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ellemj · 2 months

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Off-Limits: Ch. 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU

Summary: Bucky Barnes wants the one thing he can't have, and he'll go to great lengths to get what he wants. The tension between the two of you makes it impossible for him to think rationally.

Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I've been thinking about writing something like this for a few weeks but I'm typically not an AU kinda girl so stick with me. Bucky is intentionally out of character in this but hopefully a few of you will like him this way. Also, THANK YOU ILY for the little bullets and foliage art for my timeskips @littlemiss-yeehaw. She is an angel, an inspiration, I love her.

Off-limits. Nothing has ever pissed James Bucky Barnes off more than the phrase off-limits. The fact that it’s you who’s been labeled off-limits only adds to the fiery rage that’s steadily growing inside of him.

Bucky leans back in his desk chair, running his flesh hand through his hair while he goes over his options in his mind. He could just take you. He could give a few orders and have you in front of him by nightfall, though he isn’t quite sure how he feels about starting a war simply because he’s thinking with his cock rather than his head. He could have a sit-down meeting with the man he detests most in this world, the man who currently has total control over your future. He could make an offer, bargain for the right to have you to himself. No, that sounds too polite.

The sound of a fist rapping against the heavy wooden door of his office breaks Bucky out of his thoughts.

“You told me to come back at eight, so here I am. What did you decide?” Sam asks, shutting the door behind him after entering. He’s itching to do something, anything. His life has been hell ever since Bucky first laid eyes on you. It’s as if the entire fucking operation dropped to the bottom of the totem pole while you rose to the top. It would be great if he could bash a few heads in, fire a few rounds, and deliver you to his boss tonight so he could fuck away whatever this newfound obsession is and get back to being the cunning, ruthless mob boss he’s meant to be.

“We’re paying my least favorite lowlife a visit.”

Just like that, James Bucky Barnes and his entourage of over-eager gunmen are on their way to your house, to see your father.

As you tiptoe down the mahogany stairs of your childhood home, your bare feet just barely gracing each step, you forget for a moment that you’re not a little girl anymore. You can hear the distant sound of low voices and tense discussion coming from your father’s home office near the bottom of the staircase. When you were younger, those sounds would’ve had the hair on the back of your neck standing up and you would’ve been hightailing it right back to your bedroom. You’re not so timid anymore. The man already holds your entire life in the palm of his hand, molding and shaping it however he sees fit. What’s the point in trying to abide by his rules when it’ll never get you anything other than exactly what he wants for you? So, you continue your daring trip to the kitchen, with the hem of your oversized t-shirt skimming along the skin beneath the curve of your ass and your heart set on a late-night snack.

Bucky sits across from your father’s desk, his jaw aching due to the number of times he’s caught himself clenching his teeth together during the past hour of deliberations. As he lifts his hand to massage the sore muscle along the side of his face, he hears the sound of a wooden floorboard creaking somewhere outside of the room that he currently sits in. He shifts his gaze around the room, noting the way his own men, your father, and your father’s men all seem oblivious to the miniscule noise that came from somewhere in the house.

“It doesn’t matter how long we sit here and go through this. My daughter is not getting married, she isn’t on the table.” Your father’s tone, though resolved and sure, doesn’t match the look in his eye. It’s a look that lets Bucky know you’re not actually off the table, he just hasn’t made the right offer yet. The words echo in his head for a moment: on the table.

Fuck. If he sits here for another second, picturing you physically on top of a damn table, he might make an unreasonable offer just to turn that fantasy into a reality. It’s what prompts Bucky to rise to his feet suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his black suit pants to retrieve his phone and act as if he’s going to make a call, maybe a call to check on things within his business to see what else he can offer the piece of shit who sits in front of him. In reality, he’s making up an excuse to get the hell out of that stuffy office and clear his mind just enough to close the deal.

“Let me make a call.” Bucky says evenly, shooting your father a steely look. Your father leans back in his desk chair, relaxing for the first time since his rival showed up on your doorstep an hour ago. When Sam and Torres make moves to follow Bucky out of the office, Bucky holds up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Stay, I won’t be long.”

Leaving his suit jacket draped over the back of the armchair he had been sitting in, Bucky steps out of the office and guides the door to shut as quietly as possible. It’s fucked up, what he’s doing here. He knows that good and well. Offering large sums of money, offering obscene amounts of quality product, offering a damn near eternal truce in the streets…all to have a woman he barely knows. As his eyes adjust to the darkness of his enemy’s home, he casts a glance up the staircase by the office door, wondering if you’re awake up there. Are you sitting in your posh bedroom without a single worry plaguing your pretty little mind? Are you sleeping soundly as he barters with your father for the right to have you all to himself? Or are you thinking about him too, about the handful of times you’ve run into each other over the past two months?

Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts of you, Bucky takes a few steps to his left and turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs, entering the kitchen soundlessly. That’s where he finds you, hidden behind the open refrigerator door as you rummage around for a snack. He sees your bare legs first, peeking out beneath the half-door. He clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the phone in his right hand simultaneously. It fucking hurts just to look at you.

“Your father lets you walk around like that with guests in the house?” He seethes. Startled, you shove the refrigerator door shut just before dropping the container of blueberries in your hand. As the plastic container goes crashing to the kitchen floor, blueberries scatter around your feet. James. When your eyes land on him, you can see the look of disdain all over his face. He despises you, you’re sure of it. Never one to take shit from a man, you narrow your eyes at him before crouching down and positioning yourself on your knees. Bucky watches intently as you pick up the blueberries one by one, placing them back into the plastic container.

“I don’t think my father considers you a guest.” You whisper the insult just loud enough for him to hear it, but not loud enough for your voice to carry over to your father’s office. Bucky’s squeezing his phone so tightly in his hand that he’s already thinking about having to send someone out to pick up a new one for him tomorrow, because surely, he’s shattering the screen of it. It isn’t your cute little attempt at a comeback that’s irking him. It’s the fact that you’re still on your knees, with your t-shirt riding up your thighs and your eyes lifting to meet his gaze as if you have no idea what effect you’re having on him. He’s sure you aren’t that naïve, which means you’re doing this shit on purpose.

“Get up.” He says through his teeth. You narrow your eyes at him before cocking your head to the side and picking up another fallen berry. It’s a test. He wants to see if you’ll listen to him. The way Bucky sees it, if you listen to his command and stand up, he’ll feel a bit better about going to all of this trouble to have you. It would tell him that although you’re defiant and like to talk back, you still know how to do what you’re told. But if you don’t listen? He can think of a few enjoyable ways to break you of that bad habit.

“What would my father do if he knew you were in here telling me what to do?” The question leaves your lips with the intention of being threatening, but Bucky’s hard stare and cold expression melds into a look of mild amusement. You pick up one of the last few remaining blueberries and drop it into the plastic container, keeping your gaze steady on the cold-blooded man a few feet in front of you. You watch with masked curiosity as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his suit pants and begins rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He notices the way your eyes fixate on his black and gold arm, the way you almost seem fascinated by it. When he uses his metal hand to roll up the sleeve on his right arm, your focus shifts to the tattoos covering the majority of his flesh forearm. It isn’t your eyes that tell Bucky you like what you see. It’s the way you subtly clench your thighs together as you drop another berry into the container. You don’t shy away, you don’t move even an inch as he begins walking toward you. Even when he comes to a stop in front of you, close enough that the toes of his dress shoes are nearly touching your knees, you stay where you are. You look up at him through your lashes without tilting your head upward, refusing to move any more than just your eyes for a man that you know would take a mile if you gave him an inch.

“What would your father do if he knew you were on your knees in front of me?” He lifts his flesh hand toward your face, expecting you to flinch away or refuse his touch, but you don’t even blink as he lets his fingertips trace the curve of your jaw. He drags his fingers downward, until he’s in the right spot to curl them beneath your chin and force you to tilt your head up for him. Again, you don’t resist him. “Get out of here before someone else sees you like this.”

It isn’t at all what Bucky wanted to say to you, not even close. But it was what needed to be said. If anyone else had walked out of your father’s office and stolen the privilege of seeing you looking so pretty on your knees like that, he would’ve shot them dead right there in the kitchen. Whether it was one of your father’s men or his own, he wouldn’t have given a shit. So, Bucky lets his hand fall away from your chin, but he doesn’t step away. You reach down for the container of blueberries and grasp it in your right hand as you move to stand, keeping your eyes locked on Bucky’s the entire time. You want to shove him, to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do, especially not in your father’s home. At the same time, you wouldn’t be opposed to tracing the tattoos on his flesh forearm with your lips. What is it about this man that makes your rational mind war with the rest of your body?

When you step around Bucky a second later, setting the container of blueberries on the island in the center of the kitchen before heading toward the stairs, he has to fight the urge to reach out and grab you. Not now, not yet. You’re not his yet. When you round the corner of the kitchen and begin tiptoeing up to your room, Bucky makes his way to the bottom of the stairs and watches you silently as you take each step. You don’t look back as you make it to the landing and turn right, disappearing behind a wall. When he hears the faint sound of your bedroom door closing, he reaches into the back pocket of his suit pants and retrieves a small silver cylinder. It sits heavy in his hand as he pulls his gun from the back waistband of his pants. As Bucky screws the silencer onto the barrel of his gun, a distant voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him to be rational about this. Don’t do it. Don’t go to such insane lengths for a woman you don’t even know. Don’t spill blood on these nice mahogany floors.

When he enters the office a few seconds later, he fires two shots. The first into the shoulder of your father’s righthand man, and the second into the thigh of the other hired gun. His face is emotionless as he steps over their bloody, writhing bodies and presses the cool metal of the silencer against your father’s temple. Bucky only has to speak one sentence to let the man know that he isn’t to be fucked with.

“We make a deal tonight, or I make your daughter an orphan.”

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#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #the winter soldier #winter soldier #mafia bucky x you #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 3 months

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i dream, now, of a normal life with you ; suguru geto

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content.

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways.

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk

you: …… um. you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug.

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes.

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics.

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds.

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here!

and there he is.

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor.

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence.

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky.

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it.

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder.

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now.

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes.

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely.

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…”

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss.

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm.

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental.

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers.

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours.

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat.

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.”

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough.

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him.

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend.

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day.

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?”

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever.

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace.

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more.

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more.

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you.

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming.

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved.

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about.

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him.

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are.

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever.

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him.

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue.

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling.

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat.

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take.

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind.

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead.

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable.

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover.

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done.

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise.

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face.

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement.

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks.

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you.

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause.

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork.

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking.

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever.

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently.

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend.

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know.

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

#finalllyyyyyyy took the time to finish this r u proud of me 👉👈#im very very soft for this sugu in particular :< kinda takes place in the same universe as the breakfast sugu fic !!!!#he’s ur smitten husband-to-be <333 i love to see suguru geto thrive and be happy i think being a househusband could save him #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

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Trailer Park Steve AU

part 1

“Are you lost?” Munson frowns, propping his shoulder against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest. His rings glint against his jacket sleeve; he’s got new tattoos on his fingers.

Steve’s head fills with static fuzz for a second, and he stares like a mouth-breathing idiot before helpfully answering: “Um.”

“…Right. Well, this has been weird as shit, man, but, uh— pharmacy’s closed until my uncle leaves at sundown, so…” He lifts his hand to make a shooing motion, then pauses, assessing Steve with narrowed eyes. “What are you all dressed up like a good little school boy for, anyway? Didn’t you graduate last year?”

Oh, okay. Wow. (Like, yeah, he does kinda look like some goody two-shoes freshman with Robin’s forgotten backpack hiked up way too high under his armpits, but also fuck you, dude.) Steve squares his shoulders, plasters a falsely polite smile on his face and cocks his head to the side, all innocent, like he doesn’t know, like he’s just asking, man. “Sure did. Weren’t you supposed to do that, too?”

Munson glares at him like he’s imagining doing to him what Misty did to the rat. “I really don’t want to fight this early in the morning, man.”

“I’d love to see you try,” Steve snorts. “What, Munson? You gonna beat my ass? Think you can take me? Go ahead.”

He doesn’t know why he’s egging on a fight, but he’s suddenly itching for one. Feels the urge bubbling up beneath the surface. Hot under the collar. Probably this is the part where Tommy would hold him back and tell him it isn’t worth it, man, come on, but Tommy’s not around anymore.

A lot of people aren’t around anymore.

Nobody fights for fallen kings.

So Steve bows up with a sneer and a huff, and Munson does the same, and that’s… concerning. It gets a hell of a lot more concerning when he flashes a menacing grin and claps a hand to Steve’s shoulder; gets right up in his face, nose to nose, breath sharp with spearmint to cover the scent of weed.

From Wayne’s point of view they might almost look like friends.

Steve barely hears the thwck slice past his bad ear before he feels the cold press of a blade against his throat. Pocket knife, unpocketed. Munson’s smile widens, and Steve swallows hard, feels his pulse jump against the blade, the blood rushing to his cheeks. It shouldn’t be hot. (And it isn’t, because it shouldn’t be.)

“You want to try that again?”

Munson’s voice is deadly soft, a raspy whisper that makes Steve’s hair stand on end. His eyes are huge and dark. Intense. Kind of endless.

Kind of like Nancy’s when she’s staring down a loaded gun.

Steve blinks and licks the sweat off his upper lip, fingers trembling against frayed denim where he’s got his hands raised in surrender. “We’re c-cool, man. We’re cool. My mistake.”

Munson backs off with a pleased look on his face, snaps the knife shut and tucks it back into his pocket. Soft squeak of worn leather; casual shrug. “Cool. Glad we understand each other.”

Then he scruffs Steve under the chin — patronizing and quick, this humiliating little bullshit maneuver like ‘chin up, Steve-o’ before he hops down the steps and swings himself up into his van. The tires screech in the loose gravel, and Steve just stands there and stares. Gobsmacked. Pissed off.

A little stiff in his jeans.

When he looks down there’s a black cat brushing itself against his sneakers. “Misty?” he asks.

“M’row,” says the cat.

There’s a dead bird at her feet.

—

part 3

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #trailer park steve au

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hooniblr · 1 month

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𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 (𝐘𝐄𝐓) 𝐈𝐈

PAIRING ▸ nishimura riki x female feader

WORD COUNT ▸ 4.8k

GENRE ▸ high school au, brother’s best friend au, fluff, angst

SYNOPSIS ▸ After spending the better part of your adolescent life crushing on your brother’s best friend, you finally decide to call it quits on your unrequited feelings when you come to the conclusion that’s all they will ever be—unrequited. The only problem is that getting rid of these feelings that have been lurking in your heart is much more difficult than you anticipated. Especially because the object of your affections keeps making it hard for you to move on.

Or the one where Riki resorts to blackmail.

WARNINGS ▸ reader as sunoo’s twin sister, riki as sunoo’s bestie, feat. some of the newjeans members, reader is an expert at hiding her feelings, misunderstandings, pining, slow burn, blackmail, broken promises, hurt feelings

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NOTE — thank you for all the love on part one! hope you guys like this part. mdni banner made by @/benkeibear

“You still haven’t told Sunoo about your new hobby?”

“No. I know he would just worry about me getting hurt.” You sighed. “So would my parents.”

Minji furrowed her eyebrows. “Don’t you think hiding it is doing too much? You’re not doing anything bad. It’s just jiujitsu.”

“You know how my mom gets. She wants me to do things ‘normal girls do’ like that’s going to make me act like her friends’ kids. Remember when she tried to make me join the choir?”

“Yeah.” Danielle grimaced. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get so embarrassed.”

