a pan over their kitchen range.

“Mornin,’” Hunter offers you a small wave, and reaches for a third mug on the countertop. “Wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee so we just made it black.”

“What happened last night?” you gasp. If you weren’t so panicked, you’re certain the sight of them sporting nothing but grey sweats would have been your only concern, but you’ve just woken up with foggy memories and the slimy dread of anxiety that follows a blackout night.

“Easy, easy,” Crosshair assures you as he steps away from the stovetop. “Nothing happened after we smoked. You took, like, two hits, and you were so hazy you couldn’t remember your dorm number, so we put you to bed, and I slept out in the living room. Fetts are wild but we’re not scumbags, promise.”

And judging from the throw blanket sliding off the edge of the couch cushions, you’re fairly certain you can believe him. Relief floods your chest.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh, and your shoulders sag as the weight of panic sloughs off your back.

They both laugh softly, the sudden tension lifting from the bright morning light, and you can’t help but join in. And when that rosy relief gives way to silence again, it’s Crosshair who speaks next.

“So, you staying for breakfast?”

“Can I borrow some actual clothes first?”

“Done deal.”

#fun fact: my signature party trick is flirting with a guy and then stealing his blunt ✌️😗#thinking about how schlorbe n i agreed crosshair listens to souncloud mumble rap :/#its ok i kiss him anyways #hc that crosshair’s an econ/finance bro and hunter’s a history major hehe #sequel series: crosshair goes venture capital (gross)#tech's probably at like the space equivalent of mit or something #and i will Die on the hill that wrecker's super smart with kinesiology #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #anon #yaej.writes

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

i have a request for something Taehyung! maybe taehyung christmas/holiday??? OR taehyung and the prompt "Give me attention"??? honestly i will take anything taehyung 🤩

↳ The Best Friend’s Older Brother Cliché

2.3k || 99% Fluff, 1% Angst || Kim Taehyung || Best Friend’s Older Brother!AU

Taehyung is your best friend’s older brother.

It’s so entirely cliché that you cringe whenever you think about it, but it’s true and it happened…..you had the tiniest crush on him in high school. Okay— it was a big, fat crush. But you weren’t willing to admit it, not then and certainly not now. Mostly because it’s weird. Plus there’s the fact that it would be breaking the code of honour between besties. Sisters before misters.

The last thing you would want is to make Joy upset.

But when you came home from college in the summer and Taehyung returned from his own studies abroad...you didn’t expect him to look like that.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“H-Hey.”

Taller. Leaner. Better dressed.

Maybe it had just been a long time since you’ve seen Taehyung. Maybe you had gotten desensitized but the long period away from him made you hyper aware of his existence again. Either way, seeing him made you realize that he had very much become a man.

He was no longer just the unattainable, cool teenage boy that you swooned over but left behind nonetheless in your coming of age years. And that fact slapped you across the face.

You didn’t expect for him to be like that either.

To smile at you like that. To strike up conversations. To be interested in what you were doing, where you were going.

“What are you majoring in again?”

“Anthropology.”

“Really? That’s super cool. I took one anthropology class when I was a freshman. Do you like it?”

“It’s not too bad. I think it’s interesting.”

Taehyung smiles faintly. “I always knew you were smart.”

It was one date.

You came over. Joy was abruptly called in to fill a shift at her summer job at the ice cream parlor.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I swear I’m going to choke Jimin.”

“And then who’s gonna have to bail you out? Get going before you’re late.”

“Promise we’ll hang out more tomorrow.”

“Have fun at work!”

Taehyung happened to be there, hanging around the house, and he offered to drive you home.

“You really don’t have to.”

“I’m not going to make you take the bus in this hot weather, you know that right?” The corner of his mouth tugs easily. “Just get in the car.”

Except you both stopped to grab a small bite. A burger and fries. While sitting out at the park.

You’re not sure if that even constitutes as a date — there was nothing said about it, no mention made, all entirely too casual to be considered one. But it was the first time you and Taehyung were alone together.

Okay, if that counts...then technically it was two dates.

You and Joy went out to Jungkook’s party. She had a little too much to drink and the pair of you needed a ride home afterwards. Naturally, Taehyung was the one who picked you up in his car, begrudgingly, as Joy fought him before she laid down in the backseat, but he still flashed you that smile.

