#but I’ll make my own stuff as a rebuttal
Note
New CH episodes have made me officially decide to stop caring about the actual cast of the show </3 (/hj but i wish it was /j)
Anyway would you like to share some of your headcanons/scenarios for the side/minor characters ? It always makes my day 💚💖(/nf)
dude i feel you on these new episodes. wtf is going on over there. anyways, i’ll gladly dump this 10 ton stack of headcanons on you that i wrote down!!
Marie Antoinette:
loves hyperpop and 90s house music. she’s so slay (i have a playlist lol)
into european weirdo cinema like Gaspar Noe’s but she also likes chick flicks (her fave films are Climax (2018), Daisies (1966), and But I’m A Cheerleader (1999).)
frequents on lolita forums and goes to really shady places just to get cute lolita items.
has absolutely mastered voguing. super into ballroom culture.
has a pet borzoi (those groovy long-nosed dogs.) her name is “Vanille” and Marie loves her dearly.
wants to study fashion. she especially loves Vivienne Westwood and Moschino.
Jesús Cristo:
is a juggalo, and he indoctrinated Van Gogh into it as well.
says “it is what it is” at any minor inconvenience.
had a mental crisis at 13 as a product to the stress of living up to his clone father. similar to joan’s breakdown in s1e3 but 10x worse. he tries to ignore it when people bring it up.
designated driver on any road trip. for some reason.
into bands like The Cure whilst also bopping to Cypress Hill.
his fave video game is Parappa the Rapper.
accidentally punching holes/nails into his hand is a common occurrence. seems like it just keeps happening, so he’s learned to just roll with it. he’s also a pretty good nurse bc of it.
Marilyn Monroe:
is always down for the school play. BUT she usually just does script-writing and tech.
into conspiracy theories and video essays. (all gorgeous gorgeous girls love video essays).
is a dedicated Britney Spears and Gwen Stefani stan.
SO “COQUETTE LIZZY GRANT DIOR RETRO” in her fashion choice.
she also gives “elle woods from legally blonde” vibes. straight A student right here.
CERTIFIED GIRLBOSS <3
Thomas Edison:
is obsessed with American Psycho (2000). he has a poster in his room and he’s weirdly obsessed with Christian Bale (very 🍎🍉🍊 of him, but he always excuses it with “oh no, i just idolize and worship him. there’s absolutely nothing gay ab it.” he’s lying.)
also he’s SUCH a pretentious film bro. he has a whole library of stupid film facts shoved in the back of his mind (im totally not projecting).
he only listens to: 80s new-wave stuff like New Order, Oingo Boingo, Beastie Boys, & Talking Heads OR Lana del Rey. There is no in between.
he worked (past-tense bc that shit is GONE in 2023) at a blockbuster video store next to the mall and he liked being a total bitch to people about it (example: “you really rented this shit? this movie sucks, dude”)
after getting unfreezed, he was ECSTATIC over how easy pirating movies is nowadays.
Napoleon Bonaparte:
member of the speech/debate club and he is THE WORST TO BE PAIRED WITH. he’s foaming at the mouth the moment someone gives a rebuttal he didn’t think of. some meetings end in him trying to beat up someone.
into 80s rock like Metallica and Black Sabbath. he has an electric guitar. he also FUCKING LOVES ABBA AND JAMIROQUAI. like… too much.
unlawfully good at Just Dance. he absolutely fucks it up on the dance floor.
adores fantasy films like Conan (1982) and The Never-Ending Story(1984). he’s so lame/ pos.
he bakes really well. that’s all he’s got going for him.
he either found his napoleonic military uniform at party city or at a thrift store with Marie Antoinette; his story changes depending on who he’s talking to.
he cut his own hair when he was 14. the following conversation after he did so was with caesar, and it was just the haircut scene from fleabag . he then continued to keep his stupid haircut to what it is now.
is a hopeless romantic. he can make up entire love poems & sonnets in his head about a girl he’s crushing on, but literally cannot talk to people without sounding like a douchebag unless he’s super comfortable w/ them.
Ivan the Terrible:
is an avid deftones, sewerslvt, & duster listener (i, unfortunately, ALSO have a playlist.)
spends his nights scrolling on 4chan and arguing w/ people. him & topher have accidentally argued w/ each other AT LEAST 5 times.
literally refuses to take off his ushanka in any weather. it doesn’t matter to him if it’s 90 degrees, that thing is staying ON.
kins Travis Bickle and Shinji Ikari. i mean, just look at this dude and how he presents himself. average NGE & Taxi Driver enjoyer/ hj.
fave video games are Postal 2 and osu!. he plays osu! phenomenally, to the point where it’s impressive. (pls put that energy into a job or something).
and yea that’s all the energy i have to write this down :]
#yeah i made ALL OF THIS UP LOL#AND THIS IS JUST A GLIMPSE INTO THE MINI SIDE-UNIVERSE I HAVE#but thx for asking!!!#clone high#clone high marie antoinette#clone high jesus#clone high jesus cristo#clone high marilyn monroe#clone high thomas edison#clone high napoleon#clone high ivan the terrible#clone high season 2#ch#clone high reboot#clone high headcanons#so many tags
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SWEETER THAN DEATH
SUMMARY: The absorption of a curse has always been disgusting and lonely. Well, at least until Gojo showed up.
PAIRING: Geto Suguru & Gojo Satoru
WORD COUNT: 2,244
WARNINGS: Brief descriptions of vomiting, angst, Geto POV, my own silly headcanons about Geto's connection to curses. :)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, I saw this headcanon and my JJK brain rot grew three sizes in the span of a minute, so I made this. Also, knowing me I'm probably going to get consumed by these two so if you want to be tagged in future JJK stuff just let me know!
MASTERLIST
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The flavour is revolting. A combination of putrid acidity and rotten flesh —it’s the kind of taste that would churn even the strongest of stomachs, resulting in Geto himself struggling to suppress it.
As he stands alongside Gojo, imagining the process of its inevitable digestion, he still can’t manage to do it in front of people. Fearing that they might judge his lack of composure each time he has to force the cursed sphere down, he merely pockets it instead. Muttering something along the lines of I’ll save it for when I’m hungry at the same time Gojo stretches his spine, acting none the wiser.
“What do they taste like anyway?”
They taste like death, he wants to say, like a decomposed corpse that’s expelled its insides or a pile of vomit left out in the sun. Instead, though, he just shrugs and tells him they’re flavourless. An empty vessel that fills him up but fails to provide the enjoyment of actually eating a proper meal.
An answer that Gojo thankfully accepts with a nod before moving on—both of them walking down the street as he starts yammering on about whatever topic of interest he’s deemed exciting enough to share. Forever failing to catch on to the fact that all Geto wants is some peace and quiet as they make their way back to campus.
This time it’s movies. Specifically Western ones. None of which Geto has seen or has any interest in, considering all he can think about is the curse that rests against his palm. Specifically how it causes his skin to itch with need despite wanting nothing more than to toss it as far as he can so that he doesn’t have to experience it slipping down his throat.
He’s still not entirely sure why it happens but after a curse has been exorcized it’s as if this connection forms inside his brain. One that requires him to swallow the damned thing as quickly as possible, assuming there’s some sort of time limit. As if he doesn't, something bad might happen. So much so that, even now, even though it’s only been a few minutes since he initially got rid of it, he can feel it calling out to him in the back of his mind. Begging for him to eat —screaming at him to absorb its contents until suddenly they find themselves in the heart of Kyoto.
At which point Geto can hardly contain the temptation. Palming the sphere with tightened fingers, it’s as if he can feel the curse inside pressing against the outer walls. Its voice echoing overtop of whatever Gojo’s saying now. Forcing him to close his eyes and breathe as he digs his nails into his own flesh, forcing his hands to his sides rather than inside the pockets of his pants.
“It looks so good! We should definitely see it when it comes out!” Gojo practically yells —most likely still talking about movies, prompting Geto to press his lips into a false smile and nod.
Something he does quite often these days thanks to the amount of missions they’ve been going on.
“Do you have a favourite?”
In response, he blinks, trying to force himself to return to the conversation. To seem like he’s present and calm rather than bursting at the seams with fear. “Hm?”
“Movie, Suguru!” Gojo chastises, rolling his eyes at Geto’s lack of attention as he shoves his arm. “Weren’t you listening?”
“Course.”
“Liar!”
This time Geto rolls his eyes. Unable to come up with a clever rebuttal thanks to the curse’s desire to be consumed as quickly as possible.
“I swear, you’re always elsewhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“That head of yours.” Before he can process what Gojo is doing he feels his index finger pressed against his forehead, pushing him backwards roughly. Forcing Geto to grunt at the impact before swatting away his hand. “It’s got you distracted.”
“I’m not distracted.”
“Then what’s my new favourite movie?”
Again, Geto fails to come up with a response, resulting in the humiliated feeling of Gojo Satoru being right. A feeling so utterly embarrassing that for a moment he forgets that he should be excusing himself to feed. To give in to the pressure of the curse’s voice penetrating every corner of his mind. To force the rotting flavour down his throat so that he can once again feel nothing.
It takes a while, but eventually, when there’s a pause in Gojo’s one-sided conversation, he lies and says he has to go to the bathroom. Another excuse his friend accepts without question, pulling out his phone while Geto walks a block back before dipping into the nearest alleyway. Completely unaware of the shaking hands that pull the curse out of Geto’s pants pocket.
EAT ME. EAAAT ME.
By the time he’s out of sight, the voice is borderline hysteric as it sits in his hand. Causing him to narrow his eyes in annoyance, almost immediately he raises the sphere to his mouth while clearing his throat, preparing the space with reluctant thoughts. Wishing just once he can find it in himself to consume without struggle. To taste without the urge to vomit. To feel, just this once, like his ability is more than just a fucking curse.
Swallowing hard, he does his best to imagine something else in his mouth. Dorayaki, cheesecake —hell even those awful black sesame cookies his mom used to make when he was a kid. Anything to distract himself from the truth as he slips the curse between his lips, immediately gagging when the acrid taste first hits his tongue.
He isn’t sure why but every time feels worse than the last. As if the continual ingestion of these creatures is somehow rotting him from the inside out. Consuming his quality of life each time he’s forced to absorb it.
Which is ultimately an assumption he thinks about often. Considering that’s all he’s become lately, the idea that he’s been deemed as nothing more than some glorified maid being sent out to clean up messes really pisses him off. Especially because he knows that despite being an equal level to Gojo, the only reason he’s allowed to tag along is because everyone knows he’s a liability. A potential threat they might need to subdue in the future.
Deep down, he knows he’s one wrong thought away from being subdued. After exorcising and absorbing over and over and over again, he can feel the madness slipping through. All the questions of whether or not it’s worth it to continue running rampant through his thoughts as he inevitably spits the curse out, heavily breathing through the rancid taste of failure yet again.
Under his breath, he swears and roughly grips the curse feeling his limbs begin to twitch —the angered voice returning before he can even think to suppress it.
EATMEEATMEEATMEEATME!
And all he wants is to listen. To grant the voice it's wish so that he may get his. But at the back of his mind, all he can think about is death. How it lingers against his taste buds, filling every crevice of his mouth with the kind of flavour he’d hardly wish upon his worst enemy. How it causes his thoughts to shift to a world where curses no longer exist. A world where he can finally live and breathe and—
“Suguru?”
He’s on his knees panting through the pain. Still gripping onto the sphere, instead of raised into the air it’s wedged between the concrete and his palm. Becoming more and more pressurized the longer Geto stares at Gojo’s frame, realizing he’s been had. That the illusion of his strength has been reduced to weakness in a matter of seconds.
A fact that makes him wish the taste inside his mouth was real. That instead of death on his tongue there was instead death in his heart. In his stomach and his lungs —spreading throughout his system in a path that would eventually lead to nothing but darkness.
Kneeling on the ground, he wishes he were dead instead of staring into the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, watching them narrow with worry. Seeing them twist and turn into shapes filled with panic and confusion and pity until they’re sitting directly in front of him.
“What’s wrong?”
For a while, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he only lowers his head and closes his eyes, allowing the breath of his lungs to filter through his tainted throat. Desperately attempting to coat it in a layer of something other than the leftover flavour of the curse until he’s able to look at Gojo, muttering out a pained bad.
“Bad?”
He nods his head, watching Gojo glance around the alley. Paying no mind to the curse in his hand until eventually it clicks and all he can do is stare. Focusing on the way Geto’s fingers angrily grip the sphere. Most likely wondering why he’s spent all his time lying about something so trivial as taste.
“I thought you said they don’t taste like anything.”
Despite everything, all Geto does is laugh darkly, shaking his head. Trying to act as calmly as possible even though the curse's voice is fully ripping its way through his mind now.
“Guess I really am a liar.”
“Do they always taste bad?” Gojo asks, reverting the subject to its original topic. Prompting Geto to wonder why he cares to question an answer that’s so obviously right in front of him in the first place.
Because sure, Gojo’s always been a bit ignorant of these kinds of things, deeming himself too important not to be given exactly what he wants regardless of how easy it is. But he’s never acted like that with him. At least, not in such a personal way. Not in a way that could result in some sort of crossed boundary.
So, it throws him off. As he looks back up, watching Gojo’s hand tentatively rise to cup his cheek. How his thumb shifts to stroke the highest point of his bone structure before brushing away the loose hairs that have fallen in front of his face. How somehow the tenderness of his touch feels like the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, unaware of whether his actions are the result of pity or not.
Which is why he brushes him off. Throwing his arm in the way of his friend’s lingering hand, he can’t help but groan at the sudden lack of contact as he falls back. His back crashing against the brick wall behind him as he glares into Gojo’s eyes.
As it happens, Gojo jumps at the sudden movement but doesn’t do anything to stop it. Instead, merely allowing Geto to stir in his anger as he hugs the curse against his chest, trying not to cry.
Because despite the strength he manages to exude each time he stands alongside Gojo, deep down he always feels this weak. As he blinks back tears, hearing the repetitive chant of the curse in his hands —feeling the madness it inflicts as Gojo inches a bit closer, telling him that he’s okay in such a contradictive way— all he can do is sit. And stare. Attempting to calm himself down as Gojo shoves a hand into his pocket, eventually producing a closed fist.
“Here.”
Almost immediately, Geto looks at him with confusion. The kind of look that results in Gojo scoffing in annoyance and opening his palm to reveal a piece of candy.
“Listen, I don’t know if it’ll help but—“
“I’m fine.”
“Sure, okay… but maybe it’ll make it easier.”
He wants to tell him that it won’t. That no matter how hard he tries to get rid of the taste that remains long after he’s consumed a curse, it’s always there. Sitting in the farthest corners of his body, waiting for their chance to become present once again. Waiting to make him feel disgusting and weak and—
“Stop being so prideful and take the damn candy, Suguru.”
