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goldenshoyo · 3 years

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Summary: Iwaizumi comforts you after your ex hurts you again.

Genre: Fluff and smut

Word count: ~3k

Warnings: vaginal sex, fem reader, use of "good girl" and "baby girl", and really not much else. This is soft. Let me know if you want anything else tagged.

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He's done it again, Hajime thought as he looked down at his phone and the cluster of messages you had been sending him. He knew before opening them, but upon confirming his suspicion, canceled all the meetings he had leading up to the weekend and decided to make you, his propriety. Surely, the team wouldn’t mind. They had more than one athletic trainer for a reason and could easily make do without him for one long weekend.

“Heading out?” Coach Hibarida raises his eyebrow at Hajime as he packed up his bag.

“Emergency,” he says slipping his phone in his pocket. “I’ll let you know if everything is alright. Might need to call in one of the others for tomorrow.”

“No problem.” He crosses his arms and turns back to watching the team run drills. With one last careful glance at a few of the players he’s been concerned with due to past injuries, he leaves to rush to the bakery down the street from your home.

Parking the car outside of the bakery, glad to have made it before the rush, he pulls out his phone and responds to your texts.

Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon. You can tell me all about it when I get there.

He picks out a few croissants stuffed with chocolate, slices of cheesecake and strawberry shortcake, and two turkey sandwiches to go. He laughs as he places the bag on the passenger seat, the sandwiches sound so out of place with all the sugary treats, but he wants to ensure you are taking care of yourself… especially since your bastard of an ex never cared to.

If he wouldn’t, Hajime knew he could.

The sound of your apartment buzzer blaring in your living room pulls you from your daydream… or dissociation… whichever it was at that point. You press the button, giving Hajime access to the building, and try and straighten up the mess that gathered in the room since yesterday evening. Unlocking the door to the living room, you lay on the couch, curling your knees up to your chest and resting your head on a fluffy pillow you’d brought out of your room last night.

You felt dumb, letting this happen again. While it’s obviously not your fault, part of you can’t help but feel like if only you were stronger, you’d stop letting your ex do this to you. It’s nearly pathetic, you think, always letting him back in and letting him crush you just to call your best friend to pick up the pieces. He’s probably getting tired of it and you can’t blame him if he is.

“Hey,” he opens the door, and you see a brown bag from the bakery between his chest and arm.

“Hi,” your voice cracks, and you cough. You didn’t realize your previous fits had affected your voice so soon.

He places the bag on your coffee table and lifts you up to a sitting position and takes your place so you can lay on him instead of the arm of the couch and your pillow. He strokes your hair softly, twirling the strands between his fingers when he gets to the end before letting it fall and repeating the steps. You let him continue this for a while, happy that he’s not pushing you to talk. You know how he feels about your ex, having had a few… well disagreements to put it lightly… over him. It’s easier when he just holds you instead of telling you what you already know.

“I brought you lunch… well I guess it’s actually closer to an early dinner now. But there are also lots of sweets. I tried to get all your favorites,” he tells you softly and you look up and see his face isn’t happy or sad. He looks completely neutral.

“I really appreciate that.” You sit up and let the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on your lap and the couch. “Thank you for coming by again.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and rubs his hand up and down gently. “Anytime. I’m always here for you,” he chuckles, and you give him a confused look. “Even when you make stupid decisions.”

“There it is!” You giggle and lean forward taking the ridiculous amount of food out of the bag. “I wondered when you’d start picking on me.” You hand him one of the sandwiches and lean back on the couch. “I’m really done with him this time.”

“Mhmm,” he hums. You choose to ignore it and eat your food. It’s better this way, not talking about it and just letting him keep you company.

Hajime cleans up the table after you’ve both indulged yourselves, putting the leftovers in your fridge. Noticing your dishwasher had been run, he puts the dishes away and reloads it with what’s spread out across your counters and in your sink. You want to tell him to stop, but from past experience, you know it won’t stop him.

“Come watch a movie with me,” you plead as he shuts the dishwasher. “I think the new Godzilla movie is out, don’t you like those?”

You hear a soft chuckle, barely audible. “Yeah, let’s watch it. Need anything else?”

“Just you,” you tell him, and he smiles at you before taking his place beside you.

His arm snakes around your shoulder and you lean into him. You watch as the movie starts, not really knowing anything about the movie playing out, but laughing whenever Haji makes a comment about one of the giants fighting on the screen. He smiles at you every time he catches your gaze, going into more detail to give you information on the lore or answering a question you ask.

“That was…. interesting,” you comment as the credits play.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It was good.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Well, it’s not my type of movie. That’s all I’ll say,” you continue laughing and he wraps you in his arms and pulls you closer. There’s a long bout of silence.

“You deserve better, you know.”

“I know,” you say quietly not looking up at him.

“Someone who will take care of you,” he continues. “It kills me every time you do this, letting him in just to use you even though this always happens.” He gestures between you and him. “Let me instead.”

“What?” You sit up, pulling away from him and furrowing your brows. “Let you what?”

“----, I’ve always loved you. You have to know that by now.” He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. “Please, just let me take care of you. Please,” he continues. His eyes are locked on yours and you shiver.

Of course, some part of you always felt like he may have had feelings for you. But you weren’t sure if they were still present ever since this mess with your ex started 6 months ago. He never said no to coming over to comfort you, and every time you began getting closer and closer with Hajime until you become comfortable just laying on his chest and letting him soothe you to sleep like he was your boyfriend and not your best friend.

“I-“

“You don’t have to say anything now. I know I just sprung it on you out of nowhere, and when you’re vulnerable on top of that.” He sighs standing up and walking towards the door. His hands run through his hair. “I’m sorry to dump it all on you-“

Your body moves before you can think, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around him, but there’s no stopping it now. You kiss him, cutting off his word vomit. His hands cup your cheeks and hold you still while his lips move against yours. They’re softer than you expected, but then again, you’re not sure you expected any of this.

Pulling away you look up at him. His green eyes are looking down at you, slightly glossy and bright. “Don’t go.” You tell him and pull him closer to you. “Please,” you beg, lip quivering and tears threatening to spill. “Please stay.”

As the tears break the barrier and stream down your cheeks the skin under your eyes burn, the skin still raw from the night's previous. It hurts, but the desperately empty feeling you’ve had in your chest is filling up. The warmth returning and your heart feeling lighter and lighter the longer he holds you close to him.

“I’ll never leave you,” he says softly, his hand resting on the top of your head and then stroking down your hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you tell him back. It feels weird saying it to him like this. You’ve told him before, but never feeling the way you do now. Your chest swelling and nerves making you want to fidget your fingers. “I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize for anything.” His tone is much firmer now, less desperate like before. “I should have told you sooner, then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt so often.”

“It’s not your fault,” you pull away and grab a tissue to wipe your eyes and cheeks. “I’m just glad you told me.” The flood of emotions seems to be washing away, your body lighter and mind no longer cloudy.

“I really need to shower,” you tell him then laugh. “I probably smell.”

“You don’t,” he laughs. “But if you feel like you need to, go ahead. It’s getting sort of late anyway, so I’ll head ho-“

“No! I told you I don’t want you to go. You can stay the night.” You frown at him and he laughs.

“I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to let me stay since I confessed to you, that’s all. I want to respect your boundaries. Especially since everything is so fresh and raw.”

You ignore the way his words make you feel between your thighs and disappear into your room, getting your things together for your shower. Hajime joins you in your room, sitting on the bed and crossing his legs while watching you gather everything.

When you step outside the bathroom door, Hajime has to look away. Your towel wrapped around your body, skin sparkling with water droplets, and the sweet scent of your body wash is too much all at once. Adjusting his pants, hoping you don’t see, he finally looks back at you when you speak.

“I think you left some shorts here the last time you stayed. I’ll see if I can find them.”

“Thanks,” he says quickly.

Tossing him the shorts, you see he’s not making eye contact with you, and you giggle. “It’s okay to look at me, ya know. I mean, aren’t we like… a thing now?”

He coughs, “yeah, I just need to go change.” Getting off the bed, he tries to sneak past you to the bathroom, but you catch his arm.

“Why not change in here?” You tilt your head, a devious smile forming on your lips. “Is something wrong?” You fake a concerned tone, knowing what you’re doing to him. He’s hard, you can see it through his pants, but you don’t dare to make it obvious… yet.

“I… I just-“ he stutters. “I want you to feel comfortable getting dressed is all.”

Instead of answering you drop the towel, your body fully exposed to him now and his cheeks go bright red. He can’t stop himself from looking now, hypnotized with everything he sees. He’s ashamed to even think about the times he’s thought of you this way but seeing you fully nude is so much better than any daydream.

“Fuck,” he mumbles quietly, and you giggle again.

He reaches out, taking your hips in his hand and pulling your body against him. You lean up and kiss him, his tongue slipping into your mouth almost instantly as you wrap your hands around his shoulders. You moan against his lips, your hands sliding under his shirt and feeling his abs underneath.

He breaks the kiss, pushing you gently onto the bed with a small apology before quickly pulling his shirt off and attaching himself to you again. He grinds against you, his thigh rubbing your cunt and making you gasp while he bites down on your neck gently and licking over the skin. Arching your back, you try your best to get as close to him as possible.

“More,” you whimper needing more than just his thigh teasing you. “I need you.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you,” he stands up at the end of the bed and pushes his pants down his legs, and steps out of them.

His cock flinging from his underwear and hitting his stomach makes you whine, it’s almost too perfect. His hand wrapped around it and his thumb dragging across the tip nearly make you beg for him to fuck you, but you know you need to be patient.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I promise I don’t mind waiting.” He sounds so sincere; you could cry if you weren’t so pent up and desperate to have him fuck you right. Instead of answering, you sit up, opening the drawer on your bedside table, and toss a condom at him. He chuckles, ripping the packet open with his teeth then sliding it down his length.

“Please,” you say pulling him down towards you with your arm. “I need you,” you smile knowing he likes hearing that. Beyond just tonight, you plan him making sure he knows this forever. “Please make love to me.”

He kisses your lips, his hand holding the back of your head while he pushes you further onto the bed and teasing your folds with the tip of his cock. You whimper feeling the head push past your hole and inside of you. His size didn’t scare you when you first saw it, but now feeling him slowly fill you up you think maybe a healthy dose of fear isn’t such a bad thing.

“Shhh,” he whispers. “It’s okay,” a kiss to your forehead helps you relax. He stops moving after he fully reaches inside of you, and you try to relax more. “Let me know when you’re okay,” he kisses your forehead again. His lips are so warm and soft, you could melt.

“Move,” you beg once you feel the burning subside and become antsy for him to make you feel even more.

The first thrust takes your breath away, making you close your eyes and squeeze his biceps tight with your fingers. The second, you moan so loudly you think the neighbors will hear. You lose yourself completely while he fucks into you. His breath is hot against your neck and ear, shallow moans leaving his lips and making your stomach turn in delight.

“Haji, please! More!” Wrapping your legs around his waist, he thrusts into you harder, and you let out a loud cry. Each thrust is better than the last, and you wonder if you’ve ever felt this good. The coil twisting in your stomach threatens to snap with each swift impact of his cock hitting the spot inside of you that makes you dig your nails in his back.

“Are you close baby girl? Are you gonna come for me?” He looks down at you with a smirk and you nod. “You feel so fucking good squeezing my cock so tight. Come on baby, I know you want to cum. I want to feel it. Cum for me.”

Your breathing hitches and you close your eyes as your orgasm rips through your body; toes curling and nails digging deeper into Hajime’s skin. He kisses you through the high of your climax and you cling to him as if he’s your lifeline. Again, you’re left wondering if you’ve ever felt this good. How has he made you feel this high on him?

It’s overwhelming. It’s too much. You’re not sure if you can keep letting him go. Part of you starts to panic scared you won’t be able to let him continue fucking you.

“Good girl,” he says against your lips. All previous worries leave your body in an instant with those two simple words. “My good girl. I’m close too. Can you hold out for me baby?” You nod again, too tired to say anything and whimpering each time his cock drags against your walls. After a few more quick thrusts he’s holding you still and cumming.

Without stopping for a moment to breathe, he pulls out and stands up. Slipping the condom off and tying the end before tossing it in the bin beside your desk, he then tosses himself onto the bed beside you. He pulls you into his chest, holding you as close to him as he can while slowly stroking your arms.

“Is it cliché to say I love you again?” you ask kissing his chest.

“I don’t think so,” he laughs, chest vibrating against your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you!” You kiss his lips once before laying your head on his bicep and closing your eyes. “Thank you for always being here for me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he moves a strand of hair from your face and smiles. “I have nowhere else I’d rather be. In fact, that reminds me…” he sits up and reaches down off the bed for his phone from his pants. “Need to tell Coach Hibarida I won’t be in tomorrow.”

#iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #hajime iwaizumi smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut

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julyarchives · 3 years

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Come With Me || (M)

Your boyfriend Wooseok tries to convince you to move in with him with a very compelling argument.

→ A/n: Wooseok x Female Reader

→ Genre: Smut

→ Words: 2.2K

→ Contains: female receiving oral; squirting; fingering; male masturbation

→ A/n: This was very interesting to write and we just love good Wooseok smut, so we hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it! Special thanks to the awesome blog that requested this story, @lyswoowife! 🥰😉

It was the third time that week you had a very flustered Wooseok dropping by your shared place with an acquaintance. He'd show up, stay with you for a few hours, have some cuddles, and make out involved, and then he'd leave, looking a bit disappointed even if you invited him to stay over.

Today was no different, only this time you invited him over. Your roommate left for the weekend and you had the apartment all to yourself, so why not share with your cute loving boy. Wooseok showed up with a small bag of clothes and the same distressed look as usual lately. You cheerfully kissed him and he tossed his bag on the couch in order to hold you. Tiptoeing to kiss him was usually annoying but his bright smile as you pulled back struggling to stay up made it worth it.

"So, what's the plan?", he asked, following you into the living room.

"I thought we should catch up on the series from last week. We're getting behind their releases", you said, still holding his hand.

Wooseok nodded and pulled you close for a quick kiss before letting go and sitting on the carpet to have access to your computer on the center table. You got comfortable on the small couch and he sat back on the floor, back to the couch and arms holding the leg you had down.

You stayed that way for about an hour, only talking to point out things on the screen. Your fingers found their way to his hair, playing with it gently, a smile forming on your lips when you felt him sigh and lean into your touch, his grip on your leg tightening. The screen showed a couple sharing a laugh before getting into their home and so the sitcom went on. You heard Wooseok whispering a choked "fuck it" and turning abruptly. Your fingers fell from his hair when he turned enough to kneel in front of you, almost sitting back on his heels.

"I want you to move in with me", he was out of breath, eyes wide and he rushed out the words in a clear spur of confidence.

"I- what?", you sat up straight, legs dangling from the couch now. Wooseok took it as an invitation to move in between them, his hands resting on your thighs.

"Think about it, Y/N", he was breathing heavily, nervous, and you felt it too. The question was too sudden. "We work so well together and I don't want to keep having to drop you off after a great day".

"Is that why you've been acting weird lately?", you couldn't help but ask, "because you wanted to ask me to move in with you?".

"Yeah, you know how good I am at taking initiative", Wooseok chuckled, planting a small kiss on your arm, guiding your hands to his hair before dropping them to your thighs again. You opened your mouth to say something back but he adjusted himself to be straighter, his hands now traveling up and down your thighs. "Before you answer, let me convince you, Y/N".

He had a small smile on his lips, his eyes looking at you up and down, even if it took a few more seconds where his hands were caressing your thighs. Stopping abruptly at his request, you sat forward, making his hands go closer to the top of your thighs. His hands gripped it a bit harder as if on instinct and he bit his lips.

"Not quite how I imagined myself asking you but on my knees in front of you is better than what I planned".

"You had a plan to convince me to move in with you?", you raised an eyebrow at him, smiling at his antics.

"Hm, I did. But instead of saying a bunch of things, maybe I can show you my appreciation for you".

You watched him smile smugly at you, even if you were sure he was still nervous about his request. Your hands moved to his cheeks, knowing full well how his mind worked and therefore knowing what he wanted right now. Wooseok leaned in for a kiss, which you complied eagerly. It was as sweet as it was desperate, his lips urgent against yours and you couldn't help giving him small nibs on his bottom lip.

He groaned lightly and his hands started wandering, squeezing all over you and feeling you slowly. You bit your lip at the sight of his face, a concentrated look on his face as if he wanted to memorize the feeling of you. When his hands found your chest, you moaned, his hands almost covering your breasts from how big his hands are. His thumbs played with your nipples hurriedly and you dragged him for another kiss.

He didn't stop there and quickly moved his right hand to your clothed core, fingers moving teasingly at your slit, not exactly rubbing it but applying enough pressure to get you wet way too quick. You whined against his lips and you felt his proud smirk, his other hand gripping more firmly on your breast. Suddenly Wooseok dropped his head, kissing your neck and even leaving small hickeys, trailing down to where his hand was before quickly lowering your shirt so your breasts were exposed to him. His mouth continued to kiss your chest until it got to your nipples, licking and sucking at them eagerly, taking turns at each one.

The hand on your core rubbed down harder, making you feel more of the friction to which your hips bucked up on the couch on instinct. Wooseok looked up to you with a sleazy smile, exposing how his tongue was working on your buds and you moaned, watching intently.

"If I put my fingers inside your panties, how wet will I feel you right now?"

"What's - oh, what's gotten into you?", you tried to ask but he applied more pressure on you and you almost lost track.

"Humour me, baby. Answer me", Wooseok hummed but watched you intently, as if trusting the boundaries of his newfound confidence.

"So wet", you said breathlessly. He took this time to press his forehead against yours and you noticed how his breathing was as irregular as yours. "Want you to feel it for yourself".

Cursing under his breath, Wooseok wasted no time in detaching himself from you and pulling your shorts and panties down at once, letting it pool at your feet. While you moved a bit to quick them out of your ankles, you noticed him palming himself against his somewhat loose jeans and groaning low on his throat.

When you were completely free from your clothing below your waist, he placed his hands against your knees and motioned for you to open your legs, not once forcing nor manhandling you. Ever the sweetheart, you thought with a smile. You opened it even if a little shy and his reaction was worth it, Wooseok gasped and hurriedly placed a finger on your slit, moving it up and down slowly to gather your juices in it. His eyes were deep and it was your turn to gasp when he placed the finger on his lips, sucking it and humming.

He moved fast and you could only brace yourself against the couch before his mouth was on your folds, kissing it and giving it small teasing licks. You whined and tugged lightly at his hair, a silent plea for him to not tease. Thankfully Wooseok got the message and started to suck at your clit, his tongue occasionally licking at your folds. His finger moved to your entrance and you gasped, his ministrations making you desperate for his finger.

"P-please", you said brokenly. You looked down and he was staring at you, licking his lips, "I need your fingers in me, please".

"Anything for you", he looked smug and it only made him more attractive.

He went back down on you with more vigor, tongue now tracing delicious patterns on your clit while his finger slid inside of you with no resistance. Wooseok moved it for a bit before taking his finger out completely. He sucked hard on you at the same time he placed two fingers inside of you, moving them in an intense rhythm.

You were a mess and couldn't keep quiet, all the while saying how good it feels and cursing under your breath. Of all the times you two shared a moment like that, this was different, way more intense and you were loving it. Soon enough you could feel a wave of intense pleasure coming up and you warned him, only getting more fervorous sucks and licks in return. You came with a shout and bucking against his mouth, riding your high on his mouth, tongue, and fingers.

Wooseok didn't stop his ministrations, letting you use him for your own pleasure. When you came down from your high, he was still at it and you shimmied, trying to get away from him.

"I'm sensitive", you giggled even if it was still pleasurable.

"Is it hurting?", Wooseok looked up at you, your juices coating his mouth and chin. You motioned 'no' and he hummed, his fingers never stopping. "Can you do one more for me?". His question took you off guard and you nodded before you could process it.

Smiling, he went straight back to business, mouth now gently licking and sucking your pussy while he timidly inserted one more finger inside of you. He crooked his fingers up slightly and your body felt a strong electric wave. You moaned loudly, gasping and gripping his hair hard. Wooseok moaned against you at that and you heard fumbling noises. Looking down, you could see he managed to free his dick from his pants and was currently jerking himself off while eating you out and fingering you.

The image was a bonus to the amazing pleasure you felt, your body was tingling and you couldn't keep your eyes open for much longer. His fingers were long and hit your g spot perfectly on each thrust and you were already seeing white. It almost felt like you never came down from your high, your orgasm picking up from where you thought it ended and you knew you'd cum soon. Your body was acting on its own, hips now almost face fucking Wooseok while his hand on his dick sped up, he was clearly getting off on you losing control on his mouth and fingers.

Suddenly it was all too much, your body started trembling hard, your hips moving widely and it felt like you were about to pee but only you knew it wasn't that. The small part of your mind that still worked perfectly shouted at you to let go and you did, orgasming a second time but this time way stronger than last time.

You could almost see your juices flowing down more, dripping a bit from his face and onto the floor while you came desperately. Wooseok moved back to watch your cum drip from you for what seemed like endlessly. He shouted a curse and came as well, his fingers at were inside of you now moving against the big amount of cum running down from your pussy.

The silence that followed was not awkward at all. You were shocked by what happened and apparently so was Wooseok. He cleaned his hands on his jeans and tucked himself back into his pants. Getting up, he blew you a kiss from a distance and you wondered if he wouldn't kiss you because of the mess you made out of his face. He vanished from sight and you heard the bathroom sink running and the sounds of washing, confirming your theory. Wooseok came back a few moments afterward with a clean and damp towel, cleaning you gently and trying to clean the couch you ruined. You laughed weakly when he frowned at it because it was clearly stained.

"Ok, here's the plan: tell your roommate I got too excited playing some game and dropped a whole cart of juice on the couch. Deal?", he said in a conspiratory way and you two giggled.

"Come here, silly", you opened your arms for him and he held you, back to his position kneeling on the floor.

"So… I made you squirt, huh", he looked down at you with a smirk and you laughed out loud.

"Oh god, don't let this get to your head", you affectionately kissed him on the lips. "But yeah, holy shit, baby, that was amazing".

"You know, we can do that every day if you move in with me…", Wooseok looked at you almost innocently despite everything that happened so far.

"I knew my answer before you tried to convince me but am I glad I waited to see what you were going to do", you laughed and got up, adjusting your clothes before taking his hand so he could stand up.

"Oh? And you're gonna tell me your answer?", Wooseok smiled at you in an anxious way and your heart clenched.

"Of course I'll move in with you, silly!", you almost jumped into his arms, holding him too tight.

His answer came in the form of kisses. He kissed your mouth, your nose, your cheeks, everywhere he could find. You giggled and he laughed delighted.

"Now, how do I know you'll keep your promise and that this wasn't just luck?", you smirked at him.

"Hm", Wooseok looked at you in fake thinking and you already started to move him backward towards your bedroom. "I guess we'll have to try again".

#ksmutclub #pentagon #pentagon smut #wooseok #jung wooseok #pentagon wooseok #pentagon scenario #kpop #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #pentagon imagine #pentagon fanfic #kpop fanfic

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bktaro · 3 years

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seven-three (part 2)

pairing: nanami x f!reader

themes/rating: explicit, 18+, clubs, bars, masquerade parties

tw: drinking, sex clubs, rough sex, daddy kink, slight bondage, dom/sub, slight degradation, size kink, face fucking, dacryphilia, squirting, fingering, oral

wc: 6.5k

ao3 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

tagging: @angelofthorr @lilalalila

Nanami Kento had a hardened shell surrounding his personal life. Clocking out at five ‘o’clock on the dot every day, he left little to no room for others to get to know him better— leaving him as an unsolvable mystery amongst the office.

Likewise, you too aimed to clock out at five ‘o’ clock. You preferred routine during the workday, finding comfort in maintaining equilibrium and peace and wanting to do nothing more or nothing less than what was required of you.

Little did you know the two of you shared an interesting weekend hobby.

Nanami always did consider himself to be a man that wasted no time, and tonight was no exception.

Time was of the essence. Nanami wanted to waste not a single minute further on idle things that could be used in exploring your body and making you feel pleasure like never before.

“You’re right, I think we are a good match— we understand each other well. I completely agree with what you said earlier, I also hate wasting time.” Nanami’s hand reaches upwards to caress the side of your cheek, tilting your head up to look into your eyes. “So, that’s why I’m just going to say exactly what I’m thinking to you.”

Nanami’s other hand slides down your bare arm, until it lays on top of one of your smaller hands scrunching up the hem of his shirt. He motions you to release your grip from his shirt, and when you oblige, he takes the opportunity to grab your smaller hand within his larger one, lacing your fingers in between his own. His figure is quite taller than yours, prompting him to bend his body over to whisper into your ear.

“Let’s get out of here already so I can fuck you stupid.”

You grin at the request, a low throb jolting in between your legs at his words. He had cut right to the chase— and you loved that.

“What are we waiting for then?” You give a hard squeeze to his hand intertwined with yours, alongside the corners of your lips tugging further upwards into a larger, cheekier grin. “Let’s go.”

—

Within what felt to be mere minutes, with his hand in yours Nanami had placed a wad of cash at the concierge desk connecting the club to its sister company of hotel rooms with the request for the finest room they had to offer. The staff didn’t ask further questions, already in understanding of the nature of most of its clients. Much like the club, from the outside the hotel seemed to be a standard, elegant establishment— but in reality it served to act in partnership with the club as a ‘love hotel’ of sorts instead.

“The penthouse suite?” You ask, watching him slip the key card into the pocket of his tan blazer. “A fancy guy, aren’t you?”

Nanami lets out a low chuckle, leading you inside the elevator that was now open in front of the two of you. He steps in first, pressing the button to the desired floor, but you’re just behind his tail, following him inside instantly and standing beside him.

He’s frankly a bit astonished to find the elevator is empty, fully expecting another couple to already be partially within each other’s pants when the steel doors part open in the middle. But a new thought arises in his head— he thinks perhaps the two of you could be that couple. Elevator public sex was on his bucket list, after all.

“I like a good view, and I’ll get the best money can buy me.” Nanami replies instead, shaking the thought out of his head. He had to at least have some self-control… for now. And it wasn’t completely a lie either, he did like all things beautiful, especially the simple, natural things in life like a beautiful view with an equally beautiful woman on his arm. “The sunrise is beautiful from this high up, you’ll see later.”

A moment of foreign silence envelopes the air in between the two of you, the only sounds being the dinging noise signaling the closure of the doors soon, and the faint mechanics of the elevator whirring in the background. Although brief, the silence churns your thoughts, making you realize it’s the first time you've probably ever been alone with Nanami. At the office, your department was one of the largest in the company. Being alone with anyone was slim to none— especially Nanami who typically went out of his way to avoid pointless interaction with others.

So, you start to think you’re one lucky girl. Maybe you’ve saved a nation in your past life, something remarkable of that nature to be in the position you’re in now.

Nanami doesn’t give you much more time to get lost in your thoughts, however.

The instant the steel doors of the elevator shut close once again, you gasp at the sudden force of movement. Nanami leans his back against the wall of the elevator and pulls your hand to drag you in front of him, making you stumble in between his legs. His hands find themselves on the small of your back, supporting your balance, and all you can do is look up at the mischievous smirk that has formed on his lips.

“Maybe I also want to show you off to the entire city below too. Fuck you right up against the window so everyone can see.”

Your cheeks begin to feel warm, feeling a sudden tinge of embarrassment strike at your chest. You give out a silent prayer in thanks to the mask that conceals your now blushing face, swallowing the lump in your throat and mustering up the courage to respond in the most confident way you can.