You and Minji shared her grimace. Your audition probably went down as the worst in the history of the entire school. “I’m actually kind of good at jiujitsu, and I like doing it. If I tell Sunoo about it he won’t let me go back to the dojo ever again.”

Minji sighed. She knew you were right. Having an overprotective family would be the death of you.

“Come on.” She said, hoping to distract you from your inner turmoil. “Let’s go eat in the courtyard.”

“You don’t want to go to the cafeteria?”

"Riki’s in there.” Danielle reminded you. “So is Heeseung.”

“True.” You pursed your lips. “I’ll meet you guys out there. I have to drop off Sunoo’s stuff first.”

The hallway was relatively empty when you wandered up the stairs. You were glad no one was around because it would make it easier to drop off your brother’s bag—which he had inconveniently forgotten in the morning, again. When you glanced inside his classroom, it was completely alone, much to your relief.

After dumping the bag on his desk, you made a run for it. Sure, you were probably being overly paranoid, but you couldn’t risk running into Riki. Especially not after last night.

“Kim Y/N.”

Hearing your full government name made you freeze just before you reached the stairs. Your heart and mind had memorized that smooth melody long ago. You slowly turned around, heart stuttering despite knowing what sight awaited you. Riki’s usually sweet gaze had been replaced with one that was full of disapproving anger and something else; something you couldn’t discern.

“Riki.” You said his name breathlessly.

Your wide-eyed gaze only confirmed his suspicions. Up until now, you never had a problem being around him, or even looking at him. Right now, Riki could see that you were itching to get away from him as if he was some sort of parasite. He knew your awkward behavior was nothing more than a byproduct of hanging around that bastard Lee Heeseung, and it only made his anger grow immutably.

“I saw you last night.” Riki’s tone was accusing, knowing he was approaching the situation in a completely immature way. “I know you haven’t been hanging out at the internet cafe. You go to that dojo with Lee Heeseung.”

Out of all the things you expected Riki to say, him bringing up your secret jiujitsu lessons wasn’t on the list. It was clear that he disapproved, but you weren’t sure why he seemed as upset as he did. Did he know Sunoo wouldn’t approve as well? They truly were best friends. You were glad to see that the loyalty wasn’t just a one-way street despite the fact that it was now backfiring on you.

And so, like a deer caught in headlights, you could only blink at him bovinely as he gave you a stare that demanded answers.

“Does Sunoo know what you’ve been doing instead of going home?”

Your eyes widened in realization. Riki was going to rat you out.

“Please don’t say anything.” You begged, clasping your fingers together to form the classic pleading gesture. “I know he wouldn’t approve, and if he tells our parents then I won’t be able to go anymore.”

Riki clenched his jaw. Was being able to see that idiot so important to you? Enough to risk getting in trouble with your parents? He wondered how you would feel about Heeseung if you knew the truth about him. You definitely wouldn’t feel the same way about him if you found out what kind of person he really was.

Even so, your shimmering eyes had him thinking twice about ruining what you had with Heeseung. He could see that you were clearly infatuated with that idiot to the point that you were willing to upset your entire family by seeing him. The fact that you were even willing to go to that stupid dojo with him was enough indication of how much you liked him. (As if you avoiding him wasn’t proof enough.)

“Well—”

“Y/N!”

Sunoo bounded over to you with his rowdy friends following close behind him. Your panic-filled eyes glanced from Riki to your brother. You tried to straighten out your dismayed expression with a tense smile.

“Twin!” You exclaimed a little too happily. “I left your bag on your desk.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot—”

“I’ll see you at home.” You rushed out, not giving either boys a chance to respond before you took off down the stairs.

Luckily for you, neither of them followed after you. As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you looked back just to make sure. At that moment, you bumped into someone and nearly fell back. Stumbling awkwardly, you started to apologize for not watching where you were going.

“It’s okay. You’re not hurt, are you?”

Seeing Sunghoon’s worried expression almost made you roll your eyes. Instead, you told him you were fine and kept walking because the last thing you needed was to deal with your ex. Unfortunately, you weren’t allowed a stealthy getaway.

“What’s going on between you and Lee Heeseung?”

You glanced over your shoulder, annoyed that Sunghoon was following you. It would’ve been easy to ignore him, but you knew he wasn’t going to leave you alone since he had asked you in that nosy tone of his. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you two at Jake’s party.” Sunghoon sounded insecure or something close to it. “Do you like him or something?”

An incredulous scoff tumbled past your lips. “What do you care? Are you jealous?”

“Yes—extremely.” His pout was objectively cute, but you couldn’t see it as anything other than annoying. “Since when did you start hanging around Lee Heeseung?”

It was usually easy for you to hide your feelings, but now your indignation was the one taking control as you turned to face him. “Around the time you stopped.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. If Heeseung had mentioned their brief friendship to you, it’s because he had explicit trust in you. The theory that he concocted the other night couldn’t be too far off from the truth. It made him feel a terrible dread in his gut. Heeseung wasn’t the type to reveal any private information, which brought Sunghoon back to the conclusion that you weren’t just anyone his former friend.

“So, Heeseung likes you then.”

You don’t think you had ever heard anything more ridiculous. It was obvious that Sunghoon was still too self absorbed to see that Heeseung had been pining for Song Yura for the longest time. His unrequited feelings are the reason you two had gotten so close. Not that it was any of your ex’s business.

You scoffed quietly before an apathetic smile spread on your lips. “Think what you want.”

Sunghoon frowned. As he went to say something else, you went out the exit leading to the courtyard. He could only watch you walk away from him with a disheartened expression.

Thinking you had successfully gotten him to back off was your first mistake.

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“Which movie did you pick?” You wondered as you put the popcorn bag in the microwave.

“I didn’t pick one yet.” Sunoo said from the living room. “Riki’s coming over so I wanted to let him decide on the movie too.”

You nearly dropped the bowl you pulled out of the cabinet. Maybe you should’ve felt upset that Sunoo conveniently forgot to mention that his bestie was crashing your movie night, but you were too panicked to feel angry or anything related to that emotion. It didn’t even have to do with the fact that you were practically in love with Riki. Instead it was about the not-so-small tidbit that he knew your secret and was probably planning to tell your brother all about it.

“I thought you said it was just going to be us tonight.” You did your best to sound upset although you were sure your voice was shaking.

“Riki wanted to hang out. You know I can’t tell him no.” Sunoo pouted as you went to sit by him. “You’ve never had a problem with him coming over before.”

That was before you decided to get over him.

“The three of us haven’t hung out together in a while. It’ll be good for him to come over, anyway. He could use your advice.”

“My advice?” You mimicked curiously. “Advice for what?”

“He got a love letter from Song Yura today.” Sunoo said with a giddy laugh. “He didn’t let me see what it said, but I think she confessed to him.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a love letter.” You said pathetically, knowing it was your wishful thinking doing the talking.

“But she even has his helmet. Not his extra one, his favorite one. I’m sure it won’t be long before they’re a couple.”

It was hard not to feel like a deflated balloon with what Sunoo was saying. Not only because Song Yura was obviously someone very special to Riki (he didn’t let just anyone touch that helmet), but because you knew Heeseung was going to feel heartbroken once he heard the news.

You couldn’t be surprised that this happened. It wasn’t like this was the first time Riki had gotten a girlfriend. He’d had plenty between the time you’d met him and now.

So, why did this feel so much worse than all the other times?

The title of the movie the boys selected went over your head. Your inner turmoil had the knots in your stomach tightening with every passing second. You weren’t sure whether to focus on the fact that Riki might expose your secret or that one of the prettiest girls in school had confessed to him. The choice wasn’t left to you as your mind alternated from thinking about the two problems periodically.

Your eyes were focused on the TV screen, but you were too busy thinking to see any of what was actually happening. Honestly, it was a good thing that Riki could potentially get into a relationship. If he did, it would be the thing to help her move on once and for all. Although watching him end up with someone else wouldn’t be painless, it would for the best. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

Also, should Riki start to date Yura, then maybe he would be too caught up in his relationship to bring up your secret. Or maybe that was more of your wishful thinking since Riki was much more bothered about your jiujitsu lessons than you expected. You still couldn’t figure out why. It couldn’t be just because of his friendship to your brother. No matter how many times you went over it in your head, you couldn’t figure out why he cared so much.

Somehow, the movie ended before you could focus on it. With Sunoo telling Riki to pick another movie because he needed to use the restroom, you mindlessly wandered into the kitchen under the pretense of making more popcorn for the second movie. In reality, you needed to put some distance between you and Riki. Being alone with him wouldn’t do your resilience any good, and it definitely wasn’t helping your nerves. Unfortunately for you, nothing ever went as planned.

“We didn’t finish our conversation.”

Your hands stilled. Calm down. Breathe. You pressed the start button on the microwave before turning around to face Riki.

His thick eyebrow was raised, and that domineering look from before made an appearance once again. “Are you really going to keep doing jiujitsu even though you know your family won’t approve?”

You almost told him that he also did plenty of things that his family didn’t approve of, but you knew it wasn’t smart to get snarky with the person who knew your secret. Telling him the real reason you were practicing jiujitsu was out of the question. So, left without any other choice, you decided to bring up your friend in the hopes that he would leave it alone.

“It’s something fun to do with Heeseung.”

Astoundingly enough, Riki’s stern gaze became even more lethal. “Can’t you do something else with that idiot?” His voice rose unintentionally. “How can you want to keep learning jiujitsu just because that’s what—?”

“Shh!” You hissed in a panic, practically pouncing on Riki as you placed your hands over his mouth. “Sunoo will hear you!”

As you looked towards the living room worriedly, Riki found himself frozen in shock. Your soft hands pressing against his lips had his heart pounding harshly against his chest. From this close, he could see every single one of your eyelashes and the deep color of your pretty eyes. He couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought, only focusing on the close proximity. You smell invaded his senses and disarmed him completely.

When you looked back at Riki, you noticed he was looking at you strangely. It was then that you realized how close you two were. Literally chest to chest. You jumped back, feeling a bit of heat spread on your face.

“Sorry.” You apologized. “Just please don’t say anything.”

You rushed back into the living room before Riki could say anything else. All you could focus on was your erratic heartbeat that wouldn’t slow down. How could he affect you so much without even doing anything? It wasn’t fair because you were sure your presence didn’t have the same affect on him. The heat on your face hadn’t gone down even when Riki came back with the popcorn. If he noticed how flustered you looked, he didn’t mention it.

“Y/N.” Sunoo said as he walked back into the living room. “What’s this? Is it yours?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw Sunoo holding up your gi. You nearly choked, not knowing what to say since you were practically caught red-handed. Since when did he go through the laundry?

“That’s Danielle’s.” Riki said suddenly. “She asked me to get it for her when I came over.”

Without any hesitation, Sunoo handed the garments to Riki. While you were grateful that he hadn’t outed your secret, the nerves of him possibly changing his mind had you fidgeting uncomfortably as the two boys picked another movie. All throughout the comedy, you kept stealing glances at Riki. He didn’t look at you once, and you mentally cursed him for being so good at hiding his emotions.

When it was time for Riki to leave, you offered to see him out. Instead of walking him to the door, you stepped out into the cold night with him. You stood in front of Riki, nervously playing with the hem of her hoodie.

“Thank you for not telling my brother.”

“I’ll keep your secret.” Riki promised. “But you have to do something for me.”

You should’ve been suspicious at the tone he’d gotten, but you were too caught up with his promise not to tell anyone about your jiujitsu lessons. “What’s that?”

“I won’t tell anyone about what you’ve been up to as long as you stop going to that dojo and stop seeing Lee Heeseung.”

You thought he was joking until you that saw his somber expression didn’t change. Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. She could understand the first part of his request, but what did you being friends with Heeseung have to do with anything?

“What? I can’t just—”

“Should I let your brother know what you’ve been doing, then?” Riki raised a challenging eyebrow at you.

Your shoulders sagged. “No.”

Riki held back a grin, but only just. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Yes.” You agreed reluctantly.

His signature smirk made an appearance. He lifted his hand and rested it on your head, softly ruffling the top of your hair. “Good. See you later.”

“Wait!” You called, pointing at the garments in his hand. “My gi!”

Riki glanced down at the clothing in his hands. Again, he looked up at her with that smirk of his. “This? I think I’ll hold onto it for the time being.” His smirk seemed mocking now, but it was still fatally attractive. Damn him. “Go back inside. You’ll catch a cold out here.”

And so, you watched Riki get on his motorcycle and take off with a sulky scowl on your face.

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“Y/N.”

Riki was leaning against his motorcycle as he beckoned you over to where he was. You hesitantly walked over, feeling your palms begin to perspire. Ever since you decided to go behind his back and still go to the dojo with Heeseung, you felt like you were on the brink of being caught.

“Where are you heading?”

To the dojo. “Oh... I was just going home since Minji and Danielle can’t hang out today.”

“Let’s get something to eat.” Riki’s words left no room for any disagreements. He handed you his spare helmet casually. “Hop on.”

You shook her head frantically. “Oh—no. You don’t have to. I’m not—”

“Come on.” He insisted, forcing the helmet into your hands. “Don’t you want your gi back?”

You scowled. “Fine.”

After putting on the helmet, you hesitantly got on the back of his motorcycle. It was embarrassing since you didn’t exactly fit on the edge of the bike, though, it mostly had to do with you sitting as far from him as the narrow seat would allow. You were sure you’d turn into putty if you had any physical contact with him.

“Hold on tight.”

You grimaced, torn between playing out the one fantasy that had been replaying through your head for months and your rational need to set boundaries so your feelings would stop growing. You awkwardly grabbed Riki’s shoulders, hoping that you wouldn’t fall off once he took off.

Riki laughed at your obvious unease. He decided to do a break check so you’d realize that not holding onto him wasn’t an option. Suddenly, you were flung forward. The front of your body collided with Riki’s firm back with a loud thud. For a moment, you thought you had hurt him until you saw his shoulders shaking with laughter. You glared at the back of his head. “Riki!”

“I told you to hold on.” Riki said, the lilt in his voice was teasing yet there was also a serious undertone to his words. “Do you want to fly off?”

You almost told him that you wouldn’t if he went slow enough. However, you kept your mouth shut and hoped your obsession wouldn’t grow as you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his torso. You gently rested your head against his back and closed your eyes. Just for a second, you told yourself. For a small moment, you would let go of the worries that burdened you and simply enjoy being close to the boy you liked.

Something unfamiliar tugged at Riki’s chest. His head shifted a little, wanting to catch a glimpse of the girl on his back. Your arms were secured around his waist and you were leaning on him, but he suddenly found that it wasn’t enough. Somehow he wanted you even closer. Riki cleared his throat quietly, pushing the unfamiliar thoughts out of his mind for the time being.

And so, you two sped off, neither of you noticing the boy who had been watching their entire interaction from afar.

You uncomfortably picked at the food in front of you. Had this been last year, you would’ve been overjoyed at sharing a meal with Riki (part of you still was), but now you couldn’t help but feel like this was all some sort of trap. Like he knew you had gone against your promis and was waiting on Sunoo to show up to tell him everything.

“Are you not hungry?” Riki wondered with a slight frown. “Bulgogi is your favorite.”

Honestly, you felt like puking up all the butterflies in her stomach, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’m not really hungry.” Your words were hardly convincing, but Riki seemed to believe you. “I got used to not eating as much because of jiujitsu.”

Riki’s jaw ticked in annoyance. “Is that really all it is?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. “I swear.”

That aggravated look he had been getting a lot lately found its way onto his face again. “Are you sure it’s not because you can’t see Heeseung?”