Before he can deny him again Gojo grabs one of his hands and places it in the centre. Keeping it locked lightly around Geto’s wrist as the two of them continue to stare, wondering what the other’s thinking. Both of them trying to find the best way to go about this vulnerable moment they’ve just shared until Gojo lets him go.
At which point Geto feels that tinge of pain again. The one where he isn’t sure why his friend is doing this. Why, instead of chastising him for a weakness he’s repeatedly lied about, he’s offering support. Why he’s sitting there, allowing him to sift in the screams of this spherical curse for as long as he needs.
“It gets worse every time,” he eventually tells him. Unable to hold back the way his voice breaks through each syllable. A sound that further paints just how weak he is at this moment as Gojo sighs.
“What does it taste like?”
“Death.”
“Death?”
He nods just as Gojo starts to look around, eventually producing a small grin that leaves Geto confused all over again, watching him reach out to touch his head again.
“Guess we’ll need to get you something sweeter then,” his friend suggests, and despite knowing that still probably won’t help, Geto merely nods again, feeling Gojo’s fingers ruffle roughly through his hair before he’s suddenly standing up and offering a hand Geto isn’t quite sure he deserves to hold.
#sweeter than death#geto suguru#gojo satoru#geto suguru x gojo satoru#geto x gojo#jjk fan fic#geto fan fic#gojo fan fic#summer writes
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aegon for the edge play kink bingo space? 👀 you write him so well, i love how cute and pathetic he is in ur fics <3
He is the cutest and pathetic-ess, thanks for requesting & compliments
Kink Bingo - Edge Play
Rating: Explicit
A/N: Remember folks, do not press on the windpipe, just the veins and meat around it and watch for signs of asphyxiation:)
Tags: Breathplay, edge play, Frottage, bdsm stuff, Aegon is a baby, lots of man tears, dom!reader, Aegon brings lessons from the whorehouse back to the bedroom of course, aftercare, bit of sub-drop
Aegon wanted to try something different. Of course he had informed you, his lady wife, that he had the most mind blowing experience in this brothel on the Street of Silk. The idiot was perched on the bed, pantomiming the whole scene with excitement.
You swirled your Arbor Red and stared at him blankly.
Aegon’s wide eyes bore into you as doubt shadowed over his expression. You sighed when his trembling lips whined out, “What? Is it that displeasing to you?” You pursed your lips and mulled over his proposal. It sounded somewhat dangerous but Aegon had explained it well.
You put down your goblet and asked softly, “You want me to constrict your windpipe for sexual gratification?”
He scoffed, “You always make sex sound so boring when you put it like that,” he gestured to his strained cock, “Come on, I don’t want to wilt! You’re being a prude.”
Insolent brat. You were simply asking a question.
You stood up and glared at your pretty fucktoy, albeit a wild one. Extending an accusatory finger you demanded, “Fine then. On your back, take the underclothes off.” He made a yippy elated noise, yanking down his small clothes and prostrating himself with legs wide open. His pink cock was stiff against his flat white belly.
You were already in a state on undress, untying your stays, shimmying off your chemise. Aegon made a low groan at the sight of your tits, they hadn’t returned to a normal size since you popped out Jaeron a year ago. You padded to his side of the bed, hiking a leg over slim hips and seating yourself into his lap.
Aegon breathlessly mewled, “Do it, gods, sweetness, please!”
You wrapped a slim hand around his neck, not digging in yet. Aegon’s pretty eyes rolled around and he bucked underneath your frame. You leaned over him to press the weight of your breasts onto him. In a biting tone you said, “Calling me a prude doesn’t get you my cunt. I’ll play your little game and expect you to cum,” you dug your fingers and thumbs against his pulse, “And you’ll lap my wet cunt up like a thirsty kennel hound. Got it?”
A broken keen was your answer.
“Good boy,” you purred.
Leaning back up you reasserted your grip and position. Fingers on his pulse points, pussy snug atop his meager cock. Aegon drooled as you rolled your hips and denied him a full breath. The blonde squirmed and rutted in time with your hips, garbled cries exiting his pretty lips. You let go and captured Aegon’s mouth while he sucked in wet gasps, crying into your tongue.
Back again you went to squeezing his perfect throat, your other hand sliding around Aegon’s sensitive chest. His face was reddened and blotchy, lips bloated and red. Tears streaked those scarlet cheeks. You rutted harder, vastly turned on by all of this. Easing up a little, just to keep the blood flowing you hissed, “This what you like? Getting choked like a two-stag whore?”
He wailed, “Yes! Yes fucking seven hells yes!”
Poor thing coughed from the strain, so you just rested your hand on his mottling column. The slick noises of your pussy filled the air, intertwining with Aegon’s feminine blubbering. He cried, “Thank you, thank you!” His cock was leaking copiously, gliding in with your own slick.
You teased, “Glad your perverted desires get me off, not like that cock of yours does a damn thing.” Before Aegon could rebuttal you tightened your hold back, effectively shutting him up. Verbally at the least. You rasped, “That’s right, precious prince is a deviant with a cocklet,” you smooched his cheeks, “Gods I love you.”
Aegon was frantic now, squirming and spluttering. His prick twitched and stiffened. You ordered, “When I let go, you better cum all over my pussy.” He nodded minutely, heaving and struggling, violet eyes bobbing. You counted down, 3-2-1, and let go. Aegon wailed loud enough the whole castle could hear, sobbing and crying and shaking. His spend spread between your thighs, you rubbing his chest to calm the Prince down.
You plastered yourself to his shaking frame, cooing, “Was that good? Pretty as a painting you are. Oh Aegon, my love, just splendid.” He curled into you, still sobbing from the intense release. You comforted the blonde until he stammered, “M-May I clean your cunt now.” You couldn’t say no to that precious face.
“Go ahead sweetling.”
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I bash Nikki/Nate as a couple a lot but I do think there was potential and promise with them. Plus I love a good smart girl/jock pairing.
In That 90s Pilot, they were the ‘comedic’ ones that’d make me laugh out loud but there wasn’t really anything too bad with them.
In Free Leia, Nate asking Red for the shirt and saying that he just wants to keep Nikki happy was so sweet. They were such a cute couple that episode. With Nikki helping Nate when he was choking.
But then fast forward to the The Rave and Nikki’s bossing Nate around like Jackie did with Kelso and just like Kelso, Nate’s just…taking it. Also the whole fawning over half naked girls thing at the rave, then again he’s like 16 so it’s whatever but just a note.
And then in Step By Step, Nikki wants to do something that’s important to her and Nate ditches her to get a used hot tub. This is minor, but it’s giving me Winter vibes where Jackie wants Hyde to come to the Christmas party and he’s like ‘nope blah blah that’s your fault blah blah you’re overreacting’. I did like the end where he’s like ‘you’re a goat’s mommy now.’ But this episode also proves that Gwen/Nikki is the superior ship.
Next is The Birthday Girl, the episode they officially plummet to their downfall. Nate can’t even remember something basic as spelling Nikki’s name, which may not seem like a big deal. If she was a friend or they were newer to dating. But niknate have been together for 6 months and he doesn’t know??? Also one of his first rebuttals being ‘ask me about your boobs, I’ll draw those on a napkin.’ And later in the episode, Nate can remember the song that played when she let him touch her butt. It’s like sex is all he thinks of her. And Nikki being so touched in that scene like ‘oh he remembered this’ just makes me sad.
Then there’s Boyfriend Day 1. For the first time in a while, I was actually able to see them as a real couple instead of a joke one so that was nice. And the end scene makes me go 😭. But like, this also proves why they don’t work. Nate can’t handle Nikki’s ambition and barges into her tutoring session. I know Ozzie wasn’t the most helpful, but even before that, Nate was super jealous. Because ‘oh my god Nikki’s spending time with another guy’. It’s like how Ross Geller was about Rachel/Mark except less douchey.
Next is Summer Storm and they actually had a lot of cute moments here, with the umbrella scene, them giggling, and I liked hearing Nikki talking to Leia about the stuff in her relationship. But lmao at Leia saying that Nikki x Nate had an easy relationship. Like Leia ily, but you don’t know the half of it.
And in Dirty Double Booker, there’s an even bigger wedge driving between them. With Nate and Nikki being focused on their own things. So Nate goes to Leia and he’s happy. Now I actually like that scene and their hug. And the fact that he seemed to be realizing in the end that maybe things with Nikki might not be as strong as they thought. Like everyone at this point knows that I don’t ship Nate/Leia, but I feel like that scene was necessary. Even though Nate can be a dumbass at times, he is a smart guy. But he’s very insecure with Nikki. Whereas he was confident in that scene. I feel like that could’ve been a good arc where like ‘hey, maybe me and Nikki aren’t meant to be after all.’ without trying to have another ~romance~. But we’re talking about Nate/Nikki now, not Nate/Leia.
Then in Kids In America, it only gets worse. Nate not only continues to hide his feelings about the relationship, he tells Leia. And he literally calls Nikki “practical” (Nate tries to say it but didn’t know the word but if he knew, he def would’ve said it). Like I honestly had no sympathy for Nate in this scene. I get that he was was feeling insecure but he could’ve TALKED to Nikki about all of this. AND THEN ALMOST KISSING LEIA BEHIND HER BACK. Only THREE episodes before, Nate was all insecure and barging into Nikki’s tutoring session because he thinks she and Trevor had something. But he literally WOULD’VE KISSED Leia had Gwen not have walked in. Then him being all sad in the background when Jay and Leia are kissing while poor Nikki is completely oblivious and has no idea what’s going on. Like I get that Nate was having a hard time and this is all completely human BUT YOU DO NOT ALMOST KISS YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S FRIEND WHILE DATING SAID GIRLFRIEND. Like if he had been honest in the beginning scene, this would’ve been way less messy. Sure Nikki & Nate would’ve fought, but at least they could’ve broken up and there’d be no emotional nor physical cheating involved.
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basketball (3tan) (m) | myg
title: basketball (the weekend, pt. 1)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: running into yoongi after weeks, you realize that you finally get to see him again. at least, you thought so.
warnings: cursing, tension, angst yall lmfao i am so sorry but trust the process ok, also a bunch of stuff happens in this one, protected, breast play, fingering, so much overthinking, orange yoongi is always a warning in itself, did i mention angst?
note: the amount. of times. i wanted to talk about his chapter LMAO just know that it’s been ROUGH. more screaming in the author’s note at the end but yeah. lmfao. as always, thank you to my lovely betas @lavienjin and @joheunsaram for putting up with my many drafts and for the incredible support!! :’))
note 2: if you haven’t gotten around to the other three tangerines fics yet, i highly encourage you to read those first. it would make more sense!
drop date: february 8th, 2022, 7:17pm est
word count: 14k !
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Idiot🙄 [7:02pm]: Are you home?
You [7:04pm]: Just got back
Idiot🙄: Incoming Call
“Hey.”
“Hey, can you bring us a ball? There’s one in the garage.”
You groan while looking at the entryway around your exhausted bones. “I just got inside.”
“So? We’re not far.”
“Then come get it!” Why the hell is he making you do it then? He’s got two working legs!
Your brother is quick with the rebuttal.
“Fuck that! We can’t leave ‘cus the court’ll get taken.”
Thumping your bag down on a nearby counter, you hear some audible sounds on the line—one of them definitely Jimin’s distinct laugh. “Where are you?”
“We’re at—Oh, Yoong, did you find a pump?”
Oh, fuck. Yoongi’s there?
Immediately, you wanna teleport.
“How do you not have one in your—Whatever, she’s bringing one.”
As someone that absolutely didn’t say anything close to agreement yet, you scoff on instinct. But… an opportunity to see Yoongi? On a basketball court of all places? You should’ve been leaving ten minutes ago.
You remember watching them while growing up on the days your brother begrudgingly took you along. While you sat on the sidelines busy with your actual life on your phone, the shouts and squeaks of sneakers served as annoying background noise.
Though, you remember with a smile that you did develop a tiny—only tiny, miniscule even—crush on Yoongi back then. The frightening mix of confidence and cockiness was hard not to be drawn to, especially when he was able to back up all the shit talk.
“You comin’?”
Shit, you didn’t even realize you weren’t talking! Recovering quickly while inwardly cursing your own damn mind, you huff, “Ass. I’ll change then head over.”
“Thanks! We’re across from the rec.”
“K. Wait, where in the garage?”
“Tub under the bikes.”
“K.”
Locking your door, you make your way over to the court a few blocks over with a ball under your arm and a canvas bag slung over your shoulder. You figured you’d bring them some water since, by precedence, they normally stayed out and played for hours.
Are the bottles also another excuse to have any sort of moment with Yoongi? Maybe.
But who are you kidding? The outfit you also changed into fit under that same urge—an outfit that you have been wanting to wear but didn’t have the guts to thus far.
After a few moments of worrying too much, you justified the clothes on the other plans you have for tonight. Didn’t make it anything to do with seeing anyone in particular.
Just practicing some confidence. That’s all.
After a good handful of minutes, you finally make it to the fenced court and immediately spot your brother leaning on the metal partition, greeting him with a slight bit of salt in your words.
As soon as he turns, he gives you a once over with furrowed brows. “What the hell are you wearing? You walked all the way here in that?”
You ignore him as you put your bag down on the sidewalk. Tossing your ball over the high barrier, you instead ask with a grunt, “Aren’t you leaving tomorrow?”
Thank god you launch it over the top in one try. It’s easily caught while he responds, “Yeah, that’s… That’s why we’re playing now.”
“You won’t be sore?”
“Relax. I’m not old.”
“I am.”
Oh, fuck.
Fuck.
On the other side of your sibling, Yoongi appears out of nowhere, lifting sweaty arms to hang equally drenched hands on chain links. As you take in his wet locks, you have to rein in every ounce of power from the universe just to not break when he simply says,
“Hi.”
“Your hair.” You blink once. Twice. It’s the same color you saw on one of those hair dye boxes in his bathroom that day. And what’s worse: it reminds you of goddamn tangerines. “Wow.”
As your brother launches into a huge rant about him dyeing it now of all times, Yoongi grins lopsided at your taking in the sight of his transformation.
Asshole! He fucking knows how good he looks right now!
When you turn to face your brother, your eyes betray you and linger on the nuisance a bit longer. “What do you mean now of all times?”
“He’s just got—”
“Relax,” Yoongi defends himself. “They won’t mind.”
“I guess. But ever since you dyed it, your phone’s been blowing up.” He turns around. “Jimin! Here!”
As your brother throws the ball to the other person you know on the court, he launches into a brief moment of nostalgia, the hollow bounces and his subject change almost enough to distract you from what he just said.
“It’s been so long since you went orange.”