“Oh, so you’re not fancy at all— just plain old nasty .”

Nanami lets out another laugh, this time louder than the previous. God , the sound of laughter is like a sweet melody, just as gorgeous as his smile. Maybe you really did save a nation in your past life to be able to be alive in this very moment.

“Ouch, that one hurts. Aren’t ‘fairies’ like you supposed to be nice?”

You laugh alongside him, both your hands trailing up to rest flat on his chest. Standing up on the tips of your toes, your face comes inches away from his and your eyes trail to look at his lips in front of yours.

“Aw, did I hurt you, handsome?” You give me a quick wink, a hand grabbing his silk tie to pull him forward towards you. “Don’t worry, I can kiss it better.”

Nanami follows your lead, tilting his head and leaning forward to catch your lips on his. Contrary to your conversations filled with urgency and lust, the kiss is gentle, a soft greeting to each other's bodies for the first time. His lips are plush against yours, a little bit of tongue slipping in when his tongue swipes yours and grants access but still remaining tender, molding effortlessly in sync together. All you can do is close your eyes, completely indulging in the moment at hand.

You pull away moments later, much to your dismay in the need for air. When your eyes reopen, you catch the curve of Nanami’s lips hitched upwards in front of you into a satisfied grin, resulting in another giggle surpassing your lips.

“What? Fairy magic got you feeling better already?”

“Absolutely. You’re quite a phenomenal kisser.” Nanami’s grip on the small of your back dives lower, his hands now gripping the curve of your ass in an effort to pull your body even closer to his. “I think I’m addicted already— give me some more, will you?”

He doesn’t need to ask you twice.

Your hands move to wrap around behind his neck, closing the gap between your bodies. With your body in between his legs now completely latched on to his, your hands tangle the back of his head, bringing him down for another kiss.

The kiss this time around is desperate, needy, and in the search for more. Lips now acquainted, they waste no time in smashing against each other, tongues likewise dancing to explore one another deeper. Clothes began to feel constricting, and the seconds felt excruciatingly long during the remainder of the trip up the elevator to the top floor, hands exploring every inch of the skin available to both of your reaches.

You’re frankly not too sure how exactly Nanami managed to do so, but he successfully guided you into the correct suite without his hands and lips ever tearing away from yours. They only leave you momentarily to unzip the thin fabric of your dress off and on to the floor, tossing your now nearly exposed body onto the king-sized bed and pinning you underneath his larger frame.

Just from the way his hands worked, gripping and grabbing onto every inch of your skin he could, you could tell he’s already insanely rough in bed— and a tiny smile creeps up on your face at the pleasing thought.

Nanami Kento is truly nothing like the reserved, timid and calm man from the office you thought you knew.

“You’re a real freak, aren’t you?”

Nanami leans his face lower, lips hovering over yours. A proud, cocky smirk forms upon his lips at your words, the canines of his teeth peeking through.

“Maybe I am.” His voice is low, dripping with lust at the sight of your partially naked body, now merely inches away from your lips. “But something tells me you’re not that much different from me.”

You let out a chuckle, reciprocating the smirk on his lips afterwards with your own while your fingers begin fumbling to undo the buttons of his blue dress shirt.

“Maybe I am too.” You mimic his words, pausing your efforts to undo the buttons momentarily to grab onto his patterned gold tie again, pulling him even closer. “Maybe I’m just as freaky as you — so give me everything you got.”

Before Nanami even gets the opportunity to respond back, you bring his lips onto yours. The kiss is passionate, his lips swollen and plush from the earlier make out session, tongues now more than familiar with each other, yet still desperate for more.

“ Everything ? Are you sure?” Nanami asks, pulling away momentarily. He had to ask you now where the boundaries lay, immensely cautious of your limits and not to cross them. “I’ll stop anytime if you ask, the last thing I want to do is anything that might make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure, as long as it’s nothing entirely soul crushingly degrading and humiliating.” A small, reassuring smile curves on your lips. “Seriously though, I’ve never been surer about anything. And I’m on birth control too.”

Nanami smiles half-hardy back at you, and you can sense the hesitation still lingering behind. He liked his sex rough, and he just wasn’t too sure if you did too yet. Plus, he knew how sleazy certain people could be in these environments— he wanted to make it a hundred percent clear that you weren’t obliged to anything and had the power to opt out at any time.

You were genuinely appreciative of his concern for you, noting that he was truly a kind man at heart— another thing you wouldn’t have known about him from just his presence in the office. But you sincerely did just want the man in front of you to fuck you senseless and use your body in whatever way he wanted too. You had to take it up a notch for him to sincerely ease his apprehension— and you had the perfect idea.

“Look, I’ll let you know immediately if I feel uncomfortable, okay? So don’t worry about going too far for anything.” You bring a hand up to his jawline, gently stroking the soft skin in encouragement. “But what I really want is to help you grant your wish— daddy .”

Nanami’s eyes widens, a newfound flame burning up fueled by lust flowing across his body and a small, genuine grin now forming at your response.

All it took was one, single word to shake off his hesitations, replacing them with a newly awakened beast. Unknowingly, you’ve unlocked a new side of Nanami Kento he himself rarely finds activated.

Sure, he’d been with many women during his weekend rendezvous, but he’s beginning to find truth in Gojo’s words— there was no one quite like you who had the right talk and walk, flicking on a switch in his brain that made him a man that wanted nothing more in his life than to fuck the shit out of you.

“You’re saying then you can take anything daddy gives you then, right?”

His thumb grazes over your bottom lip, and in response you open your mouth just a bit wider, wrapping your lips around his thumb.

You were more than prepared to take on this new challenger— Nanami Kento had met his match.

“Use me however you want— I’m your little slut.”

Nanami sucks his teeth at your words, the other free hand now working to loosen the tie around his neck. The bud of his thumb presses harder down the pad of your tongue, and your lips wrap tighter around it, holding onto his hand with yours and looking right at his eyes visible through the eyeholes of his mask.

“You want to be my little fuckdoll tonight, don’t you?”

Unable to speak with his thumb in your mouth, you nod your head, looking up at him and grinning the best you could. Nanami smiles again, satisfied with your response.

“You’re going to be my little slutty fuckdoll...”

The long silky gold and speckled black fabric of Nanami’s tie soon finds its way around his hand. Releasing his thumb from your mouth, you let out a gasp with wide eyes as Nanami grabs a hold of your wrists, bringing them up to the headboard above you and tying them together with his tie.

You were now completely under his discretion, your body laid out in submission, truly like a doll only for him to use however he liked— and the thought is enough to initiate another familiar throb in between your legs.

“... and you’ll do just as daddy says.”

A small shiver travels down your spine, feeling Nanami leaning forward and trailing soft kisses from the side of your jawline and down your neck, taking his time to lick and suck the sensitive areas of your skin.

He pauses when he meets the cleavage of your breasts peeking out from your bra, hands gently guiding you to arch your back off the bed. Lean fingers skillfully undo the clasp on your back, sending the strapless piece of fabric to join your other discarded garments on the floor and leaving his mouth watering at the sight of your naked, perky nipples in full view.

“My gorgeous fucking doll.”

Large hands cup and roughly squeeze the mounds of flesh, resulting in a soft, breathy whimper to leave your mouth. His tongue works on one perked nipple, licking the sensitive bud while he pulls and pinches the other with his thumb and index fingers, repeating the process again and again until you’re left squirming under his touch.

Nanami finishes giving attention to both your breasts, proudly eyeing the trails of small bruises peppered over your chest afterwards. The tip of his index finger gently begins to dance upon your skin, beginning in between your breasts at the center of your body. He traces the small love marks, loving the way you shiver and let out a small whine at even the slightest touch and slowly slithers all the way down only pausing when they reach the wetness of your cunt, concealed past your damp underwear.

“Won’t you look at that.” Nanami smirks, pressing his fingers against your underwear. “Someone’s drenched already, aren’t they?”

Your body flinches when his fingers dig deeper in between your folds, a muffled moan escaping past your lips at the slight roughness of the fabric digging into your cunt.

“Tell me, doll, who made your pussy this soaked already?”

Nanami brings his face to hover over yours again and tilts your chin upwards to look you in the eye, awaiting your response.

“ You , daddy.”

The proud grin on his face widens, a thumb joining his index finger to slowly rub your clothed clit in small, teasing circles. Your breath hitches at the new sensation on your most sensitive bud, arching your back off the bed once again and letting out an airy moan just slightly louder than the previous.

“You’re really such a good girl, listening to me so well.” He coos and leans forward, leaving you a tender, yet teasing kiss that leaves you wanting more against your lips. “Makes me want to just eat you right up.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Nanami arches his eyebrows behind his mask, slightly taken aback but simultaneously impressed with your reply. A stifling chuckle soon breaks past his lips, bringing his hand up and squishing your chin in between his fingers, causing your mouth to partially open, tongue sticking out.

“You’re right. Good, slutty girls like you deserve a reward, don’t they?”

His hand moves again, this time finding its way past the band of your underwear and inside the fabric instead. Two fingers slowly stroke past your bare clit, and then in between your wet folds, touching just enough to give you some sort of relief, but not enough penetration to fully relieve you. It leaves you whimpering, loving the touches you’re getting, but wanting even the slightest bit more .

“Tell me another thing, doll.” The finger covered with your slick leaves your underwear, Nanami bringing it up for both you and him to examine in between your faces. He spreads his two fingers apart, and the both of you watch the glistening slick stretch between the two fingers. “How do you taste when you’re all wet because of me?”

Nanami’s two fingers press down on your tongue again, and you close your mouth, embracing the digits with your tongue. Your tongue laps around his fingers, eyes looking right into his as your tastebuds savour the flavour of your own juices. Your tongue hangs out when you open your mouth again, freeing his fingers from your tongue after you suck all the slick clean off of them.

“It tastes so delicious...”

“My pretty girl likes her own flavour, hm?” Nanami’s grip on either side of your cheeks gets the slightest bit firmer. “Let me get a taste for myself.”

He leans forward, giving you a single, slow lick against your tongue with his, another whimper vibrating in your throat at your now pulsating core. When he pulls away afterwards, a low chuckle can’t help but leave his mouth, looking at your needy expression in desire for more than what his mere teasing leaves you with.

“Hm, I’m definitely going to need a better taste than that, don’t you think?”

Nanami doesn’t wait for your response, already beginning to leave a trail of kisses down your body. You slowly pry your legs open for him when he reaches your pelvis, allowing him to shift his body to lay flat on the bed in between your thighs. A tender kiss is left on one side of your inner thigh, ushering you to prop your legs upwards so he can get a better view, and you can’t help but let out another shudder at his lips ghosting closer to your most sensitive area.

His hand trails upward towards the band of your underwear, fingers latching onto the sides of lacy garment resting on your hips. With the tug of his fingers, the fabric peels off of your body, a glossy string of slick trailing from your wet cunt to the center of your underwear now stained with a patch of wetness. Nanami assists you eagerly in pulling the garment all the way down your legs, until he’s able to grab them in his hands and toss them somewhere in the floor of the hotel room to join your previously discarded clothing.

It’s a sight that makes his mouth water and cock stiffen inside his pants even more, suddenly starving in the pit of his stomach to get even the tiniest taste. It’s a sight he’s again, seen numerous times before in his weekend rendezvous, but the first to get him riled up the way he was before he even truly began to explore your body.

Your legs are spread and propped open, drenched pussy glistening with slick dangerously close to staining the sheets below, and arms still bound by his tie tied around the headboard of the bed. Your breaths come in shallow pants, heavy in anticipation of whatever is to come next, your body squirming desperately searching for even that tiny moment of relief. And in the middle of it all, watching your every movement is Nanami in between your legs— a smirk plastered on his face and a glowing twinkle in his eye.

You were a feast laid out just for him, a beast wanting nothing more than to devour his prey.

And so, he decides to do just that.

“Daddy’s going to make you feel so good baby, your pussy will be wet just like this all week thinking about me.”

Nanami leans forward, spreading your cunt with his fingers and taking the first, agonizing slow lick up your dripping slit, collecting the juices threatening to spill on to his tongue. You let out a whine, head instantly thrown back at alleviating sensation.

“Fuck…”

Your pleased curse comes out in a mutter, but it’s more than enough to fuel Nanami. He traces his tongue back and forth on your slit, occasionally sticking his tongue in and out of your cunt, and increasingly picking up his pace every time he hears you whimper in delight and your body gradually wriggling more and more. The sound is music to his ears— a melody of sorts he’s more than determined to play all night.

When the tip of his tongue deliberately finds its way to brush on your clit, your body jolts, and another, breathy moan fills the air. Nanami instantly holds you down, wrapping an arm around your thighs, restraining your movements to jump away from him, and allowing him to continue to attack on your most sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh…my god… please…” You whine, your tied up hands searching for something to desperately grasp on to but finding nothing. “...please don’t stop… ”

It’s all you can groan out, Nanami showing no mercy in sucking on the swollen bud, flicking his tongue rapidly against it like it’s all he knew how to do. His tongue is incredibly skilled, and Nanami knows it too— simply by the way your body was thrashing already under him, a sign he knew too well of what was to come next.

He wonders how much farther you can go, what kind of reaction he can get from your body if just plays around with you just a bit further. Curiosity controls his movements, a long, lone finger on his free hand coming up and teasingly stroking your wet cunt, before inserting itself effortlessly in.

And you like it— so much so you feel yourself dripping even more , without a doubt now staining the bed sheets below when his finger curls and picks up the pace, fucking your cunt alongside his tongue working on your clit. But both Nanami and you know one isn’t enough, despite the fact he can hear your whimpers grow louder and can practically feel your cunt clenching, throbbing on his one sole finger, he knows he needs to stretch you out even further to fully prepare you for the main course— his dick in his pants that was now harder than ever.

You were close, so close already, hips thrusting to fuck his finger and face the best you could being under his grasp. When Nanami adds a second finger to join the first, fingering your pussy relentlessly, your eyes shut close, the pit of your stomach tightening and your body beginning to convulse from the intensity of it all.

“Oh my god… I… I’m going to—”

With one last final cry, your back arches the best it can under Nanami’s strength, holding your thighs down while your first orgasm of the night rips out, liquid squirting all over him.

Nanami lets you ride your orgasm out on his fingers and tongue, leaving slower, gentle licks and flicks on your clit and cunt. When your thrusting stops, he pulls away, a grin forming on his face now wet from your squirting, looking at the scene of liquid splattered on the bed sheets, the skin of your stomach and thighs, and your puffed, swollen clit.

You’re left panting, body now completely relaxed on top of the bed in an attempt to recollect yourself. You’re truthfully a bit in a state of shock, not only from how mind blowing it was to be eaten out by the Nanami Kento, but how fast it all happened. You weren’t normally one to reach an orgasm, let alone be so turned on and fucked good to squirt the way you did so quickly and easily— but you really shouldn’t be that surprised. Nanami Kento was definitely nothing remotely close to your ordinary hookup.

Nanami adjusts his body to sit back upright, undoing the last few buttons on his shirt before letting it fall onto the floor behind him. You can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of his now naked torso, his upper body somehow even more chiseled and built than what you fantasized it to be.

It leaves you wondering what other areas—specifically below the belt— will be even better than what your fantasies envisioned them to be.

“You made a mess.” Nanami’s tone is stern, yet simultaneously integrated with a hint of pride knowing he’s the complete reason why the mess is there in the first place.

You lift your head up, examining the damage done. He’s entirely correct— drops of your liquid drip down his chin, his chest, and ultimately join the damp bed sheets below.

“It’s your fault.”

“Maybe it is.” Nanami leans back in hovering over your face once more, leaving soft kisses on the side of your neck in between his words. “But you know, I think you should still be responsible for cleaning up after your own messes.”

Continuing to leave your neck with gentle kisses and nips, his hands work to swiftly undo the knot that binds your wrists together. The soreness of your arms bound together alleviates almost instantly when they fall onto the bed, allowing for a moment of peace and calmness to overtake your body.

Indisputably, it lasts just a moment and not even a second longer. Time was of the essence to Nanami, after all.

In a blink of an eye your body is flipped. You were now laying on top of Nanami, an arm wrapped around the back of your waist and the other lifting your chin up towards him once more.

“Lick it all clean off of me, and maybe you’ll get a reward you’ve been waiting for at the end.”

Nanami grips your chin, pulling your face in for another passionate kiss on your lips. A faintly salty flavour remains on his lips causing you to graze your tongue against his in the hopes for a better taste, and when you do you can’t help but to express your satisfaction through a small, moaning against him.

“My sweet, dirty doll.” Nanami smirks against your lips in between the kisses. “You like the taste of yourself that much, don’t you?”

You pull away, countering a smile back.

“I’ll like the taste of you better.”

Parting from his lips, you shuffle your body again to sit on your knees in between Nanami’s spread legs, his back now against the headboard behind him. Leaning forward to rest your upper body on his pelvis while your hands roam the muscles of his toned abdomen and forearms. You begin to trail down his body, slowly tracing with your tongue the liquid droplets across his neck and torso, cleaning and wiping them away from his skin and onto your tastebuds.

Your eyes flicker upwards, watching Nanami’s eyes pierce at your every action in awe observing you drag your tongue lower and lower across his body until your fingers start to play with the waistband of his pants. Your breasts push up against the now evident bulge in his pants, his cock throbbing for anything more you could give him— causing Nanami to desperately chew on the insides of his bottom lip to prevent himself from just pinning you back down on the bed and fucking you senseless already.

“You’ll let me taste you, won’t you, daddy ?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, and even through the eyeholes of the mask Nanami is struck by your request, hard in more places than one. “I want to make you feel so good you’ll cum in my mouth and I can taste how delicious you are.”

Unfastening the button of his pants, you bring your finger to slowly undo the zipper, teasingly brushing against his cock desperate to be released from its constriction past his briefs. The bulge is even bigger than you imagined now released from the one thicker layer of the fabric of his pants, making you gulp in anticipation.

“You want to make daddy feel good?” Nanami hisses, a hand sneaking up behind your head to tangle in your hair.

You tug at the rest of his bottoms, pulling down the remainder of his pants and briefs until they pooled to his ankles, kicked off and discarded with the other articles of clothing on the floor. Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight before you— his veiny, erected cock standing proud, both extremely generous in length and girth.

Nanami definitely was in no way exaggerating earlier in the night when he used the numbers eleven and six to describe his cock.

A flurry of questions enter your mind: how was something of this caliber supposed to fit inside you? Down your throat? But how would something this large feel? Your cunt throbs at the imagination alone, subconsciously rubbing your legs together just the slightest.

There was only one way to find out the answer to your questions.

“You got so big and hard— just for me…” You whisper, wrapping a hand around the base only to let out a breathy exhale when you see how it’s not enough to even grip the entire circumference. “... I can’t wait to taste you…”

Gathering a pool of saliva inside your mouth, you let a trail of spit land just on the tip of his dick, covering the head with a new, sheen gloss. Your two hands begin spreading the saliva onto the remainder of his dick, slowly stroking up and down his shaft in what Nanami feels is an almost painfully agonizing pace.

It takes an immense amount of self control from Nanami to hold himself back again from just thrusting his hips upwards into your ajar mouth, jaw dropped simply due to how mesmerized you were by the shape and length of his cock. Unknowingly, your breath is hot, and mixed with the warmth of your hands wrapping tightly up and down makes it insanely difficult for Nanami to keep his composure intact. He wonders what you would look like if he just shoved his dick in your mouth right now, pushing far enough so his cock would protrude out of your cheek, maybe causing a tear or two to escape your eyes because you're choking on his cock, far too big for your tiny mouth.

But in this exact moment, all he can do is watch you, patiently waiting in anticipation of your next move and when you’ll free his throbbing cock from it’s imprisonment. He doesn’t see the need to dwell in imagination any further— he would make sure to see it play out soon enough in reality.

“Oh!” Your eyes go wide for a second, before a small smirk spreads across your face when you realize just what that unfamiliar feeling under the palm of your hands is. “I felt that… you’re thinking something nasty right now aren’t you?”

“I’m thinking about you .” Nanami groans out, voice caught in between your hands gently squeezing just a bit harder. “How pretty you’ll look when I fuck that cute little mouth of yours, making you choke on my cock until you cry.”

You let out a small giggle, grazing a thumb across the slit of his cock that causes another wince upon his face. A small ooze of precum seeps past the slit, and you can’t help but lick your lips at the sight.

“Do it then.” You lean forward, taking a single lick of the tip of his dick, eyes locked onto his pupils behind the mask while the salty taste bombards your tastebuds. “Fuck my pretty little mouth just made to suck your big cock.”

Your tongue slowly begins to swirl the head of his dick, a thumb coming in between to graze across the sensitive slit. You can feel a particular prominent vein rubbing down the shaft of his cock throb under your grasp once more, inspiring you to trace your tongue along it up and down in the hopes of calming it down.

But you and Nanami know all too well it doesn’t— in fact doing quite the opposite in reality. His cock becomes even more stiff at the sight of your tongue providing just a tease of what he needs, hungry and desperate for just some relief.

Nanami ultimately begins to think you're more of an angel instead of a fairy. A horny, beautiful, ethereal being that answers his silent pleas at last when you finally take his dick in your mouth.

You wrap your lips around the entire head, taking his length into your mouth and beginning to bob your head up and down. His dick is too big, your mouth only able to take barely half of his length, one hand working in its place to pump the remaining area your mouth is unable to reach.

The breath Nanami has been holding back finally escapes, eyes fluttering shut and head tilting back succumbing to the ecstasy of your tongue working in sync with your puckered lips, swirling around his shaft just perfectly every time his length enters the depths of your mouth. Nanami’s blown away at how good— really fucking good— your tongue works his cock, and he begins to become convinced maybe your mouth really was made to suck cock.

Yet, he thinks with a little help from him, you could make it an experience even better than ever before.

“You suck my cock so good, doll.” His hand lands gently on the top of your head, caressing it in encouragement briefly before it sneaks past to the back of your head again, tangling his fingers in your hair to pull it back and away from your face. “But I know you can do even better than this.”

The hand on the back of your head guides your pace, raising the speed of your head bobbing back and forth alongside the increase of spit formulating onto his cock, dribbling out the corners of your mouth. The sight of trails of spit coming down your chin releases an almost animalistic groan from Nanami, holding your head down just the slightest bit further than before and allowing the tip of his dick to meet the back of your throat.

Nanami holds your head there, watching your eyes begin to glisten looking right up at him. Your entire mouth is filled with more of his length than you could take, now being unable to even breathe properly, choking on his cock instead.

The sight is just as good as his imagination, perhaps even better . Messy, dirty, and sloppy— Nanami’s favourite type of blowjob, done effortlessly by you.

You gasp for air when Nanami releases your head, a trail of spit connecting your bottom lip to the tip of his cock. A smile curves on your lips looking up at Nanami’s expression above you, chest rising up and down in the growing lack of steady breaths, a bead of sweat rolling down from the side of forehead, teeth gritted, and a hand pumping his now wet cock.

“You like choking on cock, don’t you?” His free hand comes up to grab just under your chin, lifting your face up towards him. “That little cunt of yours is probably just dripping wet after taking a fat cock down your throat.”

Your hand trails down your body, feeling the wetness of the dripping saliva and sheen of sweat beginning to coat your body. A different type of wetness is found when your fingers reach between your legs, however, enough present to drench your entire cunt.

“I love choking on daddy’s cock…” You moan out, slipping a finger effortlessly in your own lubricated pussy. “...it turns me on so much, makes me so horny for more.”

Nanami curses under his breath, subconsciously pumping his cock faster watching you whimper and whine at your own finger fucking your cunt.

“Open that fucking slutty mouth again.” Nanami commands. “You’re going to let me fuck that throat of yours until my cum is shooting down your throat— and add another fucking finger in your pussy while you're at it.”

You oblige without hesitation, slipping another finger inside your cunt while opening your mouth once more. Nanami’s hand rejoins the back of your head, holding you steady before sliding his cock into your mouth.

It becomes incredibly difficult to breathe, the little air you do have used on moaning against his cock repeatedly thrusting without mercy into your mouth. The head of his cock continuously attacks the back of your throat, now sore from the consistent assault but you can do nothing but take it, a situation that makes you throb between your legs.

You were being used just like a doll, his doll— and in this moment there was nothing more you wanted than that.

Stars fill your vision, and you’re not entirely sure if its from how good your cunt feels, fingers knuckles deep fucking yourself, or if its the sound of Nanami’s moans filling the air growing louder and louder as his hips start to lose their pace. Perhaps it's the combination of both, unwinding the familiar knot in your stomach that makes you release a loud, muffled moan against his dick, your fingers frantically riding out your high.

The vibration of your moan against his dick is the last straw for Nanami, letting out one last groan before shooting his ropes of white cum down your throat, the salty flavour bombarding your tastebuds. It’s a taste you’ve been dying for, and you savour every last drop, swallowing it all down your throat.

“Show me.” Nanami pulls his cock away from your mouth, instantly gripping your chin one again, forcing you to open your mouth. “Show me you swallowed it all.”

You lick your lips, before opening your mouth wide open, sticking your tongue proudly out to display the cleanness of the pad of your tongue.

“Two out of seven.” Nanami smiles, leaving a kiss on your lips that’s tender and comforting before the grip on your chin firms once again. “Five more baby, we’re only just getting started.”

#Nanami #nanami kento #nanami fanfic #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami reader #nanami jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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y0itsbri · 3 years

Text

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

#gw2021 #gw2021day3 #gallavich week 2021 #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #my posts #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanfiction

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duskyskz · 3 years

Text

50/50 - Chapter 1

Warnings - Toxic relationship, verbal/physical assault (NOT with main pairing), eventual smut but very very slow burn, boxer minho, trust issues reader, development on dom/sub dynamics, sex education to a degreedetailed tags to come with individual chapters.

After the final straw in your patience and self confidence leads you to moving in with your neighbour, you spend months unlearning bad habits and opening doors you shut yourself out from in your last relationship.

Word count: 5.5k

Minho watched as you picked up the corn cob, placing it gingerly in the basket on your arm, moving onto asparagus sprouts. How own hands are empty, not yet having decided on the groceries he craves that week. Instead he watches, from the irritated skin on your wrist to the focus of your eyes as you inspect potato bags in the next stall over. He’s just a neighbour from the same apartment complex, he’s seen you a handful of times at most before the current week yet since he started noticing your steps he can’t seem to stop.

You breathe out heavily, adjusting the basket on your forearm and he stills, frowning when you readjust the woven handle once more along your arm. There’s a coloured faintness there, and traces of fingerprints that make his stomach twist inside out uneasily. He knows your name, as of a few days ago. It looks like it aches. It’s still an urgent boundary to cross, what he’s about to suggest.

“You could stay the night with me, if you want. If that’d be easier.” He’s only a step behind you, having followed you quietly down most of the farmers’ market now. The sunhat he recognises you from by now bounces among the sea of hagglers on a wednesday morning. “I know fights in relationships can be rough, so if you need a place to crash for the night, my couch is free.”

You wish you could tell him how much you cannot possibly do that, but Minho’s offer is so innocent and well-intended you don’t have the heart to outright decline. “Thank you, Minho, but we’re fine. I’ll be alright.”

He doesn’t need to read into your smile to understand the rejection, trying not to let it phase him at the implication you’d be going home again that night. He knew better than to ask if you needed help carrying your bags after the first time he’d offered and your knuckles turned white.

“Alright. But you know my flat number if, right? If something happens.”

“If something happens.” You promise, and leave him with a nagging sense of discomfort as your dress fades into the morning crowds.