“Had fun tonight?”

“It was alright.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t end up going home with him.”

“Who?”

“You know. That guy with the glasses you were talking to on the lawn.”

“Namjoon? Oh no, we’re just friends.”

“Hmm. Is that so.”

After Joy was put to bed and tucked in, Taehyung asked if you wanted to stick around to watch a movie. You might or might not have cuddled into him during those three hours, but really was it cuddling? He just slung his arm over the couch where you were sitting and you leaned into his chest.

The two of you were just getting comfortable.

Alright, if that counts, then it was three dates but just three!

Taehyung asked you out personally, but it was to help him pick a gift for Joy’s birthday. He drove you downtown and you walked together in the streets, checking out boutiques before parading around the mall.

“What do you think?”

“Joy hates camo print and she doesn’t need another backpack, Taehyung.”

“Perfect! So she’ll love this then.”

He ended up getting a sweater she’d been eyeing for months.

When it became dark and you got hungry, instead of being dropped off at home, you went to the night market together on a whim. You snacked, had conversations and exchanged numerous stories. You still remember the laughter and how much your cheeks ached when you finally jumped into bed that night.

But before the summer ended, before you both left for your respective colleges, he wanted to talk.

“I had a lot of fun this summer.”

You eye him. “What did you even do this summer?”

“Hang out with you.” Taehyung grins, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I liked it.”

“Good. I might be hurt if you thought this entire time was awful.”

“I like you too much to ever think that. But...hear me out. What would you think we made things offici—

“We’re going to be super busy,” you interrupt in a panic, having a sense of where he was going with this. “...going to different schools and all that.”

You search his expression while schooling your own. Taehyung stays silent for a second and tries to read you. You’re not sure how successful he is.

“Right.”

“I’ll contact you, Taehyung.”

He smiles at that and eases. “Okay. Yeah. Sounds good. You can call or text me anytime.”

“Anytime?” You try to lighten the mood by shooting him an incredulous look. “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“If it’s you, it wouldn’t be a bother. Trust me.”

Except when you got back, you didn’t call him. You didn’t text him either.

You only saw him briefly when Joy would occasionally facetime him in the same room as you, when you were merely a figure in the background and Taehyung would ask who it was.

“Y/N, of course, who else?”

And you would give a small wave.

There were no conversations, no small talk, no exchanges of laughter. But it was better that way. Otherwise, you wouldn't know what Joy would say, how she’d react. You don’t even know if he’s serious about you. And you’re too scared to find out the answers to any of these questions.

It didn’t matter anyway. Deep down, you know Taehyung should be kept at a distance. You know it would be better if these feelings could fade away as a sweet, brief summer romance.

What you didn’t anticipate is to come over to the Kim’s for the holidays a few months later.

“Where are you going?”

Taehyung’s following after you, trailing at your heels like a lovesick puppy. “And don’t tell me you’re showering because you already used that excuse to avoid me today.”

You spin around, masking your startlement at just how close he is, and you frown. “I’m not avoiding you.”

The corner of his mouth tugs. “We shouldn’t lie to each other, sweetheart, even if you have the tendency to do that.”

You feel hot in your face from the pet name. “I never lied to you.”

Taehyung raises his brows. The both of you know then and there it’s a lie.

“My empty phone says differently.”

You cross your arms defensively. “I never promised I’d remain in contact. I was just...busy with classes.”

“Oh. Another lie again.” Taehyung grins, and he exhales softly causing a hundred goosebumps to raise along your skin when you feel the warmth of his breath. “You should really stop your bad habit, Y/N.”

You take a step back and he steps forward.

Before you know it, he’s cornered you in the dark hallway, staring at you intently before his half-lidded eyes flicker to your lips.

You swallow hard. “Go annoy your sister instead.”

“Why should I?” His mouth slyly curls. “I like you way better.”

For the entire duration of the break so far, the both of you have been sneaking around the whole time. From Taehyung instigating a game of footsies under the dinner table to whispering in your ear when no one’s looking to winking at you from across the room so quickly that you’d miss it if you blinked. You feel his affectionate hand on the small of your back when he slides by you, feel his gaze when his shoulders graze yours, and you feel the tickle in your tummy when his voice lowers into that seductive, husky pitch.