Yoongi smiles a bit as he nods, wiping his hands with the bottom of his shirt. It’s cute how his downcast eyes soften a tad. What was that all about?
You really want to know, so you listlessly ask when the last time was while focusing on the court behind them.
And while your downfall watches Jimin lazily toss layups, you get a response from your sibling, “Damn. I don’t even remember. Seven years ago?”
“Eight,” Yoongi corrects offhandedly. “And you were just as bad.”
“Hey!”
Your brother laughs, and that’s when you wonder if you should join them on the other side of the fence, onto the court where some local bleachers have been placed.
Besides, you still want to know what your brother meant by Yoongi’s phone… The feeling that’s developing in your stomach isn’t good in the slightest.
“We thought we were hot shit, huh?”
“You still think you are,” you scoff, earning a tsk and a chuckle. It’s then that you remember what else you have with you—something you need to step onto the court to give them anyway. “Oh, wait. I brought water.”
They both watch as you fetch your bag and make your way to the fence opening, and you find this reunion a bit strange given your completely different relationships with the both of them. What’s even more awkward is the fact that your brother definitely doesn’t know about the other—if you can call whatever you have with Yoongi a relationship in the first place.
Now that you think about it, what would the both of you even be? Nothing, right? Close to it, at least. The phone call a couple weeks ago showed that there was something there, but there hasn’t been much contact since then. Minimal contact, actually, even though his phone is apparently constantly lit.
Fuck.
This is hard.
Once your shoes step onto colored concrete, Jimin comes jogging up while holding your ball. His voice is light enough to lift your mood back to normal. “Hi!”
“Hey!” You beam a smile his way before walking up next to your sibling.
Holy hell, it’s taking everything in you to not look at the orange-haired demon beside him as you hand out the bottles, feeling everyone’s sun-drenched skin radiating heat in waves. “How long have you been here without a ball?”
“Not long. Someone just brought a flat one,” the same fiend cuts in with a drone before anyone else can answer. His eyes are aimed straight at your brother, so yours follow, filled with disappointment.
“Wow. I even explained myself?”
“You did,” Jimin responds immediately. “But it’s still your fault.”
You laugh before checking your phone, and your sibling and Yoongi use that time to take the ball from Jimin before heading to the closer basket.
Damn. As much as you want to watch Yoongi in his element, you still need to get back home and drive to the theatre. Sighing, you state, “Well, I should head out.”
“You aren’t gonna stay?”
Your head and two others turn Jimin’s way, and you falter before explaining, eyes snapping to Yoongi for a brief moment, “Didn’t plan on it. I’m seeing a movie.”
“Oh, yeah! Taehyung told me about that.” He checks his watch before adorning a playful expression, shamelessly running his gaze along your body before providing an excuse,
“You have time. Just tell him to meet you here.”
Ah, fuck. Your brother is already piercing Jimin with suspicion. You hate when he gets this way so quickly.
But, the flirt technically gave you another chance to do what you wanted in the first place. If anything, this would make your intentions a lot more subtle. “Umm… I guess I could.”
“Yay! Watch me win.”
“No chance.”
Suddenly, someone is next to you picking up a bottle resting by your feet, and you don’t need to look to see who it is—the visceral reaction you have to their presence is enough to clue you in. How that’s possible, you have no fucking clue.
When did Yoongi even leave his bottle there? And did he leave it on purpose? From what you saw during a quick scan of the court, his stuff is resting on the bleachers…
Your heart flutters while Jimin answers with mirth. “Is that so?”
Yoongi only raises his eyebrows in response, mouth occupied with the water already.
Goddamn it, you can’t look at him for too long, if at all right now. You think you would’ve been able to handle the same Yoongi since that’s what you were expecting. But this? This Yoongi with hair so loud that it’s creating another layer of confidence around him that you’re even more drawn to? Fucking hell, you may just turn down Jimin’s offer.
But the man refocuses on you while grinning, tilting his head Yoongi’s way. “He’s always acting tough, isn’t he?”
“Seems so,” you quickly agree, and you hear a brief snort on your side.
And neither of them make any move to leave.
But the stalemate ceases in an instant. There’s a clunk of a ball hitting a rim before your brother shouts, “Hey! Hurry the hell up!”
“Kay!”
Jimin jogs away with a smile, but while Yoongi follows suit, you blurt,
“I like it.”
He turns.
“The hair.”
And he just smirks at you before shooting a wink, and your body almost breaks into pieces as you make your way to the bleachers.
Finding a random spot on the third to bottom row, you immediately check your phone to make your eyes focus on anything else. Besides, you need to text Taehyung and let him know about Jimin’s derailing of your plans. You’ll take any distraction you can get.
Your ride’s reply comes seconds later.
Taeee😪 [7:20pm]: I am going to fight him 😐
Taeee😪 [7:20pm]: See you there.
As you’re cycling through apps, you start to hear a bunch of other voices, so you lift your head to take in the crowd coming in. You’ve seen some of them around but a lot of them are guys you haven’t seen before. Must just be the changes of the neighborhood since you last lived here.
Yoongi is back to his smug ways on the court, eyebrow quirking before he easily cuts through defenders to score. If he doesn’t take shots himself, the passes he makes to your brother and Jimin leave his hands just as smoothly, some of them sick enough to get people on the sidelines to react.
During the time you wait for Taehyung, more things happen. More people start filing in, the lights get flickered on when it starts to get dark, and a stray ball that bounces right towards you hits the front of the bleachers before Yoongi quickly follows—the expression he discreetly aims your way enough to send your inappropriate thoughts into overdrive.
You haven’t felt this drawn to a sport in your entire goddamn life.
Of course, it’s more the player than anything else. The way he laughs while pointing at fuck-ups, the times he wipes his forehead with the top of his shirt, and hell, even the way he plants his hands on his knees. Everything is normally so mundane if done by anyone else. But when Yoongi does them? You find yourself clenching your thighs together and trying to calm your erratic heart rate.
He looks like he’s genuinely having fun.
You love that.
And the game goes on, with your brother and them winning and sweating through their shirts. But when it’s abruptly interrupted, the shouts you hear on the court are from randoms you don’t know.
“That was out.”
“What? Motherfucker, no it wasn’t?”
“I saw you step out!”
“You’re lying.”
Finally, Yoongi cuts in, seemingly impatient and wanting things to keep moving. “Just shoot for it.”
He’s quickly overshadowed by the others again.
“I’m not shooting for that. It’s still our ball.”
“Stop holding up the game, bro. Shoot for it.”
“No! No.”
It seems that this conversation will keep going. Because men. And pride.
You feel eyes on you while this exchange is happening and, while you think it’s Taehyung finally arriving, they’re actually coming from some guys on the other side of the court—the side that everyone stopped on. They’re talking amongst themselves, and who knows what the hell they’re saying.
Ugh.
Just focus on the game. You didn’t expect this much attention just sitting on the sidelines.
As you plant your feet on the riser below you, you’re just wondering if they know about your older sibling.
Because if they don’t stop being so obvious, they’re about to.
The conversation is still happening about whose ball it is, and you see Yoongi walk up to the same group of people and say something before lifting his thumb back to the court.
When one of the guys nods to him and joins the game, he gives a look to your brother before lazily walking… Your way?
What’s he doing?
Oh, yes. His stuff is on one side of the bleachers. Maybe he’s getting water.
But wait. Why did he get someone to play for him? Why is he settling on the bottom bench, leaning back so that one of his elbows lies next to your shoes?
Your heart is racing as much as the drops of sweat running down his neck.
Holy fuck, he looks good.
“You okay?” You ask downward, taking in his drenched hair and heaving chest.
A thought occurs to you then. A truth so exhilarating that you might burst if you don’t keep yourself in check.
You get to see him tomorrow.
You don’t know what to do.
Yoongi wipes his neck while watching the game finally start back up again. When he answers, his voice is so low that you lean down a bit to hear. “Oh, yeah. Just tired.”
He certainly doesn’t look tired. A little winded, sure, but not tired.
“Ah, I see,” you respond, planting your hands outside of your thighs. “You got a lot better.”
He turns his head to look up at you. “You think so?”
And you want to tell him something else, but all that comes out of your mouth is, “Mmhmm.”
A corner of his mouth lifts before he shifts his attention back to the court. “Thanks. We started playing in a league so. Been playing a lot more recently. Damn rusty, though.”
Oh. You already know about the league because your brother mentioned it before, but… What is this feeling you have? Hearing just a sliver of Yoongi’s life outside of where you normally see him? You’re amazed he even said something. Truthfully, it’s also a bit shocking that it slipped out of his mouth so easily.
Maybe it’s from adrenaline. You have seen people be a lot more chatty during games and today is obviously no different.
“I heard about the team! I didn’t know you were on it.”
A nod.
Grinning, you add, “Now I really won’t come to games.”
Yoongi’s shoulders bob a bit and, though you can’t directly see his expression from where you’re sitting, his lifted cheekbone is enough of a hint that he’s highly amused.
Fuck.
You really want to jump his damn bones.
A scary follow-up thought spears your brain: what if you actually don’t see him tomorrow? Like your brother just said: his phone’s been blowing up. What does that mean for you? Does Yoongi even still remember?
Shit shit shit.
You need to confirm now while the both of you are a ways from anyone else.
“Yoo—”
“Hey!”
Both you and the man below you snap your heads to the sound, watching as Taehyung walks along the concrete sideline before hopping one foot onto your bleacher. As the metal clang rings in your ears, you offer a smile.
“Hey, Tae,” you greet as Yoongi lifts himself into a sitting position, slightly put out that your confirmation with him was interrupted. “Took you awhile.”
His affronted expression is priceless. “I’m sorry. I was told to make a detour before even getting up! What’s up, Yoong.”
“Sup.”
You groan. “Your plans weren’t the only ones changed. I had to get these dummies a ball.”
“Leave me outta this.”
“Says the basketball player without a pump in his car.”
Yoongi briefly tosses you a grin and scrunched nose over his shoulder, and you feel another skip of your heartbeat, wondering how long it will take until this man ends you completely.
Taehyung’s voice starts out slow as he continues, “Well, if you’re ready, we can go.”
“Yeah!” you chirp, not ready to leave Yoongi looking like that at all. “Let’s go.”
As your shoes clunk along the bleachers before you step onto solid ground, you shoot him a smile over your shoulder. “Bye, Yoongi.”
“See ya,” he responds before his eyes flicker to your feet and back up again.
Suddenly incredibly shy, you clear your throat before walking in stride with Taehyung, waving goodbye to your brother and Jimin.
When you head out shortly after, you turn back one more time.
And suck in a breath.
Because Yoongi’s already turned away, drinking from his bottle while aiming a look to the other side of the court.
As you settle into Taehyung’s car, you spew some much needed venting about work and how everything is just inherently unfair.
“You need to find something else, bro,” he sighs while starting the engine. “I keep telling you. You’re too smart for that place.”
“I’m looking, I’m looking,” you sigh, knowing that you can’t refute anything he’s saying. The only issue is that you want to find a career instead of a job, and the only options you’ve come across since graduating are the latter.
It could also be because you’re picky. But that’s besides the point.
While Taehyung starts to list some options—one of them definitely a joke but still making you embarrassed—you feel a vibration in your lap. Picking up your device, you see who’s on the lock screen and unlock it as quickly as you can.
Yoongi [7:56pm]: Thanks for the water :)
It’s such a simple message. Harmless, too. But you still can’t help your face from heating and your fingers from squeezing your phone a little tighter.
An old, mellow song fills the car while you type your reply.
You [7:58pm]: You’re welcome !
And the second one you send is made purely out of your own impatience to see him again.
You [7:58pm]: I wish I could’ve stayed…
After it slips into the thread, you wonder if you crossed a line before saying screw it altogether. Your brother and Jimin are most likely still on the court anyways, and it’s definitely not a lie. Maybe you’re gauging if he feels the same?
Or do you just hope that he responds to your texts out of the many messages he’s been receiving lately? God, that’s so lame, but it would at least help ease your mind if he did.
Then again, he did text you first… But maybe that was—
“What was that all about?”
A quick cough leaves your mouth before you brace your chest, hitting it twice. Fuck, you completely forgot you aren’t alone! Clearing the shame from your throat, you decide to tell part of the truth. “Oh. Yoongi just said thank you for the water.”
Tae just lifts a brow along with his lips. “Mm.”
“What?”
He slowly slides his eyes your way, checking his mirror on your side before making a turn. You feel tingles along your spine when he airily responds, “I won’t tell.”
“Tell what?”
Taehyung gives you a look before droning, “Really.”
“I’m not—Whatever you’ve got in that head of yours, it is incorrect.”
“Uh huh. So the two of you aren’t fucking?”
Your jaw drops to your thighs. “We aren’t!”
“Mm. But you plan on it.”
What the fuck! How does he know?
“Tae!”
“Next time,” your scarily accurate friend advises, “Don’t make it so obvious. He checks you out all the time but, if you do the same, then people’ll talk.” When he gives your outfit a once-over, you shrivel up at his smirk. “This makes sense now.”
“He… I…”
Well then. You didn’t know Yoongi regarded you like that enough for others to notice. Then again, Taehyung is the most intuitive out of your friends. If anyone was going to suspect anything miles ahead of everyone else, it would be him.
He simply smiles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t pry.”
Come to think of it, you didn’t exactly tell anyone all the details about that day. Sure, you’ve mentioned to your girlfriends that something happened—they picked up on your glow even days afterwards, so you had to spill.
But you didn’t dare mention a name. Not even a description, as much as they hounded you to describe his dick.
In this case, however… Taehyung seems to be convinced that he’s right already.
And he is.
So maybe you can actually admit what the hell happened to someone. The truth. It can finally leave the walls of your chest and take temporary rest in someone else’s, and possibly make your steps a bit lighter in the process.
You take a deep breath.
“We did. Once.”
Taehyung immediately slaps his steering wheel, triumphant and making you flinch. “Hah! I knew it! Wait, only once?”
The scenery outside your window is suddenly super interesting. “Yeah.”
“…When?”
“Last summer.”
One song changes to another as your friend pauses. “Oh, damn. I didn’t peg you as the one and done type.”
“Nah. It wasn’t like that,” you sigh. Reminiscent of what that day truly meant to you, you allow a fond smile to grace your face. “It was actually really nice.”
An even longer pause takes place, but you’re too busy replaying the events while watching buildings and cars and lights flash by. With the soft music accompanying, you’re briefly content and simply someone along for a night ride.
But Tae’s inquisitive hum pulls you back in.
Turning to him, you question, “What?”
The man is contemplative, and it looks like he’s gauging whether to say what he wants to or not. But you wait—like you always do—because you can’t budge the sudden fear in your gut.