***

You don’t think of doing it as you enter the concrete building block and pass the elevator to the staircase. It would be too inappropriate, too out of the question to even consider. A night at another person’s house? At another man’s house, even more so! No way would you consider breaking a rule like that. You couldn’t step out of line like that. Yet as you passed the third floor, one you now knew held the possibility of the unexplored, you hesitated for a moment.

No, surely it wouldn’t be worth the scolding you’d get after. Would you even be able to sit still for an hour, without twitching? The handprint shaped bruise on your wrist still aches dully with the weight of the food basket as you open the door to your shared apartment two floors higher. You no longer notice the relief that sags your shoulders when you realise the house is empty apart from your own presence. You take in the respite of silence while unpacking the vegetables, trimming the corn cob for stir fry later in the evening. It's followed by bamboo shoots and chicken breast, which you’ve just about got simmering when the front door clicks open.

You hear him before you see him, taking as long as you can to plate the food before turning to face the man you shared a home with. He doesn’t return it, eyes glossing over you to inspect the dinner plate you slide before him.

“You know I prefer rice noodles.” He tuts out, frowning. His feet come up to rest on the other chair, but you weren’t going to sit at the table anyway, opting to linger by the counter. “And beef, your chicken sucks.”

He chews loudly, groaning as if to make sure you’re aware of your culinary inadequacy, but his face never lifts from the plate. He wasn’t wrong, really. Your cooking was barely edible enough to provide nutrition and you didn’t know how to make it better.

He keeps talking still, even as his pointer finger comes in contact with your forehead to accentuate his point with a harsh poke that makes you lean backwards against the counter top.

You don’t apologize. It’s better to not make any noise, you’ve come to learn, keeping your head toward the floor and body still and you’re almost impressed with yourself when the plate is thrown into the sink by you with a piercing clatter, not caring if the porcelain splits

The food is half eaten, but you don’t comment on the waste either. You’ll eat alone later, but the mess makes your exhaustion rear its head again when you think of cleaning it.

You know it’s no longer love that stops your words in your throat. The fluttering in your heart froze up into apprehension first, then fear and indifference. The physical alterations hurt, but they were only skin deep. They only lasted a few days, and once the ache faded you wondered if you felt the pain at all. The verbal attacks, that made your head hurt more. But you stopped talking back, because then they stopped faster.

The door slams again, rattling the walls loud enough to make a point of your boyfriend’s absence and shining light on all your failures as a partner. He wouldn’t be back tonight, or maybe even the night after that. You let your knees turn to cotton, slumping to cold kitchen tile. You don’t clean up the noodles in the sink. You’re not hungry enough to eat your own portion.

In a burst of conflicting emotion, you feel yourself stand and head to your bedroom. Maybe it’s the tiredness that made a home in your bones, maybe it’s the stress rattling them every time you’re in his presence, watching your step and calculating his every action before it happens. Maybe it’s the lack of all of that when you push your partner from your mind and let your heart betray you for a second to think of softer brown eyes instead, living in the flat two floors below you. It’s some twisted amalgamation of it all, probably, that makes you pluck your mascara from the bathroom, alongside a toothbrush and (on second thought, in case of emergencies) minimal changes of clothing into your backpack. You haven’t had use for it in a few months, not having gone further than the main streets of your own town in that time. It still fits enough for a weekend trip, and the weight of it hangs on you heavier than the clothing you packed would allow.

Would you really do it?

Minho could be mad at you for changing your mind, and maybe you couldn’t take that. You’ve developed a defence mechanism for one person, but could you for another so quickly? If his voice raised at you, you’re sure you’d cry on the spot like you used to the first few times in this house, too. But maybe you wouldn’t have to, maybe he wouldn’t even be home after you’d rejected his offer. He had no reason to be home, so you’re just going to check and confirm there really is no chance and no hope of you escaping this hellhole, that’s it. Your hopes would be rightfully crushed and you’d return with your tail between your legs, clean up after dinner, and head to bed like the fool you are.

Locking the door after you, as your housemate didn’t bother to, you trudge down two flights of stairs to the last door down the corridor, marked with a cat-paw print welcome mat and burgundy painted door. You knock twice with shaky fingers, and the sound is so light you wonder if he’d have heard you even if he was home at this late hour.

“Jisung, I said not tonight!” There came a shuffling from the other side of the door, and you were seized with fear of facing the other possibility - that Minho was no longer considering you’d come by, as you told him you wouldn’t, and he’s going to yell at you for ruining his night. The thoughts lurched forward at you as his footsteps grew louder, pounding in your head so loud your eyes blurred so instantly you couldn’t focus on the door opening and Minho’s silhouette against his low living room light.

“Y/n?” His response comes stalled too, letting a beat of silence pass between you as no words left you. He wasn’t shouting yet, so you took the chance to apologize as quickly as you could before the situation worsened. Your limits were thin tonight.

“I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t come and that’s really stupid, I’m sorry.” Your thumb dug into the strap of your backpack at your feet. “It’s really late so I’m sorry if I woke you -”

“No, it’s okay.” Minho protests before you can word your final ‘sorry’, moving aside to reveal the rest of his hallway. “I wasn’t asleep yet. Come in.”

And that’s it. You expected more, to be honest. Some kind of questioning at least, scrutiny at your visual (and mental) state.

You don’t enter right away, thoughts wooshed out of your head. You don’t even think if he’d scold you for leaving the door open so long, but Minho just waits in the hallway, giving you space to cross the threshold of his home when you’re ready, watching as your expression blanks once the door closes behind you and he has to ask if you need help for you to take off your shoes and break out of the thought train. You hang your coat among his, after asking if he’s okay with that, and doing the same for your shoes. You hold your bag close, resting it on your lap as you sit down on your neighbors couch.

Minho looks the same as he did this morning, grey hoodie and equally nondescript jeans with a pale wash ending just below his ankles. He hangs around the hallway a few meters away from you, and you can tell he’s thinking about what to say before he voices his thoughts.

“Did something happen?” You hadn’t expected him to be so direct. You didn't consider this scenario beforehand, so you couldn’t answer instantly. “You said you’d come then. If something happened.”

“I’m not sure.” You decide to answer truthfully, though he may be unhappy with the vagueness of the statement. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened tonight, so…” You let the sentence trail off, but he knows the implication.

So I’m not sure why I came.

“That’s fine. Nothing has to happen for you to visit a friend.” Minho accepts your hesitance easily, and you’re instantly grateful for his keen senses. “It is late, so I’m not sure if you ate yet?” You shake your head. “I have some lunch leftovers I was going to heat up if that’s okay with you, though.”

Lee Minho was a glorious cook. Michelin level, you’d go so far to say, had you ever been to a Michelin star restaurant in your life, but you were convinced he’d qualify. Turns out his leftovers consisted of seared steak, grilled vegetables and an assortment of flavoured rice balls, which he served you with cucumber salad you saw him purchase at the market earlier that day. This was more elaborate than any meal you’d attempted to cook in your life, and you’d tell him so were you not so occupied devouring it. Minho didn’t think you noticed him glancing at you across the table, but the amazement in your eyes filled his heart entirely. He’s seen you look content, happy even on days he’d catch you by the vegetable stalls and spark conversation despite your brisk pace.

After he’d washed up, insisting you remain seated (which filled you with visible unease, to both his amusement and greater concern) you were forced to address the trickiest part of the night. You’ve had sleepovers before, but never with a boy. Never as an adult.

Stunning you for the second time that evening, Minho seemed to harbour no such fears.

“You can sleep in my room if you’d like, and I’ll move to the couch for tonight; but if you’re not comfortable with that, I’ll bring some blankets out for you into the living room.” The ease with which he approached the subject settled into your own head, and you nodded at his suggestions.

“I’d like to sleep here, please.” You pat the couch you’ve gravitated to after eating, quickly becoming the centerpoint of the apartment to you. Minho leaves for the few minutes it takes him to prepare a fresh duvet and pillow cover and you take the moment of isolation to break through the dam of thoughts clawing at your brain since arriving an hour ago. You weren’t sure if the time went by rapidly or dragged on. You only let yourself take in minimal information about the situation - taste of the food, the colour of his kitchen tile, the fabric of his clothing and softness of his living room rug. Small, manageable pieces of the greater dilemma you didn’t want to give attention to yet.

Midnight air mingles with your sigh as you lean back on your hands and tilt your head toward the window. Minho kept his curtains open for a glimmer of the nightlife. There wasn't much to see from the 3rd floor, but yellow light still flickers over rooftops and storefronts.Your musings are cut short when a mountain of bed covers drops beside you, delicately placed at the opposite end of the sofa. He must have switched off the other house lights on his way back, letting only the shy orange lamp illuminate his profile.

“The bathroom is on the left in the hallway, and my room is at the end of it, the last door to your right.” You note his directions in your head, nodding to show you’re listening. “Alright, I - I’ll let you sleep.”

“Goodnight, Minho. Thank you.”

He lingers by the doorway, balancing from one foot to another with an unfocused gaze. You don’t budge as he watches you, though he doesn’t seem to realise he’s staring at your feet, then your hands and face until your eyes meet halfway.

“I’m glad you came here. It’s good that you’re here.”

You don’t know how to reply to that statement, so you don’t say anything, and Minho leaves you with another soft goodnight and a flood of anxious thoughts.

***

Night fell rapidly, so much that when you switched off the remaining lights and laid to sleep. You were so stressed it made your head hurt, but the emotional toll made exhaustion greater, and you fell asleep within an instant. Minho’s duvets were plush, so big and fluffy you couldn’t see your own hand when you pressed down on the sheets. As you faded in and out of coherency throughout the night, a weight appeared by your feet. Too tired to be alarmed, you opened your eyes only when the warm pillow stood up, patting its way over to your stomach. It purrs against your cheek, whiskers tickling your nose as you blink back at it. It’s not surprising Minho has a cat - you’d picked up feline mannerisms in his behaviour before. It was endearing, now seeing the same slow blink in the eyes of the creature responsible for his habits.

It nudges its little head into your raised palm, rubbing against your hand. You give into the request happily scratching behind its ears, urging it to lay down next to you so you both could go back to sleep. The cat’s long body gives you something to focus on, easing the remnants of nerves from your brain.

***

You wake up more rested than you had been in weeks, despite pressure cramping your shoulder from the small couch you’d slept on. The living room is warmed by morning sunlight, though you’re not sure what time it is yet. You have no missed calls, and just one message from a student confirming the time of your session today. Creaks resound when you stretch, straightening out your bones from the night . The cat is nowhere in sight, but Minho must already be awake by the sounds coming from the adjacent room and you’re struck with embarrassment that he may have seen you sleeping. He would have walked right past the room, and since no door stood in the wide archway, he probably saw you drool right onto his pillowcase.

You consider sneaking out right then, grabbing your possessions and darting out the hallway, but you couldn’t leave without thanking him for letting you escape yesterday and for feeding you.

“Oh, hello.” The cause of your inner turmoil dips his head through the doorway, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, thank you.” Your knees bump against each other as you sit, patting down your hair. Minho looks well rested too, though his own hair isn’t combed yet and he’s not dressed to leave the house. Grey shorts this time with a plain white shirt hang off him, and he looks perfectly at home like that, humming a greeting at the floor when the cat you’d nestled into last night curls around his feet. White and ginger patches cover it’s fur, it’s belly a pure cotton shade as it rolls onto its back at your feet.

“You already met Soonie, right?” He laughs, pointing at your sweater, and belatedly you realise light-coloured cat hair clings to every inch of the fabric at your front.

“He came in to sleep here last night.” You pick at the frizzy hair to no avail. “I’m sorry if it got on your duvets, though…”

“It’s fine, my bedroom is covered in hair no matter how much I brush them out.” He joins you on the sofa next to the bundled bedsheets, placing the cat gently on his lap. Soonie makes himself content atop his legs, white paws dangling from the side. “I made breakfast for when you’re ready, and if you need to shower - I’ll grab you some towels.”

A shower did sound good, so you accepted his offer eager to strip from the clothes you slept in. Sweat was already making your sweater cling to your skin, and the cat hair combed through the fibers wasn’t doing the itching any favours. Not wanting to use up too much of his hot water, you rinsed yourself in record time. You packed your toothbrush, but not any shampoo, so you skipped out on washing your hair - taking Minho’s shower gel would be too much. You didn't want to go too far in his hospitality, and now he even cooked for you twice.

How could you repay that?

How were you supposed to make that worth his time?

You turned off the water then, not wanting to let your thoughts make you stall in the hot stream. You skipped out on wearing your sweater again, clothing yourself in the vest you had underneath and the pair of jeans you had last night. Feeling lighter now that the grime of sleep was washed from your skin, you looked around Minho’s bathroom before exiting. It was plain for sure, but accents of his personality lingered in the kitty paw-print of the shower mat, mint-scented shower gel and matching shampoo-conditioner set.

You’d never dwelled on whether Minho was a 3-in-1 shampoo user or not, but the knowledge he had dedicated creams and gels for each job reassured something inside you. It suited him. Yet the knowledge felt intimate, as if seeing the brand responsible for his mint and tea tree scent was encroaching on a level you weren’t supposed to know about as his neighbour.

You stood just beside the kitchen entrance, watching Minho set different dishes around the table top. Every flat inside your complex had similar layouts, so you were already familiar with the structure of his home. Still you watched, accidentally memorising the cupboard he stored his cups and cutlery.

“You can sit down, you don’t need to wait.” You faced his back, but he must have felt eyes burning on him. You sat down quickly, considering his words. Minho didn’t seem to mind a lot of things. It was unusual, being made aware of just how much instruction you relied on in unfamiliar settings.

And Minho smiles so much. It sets all your self preservation nerves on edge, analysing for underlying motive in his movement and sentences. You could clean his house if he asked, and replace the ingredients he used for your food. That would be the least you could do, and you’d settled on going about it as soon as he left for work - if he would leave. You had no idea what he did with his life apart from keeping you company on morning grocery hunts. But he was just so darn polite! He asked if you wanted any hot sauce, offered to butter your toast, even cleaned your dishes for you (again) that you had no idea what he could expect in return.

“Hey,” He calls over from the sink, “Give me a list of things you like so I can plan dinner later.”

“Why would you need that?” You still, glancing away from his mug collection.

“I only know you like courgette and hate leeks,” Wiping his hands on his jeans, he leans against the cupboards looking at you intensely. “And...you will be here for dinner, right?”

Would you be here that long? You weren’t expecting to. You’d go back two floors above and clean up the spilled noodles from last night, as your partner would have not, regardless of whether he’d returned home or was still out doing his mystery business. Minho frowns when you don’t answer, crossing his arms as you bow your head. You don’t want to anger him now, but how could you stay here any longer?

“Why would you want to go back there? It’s bad for you to be around that.” You know that, both at surface level and deeper - but how were you supposed to disappear? Sourness spread through your bones when you unearthed the feeling. You’re really scared - and you have been scared for years, but you never considered the feeling as such because opportunity never presented itself to escape. To admit you had to escape from something would be to admit you feared it, that you had been hurtt. You don’t know if you’re ready for that process.

“I don’t have anywhere else I can be, I still have things at that house, I can’t just leave.”

“You can.” Minho contradicts you immediately. His voice is level, gentle and coaxing, even though a strong resolve trembles in it. “You can stay with me as long as you want to. You don’t have to pay rent or anything, since I don't have a spare room but you can take my bed or stay on the couch if you like. Stay here for a few days, just - to feel better. It’ll make you feel better.”

He’s come to sit across from you, enough to give you space but enough for you to see worry lines around his eyes as he speaks. “I’ll give you space if you need it, just let me know if I can make things easier for you.”

“I’ll have to go grab a few of my things, I only got bare essentials yesterday.” Minho perks up right away, as if no tension hunched in his shoulders just seconds prior. It’s not as hard to agree as you thought it would be. You’re terrified, yes, of a step you know won’t end here. But you’re also more rested than you’ve been in so long, and the strain of all the stress become routine for the past years that you’re willing to grasp any straw at breaking the cycle. And Minho was nice. Everything you’d read between the lines of his actions was kind.

“Okay. Let me give you my number so we can talk while I’m not here, and you know - if anything happens, call me.”

You did go to fetch more of your things, after reassuring Minho it would be best if you went alone. If someone else was home, you could pass off your absence as work-related - it would be harder to explain why you weren’t alone.

His presence would just cause issues, and he eventually agreed to leave you on your own after you promised you had his number saved. You would also pay rent, but about ⅓ of it - on his insistence you got no proper room but a living room couch, and at your insistence you’d be using his utilities and house space. Your neighbour - housemate?- had to leave to do his own occupations, but assured you he’d be back within a few hours to help you.

You thanked him again for everything before he left saying you’d send him a list of your favourite food when you were done packing, and you set about your own tasks. He’d left the house keys with you, making the point of you more likely to be home before him.

They weighed heavy in your hand, the implications of the trust in his gesture more than the object itself.

You didn’t have a lot to move, but the transfer still takes you a few trips up and down concrete staircase. The majority of your haul is books, your own towels and toiletries. You’d have to perform an impromptu closet clearout, quickly deciding which old pieces to keep and which were better left in the past. Since Minho’s flat was similar, but inhabited one person only, his furniture would be cast to contain belongings of one. Working from home meant you were spared the task of office clothing or showy pieces, so all you had to part with was a few aged sweaters. You grab your laptop, a selection of favourite cups and plates so you don't have to borrow Minho’s all the time - though was it really borrowing if you would share the house?

You hurry as much as you can, but it still takes three trips up and down to completely transfer all traces of your life to the flat below. By the time you’re done, you decide to clean the small apartament to make organisation easier. It’s rapid work when you focus and separate Minho’s laundry without thinking about it. Darks, lights, and the sparse touch of coloured denims among his closet. Then you hoover, and by the time you finish hanging up the damp clothing on the balcony, it’s a while past lunchtime.

The turning of a lock swipes tension over your shoulders before you recognise Minho in the hallway, shuffling off his running shoes and hoodie. You meet him halfway, wiping your hands on your jeans to rid the laundry moisture.

“Hi,” His skin is flushed as if he’d been running, sweat sticking to the baby hair around his forehead when he smiles to greet you. Minho looks worn out, shoulders pulled high and taught. His breathing is laboured as he walks into the house, and only when he passes the threshold does he release the air in his lungs to slump in one of the barstools. “Did you get your things?”

“I don’t have a lot, so it only took a few trips.” You nod, following him to the kitchen. “I put most of them in the living room for now, though…”

“That's fine, we can go through the drawers and make space for you after we eat.” He reassured you, seeing you tug on your sleeves. “You didn’t send me a list of things you like to eat, so I got things I remember you buying instead.” His voice lilts into a pout as he looks at you, lips jutting into a pout before reaching into the bags he brought.

A strange feeling climbs higher and higher up your throat with every item he stacks on the counter and you wonder how much he actually spent on just foods you like. It grows stronger when you recognise your coffee brand, the cookies you got last week as he bumped into you that morning. A selection of fruits you used in a cake you gifted him last month, and sundries to fill the cupboards with.

“I can’t cook.”

Minho looks up at your confession, pausing from arranging the food.

“I mean, my cooking is edible at best.” You elaborate, looking away from his face to his hands as you lamely explain. “I could never, uh, make it taste good.”

“I’ll cook then.” Minho nods, shelving the sauce jars. Your eyebrows pull together and he must have noticed your hesitance, turning on his heel towards you. “Or I can teach you, slowly.”

“You can help me cook, and I’ll show you how to season different foods. We’ll start with things you like, so you already know how they’re supposed to taste. Then we can go from there.”

You want to ask if he’s sure, if it’s not a bother to have you around while he works to have someone hover around him needing assistance, but you do want to learn - If your food could taste half as heavenly as Minho’s cooking did, you’d be content. So you agree and he cheers at you, excitement contagious. And before you know it’s coming, there’s a surge in your heart at the sight of him again that makes grinning back at him a thoughtless action.

Cooking with Minho is more eventful than you expected.

When you watched him before, he navigated the kitchen with a practiced ease that made your awkward stumbles all the more prominent.

“Where do you keep knives?” He hands you a small knife, it’s green handle foreign in your palm.

“My hands keep slipping…” You fumble with the peeled onion as Minho tends the rice, tipping in a spoonful of white wine. The sting makes your eyes water, hazing your vision of the offending white bulb.

“You need to hold it with your other hand so it stays still, like a claw.” His hair was still damp, but now the moisture was from the shower he took before starting your lesson rather than sweat. You could recognise the mint scent in his shampoo and how it spilled over to his clothing, and no matter how reasonably awful it should have smelled mixed with raw onion you were cutting and the steam of boiling rice, you couldn’t get enough of the sensation. Minho acts open around you, treating you like a friend he’s known for years rather than an acquaintance from the farmer’s market. Only a day passed since you entered his home yet you felt so seen in his eyes. You must have been testing his patience not being able to cut a straight carrot slice without his help, but he never raised his voice above a patient hum. Sure, he did laugh a few times when your cucumber sticks came out triangles rather than evenly cut stips, but even his humour came without bite. His laughter was never at your expense, and it was kindling your heart alight at an alarming speed.

Minho (and his flat) became comfortable to you rapidly, and in the passing days your interactions all came more naturally than the last. Minho would leave around noon and come home just after 7pm, looking like he ran a marathon while you’d finish up your studies and the few zoom tutorials you teach for extra income. Despite his initial apprehension, he was grateful you took on cleaning duties so easily - he still insisted on doing the dusting and cleaning his bedroom himself, but it made you feel better to have some kind of input into house upkeep when you couldn’t contribute in many other ways. In the mornings he’d pass by the living room and you try your ebay to already be awake to spare yourself the embarrassment of Minho seeing you drool in your sleep, and in the evenings you cook together. Minho insists on increasingly difficult recipes, and you try to keep up despite recurring failures.

Five days into your coexistence, Minho is late.

Of course, you’ve only been part of his schedule for a week, but his arrival never differed by more than a few minutes - the gym he worked at was just a few blocks down the road. Tonight you wait with your phone in hand as 8pm rolls around, thumbs hovering over the call button. He did tell you to call him in case anything happens, but did that go both ways? If something happened to him, would he let you know too?

You knew he would not.

You weren’t nearly as reliable in that department, and it’s not like you could do much else than call emergency services - something he would surely do himself if he could call you in the first place. You can’t quite bring yourself to sit on the couch, leaning against the doorway to the living room with your eyes on the front door so intently you almost forget to blink by the time the handle starts to turn.

The unlocking click echoes in the silence you’ve sat in for the past hour and you shoot up, straightening your posture when the door finally gives way.

“Min?”

A/N: Sorry this is a day late, I was exhausted yesterday when I got home so had to delay it a little bit but now we're started! As you can tell this will be an incredibly slow burn, but I hope you enjoy the ride and see the development grow because I promise the deeper build up is worth the wait.

Tags: @healinghyunjin @lizsvcks @glitteryskzstraykidsdream (can't tag for some reason;;) @changbinscypher @spilledtee @linours

#stray kids #stray kids smut #skz #lee know #lee Minho #Minho #skz lee know #lee know fic #lee know angst #Minho angst #Minho fluff #50/50

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es-kay-zee · 3 years

Text

Lust | Lee Know x Reader

I had plans to make this kinky as all hell, but I somehow ended up going the opposite direction with this. oh well, it was still pretty fun to write. I’m also sorry if there’s parts of it (or all of it?) that don’t make any sense. I didn’t proofread it at all and my head was just empty while writing it.

I was kinda liking it at one point, then I overthought about it and now I think I hate it but I put in all this time so it’s getting posted. I just feel like it kinda went all over the place

Warnings: officemate! au, sexual tension (maybe? Idk, i tried), fem! reader, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), protected sex (yay!) there’s like a split second of softdom! Minho, but other than that moment there’s not really any dynamics.

Requested: Yip

Word count: 4.6k

_______________________

It didn’t take a genius amongst your co-workers to be able to tell what was going on between you and Minho. Everyone could see the way you looked at each other. They could see the way you took extra time at the printer, considering it was right next to his desk. You would stand there for longer than necessary, just watching him work. How his fingers would type away on his keyboard, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. God, what you would do to have his fingers inside you.

No, you can’t think like that. He’s just your co-worker. He may be hot as all hell, but this is a professional environment, right?

It was also painfully obvious to everyone how Minho looked at you the same way. Just as you would spend extra time at the printer, he would spend extra time at your desk whenever he had to hand you some files. He would try to make some idle chit-chat with you, but really, he was just staring at your lips the whole time. While you would admire his hands and arms, he would admire your lips. He often found himself wondering just what your mouth was capable of.

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t only see you as some pretty thing around the office. He also admired your dedication and work ethic. He loved how much effort you put into your job to ensure you produce the pest quality of work. But he wasn’t stupid, he could see just how hot you are.

But he’s not allowed to think of you in that way. He’s not allowed to spend many a night imagining your hand, your mouth wrapped around his cock instead of his hand. After all, you’re just co-workers. And it’s all professional, right?

That’s what you both keep telling yourselves.

It’s a normal Friday, not long before midday, and you’re zoning out at your desk, trying to figure out what the hell you were going to do over the weekend. You’d originally had plans to meet up with a few friends, but they all cancelled on you, leaving you with nothing to do on the approaching Saturday and Sunday.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by someone waving a small folder in front of your face.

“Hey, earth to y/n?” You snap your attention onto the figure in front of you, quickly realising that it is, in fact, Lee Minho who’s standing at your desk. You hurriedly fix your posture, sitting up straighter and clearing you throat quietly before responding.

“A-are those some more files that need doing?” The way you stutter over your words has you internally cringing, hoping he can’t tell the effect he has over your body.

“Yeah, they’re the latest invoices that have come in. These ones need to be paid by Tuesday and then these ones need to be paid by Thursday,” he explains to you, holding up the two separate folders in his hands.

Reaching out your hand for the folders, you feel your fingertips brush against his once you grab them. You withdraw your hands as quickly as possible, feeling your heartbeat pick up slightly as the subtle contact. Your gaze lingered on his arms for a moment, his sleeves rolled up just the way you liked. Minho is so effortlessly attractive that it’s unfair.

You pry your eyes away from his forearms, away from the veins you can see running along his arms, instead looking at his face. The moment you look him in the eyes, however, you can’t help but think that maybe staring at his arms would have been the better option. His eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him, but the way he was looking at you right now, the way he was staring so intently at you, had you cowering slightly under his gaze.

“So, you had lunch yet?” he asks, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you, resting his hands in his pockets.

“Not yet, was just about to head up to the cafeteria shortly,” you reply, your eye focus being caught by his stance. You can picture it, him standing over you just the way he is now, hands in pockets, forearms visible, smirk on his face. Just imagining him standing there like that, looking down at you like you’re some sort of prey while you’re on your knees for him. Slowly undoing his belt and-

“Well, I was gonna head up now. Wanna join me?” you are once again pulled from your wandering thoughts by Minho, but the damage had already been done. You could feel your neediness throbbing in your pussy, your slickness slightly coating your underwear.

“Uh, sure,” you say, quickly locking your computer and grabbing your lunch.

You walk with Minho back towards his own desk so that he can pick up his own food before making your way up stairs to the third floor. Once you both make it to the cafeteria for the shelves. You grab your mug before making yourself a coffee, Minho doing the same next to you.

You both head towards a back corner of the large room, finding two seats at a small coffee table. A small conversation begins between the two of you, somewhat awkward, but not uncomfortably so. The occasional silences weren’t left empty, instead being filled with lingering glances at one another.