Your reluctance to answer the question had irritation crawling up his skin like a parasite. He knew that’s what it was. The shy look on your face was all the indication he needed to know you were thinking about that idiot. Riki only asked you because he hoped that you would tell him. Once you did, he would tell you that Heeseung wasn’t worth your time.

“It’s not like that.” You told him, confused that he was getting so worked up.

“Do you like him?” Riki demanded, needing to hear those words come out of your mouth. “Tell me the truth.”

His tone caught you off guard. You chewed on your bottom lip, wondering if you should mess with him a little since he took your stuff. Maybe it was petty of you, but you decided to do it anyway. You gave him a half-smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “That’s a secret.”

Riki was sure his jaw would snap at any moment from the amount of pressure he was putting on it. “Just know you’re out of his league. You’re way too pretty to settle for him of all people.”

You felt like your heart was ready to burst at any moment from how fast it was beating. Damn him. Damn your feelings for him. You were aware Riki only spoke his words out of kindness (and out of his dislike for Heeseung), but your dumb heart couldn’t tell the difference. It was clear that Riki didn’t see you the way he saw Song Yura. To him, you would always be Sunoo’s sister. But for a brief moment, you allowed herself to believe that he sincerely meant what he said.

Your shocked gaze had Riki coughing nervously. It wasn’t the first time he called you pretty, but this time it felt different from all the previous times. His words seemed more... intimate, somehow.

You didn’t realize you were full-on staring until the chime of a text notification pulled you out of the trance that was Riki’s intense gaze. Your jaw nearly dropped when she saw Heeseung’s name on the screen. He didn’t text you very often, and when he did it was only ever to tell you he wouldn’t be at the dojo.

Where are you?

You briefly glanced at Riki before quickly typing out a reply.

I’m at the corner restaurant near the dojo. I’ll be there soon.

You put your phone back on the table, feeling like there was an impending doom waiting for you. There was this inkling you had that nothing good could come from Heeseung’s ominous message. Even so, you chose to ignore it for the time being.

“So.” Riki cleared his throat, not knowing why he suddenly felt so shy. “What’s so great about your little crush, anyway?”

You contemplated your next words. Riki probably thought you were going to tell him about Heeseung, but he could never know what you were about to say was all about him. It was the only opportunity you would have to tell Riki how you really felt about him.

“Ever since we met, he’s been nothing but kind to me. He sees me for who I am.” The corner of your mouth lifted a bit. “Some people think he’s a jerk, but he isn’t really. He’s actually really sweet and caring.”

Riki’s expression hardened. Sweet? Caring? Yeah, right. He was sure that he could be much more sweet than Heeseung who had the emotional range of a fish.

“What about you, Riki?” You questioned despite knowing his answers would only hurt your feelings. “Everyone’s talking about how much you like Yura. What kind of person is she?”

Riki raised his eyebrows, baffled. “What? I don’t—”

He cut himself off when he saw a familiar (and unwelcome) presence approach the table. If you thought his gaze was harsh before, it didn’t compare to the murderous look that crossed his face in that instant. You followed his gaze, mouth dropping open in surprise when you saw Heeseung standing about two feet away from the table.

“H-Heeseung?” You choked out, unable to believe that he was actually there.

“I got worried when you didn’t meet me at the dojo like we’d planned.” He said like his words weren’t the equivalent of dropping a bomb of chaos.

You could’ve choked Heeseung right then and there. What the hell did he think he was doing? You gave him a look, one that you hoped he would understand. Either he didn’t notice it or he didn’t care. You were willing to bet it was the latter.

“What are you doing here?” Riki’s voice was deceptively calm. “Don’t tell me you’re following her.”

In the few times you witnessed the two boys around each other, you knew it always got ugly fast. You could see where this encounter was heading, and it was heading there quick. Luckily for you, your saint of a brother decided to call you right then.

“Sunoo!” You hastily answered your phone. “What’s up?”

“Mom wants us home for dinner. She made ribs.”

“Okay. I’ll be there right away.” You hung up before he could say anything else. You scrambled to grab your bag. “I have to go—family emergency. See you guys later!”

With that, you ran away from the uncomfortable scene that was unfolding without looking back once.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You waited at the front of your school anxiously. Riki hadn’t mentioned anything to Sunoo yet, and you were hoping you could convince him not to with a bit of begging. The seconds ticked by, and while you still hadn’t seen his familiar motorcycle, you saw the person who had dug you into a deeper hole.

“Lee Heeseung!” You hissed as you pulled him to the side. “What was that stunt you pulled yesterday? You know I can’t have anyone find out that I’m learning jiujitsu.”

Heeseung looked unfazed as ever. “I just want to know what you’re doing. You said you were trying to get over Nishimura, but you were having a meal with him.”

Your right eye twitched. “That’s because he said he would give me back my gi!” You whisper-yelled, wanting to pull on the ends of your hair in frustration. “Which he didn’t, thanks to you.”

“I also wanted to ask him why he has a problem with us being friends. It’s not like you’re his little sister.”

You’re not sure why that made your anger simmer to a simple irritation. Also, Heeseung did sort of have a point. You laughed incredulously, shoving his shoulder a bit. “You’re so immature, Hee. You know he has a problem with it because he doesn’t like you.”

Heeseung highly doubted the only reason Riki didn’t want you two hanging out was because of their mutual dislike for each other. He knew that you probably wouldn’t figure that out any time soon because you were too overwhelmed with your own feelings, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find out the truth on your behalf.

Your smile was quick to slip off your face when you saw Song Yura staring your way. The heartbroken look she had her on her face caught you by surprise. Even worse, Riki was standing directly behind her. You felt herself panic. If there was any hope that your begging would convince him not to say anything, it was gone now. Now you were certain that you wouldn’t be able to crawl out of the hole you had dug yourself in.

Riki on the other hand could only look on with a glare. He had never planned on exposing your secret. It was only a pretense to get you to stop hanging around that prick, but now he could truly see that your feelings were stronger than your fear of getting in trouble. He had suspected that was the case for some time now, yet it still made him feel sick.

Why did it have to be Lee Heeseung of all people? Why couldn’t it be... anyone else?

Riki turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction, not knowing what to make of the heaviness in his chest.

taglist: @hoondiors @blurryriki @miiequalsx

#hooniblr.doc #niki x reader #enhypen x reader #niki imagines #enhypen x you #riki x reader #niki fanfic #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #enhypen au #enhypen fanfiction #enha angst #enha fluff #enhypen fluff #riki fluff #enha au

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starry-bi-sky · 5 months

Text

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

#dpxdc #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny phantom au #dpdc danny fenton #i am incapable of making short posts it seems. heavy sigh #this post is open to add ons if anyone's interested 👉👈#this entire au is essentially the song 'Strange Sight' by KT Turnstall from the Tinkerbell and the Neverbeast #This post mostly goes into how danny and damian's relationship develops because i think that's the more important part of the au #also damian's like six i firmly believe he wouldn't know much english #no no he's learning arabic first and then english LATER. if he would ever even get there with the league #iirc all the damian clones liked Danny so i wanna explore how their relationship got to that point. Like what happened for Danny to get eve #getting one Damian clone to like him enough to go up to bat for him? that takes time and patience and i wanna explore that lol #danny's in his late teens here btw.#Clone Damian is a 7yo child and I'm writing him as such because its fun. I thought about having Clone Damian change his name but nothing fi #little clone damian is also A Tad Clingy. Danny is the First Person to have shown him a kindness and Damian Imprinted On Him Like a Duck #i love clone aus and clone aus love me #clone damian and danny are bROOOTHEERSS #i thought about making clone damian's name damon bc its close to the name damian but also i like the idea that clone damian keeps the--#original name and then makes it his own. something about taking the name you were given thats not really yours and MAKING it yours

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stuckysbike · 2 months

Text

More Than One Valentine

A/n: All mistakes are my own. Written on my phone.

Stucky x Reader, Bucky x reader, Stucky, Steve x reader

AU: you finally get Steve and Bucky together- now you need to work out what to do with yourself abs your broken heart.

Warnings: angst, smut, 18 plus only please, fluff, FWB situation, presumed unrequited love, polyamory, MMF, bisexual Stucky, Dom!Bucky, sub!Steve, switch!reader

Bucky and Steve finally shared their first kiss on Valentine’s Day.

It was a bittersweet moment for you; you’d been trying to get them together for too long and now you had nothing to do, nowhere to go.

In a twisted and complicated situation you’d ended up as a FWB to both of them. It started with Bucky, a wet night with only his leather coat for shelter turned into desperate kissing and more. Then three months later he was on a mission and Steve had come in from a date in a terrible headspace.

You called Bucky because you didn’t know what else to do. Bucky’s advice was to screw Steve’s brains out.

“What?” You stuttered.

“He gets too into his head, you gotta’ help him clear it out doll,” Bucky said in that gruff tone.

“I - but - we-“

“Go ahead. I don’t mind sharing our arrangement with Stevie. Always shared everything with him anyway, you’re no different,” Bucky said as if you were an old coat or a favourite book.

It hurt, deep in your gut like a hand twisting it savagely, but you brushed it aside. You were just a couple of friends who tamed an itch. Bucky probably did it with lots of girls and guys. You weren’t his only one. You couldn’t be.

So you fell into a routine with them. If Steve had any reservations he didn’t share them and his mood changed, not just that night but overall. He was lighter, different like he had a plan again.

It was obvious they were in love, that they wanted each other. Everyone could see it, especially you. You spent most time with them, you saw the subtle touches, kind words and gentle gestures. You would find them making each other breakfast, or always making sure the other one was drinking enough water.

And the sex was …even? You never spent more time with one over the other. You went from one to the other than back.

Sometimes you didn’t even get to shower; after a night with Steve Bucky would drag you to his room in the morning to taste you while Steve went on a run. Sometimes Steve would come in after a long stint of being Captain America and bury his face in you pussy moments after Bucky had went to his own room.

“I can’t take it. They’re ruining my vagina,” you complained to Nat one evening after too many cocktails. The and my heart was left unspoken but you both knew it.

Nat had laughed anyway because in that moment you both needed to laugh. “Set them up.” She poured another drink. She wasn’t even following recipes any longer. It was shots of hard liquor that burned in the best way.

So you did, you made sure the floor you all shared was off limits, you lit candles and played soft music, dimmed the lights. You got your hands on some Asgardian Champagne, scattered rose petals and made sure both their bedrooms had ample supplies of lube and toys.

You made sure your own room had noise cancelling headphones, snacks and a queue of your favourite shows all lined up to make sure you didn’t think too much. Or hear too much.

You should have prepared for a broken heart.

Here they were after confessing their love and finally kissing as they stood in front of the massive windows. You were on the couch, you needed to start them off, convince them to take the leap, but as soon as they got lost in each other you stood and slipped away.

At least you tried to.

“Where are you going?” Steve asked, his voice small and vulnerable.

You froze and looked over your shoulder. They were both looking your way, faces unreadable.

“To give you both some privacy,” you said quietly.

“But we need to thank you,” Bucky’s voice was equally soft.

You offered them a smile, it was genuine because you were happy for them, you just realised too damn late that you’d fallen for both of them.

They walked towards you, a pair of supersoldiers, one beefy the other sculpted. One dark the other light.

Two pairs of blue eyes burned into your skin. You felt like crying, because it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen and all they were going to do was hug you then get on with their lives.

Bucky caught your hand and pulled you towards his body but he turned you so your back was to his chest.

“Say thank you Stevie,” he growled.

Steve immediately dropped his mouth to yours. The kiss was gentle, just a brush of his pink lips as they pressed into yours. He pulled away after the kiss that was not just friendly. “Thank you.” He had that sincere look, the honest voice.

Your heart broke a little more.

And then Bucky was turning you in his arms and looking down at you. Steve’s big hands rested on your hips as he held you in place for Bucky. Bucky was rougher than Steve, his lips pressed you harder more demanding making you weak at the knees.

Where Steve asked Bucky took.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Now where were we?”

And they started kissing over your shoulder. They moved close crushing your body between theirs, hands holding you still as they explored each others mouths.

You gasped and tried to slip away but you were trapped. You tried harder only for them to part and Bucky looked at you with hard eyes.

“Stop squirming doll, I’m kissing on my fella and you’re distracting me. You’ll get your turn.” You gaped up at Bucky but his focus was back on Steve. “Come ‘ere you.”

You could hear the wet noises of their kisses, could feel their physical reactions as you stood trapped between their hard bodies.

When they pulled apart for air you found yourself turned back to Steve and he was kissing you, desperate now as he licked into your mouth. He let out a needy moan as he lifted you and you had no choice but to wrap your legs around him.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” Bucky growled. His hands were on your hips and ass and it took you a moment to realise you were moving towards Steve’s bedroom.

Steve fell back on his bed and looked up at you with doe eyes, lips parted and pure trust. And something else you couldn’t place. You were straddling his waist when the bedroom door clicked shut.

“Don’t mind me,” Bucky sat on the chair in the corner, and you looked between them. Maybe this was one last night with them, and you would make it count before they got on with the rest of their lives without you.

In the bedroom Steve was submissive. It had surprised you at first; but it made sense. Steve carried the universe on his shoulders sometimes so it was natural that he’d want to forget. So you were what he needed you to be. You took charge, took care of him, made it so that he didn’t need a plan or a rousing speech in the bedroom.

Bucky was dominant, that didn’t surprise you at all. He needed control, where he’d been tortured before now he thrived in giving pleasure in making decisions, on taking care of his lovers. You let him take care of you, you basked in and enjoyed it. You loved the attention.

And you were the perfect switch between them giving each of them what they needed.

You bit your lip, nerves running through you but you pushed it aside to try and enjoy one last night with them both.

“Colour?” You asked.

“Green!” Steve said urgently.

“Steve, take your clothes off,” you said. Steve immediately sat up and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, looking between you and Bucky but you clicked your tongue and Steve’s eyes flew to you. “Eyes on me baby, you have him all to yourself soon enough.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched and Bucky shifted in his chair but you stayed still watching Steve. He folded his shirt then toed his shoes off, and as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops he looked down at you, holding it between big hands.

Bucky sucked in a breath as you nodded and Steve set the belt on the bed for later. He sat and removed his socks then his pants.

Once upon a time his cheeks would have been red by this point but Steve had gotten past that, he trusted you and with his attention on you the fact that Bucky was sitting right there didn’t even phase him.

His boxer briefs were navy blue, and it was obvious he was aroused by the whole situation. He looked at you as he thumbed the waistband.

“Won’t be much fun with them on will it Soldier?” You teased and his cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink before he started to push them down. “Eyes on me.” You reminded him and his confidence returned.

And then Steve was naked, standing tall and proud and fully erect. You looked at Bucky and he was watching the two of you with something that looked like pride.

“Why don’t you get your ring, plug and the lube?” You suggested to Steve.

Bucky groaned and you glanced over at him as Steve scrambled across the bed to grab what he wanted from underneath. “Do you want to cut in?”

Bucky smiled, warm and genuine and for a second your breath caught. “Yes,” he said softly. “But not yet. I’m dying to see where this goes.”

When you turned back to the bed Steve was kneeling in the middle, eyes wide and wet lips parted. “You look like a horny puppy.” You told him and it made him laugh.

You didn’t say anything else as you removed your clothes and Steve settled down to watch you, waiting patiently with his hands in his lap.

When you got to your bra and panties you hesitated but Bucky’s soft voice rang in your ears. “All of it.”

You looked over at him, making eye contact to acknowledge you’d heard him then nodded, holding his gaze.