Finally, he speaks, “You know how he is, yeah? Never leaving parties or whatever alone?”
“…Yeah.”
“I started noticing something off but.. I never knew what it was. And Jimin didn’t know, either. Which was even weirder.”
“Uh huh… And?”
“I dunno. He just started checking out early. Like he would just dip or. Check his phone then bounce.” Taehyung flicks his turn signal on shortly before changing lanes. “I thought he actually had a regular or something. And after your little freak-out—which was cute, by the way—I thought it could’ve been you.”
Your heart plummets. “Oh… It’s not.”
“Mm.”
Goddamn it. First the phone situation with him and now this. Of course you know Yoongi is the type of guy you can expect this from, but… Shit. You feel like an idiot right now for thinking something would be different in your case.
May as well get some questions out of the way. If this thing you planned happens at all, you need to be prepared. Licking your lips, you point out the obvious with a sigh, “You’ve been around him more than I have.”
“Yeah.”
“Does he… Hmm.”
“What?”
Shaking your head, you both like how you can talk about this with someone and also dread the answer you’ll receive. “You think he’s the type to kick people out? After… You know?”
Tae aims a sly grin your way. “Is that what he did to you?”
You reach over to playfully tug on his sleeve before scoffing, “No!” But after thinking about it, technically Yoongi did send you off, but the circumstances called for it. “I mean. That was different.”
And your friend hums, unconvinced. “But yeah, from what I’ve heard, that’s usually what happens. At least, if they end up at his place. Pretty quick, too.”
“Ah,” you respond, heart bleeding.
“Why? You really are planning on fucking, huh?”
“Tae!”
“Just because I’m right about your upcoming appointme—”
“It’s nothing like that!”
“Uh huh. And you’re just gonna be sitting on your single ass once your brother leaves.”
Fuck. He’s got you completely had and you barely said a thing.
You definitely need to be more discreet. It’s fine if Taehyung is the only one that knows, but if other people do? There’s no way it can be kept from your brother then. And that will turn out fine for no one.
Your silence draws itself out long enough for Tae to say with slight pity, “You’re lucky I like listening instead of talking.”
“I dunno,” you bite. “You’re being awfully fucking chatty tonight.”
The laugh that erupts is completely Taehyung, his head throwing back a bit in the process. It’s enough to pull one side of your mouth up.
You’re fine. You know you can trust him. And you were right: you do feel a bit lighter now that the truth exists past your heart and Yoongi’s place.
“Just be careful with that one, okay? You know how he is. Just like your brother: doesn’t do relationships and all that.”
With a slow nod, you’re back to looking out the window, hiding the cracks in your visage. “I know.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“No.”
“Mm.”
Fuck. The feeling is back. The dark, simmering feeling that you’ve made a mistake is stewing, and you need to try your hardest to not let it consume you.
But this is incredibly difficult to do once you see that you were left on Read.
The movie crawled by, a temporary distraction from your thoughts.
It would’ve done a better job if it wasn’t so shitty, though. Both you and Taehyung now stomp out of the theatre, pissed and cursing the people that recommended it.
“That had to be a prank,” you surmise, disgruntled and fishing out your phone before you even get to the exit doors.
“Pranks I can respect. But if that was actually something they liked? I am blocking them.”
Amusement bubbles from your throat. “Tae! Those are your friends. We do not block friends.”
“We do if they have shitty taste in movies.”
When you both cross the entryway of the building, your miffed companion spots the ticket booth. Determined, he proclaims, “Hold on. I’m getting our money back.”
“Wow,” you laugh. “Good luck! I’ll be here.”
It’s after you watch his taut strides that you finally unlock your phone to see any notifications.
Some group chats, some emails, other random apps.
But of course, your finger zeroes in on the one that has your heart beating again. A notification you wanted but didn’t expect to get.
Yoongi [9:52pm]: You missed out. I put on a show
You berate yourself for smiling at his overflow of confidence. But you’re also relieved as hell that he even responded in general. Maybe things aren’t as awful as you’re creating them in your mind.
Hell, he could’ve been playing that whole time!
You need to chill the hell out. Stop worrying. Just go with the flow of things.
You [10:01pm]: Just got out of the movie !! And I knew you would.
Surprisingly, he responds quick.
Yoongi [10:02pm]: How’d it go?
You [10:02pm]: Boring af. Tae’s trying to get our money back.
Yoongi [10:03pm]: Damn. Sorry :(
When you look up, you see Taehyung sauntering back, knowing he was successful one way or another.
Smiling, you observe, “I see we got what we wanted?”
“Yup! But also…” He wiggles his phone.
“Oh, my god. You got their number?”
Taehyung beams a wide smile your way before you both leave the theatre. “And a free movie date.”
Your eyes roll heavenward. “I dunno how you do it.”
“Easy,” he puffs. “Confidence.”
“That’s it?”
“Ah, no. Confidence, and saying what you want.”
You level your eyes with his. “It can’t be that simple.”
“Try it, babe. I promise it works.”
The car ride is more animated this time as you both rant about the film and ones that are scarily similar and equally terrible.
As you look at your phone, you see that Yoongi actually texted you again, so you rush to answer—not without getting a chuckle from Taehyung.
Yoongi [10:06pm]: What’s next?
You [10:20pm]: HOME
You [10:21pm]: Work early tomorrow. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight tbh
It’s not until Taehyung drops you off at your house and you’re heading to your room that you get a reply.
Yoongi [10:38pm]: Fuckin saaame. I’m passing tf out soon
Interesting, given it’s a Thursday night. Which part is he agreeing with? Work? Not going out? Both?
What could it mean if he agreed to either one? Maybe he is with his regular—if that’s even a thing?
Fuck! Stop thinking about any of this. This whole chilling out thing is clearly not working for you and you’re pretty sure stress is digging trenches in your forehead.
Sighing, you set your bag down in your desk chair before deciding on a neutral reply, hating how you’re putting up a front.
You [10:40pm]: Okayyy gn!!
Yoongi [10:42pm]: gn :)
It’s after you get his reply that you realize: you went the entire day without a clear confirmation on tomorrow.
And no matter what you try, your thoughts and worries still plague you well into the early, pink and yellow hues of the next morning.
“You got everything?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Okay. Because last time—”
“Relax. I checked.”
“Okay. How long are you out this time?”
“A whole goddamn week,” your brother grunts as he rolls his suitcase past the front door. “But the hotel is apparently fucking sick so. Whatever.”
“Nice.”
“You sure you’re good?”
“Me? A functioning adult? Hardly.”
He shakes his head. “Well, you better ring me up if something happens. Or Yoongi.”
You still your hand on its way to the doorknob. “Oh. Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“Cool.” He pats your head before he turns to his ride. “See ya.”
“See ya.”
You [8:32am]: Hey ! I’ll be free after work. Are we still..?
Staring at your phone four hours after you sent Yoongi that text, you deflate before moving on with your work day.
While it’s true that both of you decided on today, that’s the last you heard of it and it’s been days since then. Weeks.
It was only after hours of back and forths with yourself that you decided to finally send him a confirmation text. But the fact that he hasn’t said anything yet—or even read it—makes a bit of squirming happen under your skin.
Your thoughts mirror what you thought about on the basketball court: does Yoongi even remember?
Does he even still care?
Going through the motions of your day, you feel your hopes dwindle by the second, wondering if you’ll even make it to the end of your shift.
But when you finally get a response, you quickly decide that no, you won’t.
Because the text you receive is enough to make your heartbeat skip thrice.
Yoongi [2:02pm]: 🍊🍊🍊 :)
Fuck. Fuck, it’s happening.
The whole day at work after that seems to go terribly, awfully slow. Like some random entity bends time just for you because it knows you’re looking forward to something.
But when you finally leave and practically bounce all the way to your car, you shoot a quick text before getting inside.
You [5:42pm]: I’m out ! Just lemme know.
Again, you get silence. Then a read receipt after a little bit, and then finally, an answer that isn’t half as good as the first one.
Yoongi [6:11pm]: Shit ok. I’ll be out until late ):
Damn. Well, you can still use this time to relax and calm the bottled up anxiousness you feel in your body. How to busy yourself until then? How to distract yourself from thinking about worst case scenarios?
Finding things to do, the final plan involves showering before getting ready, then blanking out on your phone while a show you’ve seen before plays in the background. Done.
It takes a bit for you to choose a playlist before getting under running water, but when you do, you let the hot stream coat you as your thoughts run rampant.
Yoongi and you never said what exactly would happen. All you said was you would go see him, and tonight was the night. Of course, the both of you definitely have one thing in mind, but… You don’t exactly have a plan outside of that.
Not that it matters. After all, your conversation with Taehyung in his car confirmed that Yoongi doesn’t really leave room for anything afterwards anyway.
Shit, do you even need to pack anything? Bring anything? Or will this whole thing that you’ve been stressing over for days just last for an hour tops?
Your sigh mingles with the shower steam.
Relax.
Bottom line: it’s happening.
“But I miss you, too.”
You lean against the wall, folding your arms and smiling wide.
After you freshen up and get yourself all ready, you settle into a couch in your living room, knowing you’ll fall asleep if you choose your bed instead.
Your phone occupies most of your time, and you periodically check Yoongi’s thread—as if you don’t get notifications for messages.
But after awhile, the mountain of stress from today and your growing pile of worries weigh down your eyes, and you can’t help but succumb to the sofa after all.
Oh, shit.
You knocked out. What time is it?
Blinking fast, you groggily check your phone.
10:50pm
Yoongi: 1 Missed Call
“Fuck!” You scramble to click the notification, sitting up and feeling a bit disoriented.
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
When did you fall asleep? How long has it been? Did he just end up making other plans?
“Hey.”
Your breath stutters. “I am so sorry! Fuck, I fell asleep.”
“S’okay.”
A pause.
Nothing else from him?
“How… How was your day?”
There’s a brief, soft noise on the other line. But you can’t tell what the hell it is. Was it a laugh? A snort? It sounds like he’s in his car, so maybe a random sound?
“It was fine.”
You blink.
Something’s off.
You have no damn clue why, but this isn’t the Yoongi you’re used to. He sounds so unlike himself that you’re starting to get worried.
But is it okay to ask him what’s wrong? He certainly asks you all the time.
However, for some reason, you can’t. Maybe you don’t think it’s your space to pry.
So you try to make the situation light. “At least your day is done! Tomorrow will be fun, right?”
A long exhale crackles through the line, and you feel yourself crumbling when he responds.
“Same shit tomorrow, too.”
“Oh,” you whoosh out, feeling your plans slip through your fingers and pricking them on the way down. “I see.”
You’re silent after that, wallowing in your sudden sadness that your tomorrow isn’t looking as bright as you imagined. What was that about assuming disappointment again? Fuck, you should’ve done it this time.
“Sorry.”
Your heart lurches at his gravelly tone, and emotions clash inside your stomach, quickly turning it into a pit of turmoil. “No, no!” you blurt out, hoping he didn’t hear the heaviness you feel. “It’s okay. Things happen.”
You hear another sigh, but it seems forced.
And you don’t know what to do, how to react. There’s definitely something up and you have no idea how to approach this. To notice his blasé demeanor suddenly do a one-eighty is a bit jarring.
“It’s okay, Yoongi,” you finally decide to say, whispering. “If you’re busy—”
“I’m not busy right now.”
A car door thumps shut on the line, both that sudden sound and his quick reply rendering you speechless.
“Oh. Okay.”
What in the hell is happening? If you were a betting person, you would think he’s… upset. Distancing himself. You don’t think you’ve breathed ever since he answered the call.
So you just wait. Wait and wait and wait for him to hang up so that you can sit and think about this deep pit of emotions you dug for yourself.
But Yoongi doesn’t end the call. Not even after an entire minute of silence.
Your worries start to deepen. What the fuck is going on? Why did he even answer if—
“Open the door, doll.”
What?
A quick exhale leaves your mouth as you swerve your head towards the front. “The door? My door?”
A small breath can be heard on his end before you get a very, very tired-sounding,
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Shit,” you rush out, shooting up from your spot. “Okay, hold on.”
The call ends while you’re making a beeline for the entrance.
Your feet pad with loud slaps the whole way there, and you really don’t know what’s happening or what you’re gonna do once you open the door. As you get to the opening, you stop and take a breath before undoing the locks.
And though Yoongi’s head is slightly hung, his eyes are already trained on you when you slowly reveal your anxious expression.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
You let him in and take in his heavy strides, shutting the door as if you don’t want your own house to know your secret. “I thought you were going home.”
“I was.”
Suddenly remembering what time it is, you blurt, “No one saw you, did they?”
Yoongi shakes his head, eyes aimed away from where you stand. “Everyone‘s out.”
“Okay…”
You remain planted a few steps away from him, not knowing what to do but wanting to do anything to wipe the expression off of Yoongi’s face. To clear the bags from under his eyes and the slight pinch in his brow. But you’re so shaken by the whole string of events that somehow led him here.
What the hell is going on? Where is the Yoongi that you know?
No. What you’re used to doesn’t matter right now. What you think you’re worried about doesn’t matter now, either. All you want to focus on is lifting his mood, so you launch yourself towards the kitchen and offer multiple things,
“Have you eaten? Do you want anything? I can make something or find a snack. We don’t have much but—”
Your arm is suddenly tugged backwards, and you don’t know what’s happening until your chest is crushed into the front of Yoongi’s hoodie.
Snapping your eyes to his face, you flicker them between his and start to ask what that was for, but he’s already putting your head back against him.
And it’s silent.
Only the beat of his heart pulses in your ear.
Embarrassed because you’re entirely sure he can feel your much quicker one, you bring your hands up to grip his jacket, burrowing your face into soft material that smells like comfort and him.
And as soon as you do, you feel at peace. Time bends in another way and, this time, you revel in the slower passing.
There are no thoughts, no worries, no others around. Just darkness and his scent and his warmth around your back.
You feel his chest rumble when he asks a question, and his voice is so incredibly low that you have to pull away.
“Hmm?”
Yoongi just watches your face when he responds, exhausted, and you feel your heart skip once again.
“Please lemme kiss you.”
The first thing you feel is confusion. And the second is something terribly similar. But you say nothing as you see the look in his eyes—eyes that are just a shade darker than you remember.
So you nod.
And kiss you he does, lips softly pressing into yours and lifting your soul off the ground. It’s not rushed, not imposing; rather, it’s a soft flame that slowly warms you through.
Your eyes close shortly before it ends. Because though it isn’t rushed, it is still chaste, and you’re already pulling away.
It is now that you search his eyes, noticing more weariness and something else in their depths. The more you rest in silence, the more you want—
To be kissed again and exactly how he’s doing now, crushing his lips against yours and sending lightning down to your toes. This kiss is much deeper, much fuller, tugging your heart to the front of your chest with force.