You make it through all your food and just over half of your coffee before it happens. Disaster. Minho has looked away from you for just a moment and the sunlight cascading through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows hit him in just the right way. It made him glow in the light, distracting you while you took a drink from your mug. You weren’t focusing on anything but how delicious he looked in front of you, ending up with you tipping your mug up to far and spilling it all down your front and onto your lap.

Your small yelp snaps his attention back to you and you both just stare down at your soiled clothes. Heat rushes to your face when you realise the exact repercussions of what’s just happened, and the heat spreads when you notice that Minho has also realised it. Your white blouse drenched in coffee; the material becoming see through. Minho’s gaze lingers on your chest for a moment too long for between normal co-workers, your bra entirely visible through the now coffee-coloured fabric.

Minho clears his throat before speaking. “Uh- I’ll g-get something to help clean that up,” he stutters out, standing up as quickly as possible before rushing off to grab some napkins. It’s not long before he returns, a whole stack in his grip.

He places them on the table, taking his seat again. Picking a couple napkins back up he turns his whole body towards you. Your breathing stutters when he leans in close to you, your eyes looking deep into his as he freezes in place.

He’s torn. Torn between wanting to help you for your sake, wanting to help you for the sake of being able to touch you, and not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and he wonders if you can hear it too. Especially with how close the proximity currently is between you two.

He takes a deep breath before making a decision about whether or not to help you clean up. He reaches his hand out, carefully beginning to dab at the spilled drink on your lap, fully expecting to be told to stop.

You tense under his touch, but not out of discomfort. It’s the way his hand moves along your thigh that has you frozen. Your thigh. One of the more sensitive parts of your body, and his hand is rubbing back and forth along it. The contact causing your brain to short circuit as you feel the heat begin to pool in your core.

“Um… Make sure to soak these clothes before you wash them. That should help get any stains out,” Minho says, trying to ease the tension.

“Oh, yeah, thanks. I’ll be sure to do that,” you reply, his voice snapping you out of your stupor. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to ignore your growing arousal.

Minho has to fight back his own increasing need at the sight of you nibbling on your lower lip, wanting little more than for it to be his own teeth tugging at the soft flesh. But what really gets him, is you taking a few napkins and beginning to dab at the coffee on your shirt, unintentionally pulling his gaze back down to your chest. Now he was fighting back groans, trying desperately to let the sounds die in his throat before you get the chance to hear them. That would be too embarrassing for him to handle.

It’s not long before you sigh a heavy sigh, giving up the hopes of being able to save your outfit and keep your presentability for the workplace, accepting it as a lost cause. Minho stops his own wiping at the sound, looking at you instead, waiting for you to speak.

“You know what, this is a mess. I might as well just head home for the rest of the day. There’s no point sitting here at my desk all day like this,” you say, looking down at your clothes. “Besides, most of my work is done for the day anyway.”

It’s only when you lift your head up when you finish speaking that you realise just how close Minho’s face is to your own. Close enough for you to feel his breaths against your cheek. Your eyes dart down to his lips, but only for a split second, not wanting to make your arousal so obvious. Minho, however, notices. But luckily for you, he decides not to say anything about it. Yet.

“That sounds like a good idea. Uh… here,” he says, removing his blazer jacket and holding it out to you.

You reach out and grab it, your fingers once again momentarily connecting with his as you take the item he’s passing you. You both rise to your feet and you give him a confused look, wondering why he’s handing you his blazer.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to walk around with a see-through shirt,” he explains in response to your unspoken question.

The heat returns to your cheeks at his statement, quickly pulling the clothing item on and buttoning it up, making an attempt to cover yourself.

“Thanks,” you say. There’s some part of you that doesn’t really want to cover yourself, that wants Minho to see you. But you push that part aside. After all, you’ve got to maintain some sort of professionalism. “We should probably head back down now.”

“Yeah.”

You both gather your belongings, taking your mugs over to the dirty dishes rack and placing them in along with all the other dishes. Yet another silence befalls the two of you as you make your way back down the stairs to your floor, the quietness neither comfortable nor awkward. Something in between.

Finally reaching your floor, you make a beeline for your desk, aiming to grab your bag and get out of here as quickly as possible. But before you grab your things and head into your boss’s office to say that you’re leaving early, you pause, turning back to Minho again, stopping him before he gets too far away.

“I’ll get your jacket back to you on Monday if you want. I’ll even get it cleaned to make sure there’s no coffee on it.”

He takes a moment to think, once again torn between options. One being just saying okay and letting you just bring it to work with you on Monday. And the other option… Well, if the way you were almost whining when he was touching your thigh earlier is anything to go by, then the second option might just work out for him. Fuck it.

“Or you could bring it over to my place? Tonight? I-if you want to,” he says, making sure to keep his voice only loud enough for you to hear, not wanting any nosy co-workers listening in.

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as you think of the possible outcomes of you going over to his house, albeit under the guise of simply returning his blazer. You can already feel yourself growing wetter at the thoughts running through your mind. You blink rapidly, shaking your head slightly to yourself, remembering that you have to answer him instead of just standing there daydreaming all day.

“You’re in luck. I was gonna go out for a few drinks tonight, but my friends all cancelled on me. So, it turns out that I’m available,” you say, fighting hard to keep your voice steady and to not let on just how needy you were.

“Well, you could always have those drinks with me while you’re over,” he offers, stepping closer to your desk.

“I could.”

You both smirk at each other, knowing exactly what the outcome of tonight will be. Minho searches around your desk for a moment, eventually finding and grabbing a sticky note and a pen. He scribbles something down before handing it to you.

“That’s my address. See you at 7?”

“Sure thing, see you then.”

He smirks at you again before finally heading back to his own desk and you finally head off home, being sure to stop in and let your boss know you’re leaving.

______________________

Before long, 7 o’clock rolls around and you’re sitting in your car, parked on the road-side, opposite Minho’s house. Checking yourself in your rear-view mirror quickly, you make sure you look presentable before getting out of your car, his blazer draped over your arm. You’re somewhat nervous as you approach his front door, reaching up and knocking. It only takes a short moment before the door swings open, revealing Minho. He steps backwards, holding the door open as he gestures for you to enter. You step past him and into the house, taking in his appearance while he closes the door behind you.

His outfit is simple, a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but to you he looks damn fine. His jeans are tight enough to show off his thighs while not being too tight that it would create any struggle to remove quickly. That’s handy. And his shirt leaves his delicious arms on display. You look up at his face just to see him staring at you in the same way you were just starting at him. Like you’re the single best thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Hi,” you say, bringing his attention back to the current moment. He blinks a few times, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts.

“Hey, you look really good.” He gestures towards your dress. You chose one that was simple, yet effective at its job. You wanted to wear something that showed off your legs, something that would get his attention. And judging by the way he kept looking you up and down, it was working.

“Here’s you blazer,” you say, holding it out for him.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” he replies, having already forgotten that he’d even let you borrow it in the first place. “I’ll just go put that away. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

He dashes off down the hallway, presumedly towards his bedroom. To take the moment alone to take in your surroundings, noting how Minho’s house had a very homely feel to it.

You take a seat on the couch while you wait for him to return. And it doesn’t take him long to do just that, already walking back up the hallway towards where you are. He heads to the kitchen first, grabbing a couple of glasses.

“I have some wine here. Want some?” he offers.

“Sure,” you say, knowing that soon enough the drinks will be abandoned in favour of other activities.

It’s not long before Minho approaches you, two glasses of wine in his hands. He hands one to you before taking a seat in the spot next to you on the couch. Directly next to you. He’s so close that the side of his leg rests against yours, but you’re not complaining.

“Try not to get too distracted by me again,” he says, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “We wouldn’t want you to spill another drink.”

You both laugh at his teasing statement, but your mind focuses on the word again and you realise that he did know the causing of today’s earlier mishap. Well, that’s a bit embarrassing.

The next short while is filled with more idle chit-chat, a measly attempt at wasting time before getting down to business. The entire time you’re talking, Minho’s arm is resting along the back of the couch behind your head and he’s very shamelessly eye fucking you. In his defence though, you’re doing the exact same thing to him.

“Do you want another glass?” Minho asks when you finish your wine, placing his hand that’s not currently resting on the back of the couch on your thigh. You let out an audible breath as his hand softly caresses the flesh, the feeling sending pools of arousal directly to your heat. As his fingers slowly trail further up, beginning to disappear under the skirt of your dress, you know that he’s not really offering you another drink. It’s his way of moving the conversation along, of asking you if you’re ready to do what you truly came here for.

And you’d be damned if you weren’t ready.

His fingers continue to travel higher, skimming along your inner thigh, avoiding where you desperately need him. You bite your lip, trying to stifle a whimper. It doesn’t work, and it instead draws Minho’s focus to your mouth. And he’s back to thinking about your mouth, how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. The idea alone has him growing painfully hard in his jeans. Hell, he’d do anything to have your lips on him, in any way.

“M-Minho, please,” you whisper, wanting him to stop his teasing caresses and finally touch you the way you want. The way you need.

“Please what?”

“Please t-touch me.”

“Touch you? I am touching you,” he says, stopping his hand’s movements and instead just resting it in place.

“No, please touch my p-pussy,” you say, your hands coming up to cover your face, embarrassment coursing through your body, causing your face to heat up.

Normally, Minho smirked at you, getting a kick out of how flustered you are.

“Ah, I see. Well, if you want that to happen then you have to prove to me how much you want it.”

And that has you whining.

You quickly manoeuvre yourself so that you’re straddling Minho’s lap, tired of waiting for him to provide you with some much needed friction. Your hands rest on his shoulders, his own flying to your hips when you slowly, experimentally grind down on him. Your actions get the best reward, in the form on a shaky moan from Minho, and that’s the moment you can tell that this whole thing is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting you.

When he told you to prove it, he was expecting you to just get more flustered. He certainly wasn’t expecting you to make such a bold move. You roll your hips against him again, this time drawing a moan from yourself. One of his hands slides up your back, grabbing the zipper for your dress and slowly sliding it down. Once he has it undone, he pulls the dress up and off your body, revealing your lack of bra underneath. Shit, he hadn’t even noticed earlier that you weren’t wearing one, he was too distracted by your legs. He looks up at you, his own lust-filled eyes meeting yours, watching you lean in closer to him. Closer, and closer.

And then your lips – those oh so pretty lips – were on his own, moving together in a rush of adrenaline and lust. There was no delicacy in the kiss, only pure wanton desire as your hands roamed each other’s bodies. You’d both been waiting for this for so long. Craving it.

His hands slide down to your ass, kneading the flesh. He’s quick to stand up, keeping you held up, your legs wrapping around his torso. He carries you down the hallway, only breaking the kiss for a split second at a time to make sure he didn’t bump into anything, before he would dive back into your lips. Your kisses were intoxicating, addicting. Minho just couldn’t get enough. Even when he finally made it to his bedroom, dropping you down onto the bed, he still doesn’t pull away. It’s only when you pull away for breath that he stops, you both panting deeply from the lack of oxygen for so long.

Your hands glide across his linen-clad chest, the fabric warmed from his hot skin. He groans lowly at your touch, desperately wanting more. One of his own hands finds it’s way to your breast, his thumb rubbing over the hardened nipple.

His touch is soft, gentle. He’s testing the waters, wanting to figure out what you like, what touches really get you going. He knows he’s on the right track when your back arches slightly at the contact, and he grazes his thumbs over the nub again, harder this time.

You can feel how soaked you are, your underwear beginning to stick to you uncomfortably. You buck your hips upwards, trying desperately to get some sort of solid friction going, the aching between your legs bordering on painful. Sensing just how strong your need is, Minho pulls away from you, moving down the bed until he’s laying between your thighs, his fingers already dipping into the waistband of your underwear.

He wastes little time in pulling the fabric down your legs and tossing them off to the side. And now, finally, after so long of wanting it, he’s able to gaze upon your pussy, glistening with your juices.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet you’re dripping,” he exclaims, looking up and making eye contact with you. And it makes you clench around nothing when you look at the man that’s remained on your mind with his head between your thighs.

“Only for you,” you reply, even your voice dripping with need. Minho looks back down at your soaked cunt and, in the split seconds before his touch, every nerve in your body and mind comes alive with electricity. He licks one long stripe along your entrance, and the moan you let out is obscene. And he loves it.

Minho is filled with a new determination, a determination to make you moan over and over again. To have you feeling so good that you’re screaming his name.

He circles his lips around your clit, working the nerve bundle with his mouth while he brings a hand down to work your entrance. He slides a digit it, immediately curling it in search of your special spot. He quickly adds a second finger, continuing his search for your g-spot. He knows he’s finally found it when your hands go flying to his head, threading into his hair, tugging hard. He groans at the sensation, loving the way your hands feel in his hair. God, everything you do just turns him on, and he begins to unconsciously rut his hips into the mattress. He continues working your core while you moan uncontrollably.

“F-fuck, Minho. I’m s-so close,” you manage to whimper out, but he already knows. The way your walls tighten around his fingers over and over tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do it, baby. Cum for me,” he says, and you don’t have to be told twice, your orgasm washing over you with more force than you expected. He finger-fucks you through your high, only stopping when your body stops convulsing in waves of pleasure. He pulls his hand away from your core, a whine escaping you at the empty feeling. If he could make you cum that hard with just his fingers and mouth, how on earth are you going to survive cumming on his cock?

He crawls back up your body, placing his arousal-coated fingers at your lips. You open your mouth with no hesitation, immediately sucking the digits in, swirling your tongue over them as you sucked. The sight alone almost had Minho cumming in his jeans. For so long, all he’s wanted is your lips around some part of him, and while he also wanted to be graces with the visual of you sucking on his cock like your life depended on it, he was more desperate to just fuck you.

He wastes no more time in ridding himself of his clothes until he’s completely bare, reaching into his bedside table draw for a condom. positioning himself above you once again. He’s about to open the condom packet before you stop him, taking it from his hands opening it yourself. He moans when you slide the condom down his length, your hands feeling better on his cock than his own ever could.

The moment you lie back down, he lines himself up with your entrance, not wanting to go another moment without being inside you. He pushes into you, not stopping until his hips rest against yours, the room filling with moans as your bodies finally connect. His cock stretches your walls so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other.

After a brief pause, he slowly pulls back you, only to thrust back into you. He repeats the motions, gradually settling into a solid pace, not to fast and not too slow, a perfect balance of the two.

He drags his lips up the soft skin of your neck placing sloppy kisses as over, being sure not to leave any marks. As much as he wanted to mark you where it was visible, he couldn’t. He didn’t want you to have to go through the hassle of covering them each day at work while you wait for them do disappear. Instead, he opted for sucking bruises into your collarbones and along your chest.

Your brain felt like static, unable to string together a single coherent thought as Minho continues to thrust into you, pleasure radiating throughout your entire body. The knot in your stomach grows tighter for the second time during the night, and from the way Minho’s thrusts are getting sloppier, you can tell that he’s close to his own end as well.

He slides his free hand in between the two of you, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into the bundle of nerves, and you feel yourself unravel, his fingers being the final to push you over the edge. And it’s your fluttering walls that has the same effect on Minho. You both ride out your highs together, him spilling into the condom and you around his cock. Your loud moans are music to his ears, while his are the same to yours.

Once you both come back down from your highs, Minho pulls himself away from you, quickly disposing of the condom before coming back to lay next to you.

Your body feels heavy, your brain foggy and distant, a tiredness falling over your entire being, exhausted from your orgasms. You groggily roll onto your side, curling your body up into Minho’s and almost instantly drifting off into sleep. He wraps an arm around you in return, feeling sleep approach for him as well. He rests his face against the top of your sleeping head, placing a chaste kiss to your hair. And just before he let himself fall asleep, he made sure plan out in his mind what he was gonna cook you for breakfast in the morning; pancakes.

#stray kids smut #lee know smut #skz lee minho smut #skz smut

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marvel-and-mischief · 3 years

Text

Play Me One More Time

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader Words: 3900 Warnings: FLUFF, little bit of angst but it's completely overwhelmed by the FLUFF, a swear word or two Synopsis: Marcus puts out a call for your old band to get back together again. You accept, but how long will it take before old feelings for Marcus get in the way?

Inspired by this gifset

Fic Masterpost

The notification popped up on your phone during your lunch break at work. Where you sat at your classroom desk next to the window you could hear children screaming and laughing. You nearly missed the ping of your phone over the sounds.

Holding your half eaten sandwich in one hand, you curiously swiped down from the top of your phone and clicked on the notification without much thought.

Marcus Pike has sent you a message!

You lost your grip on your sandwich as it plonked down onto your lap, but that was the least of your worries. You frantically tried to exit out of the messaging app before it could open but nothing worked. The conversation opened and the word 'read' stared at you mockingly underneath his message.

You sighed, ignoring the sauce that was seeping through your cotton trousers. You had no choice but to read it now. And then you'd have to reply to whatever he had sent you or he'd think you were ignoring him.

Hey! Long time no speak! I've been in touch with Jo and Tom and was wondering if you wanted to get the old band back together? Maybe have a catch up if you're not too busy? Let me know :)

You chewed on your bottom lip as you reread the message half a dozen times, heart hammering in your chest as you realised Marcus must be back in your hometown. You'd heard through Jo that he'd moved to Washington a couple of years ago, so what had brought him back?

You haven't played in the band since your college days, and your only captive audience since then has been the pre-school kids you teach. But you couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Marcus again, the man you'd been head over heels in love with since you knew what love was.

The school bell rang throughout the building, signalling the end of recess and the beginning of afternoon lessons.

Marcus! So good to hear from you. Would love to catch up, are you free this weekend? x

By the time you cleaned up your trousers you had your reply.

This weekend is great. Want to meet at our old diner? Heard Mr Howells still owns it.

You grinned down at your phone, thinking about the afternoons you used to play hooky with Marcus and hide out at Mr Howells' diner. You were surprised Marcus remembered it.

He does! The burgers haven't changed either. Is Saturday 6pm any good?

You tapped your feet as you waited for his reply. Your children were lining up outside the door and you needed to know if you were having a date with your forever crush before continuing with your day.

When your phone pinged, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

Sounds perfect. Can't wait to see you again! :)

You sent the thumbs up emoji and put your phone away, opening the classroom door with a smile on your face and a pep in your step.

You'd been here, at Mr Howells' Diner, a week before Christmas with a couple of teacher friends you worked with but now it felt different. Now you had memories of you and Marcus giggling over overflowing chocolate milkshakes and feeling sick from gorging on too many salty fries floating through your head. You saw Marcus' baby face fading into a sharp jawline and high cheekbones, you'd seen him change from boy to man in this diner, and he'd seen you change from girl to woman.

You bounced from one foot to the other nervously as you peaked through the window of the door in search of your old friend.

"You could've waited inside," came a deep voice from behind you. You spun around and came face to face with Marcus. He glowed yellow and red under the neon sign above you, but he looked beautiful, grin plastered wide on his face as he took you in for the first time in years.

"Hey," you managed to breathe out a welcome without too much embarrassment, "I didn't know if you were already here."

"Shall we?" Marcus stepped closer to reach around you and open the door.

You blinked to readjust your eyes to the bright fluorescent lights inside the diner. You giggled when you realised Marcus was doing the same.

"You weren't lying, it's hardly changed since we were kids," Marcus laughed, eyeing the original furnishings and old menu signs hanging on the walls.

You took a seat in your old booth, the one you and Marcus would automatically flock to when you were younger. It was far enough away from the counter that you had privacy for your teenage musings, but it overlooked the car park so you could watch out for anyone you needed to hide from.

"This takes me back," Marcus mused, shaking off his coat when you did the same.

"Yeah, it brings back so many memories."

"Do they still do the Choc'o'Shock shakes?"

You laughed and pointed towards the milkshake menu above the counter.

"They do!?" Marcus gasped loudly, eyes wide in surprise, "that was my favorite, with the popping candy-"

"- and the cinnamon, yeah, we used to share because it was in the extra large glass."

"Yeah, oh man."

Your laughter died down as soon as the waitress came over and took your orders. Your nerves from earlier had completely disappeared. Even in the silence that followed the waitress leaving the table it was comfortable as you both tried to find the words to start a conversation.

"I've been in Washington for a couple of years," Marcus began.

"For work?"

"Yeah, I needed to go away for a bit. Some things happened and a fresh start was what I needed."

You nodded as you listened. You wanted to ask more but you had to remember your friendship wasn't what it used to be. There was a boundary now, an unspoken line that came with not being in each other's lives for so long.

"Are you back for good?" you asked.

"I hope so. Nothing beats home, y'know?"

"I dunno, I envied you moving to the city whilst I stayed on the outskirts. Felt like you were moving on to bigger and better things and I was staying still." You shrugged it off. You hadn't meant to be that honest but it was what you had felt at the time.

"You're still teaching aren't you?"

"Yeah," you smiled at the waitress as she brought over your drinks, you were glad for the distraction.

"You still like teaching?"

"I wouldn't want to do anything else," you smiled, thinking of the kids you taught, "it's a privilege to get to shape young minds, y'know? Even at pre-school age, they're so inquisitive, and they question everything and I'm the one that gives them the answers."

Marcus smiled as he listened. You suddenly felt shy under his intense gaze, something you'd never felt around him before. But he was listening, really listening to you and it felt so good that he wanted to get to know this different, older version of the person he'd known years ago.

"You look happy," Marcus sighed happily, though you sensed something else in his tone that you couldn't put your finger on.

"I'm happy with my job," you replied, but now there was something in your tone, a comment unspoken, 'I'm happy with my job but not in other aspects of my life'.

"And outside of work?"

Damn you Marcus and your ability to look right through me.

You gave him a smile that didn't reach your eyes, a smile that told him that things weren't as perfect as your job.

"I can't complain."

"You can to me," Marcus pushed his coffee to the side and gave you his full attention. He'd always been good at giving you his full attention, maybe that was why it was so easy to fall in love with him.

"I live on my own, have for a while. It's fine, it's what it is." You couldn't look him in the eye, instead focusing on cars pulling in and out of the parking lot.

"I get it. The older I get the harder it is to find someone special," Marcus said wistfully. You glanced over to him and he showed you a crooked smile. "It is what it is."

Your food was placed down in front of you and thankfully your conversations turned lighthearted.

The hug he gave you on the steps outside the diner was longer than normal but you weren't one to complain. You held him close, breathing in the sweet, smoky scent of his cologne and committing it to memory.

"Band practice."

You sighed dramatically as you pulled away from him.

"I sing to pre-schoolers, I'm not as good as I used to be."

"You had a voice of an angel, that doesn't just go away."

You rolled your eyes at his compliment, but you felt warm inside.

"Just don't laugh at me, okay?"

"I promise," Marcus said, and you believed him.

Band practise was at Tom's childhood home, just like the good old days. He had moved into the house when his parent's moved back to their home country of Cuba when they retired five years ago. The white, spiky outer walls reminded you of the time when you fell up the steps and smacked your head against the sharp spikes. You involuntarily cringed.

The garage was nostalgic in every way. It still housed a legless, cracking leather couch (where you used to sit way too close to Marcus on), Tom's 90's television set sat above collections of dusty VHS tapes, bicycle frames decorated the walls and a drum kit was set up on the far side of the wall.

"Please don't tell me the drums have been here since the end of college?"

Tom laughed and shook his head at you.

"Jo helped me get them down from the attic."

You raised your eyebrows at Jo who blushed and quickly looked away in response. There had been this unspoken thing between her and Tom throughout college, just as there had always been something quietly charged between you and Marcus. Except you had your suspicions that Jo and Tom had had the courage to do something about their thing at some point.

Marcus entered through the garage door, rubbing his hands together with a childlike excitement on his face.

"I don't know if it's because I'm getting old but I've been looking forward to this all week."

You laughed and before you knew it you were behind a microphone stand singing late 90's/early 2000's indie anthems with your friends playing behind you.

"Should we play some of our old songs?" Jo asked innocently.

"No."

"Fuck no."

"Absolutely not."

You all burst into fits of giggles.

You thought back to those songs you used to write and sing. "They were all so..."

"Angsty."

You turned to Marcus who had spoken. You nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, what was that about? What was going on in our lives that we had to write like that?"

You were being lighthearted but the way Marcus flashed you a sad smile had you taken aback. What did Marcus write about? You wished you still had your lyric books, maybe that would give a clue as to what teenage Marcus Pike was thinking and feeling.

"Lunch break anyone?" Tom shook you out of your thoughts and you were quick to jump at the chance to change the subject.

Over the next few months you all met up for band practice whenever you were all free, which was rare. Eventually the meet ups became less about the music and more about getting to know what was going on in your friend's lives since college.

The summer evenings were getting cooler and you took the opportunity to light a fire pit in Tom's back garden and sit around with beers in hand and Jo's phone hooked up to a small speaker playing background music to your conversations.

"So, the FBI, " Jo took a sip of her beer, "you must have some stories."

Marcus preened under the attention, goofy smile stretched wide as he picked at the label on his beer bottle.

"Yeah, none that I can tell you I'm afraid."

You joined in on the mock 'boos' that echoed around the pit. Marcus laughed.

"I'm sorry! Anyway, I specialised in art, it's not that interesting."

"Any art heists?"

"No, Jo."

"You know I saw a documentary on Netflix about these Rembrandt's..."

Tom's voice seemed to fade away as you caught Marcus' eye over the flames of the fire. You felt content under his gaze, like you'd done this a million times, like you were teenagers again listening to Tom go on about something you weren't interested in, hearing Jo pacify him absentmindedly whilst you and Marcus spoke without speaking.

It reminded you how in sync you always were, and still seemed to be. It hurt that after all these years there was still something between you, but was it enough? Marcus had come back to his hometown but you still weren't sure why.

You smiled a wobbly smile and stood from your camping chair.

"I'm just going to get some water," you announced and made your way towards the kitchen.

You didn't put the light on, instead taking to stand in the darkest corner of the room to catch your breath. You closed your eyes and leant your head back against the wall, not seeing Marcus following you in.

"You okay?"

You jumped in surprise but didn't choose to reply to him just yet. You needed to gather your thoughts together, try and have this conversation without all the emotions you felt bubbling up inside of you spilling out in front of Marcus.

"Why did you come back?"

You opened your eyes to see Marcus leaning back against the kitchen island. He was too far away to touch, but close enough that you could smell the smoke from the fire on his clothes.

"It's home. It's where I'm most comfortable. It's where all my memories are."

Were you satisfied with that answer? It seemed too vague to be completely true, but Marcus was never a liar. He seemed to sense where your head's at and sighed.

"There was someone. I wanted it to be serious. We got engaged, I promised her the world, we were going to fly out to Washington together. But it turned out I wasn't who she wanted."

You don't know what got to you the most, the fact that someone rejected this wonderful man, or that he didn't sound all that sad about it.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it made me realise I didn't want any of it either. I do want all of that, but not with her."

He whispered the last bit but in the silence of the kitchen it was hard to miss. He wanted someone else. And at that realisation you think you felt your heart crack cleanly in two.

You didn't know how to respond without admitting how you've felt for over fifteen years. You leaned away from the corner you had tried to hide yourself in and came to stand in front of Marcus.

"It's her loss. You know that, right?"

Marcus' eyes sparkled in the setting sun, and you realised it was because they were watery. You moved forward quicker than you could think and engulfed him in your arms, holding him tight to your chest as he instantly wrapped his arms around you.

You had done this hundreds of times, but this time it felt special, and you couldn't put your finger on why.