You removed your bra, then panties and Steve let out a gentle moan.

“On your back baby,” you told Steve. He complied immediately and lay back, spreading his long legs so you could settle between his thighs. He handed you a pillow and you thanked him with a kiss to the lips then helped him place it under his hips. “Do you want your belt?”

Steve nodded eagerly and you handed it to him. Steve lay back with his arms stretched above his head holding the belt in his hands.

“Colour?” You checked.

“Green,” Steve said.

“Steve is such a good boy that he stays like that until he’s told to move,” you told Bucky. “Well, most of the time.”

Bucky laughed softly and you drew your focus back to Steve. Bending you kissed his thighs, nipping at sensitive skin. As you moved closer Steve moaned and gasped until finally you were pressing a chaste kiss to the base of his cock.

You kissed lower until your tongue reached his tightly furled ass, and then with wet licks you proceeded to help him relax. You didn’t notice Bucky get out of his chair, not until you saw the black vibranium hand resting on Steve’s knee.

You pulled away and looked up at him. “Too much for you?”

“Christ Dolly you’re killing me,” Bucky’s voice was rough with arousal.

You giggled and got back to your task. It wasn’t long before you were sitting up and drizzling lube on your fingers. You warmed it up then pressed two against his puckered hole.

“The lube is edible and flavoured. Steve likes his asshole eaten,” you said conversationally to Bucky.

Steve whined and you grinned up at him. You shuffled closer and took the tip of his cock into your mouth, licking the pre-cum and sucking the skin as you curled your fingers. Steve cried out and you took him deeper, breathing through your nose as he filled your throat. You loved this, Steve at your mercy as you pleasured him.

When you finally felt the hairs at the base of his cock tickle your nose you pulled back and reached for the cock ring. “He doesn’t really need this, he has a refractory period just like yours but sometimes he’s over eager. He can get…messy.”

Steve moaned softly, hearing you talk about him as if he wasn’t there was driving him insane in the best way.

“You know him well,” Bucky praised. He was right behind you now looking over your shoulder, still fully clothed apart from his shoes and socks. You hadn’t noticed him taking them off.

You reached for the plug next, it was a smaller one, black, with a flared base. It slipped in easily but Steve moaned and arched his back. You turned it slowly and watched his chest heave.

“How do you feel?” You asked Steve.

He nodded and met your eyes. “I feel yeah-“

“Colour?” You asked.

“Green,” Steve practically slurred.

You chuckled and then settled back onto your haunches. Bucky looked at you curious for your next move.

“He’s all yours,” you whispered looking up at him.

A big hand cupped your cheek and he kissed you softly. “He’s all ours Doll.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you wished that were true but you pushed the hope away. This was about getting them together. Nothing else.

Bucky kissed you, his movements lazy but dominating and he gripped your soft skin. His hand slipped between your legs and you’d been able to ignore your needs until now but as soon as his fingertip brushed your slick puffy lips you sighed and leaned into Bucky. His other hand moved to your hair and he fisted it just enough to pull your head back. “I’m so proud of you. Watching you with Steve, so proud of both of you.”

You felt the blood warm your cheeks at his praise and snuggled against him.

“Now, I’m going to undress. I want you to get a reward for being so good to Stevie, what do you say Steve?” Bucky asked easily taking over the room.

Steve nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, baby, sit on my face?”

“Yeah, I want to see that. Go sit on his face baby,” Bucky kissed you again. You did as he asked, turning so you could watch him. Steve didn’t let go of the belt as his tongue dove inside your folds, lapping and sucking at your juices.

Steve moaned and Bucky’s sharp eyes zeroed in on you. “Hovering baby girl? That’s against the rules,” Bucky warned.

Steve moaned again and you chuckled, giving Bucky a bright smile. “I know he’s been good, but he has to earn it,” you teased.

Bucky smiled softly and removed his black boxer briefs and then he was kneeling between Steve’s spread legs. He skimmed his fingers along the sensitive skin on Steve’s thighs and you could see Steve tremble. You close that moment to rest your full weight on him for a few seconds, knowing he needed it.

His moans vibrated through you and then Bucky was kissing you. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Bucky touched Steve and every time he cried out or trembled you rested your weight onto him, calming him.

And then Bucky was bringing the plug out, replacing it with his fingers. His eyes flicked up to you as Steve sucked on your clit.

“Cum baby,” Bucky said. You didn’t even know you were waiting for permission. You cried out as your release washed through you, making your toes curl. As you came down from your high Bucky kissed you. “Now go clean him up.”

You moved fast, straddling Steve’s tummy and kissing over his face, licking into his mouth. You were so busy kissing Steve you almost missed the deep groan he let out. Two hands, one warm and one cold lifted your hips and then Steve’s cock was sliding snugly into your soaked cunt.

“I’m going to fuck both of you now,” Bucky warned.

“Please Bucky,” you whined.

Bucky’s hand slid into your hair and he grabbed a thick fistful as he pulled you back against his chest.

“Look at you,” Bucky growled in your ear as his other hand slid around your throat. His nimble fingers trailed your body, plucking at your nipples, squeezing soft flesh, tickling your hips and exploring the area where you and Steve were joined. “Our perfect girl.”

“Bucky,” you turned to him squeezing your thighs. Beneath you Steve grunted as you squeezed his cock, his eyes never leaving you and Bucky.

“Colour?” Bucky asked you.

“So fuckin’ green!” You said.

“Stevie, baby I need you to hold onto her, make sure she has some support. Hands up,” he said.

Steve let go of the belt and raised his hands, palms up and fingers wide. “Good boy baby,” Bucky praised. You reached out and pressed your palms to Steve’s, let your fingers tangle and lock together.

Steve tested the pressure, moving you slightly and you couldn’t help but giggle as he practically used you as a weight, lowering you to kiss his lips then pushing you back to Bucky’s chest.

Bucky let out a soft laugh at the two of you and hooked his chin over your bare shoulder. “Show off,” he said to Steve. Steve, in a happy headspace blew him a kiss.

Bucky started off gentle, his thrusts going through Steve and into you. Bucky was taking his time, working out this new position as he managed both of you.

His hands returned to your body, his fingers strumming over your body. He knew every nerve, knew what made you sigh and squeal, what relaxed you and what wound you up.

With a palm on your back he pushed you forward until you were lying on Steve’s chest. His right hand gripped your butt cheek, moulding the flesh and you knew it was coming but you still yelped.

Steve grunted, you were squeezing his cock again. “Do you know why I’m spanking you?” Bucky’s voice cut through your brain fog and you nodded.

“I broke a rule,” you slurred. Steve kissed your cheek and forehead as he simply observed. “I hovered.”

Bucky grunted in agreement and a few more slaps landed on you. “You had a good reason though so I think that’ll do.”

Bucky’s hands moved over your back as he curled over you both. His right hand cupped Steve’s cheek. Kissing each other in this position would be impossible so he ran his thumb over Steve’s lips. Steve opened his mouth and sucked Bucky’s thumb in. Bucky groaned at the sight and the sensation.

“You good there Sweetheart?” Bucky asked him.

Steve’s smile was dopey, despite Bucky’s digit in his way and he nodded, his eyes shining. “Never better.”

The words were garbled but easily understood none the less. As Bucky pulled away he kissed your cheek.

Bucky started to thrust again and you moved back to sit on Steve, that’s when you realised you couldn’t feel the cock ring. Bucky must have removed it from Steve and you were grateful because you didn’t think you had the ability to remove it at this point. You were a soft Dom, you didn’t like delaying or preventing orgasms, you were too needy yourself.

You kissed Steve’s chest and face as Bucky fucked him and Steve sobbed into your mouth when your lips met. Bucky’s movements were getting more aggressive and Steve was gasping and thrashing in pleasure.

“Is he good?” You prompted.

“So good, I’m - it’s - he’s amazing,” Steve said.

“Shush, baby hush, he’ll hear you and his ego will be insufferable,” you teased.

Bucky laughed, his hand sliding around your throat and pulling you back to his chest. “So rude,” he grunted as he kissed you, his fingers finally brushing over your clit.

Steve came first after you clenched around his cock, your body chasing Bucky’s fingers, and you followed a few moments behind him. The familiar stutter of Bucky’s breathing told you he’d found his release too.

“You two will be the death of me,” he said as he kissed your neck and shoulders and helped you untangle yourself from Steve.

A warm cloth was cleaning you, hands were moving you and you realised Steve was getting the same treatment as he sighed in contentment.

Bucky got into bed on the other side of Steve and smiled softly at you both.

“I should go,” you said suddenly.

“No!” They both said at once.

You shifted. “But I- this was about you two.”

Steve pulled you on top of him then rolled over, pinning you between him and Bucky. “Going nowhere.”

Bucky chuckled. “Darlin’ we’re crazy about you, if you haven’t noticed. I know you like to talk about feelings and stuff but we’re doing this my way. You’re my best girl, he’s my best guy, we’ll work it out from there.”

You opened your mouth but your words betrayed you so instead you snuggled into their arms and enjoyed their warmth. Maybe this could work, maybe the three of you could find peace.

“Besides,” Steve yawned, “you negate our stupid.”

You giggled. Bucky slid a leg between yours and rested his hand on Steve’s chest.

Meanwhile deep inside your own chest your heart sang.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #stucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #stucky x you #smut #smutty stucky #soft dom!bucky #sub!steve #switch!reader

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abyssruler · 1 year

Text

like bread and pastries (you make me feel soft)

scaramouche x gn!reader

prince kunikuzushi can be described as mean at best, and a tyrant at worst. it comes as no surprise when years pass after his coming of age and he still hasn’t received any marriage proposals or even had a single lover. not that he would desire any of those small minded plebeians unworthy of his hand, but you, he decides, you might just be alright in his books. or — a prince and his baker.

fluff, soft scara (kinda), prince!scara, baker!reader, royalty au, bc i love the trope where the cruel and intimidating person is soft for one person and one person only

Prince Kunikuzushi’s love life—rather, his lack of one—has always been a topic of contention between the nobles of Inazuma. Some wonder if he will ever truly marry, what with his less-than-affable personality (which was, in high society terms, a sugarcoated way of saying he was an asshole). Others speculate that his mother might try to intervene and set him up with someone of reputable background.

What they don’t know—and if anyone ever found out, he would personally silence them to keep his secret safe—is that he is seeing someone. Just not someone they’d particularly find worthy or even interesting, but Kunikuzushi would beg to differ.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’re not allowed to eat the cookies until they’re at least cool enough?”

No one, not even his own mother or younger sister, would have the audacity to speak that way to him, let alone look him in the eye unflinchingly with a threatening spatula held in the air.

You’re covered in flour, from your hair to your clothes to the smear on your cheek that has his fingers itching to wipe it off. Your back is held straight, chin up and utterly unafraid to meet his stare head on as if he isn’t the heir to the shogunate and will one day rule the very country you reside in, as if his reputation for being all too happy to order someone’s tongue cut off for any insult, imagined or not, doesn’t even register in your head.

And if it’s you, well, then you have a perfectly good reason why.

Kunikuzushi drops the cookie he’d been in the middle of taking a bite out of into the tray, letting his displeasure known by crossing his arms and turning away from your chiding stare with a frown that could almost be called petulant.

“I pay you to make cookies for me, you know,” he grumbles, but you respond by huffing in amusement.

“Your mother pays her retainers, who then pay the right people, who then pay me to bake in the kitchens for the royal family and their guests.”

He raises his brow. “Practically the same thing.”

You pinch his arm for his sass, and any other person would have been met with a backhand across the face and an immediate order to be whipped fifty times in the public city square, would have had their hand cut off for even daring to touch, let alone harm, the Crown Prince of Inazuma, but you—

You make him so disgustingly soft. Like butter left to melt in the sun, and really, that’s what you are: a sun. Dazzling and blinding and so very unattainable.

“The point is, my prince, you can afford to have a little patience every now and then,” you tell him, lowering your spatula and placing it on the table.

“I’m a very patient person.” He smiles, the kind he knows unsettles you because, and he quotes, it gives you the heeby-jeebies to see something so fake and uncharacteristically sweet on his face.

“I doubt that,” you respond, poking the cookie with a finger to check if it’s cooled enough already. With a grin, you pick one up and bring it to his mouth. “Say aah.”

He looks at you blankly. “Not even a minute ago and you were scolding me for trying to eat one.”

“I’m a changed person.” You send him a cheeky smile, gesturing to the cookie still outstretched in front of his awaiting lips. “So?”

Kunikuzushi rolls his eyes. If anyone had dared to do something so childish, something so debasing and humiliating in front of him, coercing him to do something he would have never done in his life even under sword point, he would have had their heads cut off and fed to the monsters that lurk outside the city.

But since it’s you…

Fine.

He opens his mouth, face warm at the embarrassing display, and says, “Aah.”

You laugh in delight, bringing the cookie to his lips. The taste of dough and something that faintly reminds him of vanilla bursts in his tongue. It’s soft and chewy, like bread and melted chocolate. He isn’t one for overly cloying sweets, especially not the ones his mother so favors, but the ones you make are always somehow just right for him.

Leaning close, you eye him with anticipation. “How is it?”

He chews for a few moments, gathering his thoughts before he ultimately decides that he’s been far too lax in reminding you of who he is and his reputation. “It’s passable.”

…Is he really so far gone that that is the best insult he could think of on the spot?

He could name a few adjectives that he’s prone to use on the daily. Disgusting, revolting, terrible, abhorrent, nauseating, repugnant—to name a few. But, somehow, his mouth refused to form the words, so he was left to say passable instead.

“If it’s passable, then I guess it’s not enough for your refined palate,” you feign distress, turning to the tray of cookies and making a move to grab them. “I suppose I’ll have to throw these away…”

For the second time that day, he does something he considers beneath him and rolls his eyes. “Stop the dramatics. The cookie was…” the muscles on his mouth hurt with the effort to say something not unkind, “…good.”

You beam, all crinkled eyes and lovely upturned lips. It makes his heart palpitate, probably because of how adorable abhorrent he finds the sight. “Hehe, I knew you’d like it.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he tells you, lest you suddenly think he actually likes you, never mind the fact that he was the one who hounded your attention and made the first move to kiss you all those months ago.

“Whatever you say,” you sing-song, leaning on the counter beside him and getting flour on his immaculate robes when your arm brushes up against his. “But I was wondering why you came to visit me today. You told me yesterday that you had pressing matters to attend to.”

Ah, right. The reason for his sudden appearance in Tenshukaku’s kitchens. The conversation with his mother yesterday repeats in his head.

“My mother wants me to find someone to marry as soon as possible.” Kunikuzushi looks at you, eyes wide and expectant.

Your eyes suddenly dim, looking down at your feet in an uncharacteristic show of hesitance. “Oh. Then… I wish you and whoever you choose as your spouse the best of wishes.”

A muscle in his brows twitch. He can’t believe you didn’t get the hint. Are you truly going to make him say it?

Something distinctly uncomfortable tugs at his chest when he sees you fiddling with your fingers.

Tch. Fine.

“It’s you,” idiot, he wants to add, but his tongue seems to have a mind of its own. “I came here to tell you that you’re going to marry me.”

Your head snaps up, face a mixture of shock and hesitant hope. But then you grimace, “But you’re the prince, and I’m…”

He scoffs. “So? Once we’re married, any insult directed toward you is an insult to me as well. I’ll have them killed—if you want.” The last part is added only because he saw you go pale at the mention of killing people.

“Right, but…” you trail off, tilting your head to him and narrowing your eyes. There it is, that audacious spark that captured his attention from the beginning. “You’re supposed to ask me to marry you, not order me around.”