Your hands clamp impossibly tight around the material of his hoodie, gripping it and pulling him in a fraction. The grunt you get in return ignites something in your lower belly, only to be followed up with him twisting you to shove against the nearest wall.
Everything bursts into overdrive as you moan into his mouth, hearing one of his hands thump the wall next to you. The way he thrusts himself flush against you sends your mind in a frenzy, and your hands abandon his hoodie to sling around his neck instead.
Fuck, you needed this. All the stolen glances and kisses up to this point have been driving you up multiple walls, and you have been craving this feeling for months. This intensity.
The way he exhales from his nose, the way his hand never lets up on your hip, the way he chuckles when you reach for the bottom of his hoodie—everything he’s doing now is the Yoongi you finally know. He’s back with a vengeance and you want him to unleash it all on you.
You’re about to fling caution to the wind and yank him to your room when he suddenly, calmly, annoyingly halts your movements.
With eyes aimed straight at his face, you wordlessly ask what he’s doing—and also plead him to keep going.
And Yoongi looks at you before rubbing your cheek. Murmuring, he clarifies with a low tone, “That wasn’t what I came for, doll.”
“Then… Then what?”
He just smiles a bit, eyes lidded and drooping. “I just wanted to see you real quick.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah.”
Forgetting everything that you just spoke about with Taehyung, you offer, “I can come over.”
Yoongi shakes his head, swiftly reminding you what you stupidly needed to remember. “I’ll be out tomorrow, too.”
“Oh.”
“And I don’t wanna keep you if you got plans.”
“I mean… I guess. I kinda cleared my plans for… This.”
Yoongi rests his arms around your waist. “I tried, too. But I can’t flake on this. My bad.”
“Are you kidding? It’s fine, really. Do your stuff,” you offer as if he isn’t going to anyway. Fuck, you feel dumb.
But Yoongi seems set on his decision. Who are you to make him change it? Besides, you can get some errands done. Listen to Taehyung and look for some real jobs. Folding your lips together, you hang your head in disappointment. “I just…”
“I know.”
“It’s been forever.”
“I know.”
Tilting your eyes back to his face, you ask, voice small, “I’m not… I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”
Yoongi roves his eyes over your features, and his silence is weighing you down with every passing nanosecond. “Say what you mean.”
Determined to keep it a secret, you lie, “That is what I mean.”
He doesn’t believe you. But he answers, “No.”
“Okay.”
Cupping your chin, Yoongi rubs your face with a rough thumb. “And listen. If you got something on your mind, tell me. Ask me. You may not always like the answer, but I’ll always be honest.” He then steps away, and the breaths you’ve been harboring finally leave you in a rush. He yawns behind a fist before blinking hard. “You’re the one that fucking called me out on it.”
No no no. This is too soon. You don’t want him to go. “Then can I ask something else?”
Yoongi has a mix of curiosity and trepidation on his face. He brings you in again and waits. “Hit me.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
Surprise shoots from his nose, and he smiles wide, aiming his laugh away from you. “That’s not fair.”
“Uh uh! You said I just have to ask.”
“Too damn quick. Maybe you’re hustling me here, too.”
“You’re stalling.”
Yoongi grins even wider and softly kisses your forehead, eyes closed. “This isn’t good for me.”
“Yoongi!”
“Okay, okay,” he relents through another yawn. “…Yeah.”
“Then I’m coming over.”
“Hold up, I didn’t say—”
“It’s decided! I’m getting my stuff.” You head to your room and you hear Yoongi’s amusement follow your strides, and it isn’t until you get there that you realize you’re both very alone in your house. Like you wanted him to be that night on the phone. Like you want it to be all the time.
You grab your bag, wondering if you should pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes—
“Mm. Cute.”
You shoot up from your hunched position. “Fuck!” Shaking your head, you sigh at the relaxed presence filling your doorframe, “I didn’t even hear you.”
He pops his eyebrows up. “‘Cus you’re so loud.”
“And?” You watch him lean against the panel of your door, and it brings you back to when you first went to his place, drenched in rainwater and jitters. His hair is brighter this time, but his features are much more cloudy, and you can’t help but feel like his day was long. Maybe even longer than yours.
What can possibly be happening?
Noticing his eyes slipping shut, you quickly offer, “Hey. You can sit at the desk. Just no judging.”
“I said it was cute.” He pushes off of your doorframe and inspects the space in earnest, dumping himself in your desk chair that’s seen many, many days of studying.
As you’re getting your stuff ready, you remember the times you’ve seen or heard Yoongi walk past your room while in that same seat. You remember how you couldn’t help but glance at him every time, curling your toes or folding your lips together on instinct.
To go from that to what’s happening now, you smile ruefully at the change.
A soft sound brushes your ear when you have the final item stuffed in your pack. Turning, you realize that Yoongi’s already asleep in your chair, head propped on a sleeved arm.
Blinking, you feel things clicking into place: the weary call, the tired eyes, the goddamn yawning. Why didn’t you pick up on something so glaringly obvious? Idiot!
But another thing clicks into place.
His car is outside.
Shit, if anyone sees it out front and knows your brother isn’t here, the rest of the puzzle connects itself.
Your packed bag is abandoned as you make your way over to him, deciding that this can go one of two ways. Slowly shaking his shoulder, you whisper his name.
“Mm.”
“Would you rather sleep here for a bit? Or have me drive?”
A quick quirk of his mouth precedes a sleepy, “S’okay. I can drive back.”
Absolutely not. “I won’t let you. Pick one.”
“Mmph.”
You immediately pick for him. “Lemme have your keys.”
Another sleepy huff of amusement expels from his lips. “So bossy.”
“Deal with it.”
He breathes deep before answering, “Pocket.”
After checking both his hoodie pockets, you fish them out, softly guiding him up from your chair. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Huh.
If you aren’t mistaken, you’re pretty sure Yoongi just pouted.
And you believe it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
Even throughout the whole stilted walk to his car, on the way to his place, and guiding him all the way to his room, it’s legitimately the only thing you can think about. And you think you would do anything to see it again.
“Sleep well, Yoongi,” you whisper as you leave him on his bed. A bed you want to occupy but know you can’t. “Sorry I kept you up.”
In hindsight, you could’ve taken his couch.
But as you get woken up by vibrations in your own bed, you reason that you made the right decision to get a paid ride back home. You have no idea what Yoongi’s day entails, so it’s better to give him that space.
Listen to Taehyung. You gotta be careful. Don’t allow yourself to get too attached to someone that doesn’t have the word relationship in their vocabulary.
It’s during the fourth vibration that you realize that you’re getting a call, and you shoot your hand out over your nightstand to check the ID.
Yoongi: Incoming Call
“Hey,” you rasp after a moment of panic, cradling your phone to an upturned ear.
“Hey. Did you drive me home?”
Fuck, his voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Mmhmm.”
“What the fuck. I don’t remember shit.”
“It’s okay.” You breathe through your nose as your eyes slip back shut. “You were exhausted.”
“Apparently. How did you get back?”
You sleepily rub your eyes, feeling a bit teasing this morning. “I walked.”
“What? You fuckin’ serious?”
“Yoongi, no,” you giggle. “I got a ride.”
After prolonged silence on the line, you wonder what could be going through his head. Did you mess up by driving him back? You don’t think so, but it could’ve crossed a line anyways. “Sorry if you didn’t want me driving your car.”
“Nah. I was gonna say thanks.”
“Oh.”
You hear a shuffling of activity and a slight jangling of keys.
“Did you really clear your day?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn. Sorry.”
“S’ok,” you say through a yawn. “Maybe I’ll actually job hunt now.”
“In person?“
A soft laugh puffs out of your mouth. “No, old man. On my laptop.”
“Mm. So that’s all?”
“I guess so. Hate to break it to you but I’m kinda boring.”
Yoongi’s snort is enough to make you smile.
“Not at all.”
“Maybe I can try a new boba place.”
“Do that. Do shit you want today.”
“I wanted to see you,” you whisper, the warmth from your blankets comfortable yet still no match for his embrace.
After a few seconds, you realize, “Well, I guess I technically did already.” This early revelation causes you to sleepily huff in triumph. “So. Win.”
You hear a faint chuckle in tandem with a door shut.
“So cute.”
“Nu uh.”
“Uh huh.”
You shut your eyes, feeling dreamland’s approach again. Yoongi’s saying something on the other line, but his words barely register in your current state.
“I can’t make any promises, doll.”
“Mm.”
“But I’ll make it up to you regardless.”
Afternoon sees the beginning of your day, your legs finally leaving the warmth of your sheets hours after your call.
With dread, you know today will crawl, which won’t fare well for someone in your position—someone that cleared their entire schedule for plans that didn’t come to fruition.
After you venture to your kitchen, you lean on your island and wonder what the hell to do.
What you should do and what you want to do are two completely different things. You should be job hunting like you mentioned to Yoongi, but why would you do something so soul-crushing on a Saturday? On a day that you were supposed to—supposedly—spend with him?
Eventually, you do end up trying that new boba place you heard about from one of your friends, meeting them for a few hours before seeing if Taehyung wanted to have a redemption movie date.
“Aren’t you supposed to be—”
“He’s busy, Tae,” you rush out before he can finish whatever the hell he was going to say. From your spot in the parking lot, you watch cars roll by and people amble the surrounding sidewalks with plastic cups and large straws.
“Doing what?”
“I dunno.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? He didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“That’s sus. I’m sorry.”
“Well,” you purse your lips while absentmindedly playing with your steering wheel. “I didn’t exactly ask, either.”
“Huh?”
God. You can picture the exact expression he has on his face right now.
“You are hopeless.”
“It just seems weird to ask!”
“Why?”
“We don’t know each other like that. I can’t bring myself to ask him any personal shit.”
“You can’t ask him about it? Or you don’t wanna know?”
You freeze, staring at your dashboard like you’ve just been caught. “Damn. Maybe.”
“Well. As long as you know what you’re doing.”
“Tae, I never know what I’m doing.”
“Lies.”
You start to inspect your recently manicured nails before tsking. “Well, if we aren’t gonna do the movie thing, I’ll figure something else out.”
“Yeah, we can. Just gotta be done by nine. I got that date tonight.”
“If only both of us were that lucky.”
“If you actually listened to me, maybe we would be.”
This time, the movie was a much more successful distraction from your thoughts. Taehyung kept his earlier promise of not prying, and the two of you instead had a film to praise instead of critique to the ground.
In fact, you were so into the whole thing that you completely missed an update from him.
Yoongi [7:20pm]: Free soon
Soon? Rechecking the time, you realize that it has been a long ass time since then. Weird.
Walking to your car, you slip a message into the thread before getting inside.
You [8:50pm]: Still busy?
He texts back a few minutes later. But that was three of the longest minutes of your life.
Yoongi [8:53pm]: Yeah
Worry eats away at you, and a million and one possibilities race through your mind, each one vying to be first to conclusions. Pulling into the street, you hope they all lose.
Fuck. You hate this feeling and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to fix it. Why can’t you be like Taehyung and just ask? Sure, getting money back is much different than dealing with Yoongi, but. Are you really that scared of what his answers to your questions would be? What exactly makes this so hard even though you know what he’s like?
Is it because, for a brief moment on that phone call weeks ago, that you felt special? Like you meant something to him?
As you fill your entryway with your dark cloud, you sigh. Grappling with all of your worries at once is incredibly draining and yet, you can’t do the one thing that would take care of most of them.
You want to believe that he’s legitimately busy. You need to. Goddamn, you’re an adult and so is he.
And if he’s actually with someone else and not telling you? Fuck him. Even if he’s Min Yoongi, you cannot let a guy give you this much grief.
Dumping yourself on your couch, you bury your face in the crook of your arm—mad with him, the world, but mostly yourself.
You wanna travel back in time.
Not too far. Just to the moment you both existed on the bleachers on that basketball court, before you were faced with the prospect of being just someone else he had on his schedule.
Yoongi: Incoming Call
Fuck, you answered faster than you could even process.
“Hi—”
“I hate when people can’t do their job.”
Holy crap. That came out of nowhere. Immediately, you’re sitting up. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Exasperation blows through the line.
“Long story. But I’m finally off. You want anything?”
Motherfucker.
Finally off. He was working.
What the fuck. Why the hell were you even worried? Why didn’t you just ask! What the hell is wrong with you? Why couldn’t you do something so damn simple?
You want to fucking cry.
Your lips quake when you reply, “I… I’m fine with anything.”
“What’s wrong, doll?”
“Nothing.” Your laugh is hollow and your throat is clogged. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Hanging your head, you hope your voice sounds neutral when you say, “Really, it’s stupid and I’m fine! It’s okay.”
Yoongi seems to make a decision after a second, and the way he says your name—not a nickname, not anything else—takes all the oxygen from your lungs.
“Where are you?”
“Home. If you need to go home, it’s okay—”
“Don’t. I’m on the way.”
The call abruptly ends after that, which leaves you sitting on your sofa with rain in your palms.
Yoongi sounded so exhausted, and now he has to deal with you. You feel absolutely awful for adding any unnecessary stress to his day, and you already feel some tears slipping through your fingers.
God, you’re so fucking frustrated. Why didn’t you do literally anything else today except worry? You could’ve run errands, job hunted like you needed to, or at least been as productive as he apparently was. Now you just feel regretful and useless.
Yoongi texts you a good handful of minutes later, and you swipe away your tears before heading to the front.
You vow to put on a happy face when you swing the door open but holy fuck he’s in jeans and a white tee and you’re suddenly spellbound. His wild hair distracts you to the point that you don’t even realize that he’s shutting the door instead of you.
Gripping the back of your head, he forces you to look him in the eye, the wood banging closed before he questions,
“Were you worried?”
You tense before slowly nodding.
Yoongi darts his eyes between yours. “How long?”
“I…” Your eyelids slip shut with resignation. “Since basketball.”
Yoongi lets go of your neck, and you blink to see him looking into the house behind you, gnawing on his bottom lip and inhaling deep.
You wonder what he’s thinking, what lies behind that hardened expression on his face.
Is he upset with you for worrying? Does he think he made a mistake making any sort of plans with someone like you?
He’s muttering something under his breath, but his voice is so gravelly and deep that you can’t make out a single word.
It’s a drawn-out moment before he finally moves again, slinging his arms around your neck with a sigh and pressing his forehead against yours. His voice sounds like nighttime when he softly asks,
“You seeing anyone?”
You blink. “No.”
“Same.” He moves to press his lips to your temple. “Been dodging shit since the night you called.”
You feel your lips tremble. What a fucking idiot you’ve been.
Though stress is already slipping off your shoulders in clumps, you can’t help but point out with a clogged throat, “That was two weeks ago.”