Your morning class hadn't even begun when your phone rang in your bag. Glancing at the bright red clock on the wall you had five minutes before the first bell. You frowned, trying to find your phone amongst the mess of tissues, pens and bandaids that had fallen out of their packaging before you saw Marcus' name flashing on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm sorry it's so early, I'm just getting into work. I was wondering if you were free tonight?"

You felt your heart jackhammer in your chest and you inwardly cursed at the way Marcus' question had sounded. Like a date. You rolled your eyes at your nonsense.

"I should be free. Why?"

"I wanted to go back to the diner if you're up for it? We didn't order the Choc'o'Shock shake, wanted to see if it tastes exactly like it used to."

You smiled at the thought of sharing a shake like you used to, and found yourself agreeing.

"Sounds good. Meet you there at seven?"

"Seven's great."

You ended the call just as the bell rang. You reminded yourself that you were just two friends, catching up like you have been for months. And you wouldn't let yourself get your hopes up. Because now that you had Marcus back in your life, you wanted to keep it that way. And you weren't going to ruin it by telling him you loved him when he didn't love you back.

You got there ten minutes early so you took a seat at yours and Marcus' favored booth and waited. There was hardly anyone in the diner, a couple of families dotted about, two teenagers on a date giggling over milkshakes. It made you smile and hope that things turned out better for them than it did for you and Marcus.

The bell over the door chimed and in walked Marcus, freshly shaved, hair perfectly ruffled. He wore a smart jacket over a casual shirt and jeans. It made you feel a little underdressed, should you have dressed up?

He spotted you, long legs striding over with a purpose before taking the seat across from you, out of breath and cheeks tinged pink.

"I thought I was going to be late. Got a new assistant in the office but he's struggling to get to grips with the way I like things."

You smiled, trying to imagine the gangly, slightly awkward boy in your memories as someone professional, and bossy. You giggled.

"I've only just got here myself."

Marcus threaded his fingers together on top of the black and white checkered table.

"I wanted to talk to you actually, about the other night."

You frowned. Did he mean the night in the kitchen where you comforted him?

"You don't have to feel bad about it. It's normal to let out your emotions."

Marcus smiled gratefully. "I know that, I just want to be honest. I've always been a man who is upfront with the people I care about."

You nodded. Marcus was an honourable, straightforward man. You knew he'd never go behind your back and say something, he was completely trustworthy in that sense. In every sense. He was just a good guy.

"I didn't have to come back here this year. I had choices but after everything that had happened, I realised some things."

You mirrored his posture, hands on the table an inch away from his and gave him your full attention. Despite feeling sick to your stomach about what he was going to say next, you knew he needed you to listen, so you did.

"D'you remember the time I got my drivers license, and I took you for a ride in my dad's old pick up truck?"

"Of course. I warned you you should have driven something smaller so soon after your test."

"Yeah but I was trying to show off and I ended up getting it stuck in mud and I had to call my dad out to free us."

You chuckled at the memory. Marcus had been so embarrassed and you'd calmed him down by holding his shaky hand and plying him with copious amounts of gum to chew on to distract him.

"And when I got my letter to say I'd been accepted into the FBI training program, you were there when I opened it. And when we shared our first sip of alcohol at thirteen, and you got me my first VHS that taught me how to play bass, you remember that?"

"I remember it all, but I don't understand where you're going with this." You weren't opposed to this trip down memory lane, but it was bringing back all these moments in your life that just reminded you that you'd always loved him.

"If I made a movie of my life, all the important parts would have you in them. All the parts that make up the man I am today are filled with you. I never want you out of my life again."

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. You grabbed a paper napkin and quickly patted at the tears falling down your cheeks as you prepared to ask the question that may change your life forever.

"What are you saying, Marcus?"

"I love you."

You let out a shaky breath. Marcus gently took your hands in his.

"I think I always have, but I know for sure I do now. And these past months have confirmed everything. I love you."

"I've loved you since the day I met you. When I grazed my knees in the park by your house and you heard me crying from your garden. And you ran over and pulled me up to my feet and played with me."

Marcus laughed loudly, disturbing the teenagers a few booths over who looked annoyed in your direction. You couldn't care less.

"I remember. My mom told me off for playing with a strange girl but we were inseparable after that."

"We've wasted so much time," you whispered sadly.

"No. How have we? We've spent most of our life together, building memories, having the time of our lives. We've been apart for a bit but has it felt like it?"

You thought about it and realised Marcus was right. You've gotten back into the rhythm of your friendship. It's not once been awkward. Since your last diner date it's like you had never been apart.

"I suppose it hasn't."

"So," Marcus began, clearing his throat and flashing you a cheeky smile, "do we count this as the first date or...?"

You let out a shuddery laugh. "Marcus, we've been here a hundred times."

"I know but, only as friends."

"Were we ever really just friends? We were in this weird, middle-ground where everyone knew we were into each other but we never went further than a kiss on the cheek."

"Ah! There was that one time."

You frowned and crossed your arms. "What are you talking about?"

"Christmas break during the first year of college, I turned too much when you leaned in for a kiss on the cheek and we ended up kissing on the lips."

You laughed, a full belly laugh that had Marcus gently shushing you, though he couldn't contain his chuckling either.

"I completely forgot!"

"That breaks my heart," Marcus said with a wink.

You eventually ordered your Choc'o'Shock shake, sharing it like you used to. Except this time everything was on the table. Your feelings were out in the open, you were happier than you'd ever been and there was hope for you and Marcus to go forward together.

“Would you like a redo on that kiss?” Marcus asked on the steps outside the diner.

You pretended to think about it before taking hold of the lapels of his jackets. “I’d like that very much.”

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @bts17army @phoenixhalliwell @anu-simps @computeringturtle

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #the mentalist #Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike fanfic

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mrskurono · 3 years

Text

title: Maybe, I’m Afraid || Takahiro Hanamaki x fem!Reader

a/n: this is self indulgent af bc I want to dance with Makki on my birthday which is today but I’m pretending it’s not today + lovelytheband makes me think of Makki + I ain’t posting anything else all day long

word count: 2.2k

tags: fluff, angsty undertones, friends to lovers trope, casual alcohol consumption, not much just dialog and dancing

character(s): Takahiro Hanamaki (hq)

Dancing in your party dress.

You were singing me some Frank Sinatra as you wept.

This was swanky.

Makki admitted this was a pretty spectacular birthday bash. Beat having a few beers at the bar for his birthday. That was his style. And this was your style. It always had been and always would be.

A tug on his tie as he raised the champagne flute for another swig and wandered around. Through crowds of familiar and unfamiliar. Friends and family. Makki knew each face for the most part and why they would be here celebrating your birthday. Even coworkers that he only heard once or twice.

Everyone seemed so important. So why was he here?

Crowds thinning out. First when they’d separate when the man moved by them. Now Makki looked around to find most of the party guests weren’t around at all. He shrugged though. Figuring Mattsun didn’t mind him wandering around his home as he’d crashed with his bud a few times.

Hum of the music playing downstairs drown out by the chatter and walls. Makki laughed as he ascended to the second story about Mattun’s house being as quiet as a morgue. Jokes aside he didn’t think much of finding anyone up on the back balcony of the giant home.

After a bit of mingling Makki found himself unable to find you. And the lackluster to parade around with all these people he hardly saw drained him faster than anything. He was here for you but he couldn’t steal your attention away like you were teenagers. Adults didn’t do that. Adults had boundaries. You both were adults now so Makki thought this was fine.

Fine as being alone again was. Makki trailed his fingers along the oaken table top pushed up against the wall of the hallway. Without a fleck of dust of course. He shrugged it off and grabbed at the door handle of the sliding door to let himself out for a breath of fresh air.

Hinted at the sound of the downstairs music drifting upwards. Makki giggled to himself, “Heh, Mattsun getting the cops called on him for being too loud would be-”

“Makki!”

Stopping in his tracks the man whipped around to see your familiar face across the patio. Surely as shocked as he was. Both of you stared at one another for a moment before Makki continued to shut the door much softer now behind him, “What are....why aren’t you downstairs?”

“Why aren’t you downstairs?” You hand his question back, “Did someone send you up here? I thought I asked Mattsun not to say anything and-”

Quickly he shook his head waving your questions away, “No. Mattsun has no idea, I just came up here for some air is all.” He stopped and looked over at the empty champange glass on the edge of the patio, “Do you need another? I can go get you something if you’d-”

“Heh no,” You smile, relaxing back into yourself after he said no one was looking for you, “This stuff gives me heartburn anyways.”

Makki ambled up to the edge of the balcony with you. Seeing a clear view of all the on goings below, “Were you stalking people up here? This would be a great place to drop something from.”

Glancing at the man leaning into the railing next to you. Only a second goes by before you lean into your elbows and gaze out at the backyard with everything going on, “Nah. I wanted to return half this crap anyways when it’s over. Cleaning stains out woulda been too hard.”

He stopped poking fun at the party itself for a second. Chin resting in his palm when he casted a look over in your direction. Instead of the shimmering party hostess he saw coming in earlier. Now all Makki .saw his his best friend slumped into their friend’s deck railing overlooking something that didn’t quite resemble a true party.

“...what’s the deal huh?” Makki’s brow arched up, “This isn’t really your thing. So why the big bash?”

Swallowing a deep breath. Only to be let out in one big sigh. You push off the railing and rock back and forth on your feet childishly, “I dunno...I didn’t want to have a birthday this year.”

“Then don’t have one and do something small?”

“No...I don’t mean the party part.” You stop rocking and settle flat on your feet while looking out at nothing in particular, “I didn’t want to have a birthday....didn’t wanna, think about me I guess.”

“So you threw a giant party?” Makki snorted at the logic.

You shook your head, “No, mom brought it up. Then Mattsun caught wind. Iwa agreed. One thing lead to another. Suddenly there was a party to celebrate ‘me’ and I was placed in the middle of it with a cake to boot.”

Stepping away from the balcony Makki turned around no longer interested in everything going on under the two of you. Instead he leaned back and looked lazily over at you but still with a slight grin, “You certainly look like a cake topper.”

“Shut up,” You add insult to injury when you roll your eyes and push him away from you.

“What, I’m just saying-” Makki shrugged frankly, “You look more like you should be in the middle of those people dancing. Not up here alone with an empty glass.”

For a second you look at the empty champagne glass. A song comes on below. Drowned by the distance. But clearly you can hear what is it. Even if this didn’t feel like your party. The music as yours. Slowly you begin humming softly before looking over at him with a smile, “I’m not alone though. You’re right here.”

He didn’t mean the snort laugh. Makki quickly back tracking to not make it seem so bad, “I mean- I’m just surprised. This seems so swanky. Doesn’t feel like a thing I’d be invited to.”

“Swanky?” You look at him.

“I picked up a word a day calendar.” Makki looks at you, “But I’m still in January.”

“It’s April.”

“Like I said....Swanky.”

Humming softer you don’t look out at the party. Opting to turn around and face up towards the rest of your friend’s nice house. Arms crossed over your bust as you listen carefully to the song below, “...I guess...the playlist is nice. But...I’d rather just be with those I love. Maybe drinking. Maybe dancing. None of this really....that is if I wanted to have a birthday that is.”

Sideways glance in your direction, Makki looked at the one person he might consider his best friend. Aside from Mattsun. You were his partner in crime for so much. Since you were kids. And now you were standing at a party you didn’t like and Makki hadn’t even thought he’d be invited to. How alone did he have to be to feel like this was ok when he was standing right next to you.

“...Maybe I can take you out later. Like- This weekend or something,” Makki shrugged nonchalantly, “You can wear the dress, if you want. But I’m not wearing this stupid suit.”

His offer brought a bit of a grin to your face. Casting your gaze over to him and admiring the fact he was quite dashing in such a get up. Neither of you had been fancied up at the same time since Mattsun’s house warming party over a year ago. And that itself was brief.

“It would be a shame if we both look this good and no one danced with us.” You off handedly comment.

Again Makki’s brow raises, “Birthday girl should go snag a dance then.”

“Nah,” You toss a look back down behind you, “I don’t want to dance with anyone down there.”

Makki snorted, “Iwa might be in the bathroom.”

“Nah Iwa has two left feet.”

“Mattsun had his shoes shined for this. They’re as clean as that table in the hallway.”

“Mattsun is a left foot.”

“Nice.” Makki high fived you for the zinger. His laugh short lived though as he looked at you even as you were distracted elsewhere, “...Don’t know what time it is in Argentina but who knows Skype Oikawa and he might give you a dance.”

The sentiment was nice. Really each of your friends would have danced with you if you asked. After all these years you still considered them some of your closest friends. But none of them where who you thought about when you imagined a dance a top a balcony in the midst of a party.

“You talk too much.” You break away to find Makki staring at you, “But I don’t care. I like listening to you.”

Makki’s lopsided smile didn’t fade but he looked down with a little shrug, “Maybe I’m just afraid of saying the wrong thing so I keep talking.”

“Well.” You looked up at him, “If you could say something that scares you, what would it be?”

Tongue held. Makki had a few. Ok, a lot. But seeing you stand in front of him with the gentle melody of the music drifting upwards. He really only thought of one.

“Will you dance with me? If I weren’t afraid of saying anything that is.” You step closer to him. Closing the gap between the two of you as one hand found his. With ease your fingers laced with his like they always had in the past. Makki gave your hand a squeeze and looked at you, “And if you could say something you’re afraid of?”

You look up at him, “I’d ask you to dance with me.”

“Not a better party?” Makki quips.

“A better party would mean dancing with you.”

He can’t help the softening smile playing on his lips. Makki is certain he can feel his heartbeat in his throat now but it’s all to be pushed aside when he pulls you into him.

Arms wrapped around your shoulders in the longest hug. You share in the gesture when your arms loop under his armpits. Nice and snug. It takes less time to find you both swaying to the hum of the music than it did for you to embrace one another.

“...it’s been a little hard.” Makki mutters, lips pressed to the top of your head.

“...I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” You reply quietly. Hugging him tighter as your cheek presses against the warm button of his shirt. You can feel his warmth under the layers of faux look.

“What are you talking about?” Makki pulled away a little offended to hear such a thing, “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my friend.”

The smile you first had dips to a frown, “...we stopped talking so much. It felt like we lost touch...I guess, running away from my birthday. I thought I could go back to being your friend.”

“You have always been my friend,” He shakes his head, expressing a little more concern than he meant to as he squeezed you tighter, “It’s been a little tough. Loosing my job. Finding another. It’s been tough. I- I didn’t want you to be embarrassed by me. I thought I shouldn’t stay. That’s why-” He stopped, embarrassing himself all over again, “-that’s why I came up here. I was thinking about leaving so you could have your party.”

“Takahiro,” He never realized how weird his named sounded until it came from your lips. Saying it though yanked his attention fully on you before him, “I don’t want to be here if you aren’t. I want to spend my birthday with people I love...I want to spend it, with you-”

Urgently Makki leaned down and pressed his hips against yours.

The first time since freshman year of high school. So many other kisses between that one and now. Lovers. Friends. Cheeks. Lips. Back of hands. Tops of heads. So many kisses between that one you shared freshman year and now.

All this time you thought you’d be afraid. Afraid to feel this again. Too loose this again. But when Makki’s kiss slowly disappeared and left the two of you looking at each other. Suddenly you weren’t afraid.

Hand coming up around his neck you pull the man back down to you. Kissing him all over again. Knowing it wasn’t the first time but set that it wouldn’t be the last time now.

“...I’ll always be there.” Makki muttered against your lips, “Even if you don’t want to celebrate your birthday. I’ll be here. Dancing with you and kissing you until you tell me to go away.”

“What if I never tell you to go away?” You look at him, fingers curling in the hairs at the nape of his neck, “And, what if I want to celebrate my birthday every year with you.”

Suddenly relieved he didn’t leave. Makki pulled you not only into him but also for the third kiss of the night. Grinning against your lips, “You don’t even have to dance with me in your party dress. Just dance with me and I’ll kiss you every day of the year, plus your birthday. And I won’t make you drink champagne.”

#hq!!#hq x reader #hq makki #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #makki #hanamaki takahiro #hanamaki x reader #takahiro hanamaki #takahiro hanamaki x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #hanamaki fluff #makki fluff

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Photo

you’re the one that i want (part 8)

word count: 6k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 7) (series masterlist)

tag list: @chogiout ; @seonghwaslut ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21 ; (couldn’t tag @seongghwaa!)

“i can’t believe you like those.”

“why not? they’re good. try one!”

“fuck no, i’d rather-”

you shove a lifesaver gummy in seonghwa’s mouth before he can finish his sentence, his face morphing into one of disgust that makes a smile pull at your lips.

your third date was something you never thought you’d experience, him stopping by your house before going to yunho’s last night and asking if you’d wanna see a movie. you expected a quaint theater nestled in the small beach town, not to be greeted in his car with blankets and pillows.

but a few towns over, there’s a drive in movie theater that opens every summer. trucks and convertibles and mini vans littering the entire parking lot, spaced out in front of a large screen as little kids run around together and middle schoolers sit around on blankets and awkwardly graze arms.

you and seonghwa were sprawled out on the hood of his car, a blanket under you as both your backs leaned against the windshield. the movie was set to start after sunset, the sky a pretty pink and orange as everyone waited anxiously.

“did you like that one?” you asked him with a smile, still amused by the look on his face when you’d picked up that candy at the convenience store. and judging from his face and the way it looks like he’s chewing dirt, it appears as if he’s not a fan.

“no,” he says dryly, the pout on your face not even enough to make him endure that disgusting gummy candy.

you pop another one in your mouth, sitting up and crossing your legs as you chew them happily. he’s leaned back on the glass and looks over your body with a smile quirking at his lips, watching as you look around at the sunset.

“you look pretty, baby.”

you nearly choke on the candy making it’s way down your throat, eyes widened because he’ll just say stuff like that so easily at such random times; but with the setting sun and your content disposition, he just felt the need to say it.

“you’re gonna make me choke.”

a smirk crosses his face and he resists the urge to make a comment, instead feeling his chest swell at the flustered look on your pink face. the loud boom of a voice over the intercom silences everyone, an excited gasp leaving you before you shimmy over to seonghwa.

he waits until you cuddle into him to throw the blanket around you, tightening his hold despite the chewing of your gummy candies in his ear. he puts up with it until you close up the bag, resting your arm around his stomach as your attention turns to the screen.

“what movie is it anyway?”

and maybe if you both had known, you would’ve found something else to do tonight.

because thirty minutes in and you both are discovering it was the cheesiest horror movie ever produced. a plot that was all very cliche, a group of young adults who were as attractive as they were stupid, hanging out at a cabin in the woods for a weekend before things start to go awry.

“this is kinda bad,” you whispered to seonghwa under the blanket, the bag of life savers back in your hand as you chew one.

“kinda?” seonghwa hums lowly, narrowing his eyes when you look up at him and offer him another candy.

“you paid for it, you know,” you tell them in an attempt to be convincing, “and you didn’t get any snacks. you should just-”

he grabs your face and presses his lips to yours, slipping his tongue in your mouth and tasting the artificial flavor that is a lot more appetizing on you than the candy itself. you meet his kiss back with a small smile, allowing your fingers to circle his stomach teasingly.

it’s been a week since your second round of night swimming, the ache between your legs building day by day because now that you experienced his touch, you want more. you want to see just how much he can push you and himself, the way he says you’re not ready only making you more and more eager.

your tongue connects with his and he growls lowly, tightening his hold on you because you really have been testing him these days. meeting his lips with a new type of fervor that has him screaming to restrain himself.

but how can he when you’re so eager? when your moaning quietly against his mouth and fisting his shirt in your hand. when your lips are parting against one another so perfectly, he can’t help but rest his hand on the back of your neck and pull you closer.

you’re about to throw your leg around his waist when you remember where you are, a very public place with children and parents and elders around who definitely don’t wanna see two horny teenagers get it on.

so with a dejected sigh, you pull away from him and rest your head in the crook of his neck.

he can feel your pouted lips against his shoulders, pulling your head up to look at him and he wants to laugh at the expression on your face. “what happened?” he asks softly, poking at the pink skin with his pointer finger.

“forgot other people were around,” you mumble softly, his deep chuckle against your head causes your cheeks to flush.

“ah, were you trying to jump up on my cock?” he mumbles in your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your ear and causing you to jump away from him with a gasp.

“seonghwa!” you whisper-yell, slapping your hands over your cheeks in embarrassment as he just rests his arm behind his head cockily.

“what?” he asks with a smirk, his tongue poking out to lick at his lip as you become more and more red. you let out a tiny embarrassed cry, shaking your head and narrowing your eyes when he pulls you closer to him.

“i wouldn’t have done that if i thought people were watching,” he speaks lowly to you, purposely picking a spot in the back and keeping an eye on the people around them. “you know i don’t want anyone else hearing how pretty you sound for me.”

you swallow nervously at his words, biting down on your lip so you don’t reach up and kiss him again; instead, you pick up your candy again and plop yourself down in between his legs, leaning back on his chest as his arms wrap around your middle. this was slowly becoming one of your favorite positions with him, the way your back rested on his stomach and his arms secured themselves just below your belly button strangely comforting.

and maybe you could’ve stayed like that comfortably, if the movie wasn’t so awful and boring and you weren’t almost throbbing between your legs; but it’s like he awakened something within you, something you swore off because you were too scared to put yourself out there and hadn’t ever thought you’d experience this yet.

the slight hardness pushing into your back also probably isn’t helping the situation.

it’s why you turn around onto your stomach and look up at him between his legs, the look in your eyes immediately causing his to darken. he can see the lust and desire building in them, that shy innocent look fleeting the more you two continue to push that boundary.

“what do you want, baby?” he asked, even though he already knows. even though he wants so badly to give it you and make you happy. his hand snakes its way into your hair, tugging your head back ever so slightly so he can look you in the eyes better.

the sting on your scalp causes your stomach to swoop, his dark intense gaze and your body pressed against his cock not at all helping your increasing desire. but you can’t find the words to come out, a blush on your cheeks because even though you’re getting bolder, you still feel shy to be so vocally forward.

“hm?” he mumbles, his fingers toying at your lip and you have half the mind to stick your tongue out. but because the ache is getting too much, your face and skin so hot and the overwhelming need to get some relief, you find yourself swallowing your pride.

“i wanna come again,” you say quietly and he almost didn’t expect you to say it.

but fuck is he happy you did, because a sadistic smirk crosses his face and he pulls you by the hair so your lips can collide, gathering the blankets as he mumbles for you to get in the car.

you abide happily, taking your wattle bottles and bag of candy before you plop down in the passenger seat and throw it on the floor. you watch as he throws the blankets in the back, starting up the car as you look at him with a confused expression.

“don’t wanna risk people seeing us,” he says to you, his car reversing out of the spot as he moves to the back of the parking lot. there’s not a car in sight and the sound of the cheesy screams and music is in the distance, seonghwa putting his car in park and moving his seat all the way back.

you swallow as the air in the car becomes thick, with an eletric buzzing that causes you to bite your lip. and before he can say anything, ask if you still wanna do something or go somewhere else, you smile at him shyly before looking down at his lap.

he smirks at your silent way of asking for permission, already so pleased with how polite you are despite the bratty tendencies he’s seen a glimpse of. he pats his thigh welcomingly, watching you bite down harder on your lip as you move over to straddle his lap.

it’s all that needs to happen for your lips to crash, seonghwa grabbing onto your hips as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. it’s one of your sloppier kisses, heavy breaths and swapping tongues as you curve your back to press yourself closer to him.

you move against his lap and whine when you feel he’s hard underneath you, your skin warm as you feel pleasure shoot between your legs.

“see what you did, baby?” he hums lowly in your ear, a smirk on his lips feeling you shudder against him. he loves your reactions because they’re always so easy to read, knowing right there in front of him that he makes you just as crazy as you make him; even though he was better at hiding it.

but now he knows he’s losing it becaue you’re so eager and willing and he’s just slowly falling more and more into you as his mouth drops to your neck and peppers kisses against your skin. you lean your head back to make it easier for him, crying out into the cool air when he sucks down harshly.

“you make me so fucking crazy, i don’t think you know,” he growls, sucking and licking and marking your pure skin that he very much plans to mark up. he’s gonna litter your whole fucking neck so people can see you’re his, that someone put them there and that you’re off limits.

even if he’s bad for you and even if you deserve better.

because he’s in too deep now, the way your whining with your head thrown back and hanging onto him like your life depends on it. he’s moved on to the other side, sucking lightly as his hand moves to your chest.

“this okay?” he breaths out, still wanting to make sure you’re always comfortable and not moving too fast. but you roll your head up and look at him with hazy eyes, your cheeks so flushed and hair splayed out around your shoulders that he suppresses a groan himself.

“yes, please,” you whine, a quiet moan leaving your mouth when he slips his hand into your bra and tugs at your hard nipple.

you sigh out and rest your head on his shoulder, grounding your hips down on him and you’ve never felt this overwhelmed by emotion and sexual attraction in your life. never so badly wished you could be more experienced so you could make him feel good too.

because you feel how hard and turned on he is, the way your hips and core are rolling over his cock borderline painful. “i wanna touch you,” you whisper into his skin, resisting the urge to whine when he removes his hand from you.

he picks your head up so you can look at him, his eyes looking at you with such a dark desire you think you need to touch him now. “baby...”

“please, seonghwa,” you whine, not even recognizing your own voice. it sounds high pitched and whiney and desperate, moving back so you can put your hand on his growing bulge. “i wanna try.”

he swallows and you watch his adams apple bob, your wide-eyed, innocent look eventually being the thing to break him. he accepts the way you push him further back into the chair, fumble with his pants before you snake your hand in his boxers.

you look down at his lap almost in confusion at first, taking a few seconds to examine it and get used to the large, foreign piece of skin in your hand. it makes him chuckle, your eyes flying up to his and narrowing at him; he’s totally making fun of you.

“shut up,” you mumble, a full smile spreading across his lips despite the arousal flooding through him. “sorry baby, you’re just so cute,” he mutters, pulling you forward and placing a hard kiss on your lips.

“take your time and spit on your hand. it’ll be okay.”

the words calm you, watching as he leans back on his chair carelessly and looks down at you.

it makes you more determined to make him feel good, the way he’s watching you making you excited and ready to prove yourself to him. you spit on your hand as instructed before reaching down, your finger swirling around the tip and you snap your head up when you hear a breathy exhale leave him.

“keep goin’ baby, i’m good,” he says, even though his voice sounds gruff and tight. you nod your head before you act on instinct, maybe even a few books you’ve read coming to mind as you twist your wet hand and slowly start to jerk him off.

it’s a little awkward and unsteady but he’s still groaning nonetheless, especially when you spit into your hand and immediately start working on him again. your eyes drop down to his glistening tip and you can’t help but think you want your tongue on it, licking at your lips as you envision your mouth swallowing the tip before his growl disrupts you.

“fucking stop it, now,” he reprimands, your hand halting and eyes widening as you look at him. but his face doesn’t hold any anger, if anything it holds so much lust and desire it makes your own resurface ten times harder.

“what did i do?” you ask, feigning innocence like you weren’t just picturing sinking down on your knees and swallowing him whole.

“you know,” he growls, snaking his hand through your hair and pulling you down so your lips are just centimeters apart. “trying to suck my cock, baby?”

you jerk him off at the sound of his words, whining against him as you shake your head.

“how many times have i told you not to lie to me?”

you bite down on your lip, your hand continuing to work him up and down and feeling pride swell in your chest when he throws his head back with a groan.

“i’m- i’m sorry,” you say softly.

but he acts as if you don’t say anything, gripping your hips and flipping you over so you’re pushed back against the seat. he moves the seat back all the way so he can sink to his knees, your chest heaving and wetness seeping into your underwear at seeing him just inches from where you’ve been throbbing for over an hour.