His face pinches.

“Well, my prince? Are you gonna ask me or not?” you tease.

The sheer nerve at your audacious request. If you were one of the mindless nobles that scurry about his mother’s court, he would have you whipped. Insolent, impertinent, brazen, and a mischievous smile that has him so utterly—

Whipped.

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms and feeling his cheeks redden. His eyes meet yours unflinchingly despite the erratic beating of his heart.

“Will you marry me?”

One month and many arguments and severed tongues later, the Crown Prince Kunikuzushi is wed to you.

And if Yae Miko uses that opportunity to write a light novel fanfiction about the prince and his baker, well, she responds to Kunikuzushi’s angry letter with a signed copy of the book’s first edition and a note about how much the people loved it and how his reputation has skyrocketed because of it.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #kabukimono x reader #wanderer x reader #gn reader

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epicbuddieficrecs · 1 month

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Weekly Recap | March 18th-24th 2024

It's a long one today folks! I hope you enjoy! :) If you know anyone who's not tagged, don't hesitate to let me know!

idk 'bout you but I can't wait for the final part of the premiere on Thursday!!! 😃

Complete

anything that is beautiful, people want to break. by dylaesthetics (Post-Coma, Trans Buck | 3K | Teen): Buck has never meant to keep it a secret from the one-eighteen. Hell, he trusts them with much more gritty, uncomfortable stuff than that. It’s more like… It hasn’t come up. There’s been no reason for it to come up. But then he gets struck by lightning and the mix-up with his medical records happens. A nurse he hasn’t seen yet barges into Buck’s hospital room, with his entire family in it, blood and found alike, and stares at him for one dumbfounded moment before blurting out a name he hasn’t been addressed by in well over eight years.

not flesh and blood but the heart by Jinko / @jinkohhh (Post-S6, Getting Together | 10K | Explicit): Five times people assumed Chris was Buck's son + one time Eddie confirmed it.

🔥 don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (S7 Spec, Bachelor Party, Pretend Relationship | 14K | Teen): or, chris wants dating advice and it turns out taking your best friend on a pretend date to practice being as romantic as possible is not a good idea in theory or in practice, considering the pesky being-in-unrequited-love of it all

A Little Bit of the Bubbly by Jinko/ @jinkohhh (Post-S6, PWP, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit): Since turning 30, Buck's relationship with champagne has changed. It also manages to change his relationship with Eddie.

washed away (but not) by Jinko / @jinkohhh (S7 Spec | 3K | Teen): “Well, this is awkward.” Every part of Buck wanted to tell Chim to go fuck himself, but he couldn’t, so he didn’t. Nothing made a situation more awkward than pointing out the awkwardness of it. “So which one of you two made the deathbed love confession?” Ravi laughed, and frankly, Ravi could go fuck himself, too. The both of them could go fuck themselves because both Chimney and Ravi were correct.

i like the way you scratch my itch by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (BTHB: Hives | 3K | Teen): Buck’s big blue eyes sparkle. “You’re so cute, did you know that?” he asks, leaning close enough Eddie can count the small red-brown-orange freckles all across his nose. “Even when you’re red from poison ivy.” Red. Red from the poison ivy. Yeah, yep, that’s exactly what he’s so red for. Absolutely.

meet you in the middle. by dylaesthetics (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): OR buck and eddie get their shit together during a regular friday movie night at the diaz house.

🔥 Even in Winter There is Eranthis by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels / @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Hades/Persephone AU | 45K | Explicit): Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

🔥 My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Mythological AU, BDSM | 80K | Explicit): When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies.

and check out the amazing podfic!! 🔥 My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314

hold tight, you’re slowly coming back to life by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (S7E01 Coda, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Eddie runs into Natalia at the grocery store. He learns something about her and Buck’s breakup that gives him the final push to take care of his own complicated love life.

🔥 miracles under your sighs and moans by napricot (Sex Pollen, PWP | 21K | Explicit): When Eddie gets exposed to an experimental aphrodisiac on a call, he realizes there’s only one person he trusts to help him get through it: Buck.

Touch Me and I'll Scream by rogerzsteven/ @rogerzsteven (BTHB: Unhealthy Coping Mecanisms, Established Buddie | 5K | Mature): At his low, Buck uses rough sex as a way of self harm.

in another life by bellabrady (Coma AU | 2K | Not Rated): Or: Buck's in a coma and dreams of a life where Daniel never died and he never became a firefighter.

Locations by rogerzsteven/ @rogerzsteven (BTHB: Vomiting, Drowning | 4K | General): In which Buck drowns.

I was born to take care of you by Beulaugh/ @if-music-be-the-food-of-love (Getting Together | 3K | Mature): Buck has a revelation at work and then promptly falls on his face. Eddie Diaz's ass: 1, Evan Buckley: 0

hold the silence. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6 | 3K | Teen): OR while looking for clothes to donate, Buck stumbles upon the shirt he was wearing when Eddie got shot.

Tomorrow we can drive around this town by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (S7 Spec, Drunk Eddie | 4K | Mature): If Eddie had been sober, he would have realized it wasn't something to be happy about. But drunk as he was, it had the blood singing in his veins, because Buck was going home with him, not Tommy. Tommy could go fuck himself – or you know, anyone else who was willing, but not Evan Buckley. Because Eddie was a pathetic, sloppy drunk and his best friend had a responsibility to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit or drown himself in the bathroom sink.

sang to the sea for feelings deep blue by Tizniz/ @tizniz (S7 Spec, Cruise Ship Emergency | 14K | General): God, he hopes Buck got out. That he isn’t trying to get to Eddie. That he gets to go home. And not just because Christopher needs him, although he does since Eddie is fairly certain he’s not making it home this time. He doesn’t let himself dwell too long on that thought. No, Eddie wants Buck to go home because he deserves it. Because Buck deserves to live. Because Eddie needs him to live.

you've got game by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (S7E01 Coda, Established Buddie | 1K | General): a silly little late night conversation about chris being a 'ladies man'

take this life and make it yours (take this heart and let it love again) by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Canon Divergent, Post-Coma | 31K | Mature): Before he could second guess it, he’d dialled Eddie’s number and listened to it ring in his ear. As soon as he heard the click of the connection, he said, “Eddie, what the hell, man?” “I meant what I said. I don’t know who you think you are, but call this number again and I will contact the police.” . . . or, the one where Buck finally figures out he's in love with Eddie, only for things to not go as planned. At first.

if i bleed, you'll be the last to know by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (S7, Hurt Buck | 6K | Teen): buck gets stabbed while out on a run and then... doesn't tell anyone about it. eddie loses his shit when he finds out, they have a moment in the kitchen and they kiss.... not necessarily in that order.

Baby, take me by 42hrb / @exhuastedpigeon (S7E01 Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Explicit): “Same thing,” Eddie nuzzled him, stubble scratching even more as he moved his face. When he stopped nuzzling, he pulled back far enough that he could see Buck’s face. “I said stop thinking.” “Kinda hard to turn my brain off.” “Pretty sure I turned it off just fine last night,” Eddie said with a smirk that went straight to Buck’s cock, already half hard just from the way Eddie’s stubble is dragging across his skin. “Is that how I get you to stop thinking?”

when you call me yours by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (Established Buddie, Proposal | 5K | General): Buck starts calling Eddie his husband. Only problem...they're not engaged. aka the 5 times Buck refers to Eddie as his husband and the 1 time Eddie makes it true.

just lay back in my arms for one more night by diazbegins/ @evanbegins (Established Buddie, Fluff | 2K | Teen): Buck loves Eddie as he naps.

Brat Burrito by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Established Buddie | 1K | General): Just a cute Buddie moment about breakfast burritos.

it's a sliding into home kind of day by devirnis/ @devirnis (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie’s eyes still don’t leave the television. Frowning to himself, Buck cranes his neck to get a look at what could possibly be more important than him coming home after covering a tragically Eddie-less shift. A baseball game evidently is the answer.

your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep by BekkaChaos/ @bekkachaos (New Years Eve, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): aka, Eddie's in love with Buck and he doesn't know how to tell him, until there's a miscommunication and fate (well, Hen) intervenes.

Loose Threads by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Secret Relationship | 3K | Explicit): New to dating and keeping it quiet, Buck and Eddie get a little carried away on a slower shift at the firehouse. But when the alarm eventually sounds, a spur of the moment mistake leaves them a little mixed up.

Married Life by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew)/ @911onabc (S5, Getting Together | 2K | General): Taylor films Buck for a TikTok challenge, and Buck finds out he would much rather be his best friend’s husband than his girlfriend’s.

A Seal By Any Other Name (Would Still Be My Best Friend) by bigfootsmom (Seal!Buck, Post-Tsunami | 5K | General): Evan "Buck" Buckley is a collection of oddities. But they're just what makes Buck Buck and Eddie loves him for them. Eddie had thought that after their years of friendship (and maybe something more) that nothing Buck could do would surprise him anymore. But there is one oddity that Eddie never saw coming. “How about you start with why there was a seal in my bathtub and now there’s just you in my bathtub.” (Part 1 of Seal!Buck as in the aquatic mammal)

Just Add Water by bigfootsmom (Seal!Buck, Tsunami | 3K | General): There may be more to Buck than meets the eye. But he's still only human(ish) and getting stuck in a natural disaster with his best friend's son is still all sorts of terrifying. A small hysterical part of his brain thinks about how ironic it would be if this was how he died. Him, a mythical aquatic creature, drowning. The universe would surely laugh and the long line of Buckley ancestors would turn in their graves. (Part 2 of Seal!Buck as in the aquatic mammal)

you can be my daddy (come on, you know you like) by bigfootsmom (Getting Together, Daddy Kink | 4K | Mature): Buck has a teeny tiny problem. One, he's in love with his best friend. Two, he wants to call said best friend Daddy.

It's the softness that breaks you by bigfootsmom (BDSM, Hurt/Comfort | 6K | Explicit): Or the one where Buck has more issues with intimacy than he had originally thought.

lay your love on me by bigfootsmom (PWP, Getting Together | 3K Explicit): Buck never thought the words he said to Eddie in the kitchen would ever come back to haunt him like this. Honestly, he’s not complaining.

you made me feel (i've got nothing to hide) by bigfootsmom (Virgin!Buck, Established Buddie, PWP | 8K | Explicit): Buck has a secret: Contrary to popular belief, Evan "Buck" Buckley is actually a virgin.

WIP

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 22/? | 162K | Explicit | ❗️Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 6/18 | 37K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 122/? | 374K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

#buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #epic buddie fic rec #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #911 fic

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bunnyboyjuice · 5 months

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✧˚ · . Early Mornings

Synopsis: Helping Zoro shave his face

Content warning:fluff, silly banter, established relationship modern au with Sanji being Zoro’s roommate.

Zoro yawned after you finished dabbing shaving cream all over his jaw . You were both still in your pajamas crammed into the bathroom try to help Zoro shave. “Why couldn’t you ask Sanji to do this? He’s pretty good at shaving.” Zoro frowns his eyebrows furrowing making his forehead wrinkle as he rolls his eyes.

“Cuz yer better at frilly stuff than he is, I just wanted my face to stop itching so I asked you to help.” To be honest he just wanted you close to him but he could never admit that. “So work yer magic pretty girl.” You chuckle smiling at his little nickname. “Alright you gotta stay still so I don’t nick you ok.” You gently run the razor down his face letting it collect the hairs before you turn and dip it in the water you filled up in the sink. Zoro knew he could've just done this himself but he wanted you to do it. Not because he's lazy or anything just because he wanted you to give him those soft gentle touches you always give him. He loved when you rubbed your soft hands on his face it was one of his favorite things.

As you hummed softly Zoro admired you watching your soft hands work away at his face his brown eyes following your every move as he stays still just like you ask. “So uh..how many other guys do you do this for.” He smugly remarks. “I definitely don’t do it often but it seems like this guy I know keeps needing my help to shave his face.” You say looking up at him turning his head so you can shave the left side of his face. “Oh well whoever this guy is he must be pretty lucky to have you.” he says eyeing you with that dopey grin of his.

Zoro loved the way you gently caress his neck as you told him to "look up f'me baby" as you dragged the razor under his chin as you wiped away the rest of the shaving cream with a towel. “There you’re all done lemme go get the after shave and moisturizer.” You rummage around the cabinets and grab the two.

As you gently rub Zoro’s face caressing his jaw as you rub aftershave proud of the shaving job you did. “M' Thank you baby you spoil me rotten.” He says his voice husky as he leans down to kiss you. Holding you waist as he run his hands up and down your sides gently squeezing your hips. But a knock disturbs you both out of your trances. “Hurry up in there Zoro some people have to work! I swear if you’re asleep on the toilet again-!

Sanji says as he opens the bathroom to see you in each others arms. “Oh..good morning Y/N nice to see you!” Sanji says with a grin as he looks back at Zoro with a glare. Zoro looks back at him with a smug grin. “What she came over last night I forgot to tell you,But we’ll be out of your way now sorry.” He says guiding you out of the bathroom look back at Sanji with a big smug smile before kissing you again.

“You know I didn’t even want to tell him you were coming over last night he would’ve been all up on you trying to get your attention.” He say matter of factly with a snicker as he guides you back to his room. “So I didn’t tell em buuut if you stay he’ll offer to cook for you! So he can impress you which means I get to eat too! Zoro looks at you with a playful smile as he kisses you on your cheek. “Fine I’ll stay so you don’t have to eat those miserable protein bars.” You roll your eyes with a grin. “Thank you baby.” Zoro kisses you again holding you against his chest as he sighs wrapping his arms around you.

#one piece #kota's brain #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x black reader #one piece fluff #op zoro #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #black reader

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euphoricfilter · 6 months

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domestic daydreams:

[cheese sandwiches at the park tomorrow]

pairing: influencer! jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || established relationship || non-idol au ||

summary: a window into the life of jeon jungkook

word count: 1.2k

tags/ warnings: just lots and lots of fluff its sickening

notes: am slightly tempted to turn this into a mini series because there's so much to talk about...

where you can find all my other stuff!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

Jungkook thinks both you and himself had always been connected by the delicate knots of the red string of fate. Possibly a constrictor knot, because it only ever seemed to grow tighter with every moment you spent together, impossible to untie as your souls start to intertwine and lives mingle into one.

His ever-growing infatuation with you, evident to his online audience.

Because he had no issue showing you off, talking about you in videos and sharing you with the wider world. He thinks it must be a tingly sort of satisfaction he gets, knowing that no matter how many faceless people love you, he will forever love you more. No matter how many people compliment you with how pretty you are, comments flooded with praise for your mere existence, he will forever appreciate you the most. Your entire being a precious little thing that he has sewn into his fragile human heart, yours forever to keep.

He knows he’s able to touch you in ways no one else can. He knows he’s able to wake up to you each morning, press soft lips to soft skin, warm under calloused hands as eye lashes tickle tender skin as the sun leaks through the curtains. Each passing moment peacefully quiet until you murmur his name, fingers pressing into his skin as you pull him closer for a kiss.

He’d started posting online only months before meeting you, a little creative outlet to get rid of that itch of not taking media, but rather choosing game design. A subject he loved dearly, though desperate to visualise his life through moving image and all the cool things that come with that.

And during the months of you talking, his presence online slowly started to take off. What had once been only a creative outlet morphing into such a huge part of his life. Something he had wanted to keep from you for so long, a little whisper in his brain worried it would send you running. With some of the comments he received, dms from both men and women alike, he wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up to you.