“And?”
You inhale his scent, closing your eyes and berating yourself again for jumping to so many conclusions. “I dunno. Just feels like awhile for you.”
You feel rather than see Yoongi’s mouth curve up as he huffs out a short breath. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Mm.” You shrug. “I don’t have any new evidence.”
It’s after this that he props up your chin, his eyes already creased behind loose orange locks. “Smartass.”
Your smile is rueful at best, and you hate how fucking obvious you were to him. Yoongi probably thinks you’re pathetic.
But he doesn’t harbor any pity in his face as he reiterates, “I told you. All you have to do is ask. If you’re thinking something, say it.”
For the first time, it’s your turn to look away.
Taehyung’s words echo in your mind, and his advice coupled with Yoongi’s insistence finally breaks the dam in your mouth. Everything you’ve been wanting to say surges out in waves as you take a step back.
“I just— I dunno. I don’t wanna pry with you because I don’t know you like that yet. And the other day, Tae said something about you acting weird lately and maybe you found a regular or whatever and I just— I‘ve just been so…” You sigh as your gaze falls to your feet. “You keep telling me to tell you stuff, but I barely get anything from you. And that’s whatever, I guess. It’s not like... I mean. It just feels one-sided.”
Well. The confidence certainly wasn’t there, but at least you got it all out. Taehyung would have to at least give you a pat on the back for your efforts and, though you may not also score a free movie date, you feel damn accomplished.
Even though, from the looks of things, you may have just put distance between you and the man that shamelessly came to your house while your brother is gone. Twice.
Fuck.
Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, face full of shadows and conflict. You don’t know what else to do except wait, so you do, hoping that you didn’t ruin anything.
But he just looks at you before a resigned whoosh of air leaves his nose. “Get your stuff.”
“What?”
Yoongi tilts his head towards your room. “Your stuff.” He quickly exhales before continuing, “I’ll tell you everything in the car.”
“Oh,” you breathe, anticipation bubbling furiously as you regard him one more time. “You sure?”
“Go, doll.”
It doesn’t take you long to grab your things, especially since you didn’t unpack what you already put together the night before but never used. You hope the backpack isn’t too conspicuous, planning on using your laptop as the top excuse for that big of a bag.
But the walk to his car is quiet and charged, and it isn’t until you’re a few blocks out that Yoongi finally decides to talk.
“You remember Kook?”
Huh?
That isn’t how you expected things to start, especially if it’s who you think he’s referring to.
Sucking in a breath, you clarify, “Kook? …Jungkook?”
“Yeah.”
Yes.
Yes, you do.
You remember Jungkook very well.
“Mmhmm,” is all you can say, voice in the tiniest font possible. Looking out the window, you refocus your vision to see the reflection of your worry instead of the passing scenery.
“Well, he runs a studio here now. Downtown.”
You swallow. While you know a lot of things about the guy, you didn’t know this bit. “Oh. That’s dope.”
“That’s where I’ve been.”
You snap wide eyes to him, stunned by multiple things. One, a name you didn’t expect to hear come up. And two, the fact that Yoongi’s even telling you this.
Yes, the conversations have been a bit one-sided, but it’s not like the two of you are even a thing. Hell, you’ve barely seen each other and it’s almost been a whole year since you first approached him.
Technically, he doesn’t owe you any explanations at all.
So the fact that Yoongi—a very private person—is willing to share something about his life just to erase any worries you have, makes you feel things you don’t want to feel right now. Never mind the Jungkook thing. Looking back, you’re shocked that he didn’t just bounce after your mini rant. How did you even end up in his car after that?
“Oh…” is all you can say, again. “That explains the music stuff.”
“Kinda,” Yoongi says, low. “But anyway, I was a nobody when I got there. Then some shit went down and now it’s just me and two other people, so. I got work out the ass.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.”
“That’s not it.” He runs long fingers through his fiery hair, and you’re temporarily distracted by the clinking of his bracelets. “We got a project deadline that I highly doubt we’ll make. Even if we go nonstop everyday for the next week.”
“When’s the deadline?”
“The dude needs his files by next Friday.”
“Shit. Why am I even coming over?”
The trip to his place is short, his car already rolling up to his apartment. “Don’t worry about that. I’m peacing out early tomorrow,” he proclaims before hoisting himself out.
“What!” You don’t even see him rounding the car when you shove your door open, eyes wide and mouth hung open.
“That’s the plan,” he confirms after a few steps, disappearing around the corner that hides his place from the parking lot.
Padding quickly after him, you refuse with every step, “No no. Hell no. You shouldn’t do that just because of me.”
He shoots a quick smirk your way before moving to unlock his door. “It’s for me, too, doll. I’m fuckin’ beat.”
As you’re greeted by his dark apartment, your whispers pass the threshold with your sagging shoulders. “Yoongi… I’m sorry for bothering you with all this. I’ve been so stupid.”
“Nah. This is on me. I could’ve just told you.”
Shucking off your bag and placing it next to your shoes with a thump, you assure him—because you really feel the need to—with a whisper, “You can, you know. You can tell me things any time. I mean it.”
Yoongi just huffs out of his nose before looking away, his tiredness accentuated by faint moonlight seeping through nearby blinds. “It’s all bullshit. I don’t wanna bother you with it.”
“You’re not.” It’s your turn to take his face in your hands. And the action stuns you just as much as him. “I feel like you’re keeping a lot of stuff to yourself and that’s not healthy. Obviously I’m the last one to talk, but. I know what that feels like. It sucks.”
There’s a bit of settled silence after your last word dissipates. In the dark of the room, all you can see is his white shirt, now a faint blue.
Did you say too much? Offer something you shouldn’t have?
Well. He can deal. After witnessing the self-destruction of your day in real time, you meant every word.
Yoongi finally moves, slowly sliding a hand over one of yours. His voice seeps out like honey when he asks, “Think you’re so smart, huh?”
“No. I’m an idiot.”
He laughs.
“But I mean it.” You press your fingers around his jawline a bit tighter, willing your intentions to transfer right into his mind. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”
His eyes search your face, and you feel like you can wait forever to hear his answer. It’s the second time you see something besides confidence in his face, and it makes you scared and content and something else you can’t quite place.
So when he lowers his gaze to your lips and tells you to just fucking kiss him, you smash your mouth on his before he even gets the words out.
The next batch of seconds is a whirlwind, both of you stumbling with purpose to his room. Every time you try to look into the darkness to see where you’re going, your jaw is gripped and your lips are claimed. Over and over and over. Your breath caressing his mouth; his groans invading your throat—everything is happening at once and comes to a head as your back connects with his door.
A groan rips from your throat before a satisfied laugh follows, and the twist in sounds causes Yoongi to pause on his way to grip his doorknob.
You aim a look of question his way, but he simply hums in amusement before diving to your neck, scorching your skin with his saliva and pent-up frustrations.
“Yoongi,” you whine, gripping his shirt and tugging him impossibly close to you like you did in your own entryway. And once you say his name, it’s the only thing you chant, even while he yanks his door open and during your rushed fall onto his bed.
He quickly follows suit, smothering your body lovely and capturing your lips once more. With a passing thought, you notice that he’s much quieter this time, not having said a single word since you started.
Holy fuck, you’re here again. Excitement cannot even begin to describe the way you feel, for what exists in your chest feels much too intense for any known language.
As Yoongi brings a hand up to grip the bottom of your shirt, you feel a wave of shakes overcome you—shakes that have been kept dormant for almost a year. Pure want is what causes your hands to grab his tee in reply, and your voice is heavy with pleas,
“Yoongi… I missed…”
“Mm.”
“So much.”
He kisses the side of your mouth—rough—before shoving your legs open and pressing himself against your center. Though he still doesn’t respond with words, his answer is very, truly loud.
And when he straightens into a kneel to yank his shirt off, it is then that you notice glints of moonlight around his neck.
Oh, fuck. How did you not feel those chains at all?
Yoongi doesn’t give you time to ponder, grabbing your shirt and pulling it up until you adjust yourself for its removal. It’s quickly flung to join his before he’s reaching around to unhook your bra, using one hand while digging the other into his mattress.
As your bare chest is claimed by hot lips, you decide that you like both Yoongi’s—both the talkative and the silent. While the talkative Yoongi brought out the beautifully dark parts of you, the silent Yoongi allows you to simply feel without thoughts. Only the sounds of your lust burst around the bed, a symphony with the rustling of your discarded pants and rumpling of soft sheets. It’s still passionate; it’s still toe-curling; it’s still volcanic.
Lost in throes of pleasure, your body relies purely on instinct, legs sliding along his body and your hands hastily searching for anything to grip. When your fingers find the chains sliding along your sternum, the deep chuckle that rumbles above you is full of mischief.
Finally, Yoongi speaks to simply make fun of you. “Adorable.”
You don’t get to reply, though. Because this is the moment he decides to cup you through your underwear, growling with furrowed brows, “Holy fuck.”
No matter what, this part will always embarrass you. The way you’re so easily affected by the man crushing you with the best burden you could ask for. Igniting under your skin, you try to hide your smile with a lip bite, but Yoongi only laughs, slow.
“So fucking wet.”
You flinch at his sudden swirling movements, shutting your eyes in pure instinct and sighing up to his fiery locks. “Just for… Just for you.”
Instead of stripping your last piece of clothing, Yoongi does something that has your head spinning off its axis—pushing the material aside and sliding his fingers up your slick folds.
You jolt upward. “Fuck! Oh, my god.”
Laugh full of smugness, Yoongi replies, “I knew you’d like this. Dirty girl.”
Holy shit. You knew that you missed his fingers, especially being where they are. But what’s happening now blows your expectations to pieces.
It feels so different. Why does it feel so much dirtier? Why are you absolutely loving this? You’re envisioning other scenarios where Yoongi would do this same exact thing, your head clouding more with every single one.
And when he admits something, your hands leave his jewelry to grip the sheets around you instead.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for months.”
“Oh, fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back as he softly caresses your clit.
“Every fucking time I saw you.”
Another teasing flick of his thumb.
“Wanted to get you in every room and make you scream.”
You finally whine with frustration, unable to take it anymore. The coil in your belly is already twisting incredibly tight. You need more. More more more and if you don’t get it you’re going to combust. “Yoongi! Oh, fuck—Please, I need you.”
“Not yet, baby girl,” he responds, “You’re gonna come around my fingers so I can lick’em clean.”
“Yoongi!”
“Fuck, you feel so good.”
Fuck! More.You need more.
But Yoongi starts to insert his digits into your cunt and your mind blanks. You repeat his name like a mantra, digging the back of your head into his mattress.
“That’s it, doll,” he encourages, “Fuck, you take these so well.”
“Yoongi, please…”
“Uh uh.”
You throw your head to the side, limbs locking as your body rocks on his fingers. “Please,” you beg, “I want— I need you inside.”
Immediately, Yoongi stops altogether. “You sure?”
“Yes! Oh my god, yes.”
“Say less.”
There’s a complete switch in both your movements when he finally realizes what you really want and need. His chains swing from his neck as he leans to grab a condom from his nightstand, but your hands grab at his chest instead of the weighty strings of silver.
“Please,” you keep whispering, raking your nails along his skin and pulling a groan from his throat. “Please.”
After he deftly tears the wrapper, Yoongi puffs mirth onto your awaiting form. “I like this part of you.”
“What part?”
“Impatient ass.”
“Shut up!”
He grins before caging you in again, aligning himself with your cunt and making you tense your legs around him.
It’s what you’ve been wanting ever since leaving that day, and from Yoongi’s face, you’d like to think he feels the same.
He looks at you, silent, waiting for your cue. And just like before, the same feeling blooms in your chest while butterflies take flight into your fingertips, raising them to slightly tug on a necklace while nodding.
Your eyes almost roll all the way into your head when Yoongi pushes your panties to the side, insistent on keeping them on while fucking you. Goddamn, you’re finding out new shit you like again. How he’s able to provide these sexual revelations, you can’t fathom but don’t want to question.
The intrusion still has its initial discomfort, but your cunt adjusts to accommodate him, fluttering fast and milking him after seconds.
A deep groan falls from his lips. “So tight.”
Nodding, you offer your own observation, “Big. Very big.”
A half wince-half laugh leaves his mouth, and his jaw works in concentration, brows knitting and teeth biting his bottom lip.
“Oh, my god.” You throw your head back for the upteenth time, hands coming up to grip his arms. “This feels so good.”
“Fuck, baby.”
Breathing hard, you start to tilt your hips, impatience and lust fueling your order, “Fuck me. Fuck me, Yoongi.”
You don’t get a reply—just the long thrust of his dick before he launches into a frantic pace.
Fuck! You see stars. You’re launched into the sky. You don’t know time from space as your head gets closer and closer to his headboard, your pelvis constantly getting smacked by his rough pounding.
“So fucking—Fuck!”
Yoongi grabs one of your legs and slings it over his shoulder, pushing himself incredibly deep and making you whine impossibly high. The new angle has him hitting a spot that has your vision blanking, and holy shit it’s impossible how close you are.
How? What’s wrong with you? How are you about to come?
“Yoongi, I’m—I’m so close already—”
“Goddamn, I feel you. Lemme feel it, babe.”
“So fast—”
His voice dips when he growls, “I love it. Fucking do it.”
You can barely hear what he says next, but your body still reacts as if it understands.
Filth. Absolute filth. It has to be. Words and names that you want him to say louder but are too embarrassed to tell him. Phrases that you want him to say right to your face.
But just him muttering it is enough for you, and you gasp as euphoria overcomes you, shaking you from your core and rattling your bones. Waves crash against your proverbial shore and the undercurrents take you simultaneously, and your trembling leaks into your moans,
“Fuck! Yoongi!”
“That’s it, babe. Fuck!”
He keeps pounding into you through your high, tightening your core enough for you to snap again around him, gushing around his cock and straining the muscles in your neck. An outright groan tears from your throat, and the ceiling feels strangely close for a few seconds before you thump back down onto the bed.
Just like last time, Yoongi follows right after. “Oh fuck, I’m—”
“You gonna come, too—”
“Fuck. Turn over. Lemme see this ass.”
The urgency in his voice spurns you into action. Though you’ve never done this before, you let your body take over, twisting yourself and lifting your butt from the mattress. The wet sound of the condom snapping off hits your ears and, before you can anticipate what this will feel like, your underwear is tugged to your thighs before hot spurts coat your skin. Quickly, a wet hand grips one of your plump cheeks, making you moan into the pillow smothering your sudden shyness.
“Fuck,” Yoongi grits through his teeth as you hear his fingers slide along his cock. “Goddamn.”
You feel like it should be awkward, or at least strange to be in this position.
But it’s not.