“are you, baby?” he asks, placing a kiss on your thigh and smirking when you spread your legs.

“ye-yes,” you promise, looking down at him and biting on your lip when you see him place kisses all over your inner thigh.

“i wanna eat your pussy,” he growls and you feel yourself clench at his words alone. your mouth falls open and your legs start shaking, something not going unknown to either of you. “can i do that, baby? you want that?”

and the second you nod your head, another polite “please,” leaving your mouth, he undoes your pants and slides your wet underwear down. he smiles upon seeing how wet they are, licking at your thighs and the moan you let out is so pretty, he can’t help but toy at your slit.

“such a wet girl you are,” you hear him say almost mockingly, your head falling back as your eyes close shut. “but you’re also tight for me, aren’t you? has anyone done this to you before?”

he knows the answer is no because everything about you screams innocent (or at least it had before he went and tainted you). but he can’t even feel bad about that right now, not with the way he’s staring at the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen and hearing your tiny little moans in the air.

“no,” you sigh out, “just-just you.” and then in a move that just feels right, you pick your head up and your eyes meet his. “because i’m yours, seonghwa.”

your sweet voice is a sharp contrast to the growl that rips through him, his mouth immediately taking your pussy before a surprised scream leaves you; you’d never felt anything like this before.

the way his tongue flicks at your clit and he laps you up like he’s been waiting for this moment. how his finger slowly inches inside of you and it causes your moans and whines to grow louder and more frequent.

he wants to pull away to tell you how sweet you taste and how pretty you sound but he can’t take his mouth away from you, your voice in his head telling you you’re his overwhelming his senses. he just needs to keep tasting you, licking over your clit and curling his finger so you can keep hearing your moans and cries.

“seonghwa, seonghwa, oh my god,” you whine, your hand reaching down to curl your fingers and pull at his dirty blonde hair. “oh my go- this feels so-” his finger curls up into you again and your words get cut off by a loud moan, feeling a knot in your lower stomach threatening to come undone.

“you better come on my fucking tongue,” he growls against you when he pulls his mouth away. “i wanna hear you scream my name, do you understand me?”

you nod your head immediately, your eyes meeting his and you can’t look away when he dives back in. because his eyes stay on yours the whole time, his tongue frantic over your clit as his finger fucks into you. you only break the contact when you scream his name, the orgasm that rips through you so intense and powerful you think you’re gonna pass out.

he rips his mouth off you when you’re about to push him away, breathy sighs and gasps for air leaving you. he leans over and kisses your head before he takes his cock in his hand and jerks himself off over you.

your eyes pop open and you immediately look up to see what he’s doing, not being able to help but watch him pump himself furiously. “look at me, baby,” he growls, your eyes snapping up to his immediately.

you look so fucked out with your flushed skin and messy hair but it only serves to bring him closer, your mouth slamming on his until he comes in his hand and your mouth muffles his groan.

he reaches over your head and grabs one of the blankets, cleaning himself and you off before picking you up off the chair. pants around his thighs and your underwear around your ankles, he plops down before placing you on his lap, his arms wrapping around your back as you bury yourself in his chest.

you both take a few moments to catch your breath, his hand rubbing up and down your back mixed with your post orgasm daze almost bringing you into a slumber. but then he hums against your head, the hand running over your skin going through your hair.

“you good?”

you whine against his chest as you nod your head, burying yourself further into him and nuzzling closer into him. he continues to rub your back, an occasional hum or question leaving him so you don’t fall asleep. but once you feel fully cognizant, you lift your head up to see he’s been staring down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

it’s so different from the dark, heated look he had just moments ago, looking up at you as his tongue and finger fucked you so well.

“hi,” you say quietly, smiling when he lets out a small chuckle at your shyness.

“hey. you okay?”

you nod as you bite down on your lip, his hand reaching out to caress your warm cheek.

“you did good for me, baby.”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, looking down at his stomach as embarrassment takes over; it’s one thing to do and talk like that in the moment but now, you feel your inexperience and shyness creeping in.

he notices too, his thumb trailing across your cheek and down your hickey-covered neck. he can’t even lie that he loves the way they look on you, dark bruises that he put there as the possessive streak he always knew he had comes out with a vengeance.

“really?”

he hears the smallness and unsureness in your tone, bringing your face up so he can pull you into him. “really,” he says with a smile and you can’t believe that everyday, it gets more and more soft and sweet; it causes your heart to stutter and body to feel warm and tingly.

you smile back and can’t help but giggle at the strange sense of pride filling you, throwing yourself back onto his chest and feeling him smile again your head. you don’t know how long you stay cuddle up on his chest, his hand moving to your back again as his lips press feather light kisses to your head.

you think you must fall asleep at one point because you’re only slightly aware of him picking you up and putting you in the passenger seat, your eyes popping open when he reaches for your pants.

“are you tired, baby? want me to bring you home?”

his phone buzzes in the cup holder and he looks at the screen to see it’s yunho, opening up the message as you pull up your cold, wet underwear and pants. you see his teeth dig into his lip as he reads the text, your head turned to the side as he types out a message back.

his eyes meet yours and he feels something pulling in his chest, not wanting to leave you just yet; especially when you’re look up at him looking so sweet and pretty.

“or do you wanna go to a bonfire? yunho just texted me.”

“were you on a date?”

“are you guys together?”

“did you try to eat her!? what the fuck is wrong with you!”

seonghwa rolls his eyes at jongho’s last comment, pushing the younger boy aside and thanking god you walked away to talk to your aunt on the phone.

“shut the fuck up,” seonghwa growls. “i told you guys if i came, you were gonna mind your damn business and not ask any questions.”

“yeah but then you show up with y/n and her neck is completely wrecked. her aunt is gonna think you’re some sort of sadist.”

“we love a dom sadist, would you ever think it? this sweet face,” jongho slurs, reaching up to pinch at his friend’s cheek. hongjoong and yunho burst out laughing, seonghwa sneering before pushing the boy back and watching him land on his butt in the sand.

“if that’s a sweet face, then what the hell do-”

“sorry,” you sigh out as you make your way over to them. “hi guys”

the three boys all smile and say hello, the drunken slur to their words evident to your ears immediately. you miss the way seonghwa eyes them warily, like he’s warning them not to blurt out something completely idiotic in front of you.

and for the first thirty minutes, it goes well.

the five of you just playing corn hole again and laughing hysterically over yunho missing each and every time. but when he throws it out toward the ocean in a fit of rage, that’s when things slowly start to go awry.

seonghwa squeezes your hip when he goes with yunho to get it and jongho couldn’t help but notice, taking you by the hand and asking you to go get another drink with him.

“do you want a drink?”

“oh, uh, no thank you, i’m-”

“c’monnnn,” jongho whines, smiling at you and the way his eyes light up you can’t help but find cute. “just one. it’s good, it’s...” he sticks his hand in the cooler and pools out a white and red can. “raspberry. perfect for you.”

you laugh slightly as you think it over quickly; you’d never drank before but raspberry sounds like it couldn’t possibly be that bad. and you also don’t think the boy in front of you would allow you to refuse, his little pout and sweet eyes eventually being the thing to make you take it from his hand.

“so were you and seonghwa on a date?” he asks as you walk back to the corn hole; yunho and seonghwa still aren’t back, hongjoong laid out on his back in the sand and counting stars aloud.

you bite at your lip and crack open the can, lifting to your nose and surprisingly not disgusted by the smell. you were surprised when seonghwa suggested you come with him, since he had been kind of weird in the beginning about hanging out with his friends around.

but when you asked if that was okay with him, he only looked at you with narrowed eyes and grabbed your hand in his. he intertwined your fingers and drove straight to the beach, not disconnecting your hands until he saw yunho and hongjoong running his way.

but still, you thought it was best to not blow up your spot or initiate any skin ship tonight; you didn’t wanna push it with him and ruin something this good.

“uhhh,” you say, not at all biding your time well before hongjoong’s head snaps up and looks over at you two.

“oh, my gosh, y/n drinks? let’s chug!” an excited shout leaves jongho like his friend had suggested the best idea in the world, the boy dragging you over before lifting hongjoong to his feet.

the blonde runs back over to the cooler clumsily, you and the red-haired boy laughing when jongho face plants right in the sand. but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest, fishing his hand through the cold water and ripping out a beer.

“let’s goooo,” jongho shouts, throwing the can recklessly through the air and falling down in laughter when it smacks off hongjoong’s head.

you look at the boy’s wide-eyed and fearful, immediately checking hongjoong’s head for blood. but the boy shrugs it off and cracks open the can, there countdown of “3, 2, 1″ sending you off into the most disgusting drink of your life.

“all i’m saying is this shit is fucking rigged and-”

seonghwa and yunho look at the sight in front of them in disbelief, you, jongho and hongjoong chugging down drinks before the youngest boy crushes the can against his head. hongjoong is next to finish only a few seconds later, throwing his down in the sand and letting out a loud “fuck!”

you choke your way down to finish, your hand coming up to block your mouth as the urge to gag immediately hits you. seonghwa catches it immediately and runs over to you, moving your head back before asking hongjoong and jongho what the fuck they were thinking.

“chugging,” jongho says like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “and not surprisingly. i was the greatest.”

you swallow down the urge to vomit after coughing a few times, shaking your head and grabbing onto seonghwa’s wrist. “i’m-i’m okay,” you insist, the taste of alcohol and fruit unfamiliar in your mouth.

seonghwa immediately takes your face in his, wiping at your wet mouth with his finger and ignoring the way the three boys all stare at you. “why did you do that?”

your face falls at his tone and you can’t help but look at him in confusion, a tiny sigh leaving his mouth before he shakes his head. “i mean you didn’t have to chug it,” he tells you, “you could’ve just drank it like a normal person,” seonghwa says, his words biting and cold as he stares back at jongho and hongjoong.

“but that was the game,” you tell him teasingly, his eyes snapping to you and rolling when he sees that look in your eye. he drops his hand from your face and raises an eyebrow at you, already seeing a flush on your cheeks he knows probably isn’t from him.

“have you ever drank before?”

and forty minutes later, he is not surprised in the slightest that your answer was no. because just after that one drink, you were tipsy and it was both the cutest and most frustrating thing he’s ever seen in his life.

you and yunho had pulled him toward the ocean again, the both of singing dory’s phrase over and over again as you tried to run into the water. seonghwa would grab you by the hand or waist every time, shaking his head with as a firm “no,” left his lips.

“why do you have to be so b-boring!” you squeak. “me and yunho want to swim.” your whines don’t warrant an answer from him, he only tightens his hold on your hand and gives his friend a look that screams ‘get the fuck out of here.’

but the blue-haired boy only smirks, far too amused and curious about the dynamic between you two.

“seonghwaaa,” you whine, attempting to rip your hand from his hold. but when that doesn’t work, you step closer to him and snake your arm around his neck, looking up at him with your glossy, wide eyes and small smile. “we can skinny dip again.”

“skinny dip, you say?” yunho quips, seonghwa’s growl outweighed by your small giggle.

“well we didn’t skinny dip, but i lied and told him i did,” you explain to the boy. “i think...i think i’d be too scared. i don’t wanna ha-haunt the fish with my bare-”

“enough,” seonghwa growls, grabbing your hand again and dragging you away from yunho. he knows his friend is getting far too much enjoyment out of this, watching him interact and look at you in a way everyone knows is different.

“you are so bossy,” you whine as he drags you up the beach. “wait, where are you bringing me?”

“home,” he says, “you’re tipsy.”

“tipsy?” you yelp, “i had one drink. are yo-you calling me a lightweight?”

“exactly,” he says lowly, attempting to hide the amusement in his voice. “now c’mon. it’s getting late anyway.”

“it’s getting late anyway,” you mock, the boy’s head snapping to you and the dark look in his eyes that would usually fill you with fear or apprehension only serves to make you giggle.

“you....are so hot.”

seonghwa’s demeanor changes almost immediately, his lips quirking before the laugh he wanted to hold back bubbles out of him.

“why are you laughing, it’s true!” you squeal, taking this opportunity to rip your hand from his and plop down in the sand tiredly.

“you call me pretty all the time and it makes me very nervous, you know,” you ramble on, looking up at him with a pink flush on you cheeks. “but you. you’re like... actually attractive so it’s a lot harder to call you hot. but if you want me to start calling you pretty, i will.”

he smirks at your words despite the way a part of them makes his stomach sink, bending down so he can take your face in his hand. “you don’t have to call me pretty, baby,” he tells you softly and he can’t believe how in the span of ten seconds, he’s completely changed in his tone with you.

“but you are...” you whine, “well, maybe not pretty. but hot. really hot.”

he bites at his lip and he’s probably getting far too much enjoyment out of your tipsy confessions, his eyebrow raising as he debates whether or not to tease you. but then your face changes and you look up at him with vulnerability clear in your gaze.

“i...don’t really know why you like me,” you say with a hiccup, “you could probably be with any girl ever who’s a lot prettier and more...experienced and-”

“don’t,” seonghwa growls lowly, his thumb running over your face sweetly. “no one’s prettier than you.”

your eyes widen and you want a laugh to bubble out of you but for some reason you can’t. you can only pout and look at him with your glossy eyes, your stupid little self feeling sad and insecure all of the sudden.

“that’s a lie,” you tell him softly as you shake your head. “no one thinks that. no one ever really likes me, actually.” you wanna say that not even your own parents or classmates like you, that no one has ever looked your way and actively cared about you felt.

“i do,” seonghwa hums, his heart hurting because he hates that you feel this way. “i liked you the second i saw you.” you look up at him and feel your eyes water, the softness and sincerity in his words causing a lump to form in your throat.

“i was able to tell you were good,” he says quietly, his hand on your cheek moving to run through your hair. “so pretty and sweet and i knew i was gonna want you, baby.” he frowns when your lip quivers and he leans down to kiss you, almost not believing how naturally and easily these words are leaving him.

he just hates to know you think this about yourself. that people have made you feel so low and bad about yourself, you can’t even believe someone as lousy as him is interested in you. it should be him questioning why you like him, why someone as sweet and kind as you would see any potential in someone as fucked up as him.

“please don’t think those things about yourself,” he says lowly in your ear, pulling back to wipe at the tear he hopes to never see again. you smile sadly at him and nod your head, lifting your arms up with a pout and he bites his lip at how childlike you look right now.

“let me bring you home, yeah?”

you nod and smile when he turns around so you’re met with his back, giggling when you hook your arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

“only if you come in with me,” you mumble against his ear. he licks at his lips and swears it’s only to tuck you in.

and as hard as it was, he kind of sticks to that promise. he sets you up with water from the bathroom sink as you change into pajamas shorts and an oversized shirt, crawling onto your bed and lifting your arms out to him again.

“stay with me,” you whine tiredly and he shakes his head at you because it’s like you know he can’t resist you anymore.

you smile sleepily when he crawls in your bed with a sigh, laying your head on his chest and tangling your feet with his as you melt into him.

he plays with your hair and kisses the side of your head when you moan sleepily against him, tightening his hold around you and allowing himself a moment to enjoy this.

“you...make me really happy,” you slur into him, the cheesy words ones you would probably never confess to him without a little liquid courage. you’ve always wanted to because he really has made your summer so far the best of your life, but shyness and fear, like always, hold you back.

but the words make his heart lift, smiling against your head as he leans down and presses another soft kiss to your cheek. “you make me happy too,” he says softly, truthfully, because he can’t remember a time he felt this happy and content either.

he feels your smile against his shirt before your even breaths finally indicate you’ve fallen asleep. he peeks down and sees your sleeping figure, feeling his heart swell and he really can’t believe how quickly you made him fall for you.

how every night, he hates the thought of leaving you.

it’s why he allows himself just five more minutes with you, wanting to make sure you’re really asleep before he’s forced to sneak out and crash next door where he knows a million questions are probably waiting for him.

(part 9)

#seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #seonghwa series #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez series #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #seonghwa scenarios #ateez scenarios #seonghwa angst #ateez angst

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capcarolsdanver · 3 years

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Why Her? (Part 4)

Summary: This fic is based off a request from an anon after some speculations that have been made on my blog. Brie enlists the help of the reader to get a date with a girl that reader knows from class, only for unexpected feelings to be caught. Drama/angst/fluff to come! Pairing: Brie x Reader

A/N: The final chapter is here!! This was a fun one to write. Thank you to everybody who read it, and most importantly, thank you to everybody who liked/reblogged and gave me feedback!! You guys don’t know how important it is to writers. I look forward to hearing what you think of the last chapter! I hope you enjoy!

Please do not repost my writing anywhere without my permission.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

You once again find yourself sitting on your own at the campus library, surrounded by textbooks that you’re trying to convince yourself to focus on. The rest of the weekend after you’d left the diner had been fairly uneventful, aside from the onslaught of texts and phone calls from Brie that you’ve been evading.

You weren’t trying to be hurtful in your actions, but seeing her and Sarah talking together, and standing so close, made you realise how careless you’d been. You had let yourself develop feelings for Brie. You’re certain of that now, after spending practically the whole weekend going over and over the reason why you’d run from the diner.

And now you’re just trying to protect yourself and give both you and Brie the time and space you think your friendship deserves, if you still can even call what you had a friendship. You know that if you continue the same kind of routine that you and Brie had fallen into, then it would only lead to more confusing, damaging feelings arising.

And that would be unfair to the both of you.

As if aware that your thoughts had drifted to her, Brie is suddenly sitting opposite you at the table, fixing you with a hard look.

You would be lying if you said you were shocked by the presence. You knew it was only a matter of time before she would confront you over your ghosting her.

“Well it’s good to know you’re alive,” she says. It’s hard to interpret her tone, especially because you refuse to meet her eyes. Partly because you’re still trying to keep your distance. But you do also still feel embarrassed by your dramatic exit only two days ago.

At the time, you hadn’t even been thinking about the repercussions, but after the fact, you had realised how confusing the situation may have been for Brie, especially with your radio silence afterwards.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly. You still hesitate to look at her but you already know that her hard stare doesn’t waver.

“That’s it?” Now you hear the snippiness of her tone. “You ignore me for two days and ‘hi’ is all you’ve got to say?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” you try, but she cuts you off quicker than you expect.

“Really? What do you call it, then?”

You stutter, failing to come up with an answer. You were ignoring her, after all. Though you don’t want to admit that to her, because then you would have to explain why you were ignoring her. And you’re fairly sure that would ten lead to you talking about seeing her and Sarah at the diner together, and what exactly that might mean.

“I was busy,” is all you can come up with. Brie scoffs from the other side of the table.

“You were too busy to let me know you were okay?” You sense a more fragile emotion leaking into her tone and finally you tentatively meet her gaze. “I was worried about you,” she admits softly, her vulnerability on full display.

“Well maybe you should stop worrying about me so much,” you bite out, immediately regretting your unintentionally heated response. Brie looks taken aback and you can practically see the wall she starts putting up around herself as her features harden.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice unnervingly dropping any signs of emotion. “Maybe I should.” She abruptly pushes her chair back to leave and you feel an incredible pang of guilt again.

“Brie, wait,” you say hastily. You half expect her to continue on her way without a second glance, but instead she freezes where she is. She looks at you expectantly. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” Her words are clipped and you don’t blame her for her attitude at all. After all, it’s your feelings getting in the way of things, not hers.

“I’m an asshole.” You shake your head at yourself. “Forgive me?” You plead, your apologetic eyes on Brie. You watch her resolve begin to crumble and her tense muscles seem to relax a little. Eventually she nods.

“Okay. Only if you explain why you ignored me, though.” It’s a fair request, though of course you can’t exactly answer it truthfully.

“I didn’t lie when I said I was busy,” you decide to supply, even though you know full well you had spent the last two days hiding out in your dorm room doing almost nothing but thinking about how to deal with your emerging feelings for Brie. “I barely looked at my phone all weekend.”

She seems to accept your answer and turns to face you more directly again. “Well how about now? Are you too busy to go grab a coffee with me?” She is casual in the way she asks, though her tone betrays her in revealing a hint of nerves in her words.

You know you probably shouldn’t go. You know, really, you should be putting at least some distance between you and Brie to salvage the friendship and spare either of you hurt feelings. But then how were you ever expected to say no to her? Especially when she’s standing right in front of you and you still feel guilty about your behaviour over the last couple days.

You force yourself to hold in the sigh that you almost release, because of course you know you’re going to say yes to her.

————————

Coffee with Brie goes pretty well, if slightly less relaxed as your usual time spent with Brie is. You do feel better for agreeing to go, though, mainly because Brie seems much happier when you part ways than when she had first shown up to talk to you at the library that morning.

You avoided the topic of Sarah completely, and you’re not sure if it was intentional but Brie seemed to do the same, also. You’re not sure how to interpret that just yet, but you choose to ignore the gnawing feeling it gives you. Was she deliberately not bringing Sarah up around you for a reason? Or had she just perhaps not even thought to bring the other girl up in conversation?

You must admit, that possibility seems odd, seeing as it was literally the entire reason why you had started talking to Brie in the first place, and since a lot of the time you spent together hanging out was at parties where Sarah also was.

Though, of course, there were also the times you spent together where Sarah wasn’t even so much as mentioned. The movie night only a handful of nights ago immediately comes to mind.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts on your walk back to your dorm room after your final class of the day. This is the exact reason why you feel like you need to put some distance between you and Brie for a little while. This constant questioning over every interaction you and Brie shared would surely do no good for either of you in the long run.

Once you make it inside, you thankfully find your room empty. You do have a roommate, though you rarely see her at all, which works for you just fine. Especially when you have so much on your mind and want nothing more than to just be on your own. You throw your bag down next to your desk and throw yourself down on your bed, heaving out a heavy sigh before you fish your phone out of your pocket.

You’ve barely checked it all day, but you’re still surprised to see a text from Brie waiting for you.

“I’m glad we’re okay.”

You stare at the text for probably far too long. You’re not too sure how to interpret it, though maybe there isn’t really anything to interpret from the seemingly simple text.

“Me too.”

You bite your lip anxiously, knowing that Brie will likely reply at any moment, but feeling entirely unprepared for it. On one hand, you could so easily fall back into your easy pattern of talking with Brie, but on the other hand, you are fully aware that you have to keep some kind of boundary between the two of you right now.

When you do receive another text from her a moment later, you again stare at the words staring back at you on the screen.

“So, what are you up to tonight? Impromptu movie night?”

You so badly want to say yes. The last movie night had been so nice, and you had loved the time spent with Brie. But then what happened shortly after that is in your head again, and that’s enough to make your mind up for you. You certainly don’t want any kind of reenactment of the diner incident, especially if Brie and Sarah have taken the next step and have started talking as you suspect they may have.

“I can’t, I have to study tonight :(“

Another easy lie that goes towards putting some space between the two of you.

“Aw, okay then nerd :P”

You would normally chuckle at Brie’s light teasing, but all you do is sigh in disappointment, because you so wish you could be on your way to Brie’s for a movie night right now. Instead, you leave her text unanswered and put your phone aside, staring at the ceiling and silently praying for the universe to just give you a break.

Brie sends several more invites to hang out over the next few days, and you would pat yourself on the back for finding an excuse to turn them all down if it didn’t make you feel so terrible. You’re slowly starting to think the space from Brie is just making you want her even more.

As if on cue, your phone vibrates on your bedside table.

“I hear there’s a party tonight…”

“Oh yeah?”

In all fairness, you haven’t really been looking out for any parties lately. Mainly because you’ve been trying to somehow push away your feelings for Brie, and you doubt going with her to a party where Sarah would likely be would help you with that.

“Yeah. I hear Sarah will be there…”

You sigh, getting the confirmation that you aren’t at all surprised to receive. Of course this was all just another step in the Sarah plan. You don’t know how to respond, and you half consider just ignoring the message when Brie sends through another.

“Will you go with me?”

“I don’t know”

You don’t even really have any fake excuses left to use to get out of it, but you just hope that Brie picks up on your reluctancy to go and lets you off the hook.

“Please?”

Apparently not. Still, for a single word, her text does wonders at making your resolve slip. You close your eyes for a long moment and take a deep breath, slowly letting it out while you mentally prepare for the night ahead of you.

————————

You agree to meet Brie at the party, as it’s almost exactly halfway between your respective residencies. When you step through the open doorway, you’re hit with the overwhelming sounds of people yelling, desperately trying to be heard over the almost deafening volume of the music.

You keep a look out for Brie as you walk but there’s no need. You’ve only taken a few short steps when a gentle hand finds your waist and you twist around to see Brie’s wide smile.

“Hey,” she shouts, or at least you think she does. Seriously, if you made it through the night with your hearing intact it would be a miracle.

“Hey, yourself,” you shout back. Brie also seems to realise the problem with trying to have a conversation where you are. She looks around and spots a large open doorway opposite where you stand, grabbing your wrist to pull you towards it.

You make it into the kitchen, which you’re happy to discover doesn’t seem to have the same acoustics as the room directly attached to it because it is significantly quieter in here. There’s also only a small handful of people standing around, another startling contrast to the room full of people you had just come from.

Brie stops and takes a dramatic breath, quickly releasing it and she offers you an easy smile.

“You know, I kind of half expected you not to show up tonight,” she admits, but her smile stays in place. “I’m glad you did, though.”

You ignore the slight stab of guilt you feel, knowing full well that you couldn’t blame Brie for not even fully trusting that you would show up. You have been dodging every plan she’s tried to make with you for the last week.

“Well, you did say please,” you shrug and Brie’s smile grows in size, chuckling at you. You’re left standing facing each other for a moment in as much silence as the party will allow, and in the absence of talking, your eyes roam over Brie without your permission.

She looks good tonight. Not that she hasn’t looked every bit as good every other time you’ve seen her, but there’s something about her tonight. You look at her face and notice what you think is the slightest bit of nerves, and she clears her throat and takes a look at all the alcohol sprawled across the countertop.

She turns and takes it upon herself to make up two drinks. You watch her as she focuses intensely at the task at hand, before she grabs the cups and hands one to you.

“Thank you,” you say, a small smile of appreciation, and you make a move to take a sip, though you never quite get there as you’re startled by the sudden outburst of Brie’s voice across from you.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

You slowly lower the cup, not moving your eyes from her as you study her carefully. She looks far too serious for your liking. You try to play it cool, though your stomach sinks, realising what she was likely about to tell you. That her and Sarah had hit it off that morning at the diner, and that they had continued talking and hanging out together. Brie had finally earned that date she was after. You should have wondered why Brie had asked you to a party where Sarah would be even though you saw with your own eyes how comfortable the two were when they talked now.

“Aren’t we already talking?” You say stubbornly, immediately trying to find a way to end this conversation before it can even begin. You are nervous to admit that you hadn’t thought about what your friendship with Brie might look like if her and Sarah actually did get together, especially considering your feelings for Brie that only seem to be growing stronger. You can’t hold eye contact with Brie anymore, so you look away at anything that isn’t her. Your eyes land on a figure in the adjacent room. Sarah.

In a feeble attempt to avoid dealing with this conversation for the time being, you point her out before Brie can even get another word out.

“I found Sarah,” you say. Brie barely even offers a glance over her shoulder towards the other girl before she’s looking back at you again. “Go get her,” you say, a forced smile on your face.

“I just need to-“

“Seriously, you’ll miss your chance if you don’t go to her now.” You pointedly keep your eyes on Sarah, avoiding looking directly at Brie at all cost. You can feel your own emotions quickly beginning to rile up and you know you have to put a stop to this before you lose it.

“Y/N, please.” She reaches for you and the second her hand makes contact with you something within you snaps.