And he knows in hindsight it was a silly little worry because you loved every part of him. Loved that he shared little parts of his life with so many people. Passions clipped into videos, well-loved equipment laying around his apartment, something so wholly Jungkook you found yourself beaming whenever he would get the tripod out to film himself cooking, or planning a design for an assignment, or just little clips of nature when the both of you go on walks.

Because what had once been a video diary for Jungkook had slowly become a video diary for you too, perfectly crafted memories that you find yourself watching when you’re alone. Always so hard to keep the smile off your face as you see how happy you are. Because that’s what Jungkook makes you; incredibly happy.

You watch as he tries to balance his phone against a bag of pasta neither of you had wanted to put away the night before, chin resting on the palm of your hand as you watch him struggle.

“Why don’t you get the tripod?” you murmur, catching his attention.

Jungkook turns to look at you, eyes a little wide, “Because I just want to film me making our lunch” he tells you.

“Besides—” he continues, “that would mean I have to go into the bedroom, and I don’t feel like being apart from you today” he says as he turns back to his phone, fiddling around with the settings a little so the light from the kitchen window wouldn’t look so harsh.

Your lips quirk up into a smile, toes curling into the floor.

“I would come with you” you sit up a little straighter, catching a glimpse of his face on the screen of his phone, “we could even hold hands too”

Jungkook pauses, hands pressing into the counter as he narrows his eyes at you over his shoulder, “Are you patronising me?”

Your nose scrunches up at that, “No” you start, “just so you know, I love holding your hand”

He hums, “Well then I guess you’re lucky… I like holding your hand too”

“Oh—” your eyes widen, “It’s gonna fall”

Jungkook winces when his phone tips forward, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he lifts it back up again.

You push the chair away from the table, slipping your own phone out of your pocket, laying it flat against the counter so his will stop slipping.

“Thank you, baby” he leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek, face only an inches away from yours when he decides it isn’t enough and presses a firm kiss to your lips too.

“Now,” he nods, “let’s make us lunch”

You push yourself to sit on the counter by his phone as he hits record, smiling up at you as he starts talking.

“Me and Y/n went shopping earlier and saw this new cheese I wanted to try, so I’m gonna make us sandwiches for lunch” he says, pulling the chopping board closer to himself as he pulls the drawer open to get a knife.

“Cucumber” he shows the camera, quick as he cuts it up, “and today we’re having tomatoes, but none for the pretty girl because she doesn’t like them” he explains, showing off the produce his dad had been growing in their garden, proud smile on his face as he hands you a slice of cucumber to eat while he finishes preparing lunch.

You slip off the counter when he calls you over, hesitant to step in frame and see yourself on camera. Jungkook steps a little closer to you, arms slipping out of frame to hold your hands as he looks down at you, so much adoration in his eyes.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes” he whispers, already knowing where your hesitation stems from, “always such a pretty little thing”

You glance over at the camera, video still recording, “Jungkook… your video” you murmur.

“Doesn’t matter” he shakes his head, “you know you don’t have to be in it if you don’t want to” he tells you, “Whatever you’re comfortable with, yeah?”

“We could film something tomorrow” you say, “we should go to that park again, maybe have a picnic?”

His lips quirk up into a smile, “I’d like that” he nods, ��And if this cheese is any good, we can make even better sandwiches”

“Good point” you nod, “I’ll have to take you up on that offer if you make a solid lunch today” you step away from him, eyeing the finished sandwich sat on the chopping board.

“I always make the best lunches” he tells you, reaching into a cupboard for two plates.

“Our favourite girl doesn’t want to be on camera today” Jungkook mumbles, mouth half full of food as he looks at himself before glancing at you on the opposite side of the table, “But what’s the verdict, baby?”

You chew, nodding as you give him a thumbs up, Jungkook returning the gesture as his eyes curl up into a smile.

“Love you” he swallows.

“Love you too” you pucker your lips, watching as he leans over the table to press a kiss to your lips.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook one shot #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts non idol au #bts imagines #bts fic

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peachesofteal · 7 months

Note

read dd zombie au as a horror and zombie enthusiast and I had to say this-

what if darling was bitten but somehow "immune"?

she gets bit, symptoms come in but strangely she doesn't turn. she hungers like a zombie but the thought of hurting someone brings her back.

johnny and simon are kinda happy. you're not a zombie! yay! but the blueish bite on your shoulder says otherwise. at night, they tie your hands to your waist and bind your mouth shut, but apart from sleepy shuffling and grumbling, you don't seem to want to eat them.

the bagged mre's they try to feed you make you gag unless it's suspicious patties, so they guessed you were hungry, just not enough to try to eat them.

strongly believe that johnny treats you like a child. hand feeds you your meals that you reluctantly chew on, washes your hair and braids it ( he knows you hate waking up with tangled hair ) even brushes your teeth for you. he does this because you're too weak and tired to do it yourself ( no he doesn't. he does it because he hates seeing you like this, wishes he could cure you, but he can't. so he makes sure you eat and drink. he needs you. )

simon has seen so many people die to the virus that it feels unreal to him. he's still waiting for you to suddenly snap at him. however, watching the way you stare at him and johnny like you genuinely are there, it reassures him. he tries to talk, have conversations with you, make sure you remember. he despises having to leave you, though. he feels that if he take his eyes off you for a second you might pass or turn.

by the two week mark, you're getting better. the dark circles under your eyes are fading and the hollow dent of your cheeks is getting fuller. the mre's still make you gag, but it seems you'd rather eat those than a squirrel.

there's hope, they think. but if people find out you're immune... they'll try to take you away.

you can't leave them. they'll make sure no one takes you.

BITCH (affectionately) the way this is so fucking good. I LOVE a caretaking fic (clearly) and a protective Simon and Johnny. Love the idea of them on the run, hiding you, protecting you from those who are hunting immunes. Honestly could be an entire book. This scratches my itch so well. Love your brain.

Johnny just wants to take care of you. He knows you’re still in there, knows you’d be so distraught if you realized how filthy they’d let you become, so he takes him time leading you down to the creek by the campsite. He uses one of the t shirts they’ve been using as a washcloth to sponge you clean, humming sweetly to gentle you as you flinch against the water. Your skin is starting to turn back to its normal color now, a recent development that they both feel good about, and you’ve become more sensitive to temperature, occasionally shivering against the chilled cloth. Simon keeps watch, and you watch too, tracking Johnny’s hands with sluggish eyes and a half open mouth, tongue flicking between your teeth.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you’re preparing to take a bit out of him-

“Just gon’ brush yer teeth, darling.” He cradles your jaw with strong fingers and your brow furrows, confused when he pops your mouth wide, the little toothbrush you packed for yourself when you evacuated lightly scrubbing across your bottom teeth.

“Be careful, Johnny.” Simon warns, but he clucks his tongue.

“She’s alright. Cannae hurt me.” He knows you wouldn’t. You already would have, at night. Already would have turned on them, ripped their jugulars free with your teeth when they slept.

But you wouldn’t. Because you’re still in there. You’re still darling.

Once he’s done, fixed your hair so that it’s up but not weighing your scalp down, ensured it’s in place how you like, he passes you to Simon so he can make dinner.

Simon walks patrol at this time, and you go with him, listlessly walking at his side.

“D’ya remember last summer, when we all went to that carnival? You were so excited. Made Johnny and I play that bloody ring game against one another. You were so chuffed, I swear I can still hear you giggling when Johnny beat me the first time.” You moaned in response, something that didn’t sound quite like words, but more positive to negative.

Something catches his eye. A deer in the woods. A doe. Sizable. He glances from you, to it.

“Darling.” He holds your shoulder, trying to jog your gaze. “Darling, I need you to stay here.” He doesn’t want to leave you, but if he can get closer, he can get a clean shot off. You stare at him, and he sighs. “Alright.”

He makes it ten meters before the brush rustles behind him, the sight of you lumbering slowly towards where he’s crouched. You’re staring past him, watching doe with a glazed over look, and he tenses.

Once you get to his side, you look down to where he’s kneeling behind a bush, and then you start to, painfully slow, crouch beside him, fingers lightly brushing against his thigh.

You look at him, and then at the deer with a grunt. The hope that blooms in his heart is infectious, and he can’t fight it. He won’t.

Weeks later, they’re on the road when they come across a group of others.

You’ve improved, greatly, but your ability to speak never came back. You can’t talk, only point and make little noises here and there, and your fine motor skills are still struggling, (Johnny is still brushing your teeth for you, and feeding you. He doesn’t complain, they both have always loved taking care of you) and your pace is very slow, like you’re sore, and always tired. Simon is careful to go easy, not wanting to do anything to stress you or make your condition worse.

The bite mark on your neck has never gone away. It’s a scar now, rough and raised flesh like a fucking beacon on your skin. They usually keep something tied to it, but for some reason on this day, you had pulled it free, and they never noticed.

But the others did.

“Is that a bite?” One of them says, and Simon tenses, positioning himself in front of you, Johnny pulling you into his chest, protective arm across your shoulders.

“No.” Simon tells them, but they don’t buy it. One them stares at you, greed dripping from his gaze.

“Heard there were immunes out there somewhere. NHS is offering a big payday for one alive. Or dead.” He licks his lips, and Simon shakes his head.

“Trust us. Ye dinnae want to do this.” Johnny calls, but the group is already staring at you like you’re worth your weight in gold.

There’s five of them, versus Simon and Johnny, but they like the odds.

They’ve got bullets in three before you even realize what’s happening, Simon’s blade buried in the flesh of another’s neck in a flash, Johnny pressing his weight into the last one on the ground.

“He’ll tell others.” He spits over his shoulder, and Simon nods.

He will. And they can’t allow that. Can’t allow anyone to know about you.

The last thing the man sees is Johnny’s hands around his neck, and you watching half interested over his shoulder, half bored.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco zombie au

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harmonysanreads · 1 month

Note

Hi Harmony! I just noticed that your requests are open and I decided to drop by with a small request I thought about for weeks.

I was thinking about Arlecchino for a while, and it made me ponder of the concept of Arlecchino with a darling on a reincarnation AU. Maybe Arlecchino has met her darling at such an inconvenient time, and every time that it has happened, only she remembers their past lives.

It probably goes to the point that Arlecchino starts devising ways to be able to keep her darling safe, because each time they would meet, her darling gets into an accident... And it would seem that each time she tried, then it would simply fail. And it would push to a point where she resorts to one of the more not so morally good methods.

I don't know if this counts as a req. or a brainrot, but I offer you this idea because I think it could be interesting to think about sometimes. You're free to deny it btw if its typical, hard, or overall you can't write it <3 I completely understand if that's the case.

(p.s.: this is the one running @yxstxrdrxxm BAHAHAHAHAHA I'm sorry if I haven't replied to your message during OLC, I dont know how to talk to you w/o sounding really awkward </3 also!! hydration check! Anyways thats all, have fun with the idea + I hope you have a great day Harmony :D)

Pantomime Of The Night

yandere!arlecchino x reader

cw(s) : yandere, vampire!arlecchino, mentions of blood, murder, slight gore, non-consensual touching, unbalanced power dynamics

wc : 2.1k

a/n: omg hiii! would you believe me if I said I was just thinking about you before getting this ask? also please don't worry about my message! i had a hunch that you might be in a situation of sorts. thank you so so much for requesting arlecchino because i've been itching to write for her for a long time! i decided to go with vampire!arlecchino for this because i thought it'd suit the reincarnation theme well. i hope you enjoy it<3

lovely illustration based on this fic by a lovely person <3 (spoiler alert!)

At the deepest hours of the night, even the innocent crackles of hearthfire sound as clamorous as gun-shots.

You're dazed by the flame's continuous dance until the aroma of freshly brewed tea reaches your senses and the servants have left. A sharp clank from Arlecchino's glass and the weight of her gaze prompt you to meet her eyes. The light from the fireplace casts shadows on the other half of her fair face, she seemed to have foregone her usual taught posture in favor of a relaxed one. One of her hands supports her cheek while the other holds the wine glass, the beverage within sloshes as the claw-like accessories on her fingers curl around the object.

Your side of the table is far more decorated, desserts that you've never even seen in your impoverished mortal life and that tea you've grown fond of over the course of your stay in her mansion sit appetizingly. All beckon you to feast, all seek to fan the flames of voracity and you offer but a thoughtless stare in return.

The master of the house seems to have noticed your lack of appetite as she finally breaks the stretched out silence, “These are all confectioneries of the highest quality from the town and as I recall, all of your favorites. But you give them no more than a blank stare... you've also not taken a sip from the tea. May I inquire why?”

The raspy tone of her observation has your arms covered in gooseflesh, though, you note she does not sound as confused as her words suggest. You can feel her onyx eyes gloss over every part of your person, inspecting and dissecting each and every visible clue. You swallow dryly, “It’s just that it's way too late in the night,”

“Yet you look as ready as ever to head out. Tell me, have you been anticipating my return, dearest?”

Arlecchino stares pointedly at your attire, likely referring to the traveling clothes you have on instead of the silk nightwear that she had gifted. Your shoulders tense unconsciously, there's something about the way she speaks at this instance that has your heartbeat crescendoing. The silver haired woman gives you a few more beats of anxiety, her talons scrape against the dainty glass.

“I’ve been informed that you have not eaten anything since yesterday.”

The words escape her painted lips easily, but they don't fail to send a jolt through your system. Throughout your stay, she'd never spoken to you like this, like you were one of her children who did not know better and decided to cross a line. That realization renders you further puzzled, you did nothing wrong to begin with, but her tone made you feel as though you were on the verge of doing so. You clear your parched throat and gather yourself to meet her eyes. This time, you do not allow yourself to wilt at the force of her burning stare.

“Arlecchino, I have something to tell you.”

The addressed woman straightens up at your sudden serious tone, her hand abandons the wine glass on the table and you inhale involuntarily at the scratches that now decorate the object, “I’m all ears, dearest.”

Your brows crease, as usual, Arlecchino is courteous, too courteous for someone who makes it obvious she's informed of something that she wasn't supposed to know. She's been like this ever since you and your travel-partner stepped foot in her ambiguous estate. Initially, you were touched by the hospitality she and her adopted children had shown you. Your greed lulled any arising suspicions, you neither questioned why she'd been so generous to a commoner with nothing more than fifty mora to their name nor did you bother to think about how she was affording all those gifts. You naïvely wished to believe in her kindness and that nothing was wrong about this house. But of course, self-woven deceptions last so long.

“Before you mistake me for being ungrateful, I did plan to inform you before leaving. Me and my friend are extremely thankful for the care your house has shown us, but we cannot stay in one place forever.”

“Why not?” you halt at her abrupt question but she follows up before you could even part your lips, “Have we lacked in any area to provide you with the adequate comfort? Have any of my children said something? If it's the latter, I'll apologize in their stead, they can be quite playful at times, I'm sure you understand.”

You stare dumbfounded at the sudden turn this conversation has taken, she wasn't supposed to behave like this. Why is she searching for a reason to make you stay when she should've been happy that a burden was about to be lifted off of her shoulders? Are all nobles this pushy?

“I—” you cut yourself off as the silver-haired woman leans in without warning, her shadow envelopes the delicacies laid out on the small table.

“Or… have you seen something?” she drawled.

You cannot hold back a flinch this time. A curse echoes in your mind at your stupidity, this was no ‘conversation’ to begin with ; this was yet another trap and you'd willingly played right into the palm of Arlecchino's hand. If there's one thing you've learned about this mysterious noblewoman, it is that she enjoys the process of dragging answers out of everyone. From the very beginning, she was aware of your scheme but, she chose to wear that mask of courtesy one more time and lured you out in the open, unguarded. If only your friend arrived to fetch you from your room at the right time, you wouldn't be in this messy situation.