You don’t know if it’s because you’re satiated, or if it’s because of who you’re with, but you find that you don’t mind this at all. The only uncomfortable thing that you feel is a bit of draft from the open bedroom door.
A sweaty hand slides along the curve of your ass before patting its side, and you hear a sigh above you.
“So perfect.”
You bury your forehead further down, not knowing what to do other than wait and wonder how you’re gonna get all of his essence off of you.
“One sec. Don’t move.”
Oh. He’s gonna do it.
It’s not long before you feel a soft towel swipe everything from your back, and the care in his movements makes you both happy and incredibly, embarrassingly shy. You would think that Yoongi’s wiping a vinyl with how tender he’s treating your damp skin.
As he slides a hand over you to see if he missed anything, you sigh, “That went way too fast.”
A chuckle. “What, never did a quickie before?”
You have. But you never came during those. You have never come that fast in your goddamn life. “I mean, in a bedroom, though?”
“Happens.”
Maybe for him, you muse with a huff.
But with every fuck in his room comes the next step. The soft kick you’re anticipating with a heavy chest.
So much for an hour tops. You’re pretty sure that only lasted—
Yoongi playfully slaps your ass, the shock of the motion jolting you forward.
“Ow! Rude!”
A laugh. “You can move now.”
With a huff, you force your body up and slide your feet down to the ground, teetering side to side as you make your way to the bathroom with a stretched pair of panties.
When you’re done, you fully expect Yoongi to be up to walk you out. You got what you came for, just like the last time, and you know what to expect next.
However, that’s not what you see. Instead, he’s lying back on his bed in a simple tee and sweats, feet planted on the ground and eyes closed shut.
Shit. Do you wake him? Do you initiate the kick and find a ride again?
Lamenting the amount you’re spending on ride apps alone, another thought enters your post-sex mind.
Does he still need to eat?
From the phone call and getting context to his day, it seemed like Yoongi didn’t get to do anything else but work. Hopefully he did sneak a meal in, but if he didn’t, that can’t be good.
You go over to him after putting on the only change of clothes you brought. Placing a palm on his shoulder, you give him a light shake. “Yoongi?”
“Hmm.”
“You should eat.”
His brows move before he responds, voice heavy with sleep and disappointment. “Shit. I didn’t get food for you.”
For you? That’s what he’s worried about right now? Your chest swells while your stomach grumbles. “Don’t worry about me. I can order something. Or make something if I can use your kitchen real quick.”
Another breath. Another pause.
“Course you can.”
Smiling light, you gently pat him. “Okay. Get in bed, dummy.” Slowly but surely, you get him into a sitting position before making him stand, melting at the furrowed brows and second pout you get in return.
He looks so much younger when he does that. It’s so out of his normal character that you can’t help but be endeared. “This is the second time I’m tucking you in. Does this always happen?”
“Mmph.”
After a small struggle, you guide him to lie down on the side of the bed you think he uses, the one closer to his bathroom. It seems to work, and he thumps down onto his pillow without any further arguments.
Another grateful smile carves itself into your features when you think about everything that happened tonight.
Yoongi was obviously so exhausted—again—and yet…
Not only did he reveal things about his personal life, he made sure you knew he wasn’t seeing anyone. Not only did he put up with your mountain of insecurities, he made sure you got the point by bringing you into his bed again.
You shake your head.
Even if he doesn’t mind your outstanding ability to worry and overthink, you know it’s going to frustrate you until you can get it under some fucking control.
It’s with a vow to do so that you start to walk away.
But before you even go, a hand catches your wrist.
Your eyes snap downward as you tense, wondering how Yoongi knew you were still there. Isn’t he asleep?
“Sorry.”
You blink. “For what?”
“Making…” A soft exhale. “Making you worry.”
Warmth blooms in your chest, gently searing the edges of your surrounding bones. “That’s just me being me,” you whisper, though you’re touched that he’s even apologizing.
Yeah, he didn’t tell you anything, but you get it now. How can he know what you’re feeling if you don’t say anything? How would he really know what you want if you don’t ask?
If you’re going to do this… whatever, with him, you can’t keep having days like today. Can’t keep driving yourself into the ground with conclusions when all you need to do is ask.
Yoongi’s voice is so, so low when he responds, “You shouldn’t ever need to.”
Understanding coats your face as you tenderly take his fingers from your arm.
With the conversation over, you know what you have to do next. Because you’re not exclusive. You’re not different from everyone else that’s been in his bed. There aren’t any special privileges that come with tucking him in. No overthinking about that.
With a big breath, you say goodbye.
“I’ll go, okay? I’ll just make something when I get home. I know you don’t like people st—”
“Don’t.”
Time freezes.
“What?”
Slowly turning back to face him, you watch for any hint of mistake in his face. What did he say? Did he even mean to cut you off?
After a rise and fall of his shoulders, you feel your heart stop when the last thing Yoongi says before slumber takes him is a soft, genuine,
“Stay.”
-
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-
tbc. :)
A/N: HELLO! thank you so much for reading and for all the support thus far. i know this chapter was so jam packed with stuff, but now you know why i had to split the weekend up into two parts lol. did i write close to 2k of this while waiting in lines at disney? yes. LOL and yeah, i know about the angst. but don’t worry. 3tan5 will make up for it :) also, if you’re new to the 3tan fam, happy to have you !! it’s chaotic here but it’s a hell of a time :D
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A/N 2: AHHH OK SO. hello?? the amount of times i wanted to scream about stuff in this part bc of things that kept coming up while i was finishing it sdklfjdsk like. everyone guessing the hair color? guessing what jimin’s appearance would be? yoongi freaking posting STUDIO PICS ON IG? LMAO i wanted to say so much but i had to just sit here and keep everything to myself so that it would all be a surprise. hope you all enjoyed!!
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feedback box:
⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think!
⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D
⇥ here!
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⇥ masterlist
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up next..... stay (the weekend, pt. 2) :’)))
#ITS HERE#bts#bts fic#bts imagines#bts reactions#yoongi#yoongi angst#yoongi smut#yoongi x reader#bts fanfic#bangtanbathhouse#bangtansorciere#houseofddaeng#dailydaegu#fanfic#*ryenfictalk#ryenwrites#*latest#3tan4#i can't wait to hear what you all think !!
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dom meian shugo>>>
*inhales real deep before furiously typing*
— dom! meian + leg humping + orgasm denial + rough face grabbing + hair pulling + man handling + dacryphilia + mean! meian + meian calls reader ‘bunny’ + bratty! reader + reader regrets being bratty + f! reader
— word count; 1.6k
you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there- he told you to wait for him, he was tired- tired from practice and the stress that came with rounding up bouncy men all day.
maybe you knew what would happen, usually his punishments were enough to leave you on the brink of unconsciousness due to the sheer want. but now, as you crawled over to him, watching him splayed out on the couch, head tilted back, dark eyebrows furrowed- there was no way you’d control yourself and not touch him.
he didn’t notice the soft shuffling of you making your way over, fitting /so/ easy inbetween the space of his long, thick legs. he was so big, dwarfed your body completely, it made you salivate while you looked up at his relaxed face.
a shaky hand came up to rest against his thigh, and he jumped slightly. didn’t react in any other way, simply relaxing once more. your eyebrows furrowed, wanting him to at least look at you, wanting him to ask you what you were doing.
but he didn’t move.
with a huff, you continued your journey to the bump of his flaccid cock.
it wounded your pride a little when he didn’t react to your fingers curling over his dick, the give of his athletic shorts helped you tug on him.
“m-meian.” you called out softly, and all he responded with was a quirk of his brow, eyes still closed. there wasn’t even a reaction from his dick, no jump or pulse against your ministrations- a whiny cry of desperation left your lips, and you tugged your hand away-
tried to anyways. his hand immediately shot down to wrap completely around your wrist (and then some), the grumble of his voice started deep in his chest.
“nuh uh bunny- told you i was tired, gotta work extra hard for me tonight.”
it soothed the sting of it just a little, but you still whined, still tried to pull away, pouty with the feeling of not being payed enough attention.
it was the worst thing you could have done. his eyes shooting open and dark eyes flitting down to look at you. the shuffling of his body startled you, it was nearly frightening how he straightened himself up, towering over you.
“no? are you saying no?” he tugged once- the brute and his stupid strength tumbled you close to him, knocking you forward and on all fours. with wide eyes you shook your head, unable to form any words, all moisture booking it from your mouth to down and between your legs.
his other hand grabbed your face, tilting it left and right- inspecting his pretty baby, wondering exactly what had gotten into you.
“you know the rules against not using your words bunny, tell me what happens when you don’t use your words.”
with shaky words you recalled what exactly happens.
“d-don’t get your cock.” you shivered, words messy with the way he still held onto your face, fingers digging into the fat of your cheeks.
it hurt to say it, you weren’t usually a brat- nearly never was, you loved him too much.
seeing your lower lip tremble, eyes watering /already/- it softened his hold and gaze, sighing before he released you.
“yeah- ‘ts what bad girls get... but you’re not a bad girl, are you bunny?”
“no! not a bad girl...”
your eager response made him smile, canines on display as his handsome face morphed into a wolffish grin.
he sat back once more, obviously pleased. there was nothing better than seeing you correct yourself, proving how good he was at putting you in your place when you acted up, the remnants of those punishment still sent a shock of fear down your body. he could see you tremble.
ah- maybe he would let you cum ‘round his cock. couldnt help but feel soft at watching your pretty eyes get wet with tears.
“that’s right.” he groaned, rolling his shoulders back- arms coming up to rest against the back of the couch, hips jutting forward. just by the movement you could see his dick jump- it made you whimper involuntarily.
he’d made you so cock hungry for him, you’d resorted to acting like an animal for just a taste.
“since you’re not a bad girl, but a very dumb and naughty one-“ meian sighed, watching you and your desperation, he stretched out his leg, eyes moving over to stare down at it, “i’ll let you fuck my leg.”
just this was enough to make you cry out in appreciation, eagerly nodding and already sitting up to plant yourself on his thigh-
“uh uh bunny, i said my leg.” he stops you, the outstretched placement of his leg now makes sense.
it was embarrassing, humiliating- the thought of rubbing yourself over him like this like an animal... but you’d take anything you’d get, wanting to make him proud and happy.
it didn’t take long for you to settle over his leg, splitting your cunt against the mass of bone and muscle, each pathetic rub and drag barely brought any pleasure, but you continued on, shaking and babbling out strings of his name and pleads for him to touch you- to make you cum, to split you on his long, long and fat cock.
the swelling of his cock in his athletic shorts made you all the more desperate, it swelled and stood proudly- straining against the stretchy material, so big and proud and delicious.
seeing your mouth open and puffing out sharp little pleads of his name, all the while your hands wrapped around the back of his thigh- clawing at the thickness and muscle (trying to) bring him closer made him smile,
“good bunny, gunna cum?” he wonders out loud, knowing that you’re weak and tired.
you’re close, it takes longer than usual, longer than what it would have taken if he had just fucked you- but you can taste the sweet release, an obscene sound of wet stickiness echoes in the room, all from your folds parting over and over against the hard line of bone, sweat beading at your temple in effort.
“shūgo! g-gunna- gunna!” you cry, hips stilling on an upstroke of your canting hips, trying to smash your clit down onto his leg, cunt and tummy clenching as a sweltering heat travels down your tummy and-
it’s gone.
it’s gone because his leg is pulled from under you, near orgasming body pitching forward with it- you keep the twitch, keep the contracting muscles trying to tip you over the edge, but you don’t keep the grip you had.
he catches you, holding the softness right under the swell of your chest, tugging you up, up and up.
“sorry bunny-“ he grumbles, large hand sweeps sweat slicked hair from your face, kissing you tenderly, trying to bring you back from it all, “but fuck,” he hisses, settling your drooling cunt right over his cock- “don’t like the idea of you cumin’ anywhere other than on me.”
he’s a mean man- selfish and strong. there’s no effort in how he moves you, rough and calloused hands tug your own, smaller ones onto broad shoulders.
“please.” you whimper, trying to find dexterity back into your tongue. meian simply coos, reaching down and pulling the waistband of his shorts down, your cunt keeping his cock from slapping up against his tummy.
“i know, bunny- i know.” he says it honestly, feeling how you shake, not used to working for your orgasms- too spoiled by him.
by sheer muscle memory he slides your bottoms to the side- cute little sleeping shorts, barely anything against your puffy cunt.
the daze you feel suddenly clears when he pushes his cock in- one swift stroke and starts bouncing you. working your body into a brutalizing pace- he didn’t look tired, not while his bulging biceps and tense forearms moved you up and down, grunting at every pass of your tightness over the throbbing vein running down his dick.
“yeah- my cute little bunny always takes your cock so well.” he mutters out to no one in particular, you’re certainly not listening with how your head is tilted back, screaming over and over calls of his name and just shrill mewls.
he leaves a tight and hot grip on your hip with one hand, the other curling into your hair- sharply bringing your head back to look at him, he’d give you a love tap if he could, but didn’t think you’d have the strength to keep the nice pace he’s set.
“cum-“ meian spits- moving your head so that your wet and crossed eyes look into his direction, “cum right now or you’re not at all.”
there was no way you wouldn’t listen to him- whole body clenching, pulsing as a white light passed over your eyes, cunt nearly squeezing him out of you.
your cum was displaced by his cock, a translucent creaminess falling into a ring around the base of him, aiding in the nasty sound of wet squelching.
“sh-shū-shūgo.” you cry pathetically, hiccuping as the jolting of your body breaks any and all vowels tumbling from your lips.
he can’t help but to cum at the sight of it- shivering, spearing you down to paint every inch of your gummy walls with his cum.
his grunts sound so good, so low, barely a register you can hear- but you definitely feel.
the way he holds you down gives you a small mercy, both of you panting out wet puffs of air.
“t-thank you.” you whisper, aftershocks of pulsing squeezes against him- you look up at him, pick your tilting head to look at him with tired, questioning eyes- chest squeezing at feeling the still rock hard cock inside you.
he grins at you once more- looking like an animal, a predator.
“what? you think your captain’s that tired bunny?” meian huffs, tugging your plaint body onto his chest-
“no- i’m gunna stuff you full, this is your punishment baby.”
hips buck off the couch, balls slapping heavy onto your ass- squirming body held down by his muscled arms.
any thoughts of rebuttal, any noise of complaint dried up in your throat- as far as punishments went, well,
this was your favorite.
#meian#meian shugo#meian smut#haikyuu smut#meian x reader#meian x reader smut#meian x you#meian x y/n#haikyuu x reader smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#smut#one shot#requests
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Obey Me + Jealousy
prompt: The Demon Brothers don’t like that you’re spending time with your best friend in the human world. Loosely based off this prompt done previously.