During the summer, he was kind and friendly Taehyung. Cautious when it came to you. Hesitant to look your way.

But this time, he’s intensified. Flirtatious. Bold. Pulling out all stops.

Maybe it’s because he’s pissed that you didn’t contact him like you said you would. Maybe because he doesn’t understand why you’re restraining yourself, and he feels the need to push to know. Maybe because he suspects you know he likes you, and you like him — he wouldn’t be wrong.

But either way, his new brazen approach was making you weak in your knees.

“Your mom’s coming,” you mutter while pressing your hands to his chest. You don’t know how or why he feels so firm.

“She isn’t. But even if she was, she’d be more than happy to know we’re together.”

“W-We’re not together, Tae.”

“That could change right now.”

“I...I can’t.”

His thick brows furrow. “Why not? I like you, Y/N, a lot.”

You swallow hard, feeling scrutinized under his heavy gaze. Taehyung’s beauty is lethal when he’s this close and you feel an urge to brush away the dark strand that’s fallen in front of his forehead from his neatly styled hair. It was a contrast to the casual hoodie and sweatpants he was wearing. He was handsome and cozy, ready to stop hearts or be hugged like a teddy bear.

It didn’t help that he was saying these kinds of things either. “I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” His voice drops a pitch. “For the past few months, I’ve been thinking about the summer and you. The entire time, I was waiting for you to call me, to text me. Do you know what that’s like?”

“Taehyung.”

“We can make this work. I want to make it work, so don’t make me wait anymore.”

You gaze at him, breath hitched in your throat and your self-control meets its limit. You practically leap onto Taehyung, heart thundering against your rib cage, standing on the tips of your toes — all to kiss him.

It’s soft and unhurried.

Taehyung is caught off guard, but then you feel his wide smile against you. Immediately, his strong arm reaches for your waist and he tugs you in. A yelp escapes your throat as your bodies become flush against one another. Taehyung’s other hand presses against the wall behind you and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue licks into your mouth and you groan, wrapping your arms around his neck. He tastes like sugar cookies, smells like citrus, and absolutely makes your knees weak.

You’re not sure how long you and Taehyung make out for, swapping spit like horny teenagers without experience.

It’s not until you hear a— “what the hell!” — do you break apart.

Joy is standing at the end of the hall and you shove Taehyung away from you, wide-eyed. He stumbles back, equally surprised.

“I-I can explain!”

Joy’s jaw has gone slack and you realize she’s waiting for said explanation.

“I….I…we….umm….”

Taehyung looks at you and then at his sister, opening his mouth to rescue you from this mortifying experience. But his sibling beats him to the punch—

“Look.” She raises her hands and you brace yourself. She wouldn’t end your years of friendship over this, would she? Then again, you can’t blame her if she did. “You don’t have to make this weird. It isn’t weird unless you make it weird. So I’ll just pretend I didn’t see anything.”

“Wait.....what?” That was certainly not the reaction you were expecting. You think you’re more taken aback than she is. “You’re okay with this? You’re okay if we’re dating?”

Joy nonchalantly shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. You’re adults, so you can make your own decisions and I kind of had a feeling there was something going on anyway.” She smiles and looks at her older brother. “Taehyung, you’re way too obvious. The biggest gift under the tree is for her from you.”

He grins. “You caught me there.”

You’re shell-shocked at how unconcerned she is and seemingly supportive at that.

“You knew?”

“Of course I do. We’ve been friends for what, ten years? I knew you had a crush on my brother back then. So if anything, it’s about time.” Joy raises her fist at Taehyung. “You better not make Y/N cry or I’ll make you cry.”

He snorts. “Wow, thanks.”

“Anyway, continue.” Joy lazily gestures. “But we’re watching a movie in five so be quick.”

Your best friend leaves to the bathroom where she was heading to in the first place and you turn to Taehyung who has an amused grin. “Well?”

“I don’t know.” Your mind is reeling at everything that’s happening and how real this is becoming. “For some reason in my mind, I thought that would go way worse.”

“Is that why you were so worried? You didn’t need to be. Joy likes you way more than she likes me, so if anything I’d be the one getting the flack.” Taehyung smiles and leans in. “But does this mean we can finally make it official? Can I call you my girlfriend already?”