Your eyes dart from her unblinking expression to the sharp accessories that adorn her gloved fingers and something about them forces you to reply quickly.

“No! I mean, you know that I'm a traveler, do you not? It's already been six months since we came to your estate, me and my friend were starting to.. crave that adventurous thrill—yes! We were starting to miss being on the road and decided to depart in the early morning.”

Once upon a time, your late mother had told you that some people in this world are like spiders. They're always at the centerpiece of their lair, leaving intricate translucent webs for unassuming prey to get tangled upon. Although the croaked warnings of your bedridden mother did not make much sense to the younger you, you understood now exactly what she meant.

“Incorrect. You were planning to escape with that friend of yours, weren't you?”

The hearthfire burns bright, shrouding Arlecchino's expression in shadows. The chilling octave of her voice defeats the warmth of the fireplace and has every muscle in your body stiffened. Escape? Her word choice never ceased to baffle you throughout this faux tea-party. She speaks as though you were her prisoner instead of a guest. She tilts her head and has the audacity to look betrayed as though you were a possession she held dear, and not a random human she decided to take pity upon.

Arlecchino runs a hand through her silvery hair with a sigh that actually indicates ennui and you bite back a scowl, “Honestly, I do not understand why you even befriended that thing. He's an obnoxious blabbermouth with a nose bigger than his brain. And he's loud, too. You've always preferred to mingle with level headed people with a sufficient intellectual capacity in the past and here you are, glaring at me as though—”

“Don’t speak like you know me!”

You pant after the force of that outburst, your voice ricochets across the walls of her room and further beyond. You open your mouth to continue but stop when you notice a strange flicker in the silver-haired woman's eyes. It's gone in a blink and is replaced with irritation just as quickly however.

“Oh, but I do know you. I know you better than you know yourself, in fact. I know that there are exactly 11 moles throughout your body, I know all your preferences and fears. Don't believe me? Did you really never stop to question how I managed to give you things that catered to your tastes? How I knew what you desired even before you did? Or were you so mesmerized by the words of that friend of yours to pay minimum attention?”

If the tone of a person's voice could kill, you'd be rotting in a ditch by now. You would've never believed someone could sound this malicious while not even raising their voice. You want nothing more than to shrink away but the adrenaline accumulated through your anger pushes you to keep digging your grave.

“And so what if that's exactly how it is? You have no right to have a say in who I choose to be ‘mesmerized’ by!”

A ‘ha!’ laden with disbelief escapes Arlecchino's lips. Fine silvery strands bounce at the mocking tilt of her head, “So what will you do now? Walk out of the gates with that waste of space like nothing happened?”

“Oh, you bet I will!” you fume, rising from the chair and turning on your heels. You barely take one step away from the table until the full weight of Arlecchino's malice crashes down on you and you remember something important.

“Arlecchino, where is my friend?”

The silver haired woman leisurely raises her wine glass at your stilted words, “In my glass.”

You swivel towards her, blinking several times as if to confirm you didn't mishear.

“Well, here and… probably in the stomachs of my pet vultures, excluding the carcass, that is. I'll admit, the taste is subpar compared to the trouble I went through. That thing kept on screaming until one of the vultures tore its heart out. Ugh, my ears are still ringing.”

Your wide eyes tremble towards the glass in her hand, the deep red liquid within sloshes to the direction of Arlecchino's hand ; paired with her words, your friend’s destiny becomes a no-brainer. All your wits abandon you in that instance and in a moment of sheer panic, you take a step back. Arlecchino promptly interferes with your plans, the door and windows close with no little sound and the table and your chair disappear without a trace—all in the snap of her fingers.

“What are you?”

You would've screamed if you didn't forget how to use your lungs. But then again, you doubt anyone would come to save you from her clutches even if you did. Your eyes connect to her onyx ones and in that moment, she appeared far less human than she'd been this whole encounter. Her pupils flash as two red xs and you feel an invisible pull tugging you to her side. The temptation dominates any coherent thoughts until you find yourself an arms length away from her seated self. Her claws dig into the flesh of your arm and yank you to her lap.

Free from the haze of that strange sensation, the first thing that permeates your senses is how cold Arlecchino's proximity is. Your palm meets her chest in a feeble attempt to push her away but all it does is stun you when you notice the absence of a heartbeat. You feel the sting of something sharp on your chin and waist, your eyes glance back and forth between the sources—dread pools in your stomach. Because of your closeness and the light from the fireplace, you're able to see that the sharp objects you'd mistaken for accessories are actually her nails and the gloves, her real skin.

Perhaps your trembling was so pitiful that Arlecchino could not help but soften her gaze, “Do you truly not recall?”

You look up at her, thoroughly perplexed. There's that previous glint in her eyes again but you've already accepted that understanding this woman was beyond you. One moment she accuses you as though you've been unfaithful, then she vividly describes how she murdered an innocent man and the next she looks almost… hurt?

“Recall what?”

The silver-haired woman’s red lips part and you gulp as unnaturally sharp fangs sneer at you. Albeit, she does not answer you and you wonder if you should get accustomed to playing mental gymnastics with her just to get a simple answer. Her talons let go of your waist and drag their up to your collarbone, creating a deliberate and irrepairable tear on your clothes. Her nails drum against your skin for three seconds before they latch onto your throat.

“Although, that'll no longer be an issue.”

She forces you to make eye-contact with a sharp tug on your chin, the color drains from your face as her cool breath washes against your skin. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but are quickly shushed as you feel her fangs sink into your lower lip.

“Because, we'll have ample time to get acquainted with each other starting from today.”

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere arlecchino #yandere arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #arlecchino #the knave #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin imagines #navxry

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kpopfanfictrash · 9 months

Text

Elemental (Teaser)

(NEW) Posting Date: September 28th, 11:00 AM (CST)

Genre: Second Chance / Magic!AU / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Length: One Shot

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by knowing you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed. Something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The one person making you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And just maybe, you find the constraints you place on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Author’s Note: Loosely inspired by the Seven MV. Songs to listen to: Dark Skies, A R I Z O N A; Fallingwater, Maggie Rogers; Cold Water, Justin Bieber; Hold Back the River, James Bay; Through Me (The Flood), Hozier

Estimated WC: 23K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 1,015

[ A/N: this is not the start of the story! There is a scene before this, but the teaser is starting here. ]

“Tell me again.” Seokjin sits at the table, spooning yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open an eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped beside him. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble, lifting your head. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be,” he counters, pointing his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away any time something bad happens.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” He lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you lower your head to rest on your arm. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, Seokjin’s spoon scrapes the bowl. Pushing back his chair, he heads towards the sink and turns on the faucet. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble and close your eyes.

Two days have passed since your decision to end your relationship, and it hasn’t gone great, to put things lightly. On Monday, you barely left your room as rain poured from the sky. When you did manage to turn on the TV, the weatherperson on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin came home from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped to stop the storm. You sagged in relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embrace their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he recently took over their magical consulting business. It pays well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and well, here you are. One of the few people in the city who don’t care if their roommate is an Elemental, so long as your rent is controlled.

Not that you’re in it for the discount. You truly don’t care, being an Elemental yourself. Seokjin’s laissez-faire attitude towards magic can be unnerving at times, though. You’ve lived your entire life under the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need to do is Google for examples and here Seokjin is, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your magic a month into being your roommate. Coming home early from a trip, he opened the door and stared, slack-jawed, while the dishes washed themselves in the sink. You looked up and swore, accidentally sending two dishes over the side.

Seokjin stared at the broken shards, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he called, heading into his room. After a minute, he poked his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… that’s a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand why you don’t use your magic but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until things like this happen and he’s once more at a loss.

“Listen.” Seokjin turns, shutting the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grip your coffee. “What now?”

He holds both hands in the air. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant learned life experience. Through mistakes.”

You grimace. “What there a question in all that rambling?”

“No question.” Seokjin gestures at the kitchen. “Just letting you know you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure things out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insisted. I really, really don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Hey.” Seokjin’s grin takes on a dark quality. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

Fighting a smile, you lean back in your chair. “Fair enough. But seriously, thank you,” you add, smile fading. “This will give me time to come up with a plan.”

Nodding again, Seokjin leans on his counter. Tracing the rim of his coffee, he glances down the hall, towards his third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you respond, automatic.

Seokjin pouts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time to work on my art.”

He shrugs. “Okay, maybe you did know. But seriously, why not?”

“Because, Seokjin.” Wearily, you exhale. “Every time I try and paint, I just feel this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I could freely express my magic but lately… everything feels wrong. Nothing works like it should.”

Seokjin looks thoughtful. “How long has this been happening?”

“I don’t know, a few months?”

He sips his coffee. “Around the time you started dating Jungkook.”

Blinking, you realize he’s right. That’s almost exactly when you began dating Jungkook. The block started soon after, right when you suppressed other parts of yourself. Those early days hurt too much to think about though, and so you block them out.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare. “Right now, what I need is to find a job. And earn money. Preferably, in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order reverses. I know a guy.”

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

#WOOHOO #BTS CONTINUES TO MAKE ME A FOOL #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook au #bts fic #bts au #Elemental

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crystalflygeo · 1 year

Text

Sinful voice pt.2 ft “Morax”/Prof!Zhongli + fem!reader (modern AU)

cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, oral and fingering implied but like it's just fantasizing?? petnames (sweetheart, babygirl, dear) Reader is DOWN BAD LMAO and suffers second hand embarrasment.

notes: EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU @localplaguenurse!!They gave me a F A N T A S T I C idea that just inspired me to continue this wip and ended up not even being featured here yet but HEY... future p3!! //winkwink. That said I did NOT expect how much this would blow up and how ppl loved it and wanted more, y'all gonna make me giddy and/or cry pls (consider checking some of my other stuff too mayhaps? <3) Anyway I REALLY hope this delivers bc boi am I afraid of not meeting expectations vcgvhjbnjnmklal

Weeks had passed since your ‘big discovery’ and you still weren’t quite sure what to do with this information.

At first you chalked it up to just your imagination because… there was no way, right? Your new professor could just have a… similar voice… yeah… that was it.

Except the more you listened to his long-winded explanations the more you picked up certain words and intonations here and there and you knew you were just fooling yourself.

A lot had happened in these last few weeks, from organizing your new living space, to meeting your roommates, to grocery shopping, classes, and you had even considered the idea of maybe getting a part time job somewhere close by. There were plenty of small shops and places around the college campus neighborhood that not only offered valuable services to poor college students but also the opportunity to make a bit of money to help them out.

It had all been rather exhausting and stressing, exams, essays and projects were already starting too…

Lying back in bed you sigh and roll over, feeling the familiar faint throb of desire pooling between your legs, one you’d never really managed to sate with a person so much as with fantasies. But tonight, as you lay awake in bed aching for your usual touch, you feel conflicted.

Ever since that very first day you just couldn’t bring yourself to open up Morax’s website again. Hell, a new month had rolled over and you’d dutifully paid the subscription along with your other usual bills.

Part of you was itching for it, curious, frustrated.

And very very horny.

Thing is, your fantasies had often featured a faceless man, strong, imposing and dominating, taking you like a blushing maiden and making you beg for the pleasure he’d give, allowing him to do anything he wanted with your heated body. Now that man had a face… your history professor Mr. Zhongli.

You used to get off to imaginings of Morax tying you up and having his way with you, teasing you, fucking you into the mattress and making you cum over and over. Now it was Mr. Zhongli. Polite and courteous Mr. Zhongli with his refined gestures and well-mannered demeanor.

You wanted to cum, to reach that high and come undone and let out all the pent-up stress and frustration until you melted into a puddle and didn’t have to think about classes or money or life anymore, but the second your fingers began to rub at your clit, Mr. Zhongli’s voice would hit you with that even tone he used when scolding someone for gossiping during his lecture.

“Disgraceful behavior…”

A hot flash of shame burned at your face but for whatever reason it just turned you on more. You wanted to get fucked so bad you felt like you were going insane. You wanted that man to pin you up against a wall and thrust inside you until you turned into an incoherent moaning mess. You wanted to get bent over at his desk and filled up with cum until you were left gaping and oozing and told what a good girl you are. You wanted to get fucked on your hands and knees squirming and crying from overstimulation.

Lying in bed, you squeezed a pillow against your face and screamed.

You wanted to fuck your handsome history professor Mr. Zhongli.

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

It’s barely first period and you couldn’t concentrate.

You were sleepy, hungry and overall, in a bad mood. Standing in line at the cafeteria for a much-needed morning coffee and some snack you yawn and browse around your phone. Math. Gods you hated math.

At least you didn’t have history today. That was a whole other can of worms.

You figured you’d eventually have to get over it but it was just… so bizarre. Mr. Zhongli was quite the popular teacher, you’d learned. Extremely knowledgeable in various topics, a strict but kind and just teacher and good looking on top of all.

No wonder the upperclassmen flocked around him, probably half the campus lowkey had a crush on him, male and female students alike. It was genuinely a miracle he was not married or even had a significant other apparently.

And he was also Morax. Sensual dominating Morax who would just not leave your head-

“Good morning, how may I help you?” The cashier called out cheerfully and you pulled out of your thoughts.

“Morn-”

“Good morning.”

You gasp so sharply you almost launch into a coughing fit; your eyes widen and whole body tenses and oh shit-

Somehow you manage to trip and fall in the clumsiest, stupidest way possible.

“Woah-!”

“Miss?!”

Except you don’t actually fall, but someone manages to hold you, a hand grabbing your arm and the other pressed against your back steadying you as your poor brain goes into overdrive.

That voice!

It’s him!

Too close!

What is he doing here?!

Way too close!!

The seconds it takes for you to react feel like ages as you stare up at Mr. Zhongli like a deer caught in the headlights.

His hands are warm…

His cologne smells soooo good.

His eyes are gorgeous!

He’s so hot!!

“Are you alright Miss l/n?”

“I’M FINE! I-I’m fine!” You yelp, way louder than intended (or normal) and quickly scoot back to put some distance between yourself and the handsome professor. He picks up his dropped bag and dusts it a little, as well as his clothes, still pristine as ever. “I… think I got a little dizzy s-sorry I haven’t eaten yet and… yeah…” You chuckle nervously.

You see him frown slightly. “Going without food for long periods of time can be quite dangerous.” He states, obviously concerned. “Maybe you should head to the infirmary see Dr Baizhu, you look quite pale and the dizziness could be a symptom of low blood pressure. Do you have anything sugary to eat or drink?”

“I w-was about to buy something…”

“It might be best for you to sit down for the moment.” He nods, resolute. “Allow me.”

…And that’s how you end up sitting at one of the nearby small tables with a little glazed donut and a bottle of water, courtesy of your dear history professor.

You stare at the little treat in your hands, half eaten already as he insisted, at least your hands stopped shaking and some color returned to your face. Mr. Zhongli seemed content enough, sitting across from you.

“T-Thank you.” You mumble, refusing to meet his gaze. “How much was it? I’ll pay you back I have som-”

He sees you rummaging through you bag and raises a hand. “None of that, you needed it. I’m glad to see you’re looking a little better, please take care of yourself, health is very important.”

“Um, ok.”

Then he smiles, and it’s gentle, soft. “You’re Miss l/n, right? One of the new students from my history class?”

Huh?

“You didn’t do very well on the essay assignment…”

Ack. You sigh and take another bite of the small donut. “History is just… not my strong suit. Too many dates and names to remember.”

He chuckles and oh God who gave him the right to make that sound? Your skin tingles.