“Brie, what are you still doing here?” You growl and you can physically see Brie recoil a little. “Just go to her. We both know she’s the only reason we’re friends, anyway, so you might as well stop wasting your time.”

At this, Brie takes a full step back, as if she’s just taken a physical hit. “The only reason?” She asks in disbelief, hurt crossing her face as her features crumple slightly.

You at least have the decency to feel a little guilty. You know you have the tendency to snap like this when you’re trying to protect yourself. You’re an emotional person; you either snap, or burst into tears when dealing with anxiety-ridden situations like this. But nonetheless, you feel completely terrible for so clearly hurting Brie’s feelings.

“Listen, Brie. You just have a good night, okay?” You say, remorse on your face before your feet carry you back through the sea of people and the thumping music until you’re back outside, keeping a brisk pace as you begin to walk down the road, in what you hope is the direction of your dorm.

“Where are you going?” You hear Brie’s distinctive voice from the front of the house, actually surprised that she’d even followed you this far. You ignore her, not even looking in her direction, figuring she’ll give up and head back inside. You’d already ruined the night, you don’t want to do any more damage.

Only a moment later, though, she’s catching your hand with her own and trying to slow you down. You can hear her rushed breath from behind you and at her continued efforts and you wonder if she’d had to run after you to catch you. You eventually sigh and come to a stop. As soon as she gets the opportunity, she stands in front of you, almost as if to stop any other attempts at running away that you might try.

“What the hell was that?” She exclaims. She looks somewhere between mad and concerned. You of course hadn’t planned on any of this happening, so you’re at a loss for what to do. You’ve barely had control over your emotions over the last week and it feels like you’re just about at your breaking point.

“Talk to me,” she whispers, and of course that is what seems to break you as you feel tears sting at your eyes.

You slam them shut to stop any tears from leaking out, but when Brie tugs you into a tight hug, her cheek pressing against the side of your head, you can do nothing to stop the first tears from falling.

God, what the hell was happening to you tonight?

Brie shushes you calmly when she hears your cries, as if the night couldn’t get any more embarrassing for you.

“I’m sorry,” you sob into her shoulder. Her hand rubs soothing circles on your back and you focus on that, taking in some deep breaths. You seriously want to crawl into a dark hole somewhere out of pure embarrassment once you eventually calm down enough.

“You don’t need to apologise.” Brie breathes out, remarkably patient with the blubbering mess that you’ve become.

“I should have just listened when you wanted to tell me about you and Sarah, but instead I had to make the whole thing about myself. I’m such a bad friend.”

Brie’s hand on your back falters, stopping those soothing motions and she gently pulls away from you, her furrowed brow emphasising her apparent confusion.

“Me and Sarah? What are you talking about?”

“That’s what you wanted to tell me back there, right? That you and Sarah have started seeing each other?”

Brie doesn’t so much as blink at you as she continues staring at you, but you notice her features changing. One eyebrow seems to arch in question and one side of her mouth curves up in a kind of half smile.

“What gave you that impression?” She asks, and is that a hint of amusement you can hear in her voice?

“Um,” you start, blinking a few times and suddenly feeling very much put on the spot. “Well, I saw you both at the diner last weekend talking, and you both seemed awfully happy together,” you say, becoming more and more unsure of your words as you explain. Brie’s smile widens and you feel the need to further your explanation. “I saw her touch you on your arm.” You say it as if it explains everything, but it sounds ridiculous to say out loud now, especially with Brie looking at you like she was.

“Wait, is that why you left the diner that morning?” Brie asks, something clearly clicking in her head. When you remain silent and your cheeks redden slightly she lets out a surprised little laugh. “I knew you were ignoring me!”

“I wasn’t,” you mumble, but you know it’s no use.

“So you think that I started seeing Sarah, and chose not to tell you immediately, just because you saw us talking one time?”

“Oh god,” you say, even more embarrassed than when you’d just been crying into Brie’s top only a few moments ago. You drop your face into your hands. “I’m an idiot.”

“Not an idiot,” Brie says. You look back up at her and she’s wearing a cheeky kind of grin as she watches you. “But a little jealous, maybe?”

She’s right, of course, but you can’t just outright admit that to her. Instead, you change the topic in the first way you can think of.

“I suppose that explains why you wanted me to come here tonight, then.” Brie tilts her head curiously at you, waiting for you to clarify further. “I’m assuming you still want help with Sarah,” you shrug.

Brie watches you, her expression remaining unchanged. “You really think that, don’t you?”

It’s your turn to look at Brie quizzically now.

“Y/N, I’ve been trying to make plans with you all week. I asked you to come with me tonight because I thought if I told you Sarah would be here, you would say yes because of our agreement.” You still don’t quite follow, but Brie suddenly shifts from foot to foot nervously, so you give her a moment to continue. “I wanted to talk to you about something, and I knew it was a conversation for us to have in person.”

“So, you didn’t invite me here because of Sarah?” You ask dumbly, feeling several steps behind Brie. She smiles at you like she wants to laugh. When she reaches out for your hand, your breath catches slightly.

“Do you remember after that first party we went to together? We were walking back to your dorm and you asked ‘why her?’, remember?”

You nod. Of course you remember. It’s only the very thought that has been playing on repeat in your mind since the moment you asked it.

“Well, at the time I thought nothing of it. I mean, I didn’t really have a good answer, but I didn’t think I needed one. But that question just kept repeating itself in my head.” Huh, well at least it wasn’t just you who was apparently haunted by that thought. “It made me realise I was chasing some girl who I had already put up on a pedestal. I’d never even had a conversation with her before that night.”

Brie drops her gaze to your hand that she has clasped in her own and begins lightly fidgeting with your fingers. The feeling of it brings an instant smile to your face, despite how heavy this conversation feels.

“I was too focused on one girl who I didn’t even know, when really, it turns out I actually should have been focusing on another girl who I was actually enjoying spending time with.”

You pause, your mouth falling slightly open in shock as you take in Brie’s words.

“Wait, what?” You say, because… what? She’s not implying what you think she is, right? “What about the diner? I saw Sarah there with you…”

“She wasn’t there with me, we just ran into each other. Actually, I think that’s when I realised there weren’t any feelings there for me.” Brie clears her throat, looking up at you. “I like talking to her. She’s nice and everything. But when I saw you leave, that was when I felt something.”

Well, this certainly was not how you predicted tonight to go. But the warmth that runs through you at Brie’s confession is probably one of the best feelings you’ve ever experienced, and you know this conversation is far from over. You’re still at a loss of words, though you hope the way you return Brie’s gaze is enough to tell her how you feel too.

“How about instead of asking me ‘why her?’ you ask me ‘why not her?’”

You’re puzzled to say the least, but still do as Brie asks.

“Why not her?” You ask, and the smile that spreads on Brie’s face as her eyes travel over your features before returning to your eyes has you returning a nervous smile of your own. She steps closer, her hand dropping from yours in favour of resting it on your side instead.

“Because she’s not you,” she says, barely a whisper, and the blush that immediately warms your cheeks is no surprise. You genuinely don’t know how to react at this smooth-talking side of Brie that you’ve never really seen, so you duck your head, though it isn’t enough to hide the enormous smile your lips curve into.

“That’s so cheesy,” you say and Brie bursts into laughter, probably more because of her own nerves than you actually saying anything funny.

“Well my name is Brie,” she shrugs. “I was born to be cheesy.”

“Oh my god.” You laugh now, too, lifting your head back up to meet Brie’s eyes again.

“Forget cliches, I’ll be exclusively bringing you Brie-ches.” She grins, clearly finding herself hilarious, but you just shake your head at her, another laugh escaping your lips.

“Please shut up,” you chuckle, and immediately her eyebrows are dancing, a playful glint in her eyes. You know what she’s going to say before she’s even saying it.

“Make me.”

And it’s perhaps the biggest cliche of them all, but you would be lying if you say it doesn’t have an effect on you. As if on its own accord, your body presses forward. Brie, who anticipates the movement, slides her hands around your waist to pull you closer, and before you know it your body is pressed into hers and your lips meet hers in a searing kiss.

Her hands tighten on you and she hums against your lips. She pulls back only slightly and only to swipe her tongue across your bottom lip, and you’re eagerly opening your mouth for her, her tongue meeting yours in a kiss that seems too fast, but not fast enough.

The kiss feels like relief, but also excitement. It feels dangerous, but also safe.

It feels like home.

After a long, heated moment, you and Brie finally separate yourselves from each other. Your skin is flushed all over, both of you breathing heavily and her eyes don’t hide the fact that they roam freely over your body now.

“God, I’m glad you agreed to help me get with some other girl,” she says, her voice noticeably deeper now, and she easily pulls another laugh out of you. You shake your head at her and push her shoulder. She responds with a fond smile, and she lets her fingers dance down your arm before she reaches your hand, entwining your fingers with hers.

“Come on,” she says, leaning over to press an affectionate kiss to your cheek. “Let’s get out of here.”

#brie larson imagine #brie larson x reader #brie larson fic #captain marvel #captain marvel imagine #brie larson #fic #mine

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angelicyoongie · 4 years

Text

desolate (4)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 3.9k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @mult1wh0re @ditttiii @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi

Part one Part two Part three Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

Yoongi.

You study your cat using the little slivers of sunlight spilling into your bedroom through your curtains. You look at the soft rise and fall of your cat’s chest, the fluffy tail that’s almost covering up his face completely, and the hint of pink toe beans you can see under his paws.

You don’t think he looks like a Yoongi. The name is too .. human. Your cat takes a deep breath, a soft sigh escaping him as he burrows down even deeper beneath his tail. He doesn’t look like a Yoongi, but you haven’t been able to shake the name ever since you woke up.

You watch him sleep for another minute, a smile spreading across your lips at the fuzzy feeling you get in your chest. Even though the meeting between your cat and Sana didn’t go as well as you had hoped, it still made your cat warm up to you a little, and so you suppose that’s a victory in itself.

You slowly get up from bed, trying your best not to move it too much and wake him up. You snatch up some comfortable clothes, and find yourself freshly showered and comfortable with a full tummy at your kitchen counter a little while later. You’re cooking up the chicken breast as a peace offering for when your cat wakes up, just in case he decides he’s gone back to not liking you anymore. The moment you deem the chicken cool enough, your cat comes running into the kitchen, eyes wider than usual until they land on you. If you didn’t know better, you would almost think he was looking for you. But considering how fast he starts walking between your legs to make you give him his breakfast quicker, you think it’s probably more reasonable to think that he was looking for the chicken. You almost trip five times on the short walk to the living room, your cat stopping every few steps to make sure you’re still following him.

“I’m coming kitty,” You snort when he jumps up on the table, an impatient meow signalling you to move faster. You place the plate down on the floor, but your cat stays on top of the table, silently watching you.

“Your food is on the floor,” You bend down to tap on the plate, confused as to why he doesn’t react. It takes a few more seconds of him silently watching you until it clicks, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“You’re not supposed to eat on the table, kitty. You’re not really supposed to sit on there either,” He tilts his head, golden eyes narrowed in on you as he stares you down. You need to set boundaries, but at the same time he’s just started to be more friendly ..

“Just this once,” You sigh as you push aside the snacks from last night, placing the dish on top of the table. Your cat lets out a soft chirp, something that sounds vaguely as an agreement, but also like he has no plans of actually listening to you. You busy yourself with cleaning off the table as he eats, and while you feel a little annoyed at the sassy attitude, you can’t help find it endearing that he has so much personality.

You plop down on the couch with a huff when you’re done cleaning up. You’re ready to spend the day on the couch just catching up on all of your favourite TV shows. “Thank god for the weekend, huh kitty? Two full days of relaxing is the best thing ever,” You mumble as you watch him finish eating his food.

He does a small stretch, but instead of jumping off and hiding under the couch as you expected him to, he surprises you by jumping straight onto your lap instead. You don’t think he’s fully comfortable with you petting him yet – you can still feel how his body tenses as you run your fingers through his fur, but he seems to enjoy it more and more with each second that passes.

“I guess I should stop calling you kitty,” You give a small laugh as he bumps his head against your fingers when you stop. You gently scratch under his chin, the name you haven’t been able to shake off still haunting you in the back of your mind.

“Yoongi?” You test it out. Your cat snaps his head up to look at you so fast that he almost topples over at the sound of the name, but it feels a little heavy rolling of your tongue.

“I don’t know .. I don’t think it fits you,” You chew on your lip as you try to think of other possible names. Your cat’s tail swishes irritably, the same motion as when you take too long to get his food ready. You think he would rather fit being called something cute, like ..

“Smoky! That works, don’t you think?” You grin, the name falling from your lips easily. You feel confident that you’ve found a good name, but the moment you meet your cats golden eyes, you feel claws digging into your thighs.

“Fuck!” You hiss, desperately trying to pry your legs away from those vicious claws, but they only seem to dig in even deeper as you try to get away.

“Okay fine, fine! Not Smoky then,” Your cat stares at you for another second before he retreats his claws just a little. You can still feel the pinpricks of them resting against your skin through your sweats. It seems to be a silent warning to not choose any other goofy names.

“What about Ji–“ You feel the claws start to dig in again, and you cut yourself off quickly. You can tell your cat is slowly starting to get angry based on the harsh flicks of his tail. And so even though you don’t think it fits him, you decide to give the first name another go.

“Yoongi?” You try again. Your cat immediately lets a broken purr, head butting against your fingers as if he gives his approval. He doesn’t waste any time in curling up in your lap as you resume petting him, eyes slowly blinking up at you.

“Of course you would act cute when you get your will,” You grumble. Your cat, no Yoongi,

only lets out a louder purr in response. You’re still not sold on it, but if he likes it then it seems like you don’t have much say on it.

You stay on the couch watching TV for a few hours, Yoongi having moved to rest of the couch besides you after a while. He’s still pressed up against your thigh though, and you think it’s cute how he seems to want contact even if petting gets a little too much.

Around noon you decide it’s time to grab some lunch. Yoongi lets out a disgruntled noise as you move, his eyes barely open as he watches you get up. Something black peaking out from under the couch grabs your attention as you stand, and you kneel down on the floor in confusion as you go to grab whatever it is. You figure maybe Jihyo or Sana dropped something when they came over, but as you pull it out, you realize it’s the hoodie you couldn’t find yesterday.

You shake it out a little to get a few dust balls off it, but what surprises you even more are all the small black hairs that seem to fly off it as well.

“Kitty? Did you take this?” As you look back up at him, Yoongi closes his eyes, tail swishing up to cover them from view.

“Alright then,” You shake your head with a snort, more amused than anything else.

You gently run your fingers over his head a few times before you get up and head to the kitchen, dropping off the hoodie in your laundry hamper along the way.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, you honestly don’t do much except for watching TV, scrolling through your social media and eating. In other words; your definition of a perfect Saturday. And it’s even more enjoyable now that you have a cat to keep you company.

Your phone lights up as you lay down in bed, Yoongi already sleeping soundly on one side. You’re thankful he at least gave you some more space today. You open the message as you snuggle down under your covers. The cold has really started to set in the past week, and you begrudgingly realized you couldn’t hold off turning on the heat any longer this morning. You like keeping your bedroom a little colder however, so that your bed feels even toastier once you warm it up. You frown as you scan over the message from your boss. He’s asking you all to come in to work tomorrow, apparently even more computers have been hacked, and you’re all needed to go through your files to see if anything is missing. A message trickles in from Jihyo, and you end up screaming at your boss through texts for a little while, until you decide you need to go to sleep if you’re going to be able to wake up early enough to make it there on time.

“Must be nice to not have any responsibilities,” You stare longingly at your cat with a pout as you shuffle down deeper under your covers. So much for a relaxing Sunday.

You miraculously wake up just before your alarm, but then again, you’ve been sleeping poorly all night. The sudden call in to work made you anxious, and you aren’t sure what to expect when you get there. You silently slip out of bed, throwing a quick glance at Yoongi as you watch him sleep peacefully. You get ready as fast as possible, making sure that Yoongi’s breakfast is done and waiting for him when he wakes up.

You consider running into your room and saying goodbye before you leave, but the thought almost makes you roll your eyes at yourself. He’s a cat. He won’t care if you leave or if you say goodbye as long as he has food to wake up to. You shake your head as you slip on your shoes and grab your keys, throwing an extra look at the bedroom door to make sure you left it open. You’re sure he’ll be fine.

“Finally!” Jihyo mumbles under her breath as you slip into your seat, out of breath and a little red in the face. Turns out the bus you normally take to work don’t run on Sundays, and so you had no choice but to walk the entire way in those godforsaken heels. “Did I miss anything?” You whisper back as you log into your computer. Jihyo shakes her head, eyes flying back to her own screen as you hear a loud voice echoing down the hallway. You quickly shrug off your jacket and get comfortable in your chair, trying to at least pretend that you didn’t just sprint the whole way there.

“Is everyone here? Good,” Your boss suddenly walks into the open space, arms crossed over his chest as he scans over faces looking at him.

“Yesterday we had another breach in our systems,” Low murmurs suddenly travel through the room, and your boss raises his hand to silence it.

“You all know how important it is for our documents to stay classified, especially considering the sensitive nature of many of our cases,” You nod along to his words, hand automatically reaching out for your favourite pen to note down anything important. You frown as you only grasp air, sneaking a look down to see that it isn’t where you left it on Friday. That’s weird. “I’ll need all of you to go through your cases and double check against our lists to see if anything is missing. While it’s unconventional for me to drag you in on a weekend, it cannot be held off until tomorrow. I assume you understand that,” You see Jihyo let out an inaudible sigh. Yes, you do understand that this is a uncommon occurrence and that your work is important, but you were also tired after a long week, and those two short days are the only thing standing between you and a breakdown.

“You cannot leave until you’re done, but you’ll get paid double for every hour you spend here as a compensation,” Your boss almost seems more angry about the fact that he’ll have to pay you overtime, than he is that his company was breached.

“What are you waiting for? Get to work,” He barks, and then there’s a flurry of motion as everyone start pulling out their case file lists, the sound of papers being flipped over filling the open space. You unlock your drawer and pull out your long, long, long list of all the cases you’ve covered. You curse under your breath. So this is what you get for being hardworking, huh? You crack your neck as you click into the system, scanning the pages for the most recent name on your list first.

Revisiting all of your old cases makes a knot form in your stomach. All the injustice and horrible scenarios you have had to deal with is awful, and it’s honestly probably why you’re so hesitant to get a hybrid. You’ve seen the worst of the worst working on cases for mistreated hybrids, and you’re terrified of doing anything wrong that might unintentionally hurt someone. You know you’re not the same as the abusers you’ve created cases against, but still; the fear never seems to leave you alone. Jihyo motions for you to follow her after a few hours, and you’re thankful for a quick escape to the bathrooms to take a break.

“I can’t believe he called us in on a Sunday!” Jihyo hisses as she leans against the sink, displeasure written all over her face. “I know, this week was rough enough without the extra work,” You sigh. “Tell me about it,” Jihyo rolls her eyes. You turn around and look in the mirror, trying to untangle a knot that must’ve formed in your hair in your hurry earlier. You can see Jihyo’s eyes flickering over to you every few seconds, teeth biting down on her lower lip as she seems to be deep in thought. “Spill it,” You say with a chuckle as Jihyo jumps at the sound of your voice. “I just .. about Friday?” Jihyo looks uncertain as she turns to face you.

“Sana is a really chill hybrid, and she wouldn’t act like that without reason,” You nod along to her words, not really sure where she’s going.

“She told me after we left that your cat smelled off ..” She frowns. “What, like he needs a bath?” You try to lessen the tense air between you with a light joke, but Jihyo shakes her head, lips pressed together tightly. “No. She said it smelled like it wasn’t fully an animal. That it smelled like it was a .. hybrid,” You can only stare at her dumbly, mouth a little agape as you try to process her words.

Your kitty is a hybrid? No way. Wouldn’t he have had to shift? You know they can’t stay in their animal forms for too long without it hurting them, and your cat has been with you for two weeks already. You’re certain you’ve never seen anything weird in your apartment while he’s been staying there but then again, you are gone most of the day when you’re at work. “There’s no way he’s is a hybrid! When I found him he was in a small cage at the shelter with other animals, I’m pretty sure they would’ve known if he was one,” You say firmly. You can’t wrap your head around him being anything else but an actual cat. Sure, he’s got a big personality and sometimes seem to spookily understand a lot of what you’re saying but .. a hybrid? Impossible. “I’m sure Sana just smelled wrong. Maybe there’s an hybrid in the apartment under mine?” You try to reason, but Jihyo just snorts. “She’s a dog hybrid Y/N, she knows better than us what she’s smelling and where she’s smelling it,” Jihyo sounds a little offended that you would question Sana’s instincts, but the thought of your cat being a hybrid is just too ridiculous.

“I’m not saying she’s doesn’t know what she’s doing, just that she maybe got it mixed up,” You find your own irritation growing as Jihyo keeps insisting that Sana isn’t wrong, but you’re too tired to fight with her.

“Let’s just .. go back, I’m sure we’ve been away for too long,” You turn on your heel and leave the bathroom before Jihyo can say anything else.

The idea of you owning a hybrid and not knowing about it is ridiculous, but what you dislike even more is how it makes you start to second guess everything your cat has been doing for the last few weeks. Sure, there have been a few instances of him doing things that made you do a double take, but you’re pretty sure that at least seventy percent of his behaviour is just what any normal cat would do.

You huff as you sit down in your seat, the long list in front of you daunting. You’ve made up your mind that there’s no way that Yoongi being a hybrid is true, but Jihyo’s comment refuses to leave your mind the rest of the day.

You’re finally down to the last ten cases on your file, the first cases you ever dealt with after you got hired at the firm. You type in the information of the tenth, watching as the details start to load up. You let your eyes wander around the mostly empty office landscape, only a few people left beside yourself. Jihyo had clocked out a few hours ago with a sympathetic smile, but that doesn’t do much to help you get home faster. You’ve been working as hard as you can to finish up quickly, knowing that your kitty must be terribly hungry by now. You left the apartment before eight am, and it’s getting close to nine pm by now. Thankfully you gave him an extra big breakfast, but still, you feel awful. You’re about to look down on your screen when something catches your eye.

You’re positioned so that you can just peak around out into the hallway that leads to your boss’ office, and while it normally is a little distracting, you realize that it might prove to be something useful after all.

You watch as the same guy you recognized from the IT department last week seems to be stalling outside of your boss’ office, posture tense and awkward as he tries to look into the half-closed blinds covering the windows. You know your boss left earlier in the day, so there’s no way he’s there to talk to anyone.

You shift back in your chair to get a better look, but the movement causes the chair to squeak. The man whips around, big eyes catching yours as you get caught looking. You advert your eyes quickly, but not before you see him practically running off in the opposite direction, face red and nervous. You don’t really know what to make of it, but you decide to file it into the back of your mind in case you see him do something weird later. The moment you scroll through the last file and double check that nothing is missing, you’re out of there. You tap your feet impatiently as you wait for your computer to log out, coat already on. Itching to get back home, you decide to take a taxi instead of walking. Normally you wouldn’t have bothered, but it’s almost eleven at night, and you don’t think some of the more sketchy neighbourhoods you walk through during the day are all that safe at night. So, taxi it is.

You sprint up the flights of stairs up to your apartment, barely stopping to catch your breath and unlock your door before you hurry inside. “Yoongi?” You call out as you step out of your shoes, back facing the hallway as you turn around to close the door. There’s a loud thud that suddenly comes from your bedroom, and it sounds way too loud for it just being your cat jumping down from your bed.

You feel your body freeze up as you hear heavy footsteps slipping against the floor behind you, the sound barely lasting for a second before a body slams into yours. The only thing that keeps you from banging into the door is the pair of arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and you choke on the scream that tries to escape your throat. “I didn’t think you would come back,” A deep voice says, and you feel your legs shake at the timbre of his voice. It’s definitely a man. You’re so fucking screwed. You feel your body slipping into panic mode the longer the man keeps you locked against him. You’re pretty sure you can hear a low grumble from the man against your coat over the loud rushing of blood in your ears.

He must have broken in while you were gone, and you returned before he had a chance to leave. You know your kitty doesn’t take kindly to strangers so what if ..

It feels like someone has poured a bucket of ice-cold water down your back, the thought leaving you numb. What if he’s hurt him?

“You can take anything you want j-just don’t hurt my cat. Is he okay? W-Where is he?” You feel hot tears pricking against your eyes as the arms around you loosen slightly. You should probably try to run or turn around and fight, but you feel too terrified to even move.

“Your cat?” There’s an element of amusement in his tone. A cold nose suddenly bumps into the back of your neck, where a sliver of skin is exposed just above your coat. The contact makes you feel ill, thoughts racing off everything bad this man could’ve done to hurt your kitty. ��Y-yes, my cat. Y-Yoongi. Is he okay?” You try to hold back the hysteria that’s bubbling up in your chest the best you can.

You hear a snort, the arms around your waist disappearing momentarily before there’s a pressure on your shoulders, and you’re turned around.

You already feel a little lightheaded, but the sight before you definitely knocks whatever breath you had left straight out of your chest. Your eyes fly over the feline-like eyes, the button nose, pouty lips and slightly puffy cheeks. Your gaze automatically moves up the pale skin to the black long-ish hair on his head, the big fluffy cat ears poking out from underneath it, the – You collapse against the door, the man’s hands on your shoulders being the only thing keeping you standing. Cat ears? You see them twitch at the sound of your back hitting the door.

“I’m okay,” The corner of the man’s lips hint at a smirk, and you swear you see a golden hue passing quickly through the dark eyes watching you so intently.

The realization hits you like a train going at full speed. Fuck. It can’t be.

“Yoongi?” You whisper, the name feeling like lead on your tongue.

The man lets out a sharp chuckle, eyes narrowing in on your face as he takes a step closer. He leans in until you can feel his hot breath spill across your ear, the action leaving you with a strange feeling of deja vu.

“Took you long enough, owner.”

- - - - Hello! Hope you enjoyed the fourth chapter of desolate! Oop, there we have it, Yoongi has finally made himself known! P.s. In case you haven't seen it yet, I've posted the first chapter of Abundance, which is the ot7 version of this fic, you can read it here!

My inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon!

#yoongi #bts au #hybrid au #suga #cat hybrid yoongi #hybrid!bts #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #fluff #angst #smut #min yoongi #bts #jihyo #sana #twice #romance

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ncssian · 4 years

Text

A Favor: Part Two

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: im so sorry i know i need to start editing these

***

Nesta stands in her guest room at Cassian’s cabin, hands on her hips as she eyes the garbage bags full of things she managed to salvage from her old apartment.

All of her rain-soaked clothes sit in two huge bags, waiting to go through the laundry, while her books are carefully spread out on the windowsill, floor, and anywhere they can catch enough sunlight to dry their pages. Nesta almost cried when she saw that Lorene had salvaged her few adult coloring books and the art supplies to go with them, still dry.

For a brief moment, she’s glad she didn’t buy any physical copies of her textbooks this year— the loss of that money would be too much to bear.

A brief knock sounds at her door, and Nesta spins to find Cassian standing there, laundry basket in hand. “I can take your clothes down for you if you want,” he offers, lifting his own basket with a hand.

Nesta’s lips tighten. He wants to do her laundry with his. Their laundry will get cleaned together. Her underwear will get tangled up with his.

Cassian’s brow furrows. “Nesta?”

This is her new reality now. She’ll have to accept it at one point or another.

“We can do separate loads if you want,” Cassian adds. “Feyre told me you— well, she said you might be more uncomfortable with some things than others. It’s totally fine if you don’t want your clothes mixing—”

“No.” Nesta finally snaps out of it. “I don’t care about the laundry. My clothes are right here.”