You sigh and lift your arms to loop around his neck again. He leans in for another kiss, but you stop short an inch— “Depends on what that gift under the tree is.”

Taehyung grins and before you can pull away, he tugs your waist into him once more.

This time you kiss each other unabashedly.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung reader insert #bts reader insert #squirrelandcrafts #Jimlings #Taehyung as your best friend's flirty and hot older brother lol

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bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

˗ˏˋ@bukojuiice’s BNHA masterlistˎˊ˗

REQUESTS: [CLOSED]

➸ Headcanons

♡ ྀ “midoriya, bakugo and todoroki cramming school works with their S/O”

♡ ྀ “baby it’s cold outside.” (katsuki bakugo christmas hcs)

♡ ྀ “going to Universal Studios Japan with them”

♡ ྀ “how you spend a virtual valentines date in quarantine w/ them”

♡ ྀ what happens when the bakusquad babysits Katsuki’s daughter?

♡ ྀ i like you a latte. (Coffee Shop AU! Headcanons)

♡ ྀ what they would be like as disney princes

♡ ྀ their wedding day with you

♡ ྀ the lovey-dovey things they do with you while you're both stuck at home during quarantine

♡ ྀ the kinds of movies he’d watch with you.

♡ ྀ when he does the lip bite

♡ ྀ when they read self-insert fanfiction of themselves

♡ ྀ cat ears or maid outfit?

♡ ྀ how dekusquad + bakusquad comfort you after getting your heartbroken

♡ ྀ mha boys accompanying you to buy lingerie

➸ Izuku Midoriya

Fics ↝

♡ ྀ I will hold on to everything we got. A quitter, regretter and forgiver is everything I’m not.

(↳ unprompted and unexpected goodbyes are the worst. how are you going to be able to tell izuku the fact that you were moving away from the city that the two of you have lived in, grew up in, and soon became the place where the two of you fell in love with each other? how could you let this precious cinnamon roll go?)

♡ ྀ she’s not afraid of scary movies, she likes the way we kiss in the dark.

( ↳ it is your weekly movie night with Izuku and co, but whilst waiting for your other friends, you and your boyfriend had the most wonderful idea of watching a gory horror movie.)

♡ ྀ as the world caves in

( ↳ no one else could ever carry the burden that Izuku holds in his hands. But when a girl from his past helps bring him to a realization, he begins to contemplate on whether or not sacrificing everything that you love to become a hero is worth it all.)

➸ Katsuki Bakugo

Cuddle Buddy! (Social Media AU)

Katsuki’s Convenience (Social Media AU)

Fics ↝

♡ ྀ thank god for plot twists like you.

( ↳ Katsuki barges in your dorm room after class to see you crying in your bed with your phone in your hand… but why exactly?)

♡ ྀ the s in studying stands for sexy times (implied smut!)

( ↳ katsuki is helping you study for your finals. but to no avail, none of the articles you were reviewing were processing inside your mind at all. until, katsuki had thought of a great idea to help you study. a spicy one at that.)

♡ ྀ you fell from the sky into my lap (smut)

( ↳ You and Katsuki become one as the two of you get in the mood with the music on his Spotify playlist.)

♡ ྀ my world is changed and it’s cradled by the comfort that is you.

( ↳ After receiving a quarterly report on the status of your hero internships and as a 3rd year student of UA Academy, your day is ruined as soon as you began to read it’s contents. Your explosive boyfriend does not want to see you like this. But how can he possibly cheer you up?)

♡ ྀ like the soul of honey

( ↳ Christmas finally approaches and your daughter, Hikari, can’t wait to spend it with the best parents ever.)

♡ ྀ you got questions, i got answers tonight, babe. (smut!)

( ↳ you and the bakusquad drag bakugo to a short vacation after such an intense week of hero work, much to his annoyance. however, his stress and pent up energy was more than you expected, so you knew exactly how to release all his frustrations.)

♡ ྀ fix you. (studio ghibli au! princess mononoke au!)

( ↳ Katsuki Bakugo is the righteous yet arrogant village prince of the east. The entire village relies on him for protection and for guidance, further inflating his ego. however, after a cursed boar attacks him and the curse is passed on to him as a poisonous mark on his arm, slowly consuming him until he becomes a demon himself. he is exiled without hesitance from his village and is to go on a journey to look for a cure, a journey he might never come back from. With the help of two of his most trusted allies, he embarks on a journey to look for the gods of the forest in where he meets a girl (just as striking as him) who brings him back down to earth, saves him and make him experience a true life worth living.)