“Fair enough. I know my classes can be a little daunting, I’m very particular about certain topics and tend to ramble sometimes. But I can tell you really put effort into classes and pay attention to my lectures.” He looks pensive for a moment. “Let me propose something. I usually impart some private tutoring sessions to students on more advanced levels, but I could make an exception for you. If you have time available it could help lift your grades.”

You stare up at him in surprise, grateful to not have a mouthful of donut or you would have probably choked again like an idiot. Did you hear that right? A private tutoring session after hours at his office?!

Now that sounded like a title for one of Morax’s audios: Hot professor bangs his stu-NOPE.

“I-I’ll think about it! Sure.”

He nods and gets up, sparing a glance at his watch. “I have to leave now, please do consider it. And do try to eat at more regular intervals and take better care of yourself, you look quite tired.”

A polite way of saying you had marked eyebags, yep.

“I’ll try.” You mumble. Suddenly a little sad to see him go. “Professor… thank you.”

There’s that smile again, you could melt. “You’re welcome, my dear.”

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

And yet that night, you’re once again rolling in bed unable to sleep.

My dear.

You couldn’t stop thinking on the whole incident, you’d certainly made a fool of yourself but the memory of his strong arms holding you, touch firm but gentle. The scent of his cologne that you wish had clung more on your clothes.

You really were down bad, this is ridiculous…

You bite your lip.

You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.

Oh but you will, just one wouldn’t hurt.

Quite the opposite actually…

Unable to contain yourself (or your horniness) you take no time to pop in your earbuds and start scrolling. Hmm… there had been a couple new additions in these last weeks.

You can’t help but wonder why he does these. When. How. You never really considered or thought on it before, Morax has quite a lot of patrons (not a surprise) and thought you know nothing about sound and video recording or editing technically he’s making money just by using that honeyed velvet voice of his. That had to bring in some cash, right?

But then again, if you knew anything about these types of subscriptions it was that they required constancy and that meant hard work and dedication. Did he enjoy these? He really puts in the effort given the amazing quality…

You can’t help but picture your handsome professor unwinding a little after a long day, casual clothes, a cup of that tea he loves and setting up to record those dirty words and sinful moans.

Did he sometimes get worked up about these too? Did he also touch himself during or after recording a particular scenario? Sitting back slightly sprawled on the chair, brow slightly furrowed, stroking his co-

Aaahhhh you needed to stop thinking on him.

…

Yeah right.

“Daddy eats you out and prepares you for his big cock.”

Well, this looks promising.

The audio starts like many others, with some dialogue from him and setting the scene and oh… you had kind of missed the playful teasing tilt of Morax’s voice. You can’t help but chuckle lightly, this scene is so domestic. He calls you “sweetheart”, “babygirl” and there are the kissy noises.

You wish you could kiss him…

“Hmmm… daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready. Spread your legs for me.” Oh, you certainly do. “Daddy’s gonna get down here between them.”

You rub at your tights slowly, sensual, remembering his larger hands.

“Oh your little pussy is already so wet and swollen.” Morax coos, voice soft and airy. “You think it’s already ready I know.” He chuckles. “But you know daddy’s cock is big, yeah, your little pussy’s gonna need to stretch a little bit hm?” A kiss.

You whine.

“Shhh daddy’s gonna make you feel so good sweetheart.”

Lewd wet noises invade your ears and you waste no time starting to stroke yourself, slow and tender. He groans and sighs and you whimper, hips jolting from the bed.

Gods how was he so…

“Yeah… nice and gentle hmm, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

His words were a complete 180 from the long lectures about politics and wars, and yet, his voice…

“D-Daddy…” You sigh. “Please!”

“Oh I love how sensitive your little clit is… you like that babygirl?”

You rub and stroke at the little bundle of nerves and see stars already.

You were so pent up, so needy. Your orgasm was already building too quickly, mewling and whining at his words, his noises, trying to match the pace and follow his instructions.

“That’s a good girl.”

“F-Fuck-”

Your eyebrows furrow, your body trembles and you bit your lip to contain your noises. Morax warns you when he adds a finger, and after a few seconds another, chuckling low at how you clench, praising you, coaxing out your pleasure.

You can only picture him at the end of the bed, licking and sucking obscenely at your juices, pumping those slender fingers in and out, in and out…

That tantalizing voice teasing you, your fingers knotting that dark brown hair tipped amber, golden eyes staring up at you half-lidded but feral and fascinated. Focusing on you. Only you.

“A-Ah! Mhmm…”

“Now I want you to cum babygirl come on, in five… four…”

You stroke and pump faster, frantic, lost in that rapidly approaching high.

“Three… two…”

You cry out, a spark cursing through your veins.

“One… hmmm that’s it my dear.”

“Z-Zhongli…!”

He ushers you out of your release with soft words before saying something else, but your mind is floating and hazy. Your take off the earbuds and place them away catching your breath for a moment, arm draped over your face, the audio still has a long way to go but you’re drowsy and sleepy so you decide to call it a night.

It is only a little later, once you’re done with a quick cleaning and putting everything away, curled up under the covers and dozing off that you realize…

Shit.

You’d called not for Morax but Zhongli.

#genshin smut #zhongli smut #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact smut #crys writes #fem reader #professor zhongli #man I really hope this doesn't feel rushed or forced vghbjnk pls I tried my best OTL I know the scene jumps are jarring but #fun fact 1 when I was in uni there was this one beautiful amazing french teacher that half the campus had a crush on #literally everyone loved her she was amazing she was not my bi awakening but boi she CEMENTED it #and it's funny bc literally like ??? girls and boys crushing HARD on her and she was bi and SINGLE and so kind and cool and around our age #anyway that's zhongli 1000%#fun fact 2 I once almost fainted at uni bc I had. in fact. not eaten breakfast or dinner the night before #and my blood pressure just dropped also bc the heat didn't help so rip I got better with a coca cola tho

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back2bluesidex · 2 months

Text

Your Lips, My Lips - Apocalypse - JHS (18+)

Pairing: Demi God!Hoseok X Fem!Reader

Theme: Angst, explicit SMUT, open ending, fantasy au

Wordcount: 2.0k

Summary: You are lonelier than anyone he has ever witnessed. Your loneliness comes with an intensity that matches his, maybe that’s why he is so attracted to you? Maybe that’s why he wants to give you his final moments of existence?

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, loneliness, kind of philosophical, explicit sex, unprotected sex (it's a no no), it's kind of sad. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: It's my man's birthday in less than 24 hours! Yoo-hoo! *sigh* only if he knew that I exist and I love him with my everything. *another sigh* but it's okay! Jung Hoseok, I love you regardless. And I hope you are happy and healthy.

and to my precious readers. hope you guys enjoy this short babie. let me know how is it, if you want! (also if you feel this is My Demon coded then that's right. But I haven't even watched the drama lmao!)

Hoseok can’t read humans’ minds and he thinks it's a handicap.

No matter how much he loathes the fact, he, still, is a demi-god. One prefix in his title has pushed him down in the hierarchy, taken away his right of authority, his right of serving the verdict and he hates it all.

But what he hates the most is that he is left with this half-assed power of sensing despair in humans but is totally unable to do anything about it.

His hand itches to right all wrongs whenever he comes across something that should not be happening, that should be mended by the gods above. On those occasions, he curses those so-called gods a little more than usual.

What did they say? That Hoseok meddles too much in human business? Just because he saved a 5 years old from a deadly accident? That he has no right to change their fate? That he is just a lowly god that is not even worshiped? That he is to be perished into ash as soon as he changes another human's life directly or indirectly?

Huh! As if he cares.

He actually does. Not that he is scared of turning into scattered dust and disappearing into air, but he wants to change someone’s life before he does.

If he is going to disappear, then he might as well do something worthy of disappearing.

Like getting to know you, offering you with his company and changing your fate of being alone even if it’s just for a night.

It has been 2157 years since Hoseok has descended to earth and he has been keeping receipts of every single day.

He has come across a lot of humans and their despair but he hasn’t done anything. He held himself back and waited for that one final occasion.

He knew that final occasion was going to be you as soon as his eyes landed upon your figure a year ago.

That day, he walked into this dimly lit pub to enjoy a glass of whiskey that he came to love so much and to observe some humans for his own record.

That was then, you walked in.

More beautiful than some of the goddesses they worship, more mysterious than those unearthly creatures and you made him more intrigued than he had been for 2156 years of his time on earth.

And also, you are lonelier than anyone he has ever witnessed. Your loneliness comes with an intensity that matches his, maybe that’s why he is so attracted to you? Maybe that’s why he wants to give you his final moments of existence?

Just like any other Friday night, you are sitting in your usual spot. Tonight you have chosen Gin and Lime to be your companion.

You look as unapproachable as ever, so much so that even Hosekok feels weak on his knees while gliding smoothly towards you.

Your eyes are trained on your smartphone when Hoseok slips beside you and heaves a little “hey” to grab your attention.

You look up at him, your eyes meet him and he knows he is going to be one of those very few lucky men whom you don’t ignore.

And then you smile, an unusual, non-formalitic and genuine one, and greet him back, “hi”.

He is astonished to find you keep smiling at him, “Do you mind if I-”

“Not at all. I have been waiting for you to approach me for a good 10 months now.” you cut him off.

Hoseok is astonished yet again, or maybe shocked will be a better word. He knows not everyone can notice him. He is noticeable only when he actually wants to be, for instance by being noticeable to the bartenders, so that he can enjoy his drinks.

But he never intentionally allowed himself to be noticed by you. Or maybe he did? Because all along that’s what he actually wanted?

“Ah really? You noticed me then?” he breathes slowly, trying not to scare you away.

“It’s impossible not to notice someone as good-looking as you. On top of that you are a regular here and you look as lonely as I am.” you voice fades by the time your sentence ends. You punctuate it with a sigh.

He gives you a tainted smile. It’s the first time someone has caught upon his despair too. For the first time he doesn’t feel things are terribly one-sided. For the first time he is not pitying a human but resonating with her. For the first time he feels his ending inching closer.

“I am Hoseok, by the way.” Hoseok introduces himself while ordering his usual.

“I am Y/N” you reply. Your name rings in his ears, even though he already knew who you were and what you do, but hearing you introducing yourself to him has some weird effects on him.

“Do you always have the same thing?” you point towards his whiskey.

“Yeah. I’m not a great fan of alcohol.” he replies calmly.

“Oh. then what is it, you are a fan of?”

“Humans.”

You laugh at it. A clear, ringing laugh that sends tingles to every corner of his body.

“As if you are not one of us.” you say breathlessly when you are done laughing.

“Maybe I am not.” Hoseok adds quietly.

You look intrigued now. Your eyes are filled with a playful glint that has replaced the hazy loneliness.

“Good then. I hate human beings, even though I am one of them. Maybe I hate myself as well? Who knows.” and within an instant, your despair is back. It is now clouding above your head. Hoseok can see it clearly and he wants to blow the smoke away.

“Why so?” He places his question delicately.

“They have done nothing to be loved. At least not the ones I have shared or am sharing my time with.” you sigh. “Even though I am moving on with time, moving on from people and situations, I am going nowhere. It’s as if I am stuck in an endless loop of time and things keep repeating on their own accord.”

Hoseok feels your every word deep in his bones. He has been stuck in this limbo for a long time as well. Feeling people’s pain and being able to do nothing about it is even more painful. And he can’t take it anymore. But tonight he will end it all..

“Do you want me to change it? Do you want me to take away your despair?” he says finally, “just answer in yes or no.” his voice feels hoarse all of a sudden.

You sit straight. It seems as if you can tell how serious he is being. And maybe that’s why you nod a yes.

Hoseok’s nails dig into your naked waist. His lips trail down the path of your throat, painting bruises on your skin.

You moan his name when he bites down on the crook of your neck. He feels alive after all these years. The beating of our heart, vibrates into his own chest making him want to be a human like you, for you.

Your fingers are tangled on his jet black hair. The delicious friction of your nails on his scalp is everything. He works his way to unclasp your bra, throws it away somewhere in your dark room and sets his eyes on your chest.

“Beautiful. So beautiful for me.” he murmurs as he takes a nipple in his mouth. One of his hands slips into your underwear and finds your sensitive bundle of nerves while the other one massages your unoccupied breast.

“Oh Hoseok!” you sigh in containment.

It’s been so long since anyone has called him by his name. Things feel unreal at this point.

Hoseok drives you towards your bed and gently lays you down without breaking the contact with your skin.

Two of his fingers play with your clit while his mouth dives down the valley of your breast, reaches your naval, and heads towards you core.

“Hoseok! Quit foreplay! I need you inside me.” You whine while tugging at his hair. Your fingers join his inside your underwear. You take his hand out, pull it towards your mouth and suck your juices from his fingers.

Hoseok can clearly see his end approaching. But he doesn’t regret it.

You are warm, slippery and incredibly addicting when he enters you. His cock glides smoothly through your entrance. He thrusts with a force that will satisfy you but won’t break you, reaping out melodic moans from your mouth.

“Fuc-fuck Hoseok! You feel so-so good! I can’t- ngh” and you cum on his godly cock.

Hoseok sees stars at this point. How can a human being be this addictive? How is he supposed to leave you behind if you keep holding him back like this? How?

He spills inside you, ropes after ropes of cum shoots inside your pussy, some even leak out and drips down your inner thigh to your bed sheet.

Both of you are trying to catch your breath but it’s time he ends both of your sufferings. So he climbs on your bed and hovers above your freshly fucked body. Your body glistens with a sheen of sweat, he can’t get enough of you.

“Y/N” he calls your name and you open your eyes, look directly into his eyes and offer him a weak but genuine smile.

“I am going to kiss you now. After the kiss, I will disappear, but so does your loneliness, you despair. I will take away the pain you suffer from.” he says in a breath.

“Hoseok..” you murmur weakly, but before you can say anything any further, Hoseok is kissing you. He cups your face and dives into the kiss.

The kiss is full of passion and pain, rainbow and rain..

Two pairs of your lips mold perfectly with each other, tasting every ounce of your mouth, your life, your soul.

But Hoseok feels it. His legs are not on your bed anymore, those have started to dissipate into air in the form of fine ash. It reaches to his torso, his chest and then his face. A single tear leaves his eyes before he fades away completely.

And all of a sudden everything is blank.

It’s been two weeks since you had that weirdly realistic dream. You can still remember his face, his voice but somehow his name has slipped out of your memory. As if he himself doesn’t want you to remember what he was called.

Or is it just you? Is it because your loneliness has become way too overbearing for you now that you are making up sex scenarios with non-existent perfect men and hallucinating them everywhere?

You should book an appointment with a therapist. You need it.

“Excuse me, Ms. Y/N?” the voice comes from right beside you. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice that the bus stop wasn't empty anymore.

“You dropped your employee ID on the way” the voice speaks again as the man comes to stand before you.

“Oh shoot! Thanks a lot.” you take your ID from him and look up with a smile.

But it vanishes and you are shocked to find out that the man of your dream is standing right before you.

The voice, too, is similar. The only difference you can find is that this guy is filled with boisterous energy, he is less dark than the man in your dream.

“Did I scare you? You look like you have seen a ghost?” the man laughs.

“I- I ah..” you fumble with your words, “you look like someone I knew.” you laugh back awkwardly.

“Oh I see.” he pauses for a bit, “I am Hoseok, By the way.” he continues, extending a hand towards you.

“Hi Hoseok. I am Y/N” You wrap your palm around his.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @violetsiren90

#bts angst #bts smut #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jhope angst #jhope smut #jhope x reader #bts jhope #bts oneshot #hobiuary #bts

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