Because she has a sneaking suspicion she might be being unintentionally bitchy again, Nesta helps Cassian drag her bags of drenched clothes downstairs.

“I feel sort of bad for bullying you into this deal,” Cassian rambles as he dumps clothes into the washer. “Which is why I need you to know you can enforce whatever rules and boundaries you want while you’re here. If you’d prefer I never speak to you for the rest of your time here, I can manage that, too.”

Nesta looks at him with a hint of disbelief. Sometimes he says the oddest things. “I don’t want you to never speak to me again.”

There’s relief in his sagging shoulders. “That’s good,” he says as he pours out detergent. “I mean, I was a little worried you were against this so much because you hated me, but you don’t know me enough to hate me, do you?”

Hate. Nesta rolls the word over her tongue, tastes the hard corners of it, and decides it doesn’t fit for Cassian. Not even close. She wonders how to articulate this to Cassian.

She settles on: “You seem nice enough. Obviously, since you’re letting me live in your luxury mountain cabin for free. But I don’t want to set any boundaries while I’m here. You shouldn’t have to change your normal lifestyle just for a guest. Do whatever you want; it’s your place.”

Cassian presses a button and the rumble of the washing machine begins. “I want you to be comfortable,” he says, turning to face her completely. “Whatever you need, Nesta, seriously.”

For starters, it would make Nesta comfortable if he didn’t say her name like that. His earnestness makes her skin itch, but she’s not going to tell him that.

Instead, she bravely lifts her chin. “I’ve been pushed so far out of my comfort zone that I don’t think I know how to find my way back.” The honest truth. “At this point, you might as well keep me out here.”

Cassian’s eyes narrow. “If you don’t tell me what things bother you, I’ll have to find them out for myself, you know.” It sounds like a challenge.

“Go ahead,” Nesta deadpans. She doesn’t know what Feyre’s told him about her, but contrary to popular belief, Nesta isn’t a glass doll. Sensitive, high maintenance, yes, but fragile? Never.

She turns on her heel and leaves Cassian in the laundry room, determined not to let her circumstances get the better of her while she stays here.

***

Cassian takes everything back. He’s obsessed.

He can’t pinpoint the exact moment, how or when or why he decided he likes Nesta. Maybe it was an amalgamation of different things, but by the time she settles onto his living room couch with a box of takeout Thai food, it’s safe to say he’s fascinated.

She’s nothing like how Feyre talks about her. She’s barely anything like the woman he met at the dinner party two years ago. The problem is, Cassian hasn’t pinpointed what she’s like. There’s still too many walls in place, but here, as she slurps noodles unabashedly while watching TV with an intense fixation, she’s softer than he’s ever seen her. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t feel the need to defend herself to a sitcom; there’s no self-consciousness, only a deep focus on the Community episode they’re currently watching.

Cassian splits his focus between offering commentary in an attempt to make Nesta laugh and observing her reactions from the corner of his eyes. A few things he’s noticed so far: 1) Her cheeks bulge like a squirrel’s when they’re full of food; she seems to have no shame about this. 2) She isn’t inclined to respond to Cassian when he makes comments on the show, but the corners of her mouth tilting up imply that she likes it anyway. 3) She watches sitcoms like she’s studying for a final exam about them.

When the episode finally ends, she turns to him and glances at his hands. “Are you going to eat that?” she says.

Cassian glances down at his untouched container of food, a little surprised, but hands it over to her without a fight. He can’t pretend it doesn’t do something to him to see her eyes light up over something as simple as curry and rice.

Nesta’s poking her chopsticks around the box when she notices Cassian watching. “What?” she says, immediately on the defensive.

“You eat funny,” he admits. Her brows furrow so deeply he thinks they might create a permanent indentation. He’s quick to add, “It’s adorable. Seriously.” It isn’t something he would have said yesterday, but he’s taking Nesta’s words from the laundry room to heart. He won’t put a damper on his personality as long as she can handle it.

Her hand comes up to self-consciously touch her cheek, but she quickly drops it. “Play the next episode,” she says as she picks up her chopsticks again, and that’s the end of that.

***

Cassian wastes no time coming up with ways to push Nesta out of her comfort zone, just as he promised. The next morning, he greets her downstairs in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Nesta takes a long, slow blink at his bare torso, muscled arms, and brown skin, and turns around to get started on making breakfast. It’s not good enough— he catches a glimpse of her reddened cheeks when she reaches for the milk container anyway.

It’s only until they’re both settled in the living room after dinner that he realizes he doesn’t have the upper hand he thought he did.

Nesta is stretched out on her stomach on the Persian rug in an oversized tee and nothing else. Her bare legs swing in the air behind her, and she’s listening to music and coloring.

Cassian’s unanswered emails sit abandoned on the phone in his lap. He truly can’t stop staring; there’s just too much to absorb.

For starters, she wears glasses. Big, round, gold-rimmed glasses that are almost slipping off her nose at the moment. That revelation alone is so affecting that he has to quickly move on to other, smaller details. Like the sound of her uncapping different markers and filling in smooth lines on the page before her. Cassian feels a desperate desire to see what she’s coloring. Her hair is up in a ponytail, and her legs…

Cassian can’t say that ever since he first took notice of the beauty mark at the corner of Nesta’s lush mouth that he hasn’t wondered where else on her body she might be hiding little moles and freckles. He just never expected to get an answer so soon. Because right there, where her shirt rumples up to reveal her bare thigh, is the smallest dark spot.

He wants to put his mouth on it.

His own thoughts take him by surprise, and he realizes he’s gripping his phone so hard the screen might crack.

He uncurls his fingers from the phone and squeezes his eyes shut against the wave of desire crashing into him. Desire and something else, something achingly fond and frustrated at the same time.

“Cassian?” The sound of his name has his eyes snapping open. Nesta’s watching him, brow furrowed. “Are you feeling okay?” she asks.

He feels stupid for trying to play this push-and-pull game with Nesta, because it’s barely even started and he’s already losing. “I’m gonna go put a shirt on,” he mutters, moving to get up.

Nesta’s lips turn down a little. “And ruin the view?” She says it completely seriously, not a hint of slyness to her words.

Cassian’s ass falls back into his seat in pure surprise. His eyes widen. “Was that a joke?” Did Nesta Archeron just make a joke?

Her frown turns deeper. “I don’t think so. Was it funny?”

“It was teasing.”

“Then it wasn’t a joke.” She shrugs and returns back to her coloring. “If you put a shirt on, I’m putting my pants on,” she says without looking up.

Cassian has absolutely no idea what he’s gotten himself into. But he doesn’t move from the couch for the rest of the evening.

***

By the end of the weekend, Nesta has gotten the hang of being around Cassian. There are several occasions in those first couple of days— slips of the tongue, really— where she pauses in trepidation, worried she’s said or done too much. She is always doing too much. But then Cassian grins, or laughs, or as of more often lately, teases her right back, and her muscles can relax again.

He has also relaxed around her. Nesta knows that quiet front he put up when they first met was partly for her benefit, because the more comfortable they become with each other, the more he reminds her of the Cassian Feyre’s always talking about. And yet, the person he is with her is nothing like the person she’s seen hanging around Feyre’s inner circle. This person doesn’t make her feel excluded or ignored. It’s the exact opposite— she hasn’t been on the receiving end of this much male attention since Tomas.

And as much as it surprises her to like it so much, she’s not in the mood for his particular brand of teasing at seven in the morning on a Monday.

She stumbles into the kitchen fully dressed and more than a bit disgruntled, needing the strongest cup of coffee available to get through her morning classes today. Cassian is already sitting at the island with his laptop, and raises his brows to see her up this early. He dares to smile at her before the sun is even fully up. “Glad to see you woke up ready to play, Nesta.”

Nesta almost throws her empty mug at his head. “Don’t talk to me,” she says, thumping her mug down beside the coffeemaker.

Taunting becomes questioning as he eyes her outfit. “You have somewhere to be at this hour?”

“I’m a law student,” she grumbles, punching buttons on the coffeemaker. “I have morning classes three days a week.” It’s unacceptable, but it isn’t the worst thing she’ll go through as she tries to get her J.D.

Cassian sits up straight at that. “Who’s taking you to class?” Her car is still in for repairs, and she has yet to rent one to make up for it.

“I’m Ubering,” she tosses over her shoulder.

“That’s ridiculous,” Cassian says. “I’ll drive you.”

Nesta spins around at that. “No way in hell.” She throws whatever bite she has into her refusal.

Cassian is unfazed. “It’s on my way to work.”

“You work from home.” He’s not even dressed.

“Then today is the day I’ll make a stop at corporate headquarters. My subordinates get to see my pretty face for once, you get to go to class, and we all win.” He grins, and in this moment Nesta truly hates his grin. It lights up his whole face in a way that should be illegal. He’s probably robbed banks with that grin.

Nesta doesn’t have the brain capacity to argue with him. She doesn’t even feel like criticizing the fact that at twenty-seven, Cassian runs the entire security division of Night Court Inc. thanks to the help of the CEO, also known as his adoptive brother.

She’s never met anyone who makes nepotism look so good.

Grabbing her steaming coffee mug and taking a deep sip, unflinching at the feeling of her tastebuds being burned away, she meets Cassian’s expectant gaze. “Get dressed.”

***

When Cassian texts to ask her when she’s getting out of class, she doesn’t expect him to actually show up outside the law building with drinks and a paper bag of food. She has to stop and glance around for a moment, as if he could possibly be here for somebody else.

Approaching him cautiously, Nesta takes the cup holder from his hand and inspects the contents. A green tea and a rainbow-colored slushie. She looks back up at Cassian, and he smiles. “Shall we?”

They end up settling under the shade of an oak tree on the lawn outside where her Principles of International Law class is held. “So how was your day?” Cassian asks as he bites into a burrito.

Nesta can’t remember the last time someone asked her that and sounded genuine about it, and she almost doesn't know how to answer. “It's noon,” she says.

“Fine. How was your last four hours?”

“Nothing more interesting than yours.” She eyes his outfit at that. She’s never seen Cassian in this manner. Work Cassian wears expensive buttondowns tucked into slacks. Work Cassian must use some kind of fancy product on his hair to make it so flowy, because for the first time ever, he looks exactly like the amount of money he makes. “You look so...adult. I’d almost buy it if you didn't have the taste palate of a five year old.” Nesta sips from her tea.

He actually rolls his eyes at her. “You wish you had what it takes to handle an every-flavor-slushie.” Because that's what he’s drinking, a heart attack in a 32 ounce cup.

“That's bait, and I’m not falling for it,” Nesta says through a mouthful of burrito.

“You don't need to.” He offers the drink out to her. “Try it.”

Nesta stares at the cup, chewing slowly. Usually the thought of sharing a straw with someone would disgust her, but—

She just wants to know how it tastes. Swallowing quickly, she grabs the drink. “Whatever,” she mutters, and wraps her lips around the red straw.

Cassian watches intently as she takes a deep pull. Ten different flavors hit her tongue at once, and she thinks her brain spasms. She's too tough to make a face, and swallows the slushie like it's nothing.

“You like?” Cassian looks hopeful.

Nesta slams the cup down. “It’s disgusting. My point was proven.”

He laughs. “Weak.”

More easy moments pass like this before he says, “I wish you came around Feyre’s more often. I could have gotten to know you earlier.”

Nesta stills, food halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

Cassian shrugs. “It just seems odd that we’ve talked more in the last three days than in the last three years I’ve known of you. Why don’t you hang out with Feyre like Elain does?”

She stiffens, and considers whether the conversation is even worth continuing. “Feyre’s always with you guys,” she chooses her words carefully. “There’s rarely time left for me.”

She waits for Cassian to tell her that sharing exists, and that she’s allowed to be at Feyre’s place with Feyre’s friends at the same time, but he just watches her patiently. Waiting for her to go on.

“Besides, I used to come over all the time before my sister moved to Velaris. You were there, too.”

“I was?” That gets his attention; he drops his food and turns to face her fully. “What are you talking about?”

Nesta nods, but an odd, old feeling is bubbling up in her chest. It tastes hard and a little sad. “I doubt you noticed, but I was there. In the background while you guys got drunk or laughed together.”

He huffs an odd sort of laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would have noticed you from a hundred foot radius from Feyre’s apartment. We’ve only seen each other twice before this weekend.”

Nesta is caught between disbelief and disappointment, but she hides it well with a scoff. “We’ve only spoken to each other twice, idiot. I’ve seen you plenty of times.”

Cassian looks like she just came up to him with scientific evidence that the sky is green and grass is blue, and he can’t wrap his mind around it. “That just doesn’t make sense,” he says.

Nesta raises a brow. “Are you implying I’m lying?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, but— it’s like you’re saying I failed to notice a fucking lion in the room every time I didn’t see you. It’s just not something someone fails to notice. It’s impossible not to notice!” He throws his hands up.

You’re impossible not to notice. Nesta has no idea what to make of that, or whether she should be insulted or not. He didn’t say it with the same backhanded tone as so many of the people she knew in high school, but it didn’t sound like high praise, either. On the other hand, the words are so ironic they’re almost funny.

She settles for a shrug and begins sweeping up her napkins and trash. “Well, it isn’t impossible for a lot of people.” The look she throws him says clear enough, Including you.

He works his jaw, seeming upset, but helps Nesta up from the ground anyway. Walks her all the way back to his truck in near-silence and drives them home.

A/N: you’d think the ‘ready to play’ line was a cute reference but i actually just suck at writing banter so i needed to borrow from sarah.

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy

if you want to be added or removed please send an ask or dm!

#nessian #nessian fic #ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #cassian #a favor

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attack-on-kiwi · 3 years

Note

Are you still doing the fluff alphabet? If so, would you be willing to do it for Bertl? I'm not sure if you write for him, it's okay if you don't.

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Bertholdt is indifferent to what the two do. Most activities that his s/o points out are okay in his book, though he isn’t a fan of anything that forces him to stand out too much. As long as he’s spending time with them or watching out for them, he’s happy to do anything. That said, he does have a particular fondness for hiking or fishing. Both activities are peaceful and let the two enjoy mild physical activity while basking in one another’s company. There’s no stress to speak as they can just focus on their tasks at hand.

Cuddling is nice once he’s over his nervous disposition. If his s/o doesn’t mind his clammy hands and overwhelming warmth, he likes to have them secured in his arms, playing with their fingers for countless moments. Perhaps the stilling of time is why he is drawn to such an innocent passtime.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Bertholdt is drawn in by their smile. He doesn’t deserve such kindness- definitely not from someone as beautiful and admirable as themselves.It’s no stretch to say that Bertholdt’s idea of his s/o is quite inflated by how he imagines them to be an all superior and perfect individual. He’s too overcome by feelings of insecurity and stress that he’s latched onto their kindness. That smile draws him in and promises a moment of respite in this unnerving hell of an existence he bears.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He tries to ground them. He will not take any unnecessary touching in the case that they do not respond well. He’ll instead look to calm them by speaking in a level tone and guiding them through their episodes. He hates seeing them upset or panicking, and he would rather not set them off even more. Bertholdt will assess the situation as best he can, but don’t expect a passionate embrace or overly comforting words. He will just remind them that they are here and he is here. The two can sort out the issue if need be and go from there. If the situation calls for it or if his s/o approaches him for physical comfort, he has no problem embracing them for several minutes, quietly letting them seek whatever it is that is going to help them come down.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Bertholdt is too nervous and aware of his fate to give much thought to a future with his s/o. Ideally, he would like to have weekend breakfast with them and his father before taking a light stroll to a park that’s filled with happy children. He wants to take them out for sweets and to walk fearlessly hand in hand. Nothing too extraordinary. A secure life where they can live comfortably with their loved ones and enjoy their mundane lives would be ideal.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Bertholdt isn’t entirely submissive, but he does prefer his s/o to take charge. He’s a bit of a pleaser when it comes to the relationship, so he’s willing to do most things his s/o wants.

However he does have limits to his patience and if he wants something done, he’s not afraid to mention it. He’s not a shy and nervous wreck all the time, after all. If his s/o and he have been together for a while, he is much more comfortable speaking out and suggesting they try something new. It takes a lot of patience from his s/o, and most of his demands are too subtle to even give a second thought.

If Bertholdt feels like something is not going how it should, he’s quite skilled in putting a stop to it.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Getting Bertholdt angry is hard enough in the first place. His s/o either put their life in extreme danger or crossed a boundary with hi,. Bertholdt will not stand for it and will have to take time for himself. During this period of tension, he’s prone to guilt tripping and manipulating his s/o into feeling awful about the fight. Whether they played a large role or not, Berhtoldt feels the need to really emphasize that they can’t be hurting him because all he does is to ensure the two can be happy.

He doesn’t mean to be so erratic when he’s angry, but he rarely experiences anger, and being hurt by someone he finally let in scares him to no end. It’s no excuse for his irrational (at times) behavior, but it’s important for the two to have patience with one another.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Once he gets past the initial guilt of being in a relationship when he’s got the mission he has, he does feel something akin to gratefulness. If anything, he just feels immense selfishness for getting involved with someone. His mind is constantly in overdrive and is unable to rest for a moment enough to really see just what his s/o puts up with for him.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

His entire identity is a secret. Regardless of whether his s/o is from Marley or Paradis, he keeps his true self under wraps. Bertholdt is conditioned first and foremost to put his own freedom and wishes first. That means that his mission comes first, and unless he has known his s/o for years or feels extremely strong about them, he will never share anything remotely incriminating. Even if he does feel comfortable enough to share, information will be scarce and seemingly irrelevant to the bigger picture. He can’t help this tendency. He has had to be careful of every word that comes out of his mouth as it could mean life or death, and he’s not willing to risk more than necessary as he feels he’s already pushing it too far.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

The fact that he was even open to having an s/o shows that they’ve brought down the many walls (lol) he’s put up around his heart. Bertholdt’s defense mechanism is to hide and to put up a front, so when someone is able to give him enough confidence that he’s willing to love them even remotely, they can say they’ve impacted him in a way most others never have.

Bertholdt is someone who will usually partake in activities if asked, so there’s not much on the path of trying new things, but trying them with his s/o definitely feels more fulfilling to him. Even if it’s just an evening hike or going to a market when allowed, Bertholdt feels more vulnerable. His s/o is usually unaware of this until he is caught smiling at them shyly, a glimmer of his true feelings dancing across his expression.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Yes and no.

Bertholdt will get jealous if someone is getting too friendly and touchy with his s/o, but it takes a lot for him to step in. In fact, it’s the rarest sight to catch him towering above someone, using a steel glare and his notable height to intimidate whoever is making heart eyes and assorted moves at his s/o.

Though he is prone to jealousy due to fear of his s/o leaving him or finding out they don’t want to be with him, he is still most likely not going to step in. Bertholdt has resigned himself to the idea that he is not worthy of a long term partner and to always be prepared in the event that his s/o will leave him. When in private, he might try to guilt his s/o by saying they made him feel jealous because of how close that person was getting to them, but most times he will just hide in their neck and huff when prodded with questions.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Bertholdt never kisses anyone long enough for there to be a cohesive report on the topic. His kisses range from split second pecks to softer slightly dragged out kisses. There’s never anything fancy going on.

He likes it when his s/o has to work to get to his lips, be it they are too short or too tall to comfortably reach him. He thinks it’s endearing that they would want to kiss him even tho it can be an inconvenience to get to his lips.

Kiss his neck and he will pass out from the blood running to his cheeks. Oh, yeah. He’s a huge blusher when it comes to kisses.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

It’s likely Bertholdt never utters the words until his last moments. He doesn’t have the luxury of expressing his true feelings. Whether or now his s/o is by him during those moments, their face flashes in his mind and while he’s wailing for someone to help him, he’ll think to himself, “I didn’t even say it! I didn’t even get to say it!” And then you guys know how the rest goes.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Bertholdt wants to get married. The idea of sharing his life with someone who is his better half warms his heart. If he were to propose, he’d like to do it on an evening where he and his s/o have just had dinner and are floating on a little boat through the waterways. He’d have a whole speech planned out, but the anxiety of asking would eat away at him and he rushes into the stuttering question. When his s/o says yes, he’d be too terrified of picking up the ring since he’s sweating so much, so he’d ask them to take no offense and put the ring on himself. He doesn’t want it to slip and fall into the water.

Marriage with Bertholdt is traditional. He’d like his s/o to live a carefree and comfortable life, so he’d prefer to be the one working while they stayed home or took part in whatever they aspired to. He could see his s/o opening up a bakery. They would have two pets, a dog and a cat, or maybe just two dogs that roam around bringing comfort and joy to their early morning patrons.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

He sticks with calling them their name or a short variation of it.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When you strip away the nervousness he is inevitably feeling, Bertholdt is as sweet as one would think plus some more. He has a difficult time verbalizing just how he’s feeling, so he takes to making sure his s/o doesn’t need to deal with more than they have to.

This means Bertholdt will pick up chores or errands they haven’t had time to do or he’ll patch up their clothes. He makes sure that they don’t come back to more work. If they need to be held, he’s there for them. All they have to do is initiate it- that’s all he asks. He’s good at comforting them. He’s warm and large enough to fully embrace most people. He never feels like he’s doing enough or if he’s doing what he should be, but he means well.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Most people will never know Bertholdt and his s/o are an item unless his s/o is upfront. He’s not going to actively hold their hand or kiss them in front of anyone, but he won’t push them away if they want to cling to his arm. Having Reiner as a friend helps- the guy is more than happy to tell people to piss off when they try flirting with you or Bertholdt and if Bertholdt is okay with it, he’ll even tell others so they are in the know.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s smart and picks up on cooking easily. If his s/o wants a certain food, it only takes him a few moments of studying a recipe to get it correctly. The food always turns out delicious- better than the recipe itself, some would say. He uses this to his advantage when his s/o is particularly upset with him. It’s hard for him to really put into words how sorry he is, so he hopes the food is a good segway into the conversation.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He tries to be a classic romantic, but it’s hard when you have a whole can of worms eating the back of your mind at all times.

Bertholdt likes bringing them flowers when he can, and if that’s impossible, he will try to get his hands on some dried/pressed ones and see if he can encase them in resin and accessorize the items. He likes giving them gifts that last long, so they have a small collection of trinkets from him.

He is always there to lend them an ear. Even though he can’t talk much about his own problems, he is more than happy to help them sort out their feelings. Even if he could speak to them about his problems, he would rather focus on them. In a relationship, he’s overwhelmingly giving so long as his s/o stays by him no matter what it takes.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

If he has any reservations, he will let them be known, but once he is convinced his s/o is not just saying something but willing to see it through, they have his whole support. He will be willing to go through great length to help them succeed.

However, if their aspirations interfere with his own goals, he will try to subtly sabotage them or try to convince them to focus on something else. This will cause a huge rift in the relationship

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Bertholdt is content as everything is. He’s fine with having an s/o and living the same day with them. It’s peaceful when it can be, and he’d rather not risk all of that for something that may not be worth it. If his s/o wants to try something out, he will follow along but will step in if he feels they might get hurt or get the two of them in danger.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Bertholdt knows his partner inside and out. The way he knows every detail about them is pretty relative to how little they know about him. As a way to make up for not being completely honest with them, he does his best to get to know them and everything about them so that he can accommodate them reasonably. He doesn’t feel too bad about this either. He’s more comfortable giving, so he enjoys seeing his s/o light up when he remembers a tiny detail about them.

Though Bertholdt is knowledgeable about his partner, he is not the poster boy for empathy. Most of their concerns feel minor compared to the larger pictures, so he has a difficult time finding the mental capacity to even care. This surfaces in how he will tell them to be logical or offer them more realistic advice on their concerns.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship is not the most important thing to him. Though it is true that he values his partner immensely, he is sadly anchored to the fact that his mission comes first and that his selfish desires of wanting solace for his loved ones will have to be but a byproduct of a successful mission. No matter what, his life and his future are going to be most impacted by said mission, so once everything is dealt with, he will prioritize everyone else.

That being said, just because his mission comes first does not mean that Bertholdt is immune to slip ups regarding his personal life. There are times when the stress and fear of losing his s/o will push him to do something ill advised so that he can secure their safety. If they ended up dying as a result of his mission and actions, he’d never recover.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

If his s/o starts complimenting him between their sweet little kisses, then Bertholdt will begin blushing and trying to escape. He doesn’t straight up run away, but he’ll cover his face with his hands as his cheeks heat up. If they ask him what he’s doing or coo to him he’ll try to choke out a flustered “I’m fine” while clearly not being fine. His s/o has the power to make him weak in the knees and must learn to utilize said power to the fullest.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Bertholdt isn’t going to initiate any form of intimacy, but once his s/o has him in their arms, he’s actually a cuddle bug. His favorite is to quietly hug them and rest his face in their neck. Sometimes he’ll kiss them wherever he can. The feeling of their hands dragging over his back and their nails scratching his scalp helps him forget that the world is terrifying just for a moment. If he falls asleep on them, it’s said that he can go the whole night without fumbling or kicking anyone.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He’s good at putting those thoughts in the back of his mind. He doesn’t really give into missing them as often as he could, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss them. When he has a chance to breather, he’ll offhandedly wonder if they miss him too.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Unless he’s decided they are important enough for him, he won’t go out of his way to put his life on the line or anything. As I’ve previously mentioned, Bertholdt’s way of prioritizing his relationship is by prioritizing his mission.

#bertholdt hoover #bertholdt hoover x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan x reader #fluff alphabet #snk #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin headcanons #shingeki no kyojin imagines #shingeki no kyoujin x reader

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duskyskz · 3 years

Text

50/50 - Teaser

Release - TBD

“You could stay the night with me, if you want. If that’d be easier.” He’s only a step behind you, having followed you quietly down most of the farmers’ market now. The sunhat he recognises you from by now bounces among the sea of hagglers on a Wednesday morning. “I know fights in relationships can be rough, so if you need a place to crash for the night, my couch is free.”

“Alright. But you know my flat number if, right? If something happens.”

“If something happens.” You promise, and leave him with a nagging sense of discomfort as your dress fades into the morning crowds.

***

He keeps talking still, even as his pointer finger comes in contact with your forehead to accentuate his point with a harsh poke that makes you lean backwards against the counter top.

The food is half eaten, but you don’t comment on the waste either. You’ll eat alone later, but the mess makes your exhaustion rear its head again when you think of cleaning it.

Would you really do it?

“No, it’s okay.” Minho protests before you can word your final ‘sorry’, moving aside to reveal the rest of his hallway. “I wasn’t asleep yet. Come in.”

And that’s it. You expected more, to be honest. Some kind of questioning at least, scrutiny at your visual (and mental) state.

So I’m not sure why I came.

Lee Minho was a glorious cook. Michelin level, you’d go so far to say had you ever been to a Michelin star restaurant in your life, but you were convinced he’d qualify. Turns out his leftovers consisted of seared steak with grilled vegetables and an assortment of flavoured rice balls, which he served you with cucumber salad you saw him purchase at the market earlier that day. This was more elaborate than any meal you’d attempted to cook in your life, and you’d tell him so were you not so occupied devouring it. Minho didn’t think you noticed him glancing at you across the table, but the amazement in your eyes filled his heart entirely. He’s seen you look content, happy even on days he’d catch you by the vegetable stalls and spark conversation despite your brisk pace.

#lee know #lee minho #skz #stray kids fluff #stray kids au #stray kids smut #skz smut #minho smut #lee know smut #minho angst #minho fluff #boxer minho #stray kids imagine #stray kids reaction

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