♡ ྀ 25 lives (time traveler au!)

( ↳ After losing the love of his life in a brutal villain incident, Katsuki Bakugo had lost a part of him. Nothing and no one could ever bring her back. He became the shell of a person he once was; fiery, bright, and the driven #2 Pro-hero in the country. He continues to live life with guilt, all hope still lost until he is gifted a time device that can transport him to parallel universes, dimensions and alternate worlds, where he begins his quest to find his lost love. Crossing a hundred of realities and living twenty-five lifetimes just to bring her back into his arms. )

♡ ྀ to the most explosive boy i’ve ever loved before

( ↳ six letters. one for every boy you’ve ever loved. The letters for your eyes only, filled with all the words you could never say. until, one day, they start appearing out of nowhere into your life again, and your love life goes from imaginary to out of control.)

♡ ྀ lovesick girl

( ↳ your planned birthday surprise for katsuki takes a turn for the worst when you’re suddenly struck by a cold, prompting your dynamite boyfriend to take care of you and shower you with love and affection on his special day.)

♡ ྀ nicotine and faded dreams (smut!)

( ↳ Fame. Success. Glory. Bakugo’s had and seen it all, being a part of one of the biggest bands in the world. All he’s ever wanted was (Y/N), who comes back into his life just in time for the last leg of the band’s European tour. Bakugo thought that after making it big he wouldn’t have to face the muse for their most successful song any time soon. But a trip to Venice organized by scheming band mates has him stuck in a car with that very same muse. or Rock bands, a love Bakugo’s been trying to run away from and a cleverly schemed road trip: what could go wrong?)

♡ ྀ the morning afterglow

( ↳ basking in the hues of wonderment that is the morning sun with your explosive boyfriend by your side was truly a dream. lingering in the bed much longer was an absolute must. these are one of those days.)

➸ Todoroki Shoto

Fics ↝

♡ ྀ when you kiss me, heaven sighs.

( ↳ you and Shoto arrive in the city of love. the day seems perfect until things go awry.)

♡ ྀ a love like the movies

( ↳ Shoto spends his only day of rest and relaxation by watching iconic tv shows and sitcoms with you.)

♡ ྀ my youth is yours.

( ↳ shoto todoroki entered college with one thing in mind; be able to graduate and follow in his family’s footsteps. however, college had different plans for him. and meeting the one he would spend the rest of his life with was one of them.)

♡ ྀ merry go round of life (studio ghibli au, howl’s moving castle au)

( ↳ shoto todoroki is a magical prince who yearns for freedom. with the entire country against him, and the freedom he ever so wanted barely in his grasp- he seeks solace in a girl who works in a hat shop. she was his comfort in days full of disaster and war. and ever since then, he has finally found a reason to live.)

♡ ྀ something in the rain

( ↳ you and shoto were once childhood best friends and sweethearts who had lost touch and communication. 12 years has passed since then, and on a fated summer day in june, there was something in the rain that brought two lost souls back to each other’s arms.)

♡ ྀ are you feline what i’m feline? (smut!)

( ↳ blessed with a quirk that can temporarily transform any human being into any living thing they want through the means of potions and concoctions, you brew up a cat girl potion to surprise shoto for your second year anniversary. however, some accidents and mishaps happen, and you’re welcomed home by a handsome cat boy instead.

♡ ྀ if i could tell her

( ↳ in where shoto todoroki is hit by a sudden realization that the love of his life was right in front of him all along and all it takes is for her to cross the crossroads for him to finally realize.)

♡ ྀ written in the stars

( ↳ shoto takes you out on a special date. a date that entailed love in all it’s bare simplicity. love in all it’s highs and lows, and love that is worth being written in the stars.)

➸ Eijiro Kirishima

Fics ↝

♡ ྀ I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.

( ↳ It is your 1st year anniversary with Kirishima. With no idea how celebrate it, Kirishima asks for the aid of Bakusquad and they have very interesting ideas and plans to say the least. Will he succeed and plan a perfect surprise for you?)

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