Lucifer
It had been a long time since you had been up to the human world. Even longer since you had seen your best friend. You were so excited to see them! Laughing. Telling old inside stories. Catching up on gossip.
Although you were having a great time in the human world, your escort for the day did not seem to be enjoying all your world had to offer.
In order to get ‘top side’ Lucifer had to come with you. He was the only one able to open the portal there and back, and insisted on coming with you to keep you safe. You felt the need to remind him that the Devildom was the actual dangerous place, but it would take longer than just letting him come.
Now you kind of wish you had taken the time to argue. He was really being a major downer the whole day.
“Are you ok? You seem irritated.” Or, well, more irritated than usual.
“No. I’m fine.” Lucifer replied. Although not lending any credibility to the statement. “I’m just thinking of all the more useful things I could be doing with my time.”
You frown at his flip comment. “If you don’t want to be here, then you can leave. No one is making you stay here.”
“Fine. Since you seem so entertained by your little friend to pay any attention to me, perhaps it is best if I do head home.”
You blink a little at Lucifer’s statement. It was cold, and once again flip, as usual. But you were surprised he mentioned your friend. “Lucifer, are you jealous I’m spending time with them?”
The demon rebuttaled with a surprised look before he frowned at you. “I am not jealous.”
“Really? Cause it seems like your-“I am not jealous!” He repeated, louder and sterner this time. He let that moment linger there before he sighed and looked away with his arms cross. “I am….perhaps irritated to be ignored.”
‘Right, so, totally jealous.’ You think to yourself. But have the good sense to keep that thought to yourself alone. You suppose you could see where he was coming from. It’s hard to be the odd man out when you and your friends get together. Being so proud and prominent in the demon world, this is probably the first time it had happened to Lucifer.
“I’m sorry if you’re feeling left out. I’ll try to be more inclusive.”
“No. You’re right.” Lucifer remarked. Finally looking back at you with a much softer expression. “It’s foolish of me to think I can take all of your time. You deserve some moments of your own. I shouldn’t have intruded.” His hand reached out to cup your cheek, while offering you the faintest of smiles. “I will leave, but not because I’m angry. I want you to spend time with your friend and enjoy it, which would be best when I’m not around. Just call me when you’re ready to come home and I’ll come fetch you.” He released your cheek and took a step back. Smiling at you again before he disappeared.
You wonder, briefly, if he could feel your heart swelling with pride after you left. To think a small human like you could make the great Lucifer jealous.
Mammon
There were a lot of things you loved about Mammon.
His spontaneity. His zest for life. How nothing ever seemed to get him down for too long.
However, it was hard to remember all those good qualities when he was behaving so poorly all day.
“Mammon! Can you knock it off?!”
“What?! I’m just standing here. I’m not good enough at standing here for ya now!” The demon barked back. Not matching your whisper tone at all.
“That’s not what I said, and you know it. You’ve been a jerk all day and I’d like you to cut it out.”
“Oh, so now I’m a jerk! Well sorry sweetheart but I’m a demon. We’re not ‘upposed to be nice and friendly all the time. Sometimes we get ta be jerks!”
“Good lord, say it a little bit louder Mammon!” You hiss back at him letting practically the whole world, or at least this park, know he was a demon.
Mammon tsked his teeth and turned away from you. “Can’t do anything right.” He muttered. “Why don’t you go hang out with your friend then, if I’m such a jerk? You two seem ta be having a grand ol’ time on your own with me here. Shouldn’t make much of a difference if I’m gone.” He said before crossing his arms in a huff.
“Is that what this is about?” You ask. Ignoring his little out burst (because when he gets this way it’s just best to ignore him). “You’re mad that I’m spending time with my friend and not you?”
“No!” Yes. Totally yes.
“Mammon are you jealous?”
The demon floundered comically at the question, his mouth opening & closing like a fish as he tried to find words, before he answered. “I am not jealous!!” Great come back. “The Great Mammon does not get jealous! Ya hear! I’m just pissed because you’re spending all this time with them when I’m the one who schlepped all the way up here for ya, and used my connections to get us top side!” He turned away again and recrossed his arms. Then he muttered under his breath, “it was just supposed to be you and me today, for once.”
A sigh left you lips, and you step closer to Mammon to place your hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your plans. I was just excited to see my friend. It’s been so long. Plus I wanted you to meet them so I can show you off. You are my first after all.”
Those blue gold eyes got a little wide, and Mammon blushed, before he gulped once and refocused himself. “Y-Y-Yeah! Of course. Ya should be proud to show me off. It’s not everyone who gets to be seen with an all-powerful demon like me. If anyone is ‘jealous’ it should be everyone else for not having the Great Mammon by their side!”
“Of course,” you agree with a giggle. Before you lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m lucky to have you.”
“D-Don’t ya forget it!”
Levi
“Hey, [Y/N]-chan, I think I’m gonna head home.”
You look up from your soda at Levi, who was fidgeting beside you after he spoke. “What? Why? I thought you were having fun.”
“Yeah, no. No I mean….you seem like your having fun with your friend so I don’t want to bother you. 3 is a crowd.”
“Levi, that’s not true. You’re not bothering us. I just wanted to spend sometime with my bff while we’re in town.”
“No. I get it. Who would want to hang out with a crummy otaku like me.”
“Levi, that’s not what I said. I do want to hang out with you!”
“But you have your normie friend.” Levi looked past you at the friend in question. “Look at them. Being out, talking to people like a regular person. I can never do that. You should go on without me and leave me here. You seem much happier with them anyway.”
“Levi…come on. That isn’t—” Your train of thought stops itself as it came to a sudden, and abrupt realization. “Levi, are you jealous?”
The blue haired demon responded with his trademark ‘eehhh??’ at the question, and quickly covered his face with is arm. “O-O-Of course not!” He exclaimed. Barely hiding the blush on his cheeks. “Who would be jealous of a normie?? I just I…I mean you…Y-You seem so happy with them [Y/N]-chan. A sad otaku like me can never make you that happy. So it’s just bumming me out!”
You offer Levi a soft smile, then move to squat down in front of him. “True. I am happy when I hang out with my friends. But I’m happy when I hang out with you too. No one can gush about anime with me like you can.” You reassure him. He was the Avatar of Envy after all. What did you expect?
The demon slowly poked his head out from under his arm. “Really?”
“Of course. It’s…not really a side of myself I get to show to people. They think I’m weird. But with you, I can be that part of myself. That’s the part that you have Levi.”
His face turned bright red all over again, and Levi sat there for a moment before he quickly shook his head. “D-Don’t say stuff like that [Y/N]-chan! Don’t make me fall for your normie trap!”
You giggle and stand up again to offer Levi your hand. “Come on. Lets find something we can all do together. The Cineplex is playing some old action movies we can go and make fun of.”
“Oooo! Which ones??”
The distraction of old movies to riff on, and for Levi to share all his in-depth knowledge on, was a welcome alternative for the afternoon. He even had a spirited debate with your best friend on the concepts of CGI graphics vs old school ‘cut & paste’ cinematography. Crisis on planet Earth avoided.
Satan
It was always fun to come back to the human world. Especially with Satan.
Not that you didn’t enjoy spending time with the others, but most of them could be a little....energetic. It was nice to spend a calm afternoon with the 4th brother alone for a change.
You both had stopped in a local coffee shop you loved when you ran into an old friend. You hadn't seen them in so long that you got to talking and eventually invited them to join your table. Where you had been laughing and having a grand time for a while now.
Or so you thought.
Satan hadn’t said a word the whole time you were at the table. Which was necessarily odd. He wasn’t a big talker like some of his brothers. However, you could tell that something was wrong with the way he kept stirring his cup, or how his jaw clenched ever now and then before releasing. His movements subtle, as always.
“I’m gonna get another cup. You want anything?” Your friend asked as they got up from the table, to which both of you motioned no.
“Can we go now.” Your head turned back to Satan at his cool words. “We were supposed to go to the bookstore.”
“We still have time to go to the bookstore.” You tell him. “It doesn’t close until a while from now.”
“Yes. But we agreed to be there at 1:00, and now it’s 1:30. That’s not the way this day was supposed to go.” The blonde replied. Fidgeting with his cup to try and align it perfectly on the saucer. “This day was supposed to be just you and I.”
You blink a little at Satan’s response. Initially thinking that he was miffed about the time. Now, however, you weren’t so sure. “Satan, are you jealous that I paused our date to hang out with my friend?”
The demon sat up straighter; though how you could be sure. Then he frowned. “I am not jealous.”
“No. I get it. It’s hard to be in a group if they have a lot of inside jokes. It’s ok if--“I am not jealous!” He shout. His fist slamming on the table, rattling the frail wood and cups. Alerting everyone in the shop to your conversation.
Satan hissed through his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Fine. I am jealous. We so rarely get time away from those idiots, and I was really looking forward to the bookstore with you. Now you have someone else tagging along. Is it so awful to be alone with me?”
Your heart sank a little at that. Was that really how Satan felt? “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to catch up with my friend for a bit since I haven’t seen them in a while. I didn’t mean to disrupt our date.” The demon blinked a few times at the word ‘date’ then blushed. Muttering about how it wasn’t like that, that he was being unreasonable, that it was all fine. Still, you smile and offer to him, “let me tell them goodbye and we’ll go to the bookstore. If we leave now, we can also stop by the pet store and play with the cats if you’d like.”
Satan fidgeted in his chair. Cheek’s still a stark pink against his blonde hair. “I....would like that.”
Asmo
It was a beautiful day in the human world, and you were so excited to be home.
Being able to spend the day in your home town, with your best friend, shopping and just playing around was the best way to spend an afternoon. Who could be sad at a day like this?
“[Y/NNNNNNNN],” Asmo whined. The usually bubbly demon dragging his shopping bags behind him as he pouted behind you. “Can’t we stop for now”
“Really Asmo? You’re usually much more of a marathon shopper.”
“It’s too hot.” He quipped back. Now with more of a frown than a pout. “This humidity is wreaking havoc on my hair.”
“Why don’t I get us something cool to drink?” Your BFF suggested. Trying to stay positive all afternoon, and pretending that they didn’t hear Asmo’s bitter ‘yeah why don’t you do that’ as they took off and he sat down.
“Asmodeus,” you hiss when you were alone. “Who can you be so rude to them? What is wrong with you today?!”
“It’s not my fault!” Asmo snapped back. Looking wounded but also scratching at his chest where his pact mark was to let you know that he knew he messed up. “This was supposed to be a day for you and me! They’re the one that but in!”
“No. You did. I told you I was going top side for a while to hang out with my friend, and you invited yourself along. So now you’re ruining everyone’s day with this behavior. I really don’t get you.”
Asmo stopped scratching at his chest and pouted for real this time.
“I don’t like seeing you with them.” He confessed. “I don’t like seeing you with anyone. Your smile….it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I wanted to come along with you today because I wanted to see your smile. But seeing you happy with someone else is the worst! I don’t even care about any of this anymore. Not even my new shoes.” His foot kicked at his bag sullenly. Asmo must really be upset. “I want to go home and forget all about the human world. I want you to come home with me!”
You listen for a while before you make a confession of your own. “You’re jealous, aren’t you.” It was plain as day now. Or at least now that you realized he wasn’t just being a brat to be a brat.
Asmo turned and glared at you slightly. “Green is not my color.” He insisted before turning away in a huff.
You chuckle, then sit down beside him on the bench. “I think you look good in any color.” You tell him. Softening the demon up. “You know I care about you Asmo. But me being with my friends doesn’t mean I care about you any less. And that’s no reason to be so ugly to them. You need to apologize.”
The demon winced at the word ‘ugly’, but did seem to agree that he needed to turn this around.
When your friend came back, he quickly apologized. Blaming jet lag, or some other ridiculous believable excuse. It didn’t really matter when he turned on the charm. Gods help him if he ever set his mind to something.
Beel
He was stress eating. You could tell.
Although Beel was still shoveling food into his mouth with his usual speed and gusto, by now you could tell the difference in his eating habits. Like when he was just bored and there was food around, or when he was really hungry for something, or when he was excited to try something new. Right now, he wasn’t enjoying what he was eating. Even when he was bored or just eating to eat, Beel always seemed to enjoy it. Even if it was just a vending machine’s worth of junk.
Right now it just looked like he was doing it to take his mind off something.
“Beel? Is something wrong?” You ask softly. Still getting his attention though, and causing him to stop.
“No. Nothing ’s wrong.” He replied. His voice unusually sullen as he wiped his mouth. You knew something was wrong now. He never sounded said when he was eating. Now something was double wrong because he was lying to you.
“Beel….”
“…I don’t like your friend…” He finally confessed after a moment and long bout of staring.
You blink in surprise at his answer. Not expecting that at all. You’ve never heard Beel say a mean word about anyone before. Let alone not liking a person. “You don’t like my friend? Why? Did they do something wrong?”
“It’s not that. I just….don’t like how you are when you’re with them.” He said. Picking at the various candy wrappers he’d left littered on the table. “You seem happy.”
“Of course I’m happy. They’re my friend. I haven’t seen them in a long time, so I miss them.”
Beel flinched a little. “I know….” He seemed to be feeling bad about this now. “And I want you to be happy. I know the human world is your first home. But I’m scared that….if you like it here so much and them, that you’ll leave us again. When you’re not around it’s like this big whole in my stomach and I can’t fill it up.” His stomach growled in protest, or agreement, at his words, and Beel went back to stress eating his vending machine contents again.
Your gaze softened as you finally understood. He was jealous. He thought your friend was going to ‘take you away’ and leave him alone. That of course was silly because you’d never leave him, or the others, ever if you could help it.
You reach out your hand to stop his arm from lifting another fist full of chips to his mouth. Causing him to pause, with his mouth open, and look at you. “All this junk can’t be good for you.” You announce as you stop up from the park table suddenly. “Why don’t I take you to my favorite restaurant in town? My friend used to work there, so I’m sure we’ll get a great table and lots of yummy stuff on the house if we go.”
Beel’s eyes sparkled at the proposition. “Really??”
You giggle. The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach you suppose. Because after this, and a few unlimited fry baskets later, he and your friend were besties for life as well.
Belphie
"[Y/N], I wanna go home."
"Home?" You ask. "But we just got here." You’d only arrived at the park to meet your friend a few hours ago, and had only just started hanging out.
"Well I'm tired.” Belphie muttered.
“Aren’t you always kind of tired?” You ask, as a joke, but it doesn’t seem well received.
Belphie’s frown deepens, and he even lets out an annoyed little growl, before he turns on his heels to walk away. “Belphie! Where are you going?”
“You nap under that tree.” He announced. But doesn’t seem as thrilled as he normally is about the prospect. Napping under trees was like his third favorite nap spot. “You won’t let me go home, so I’m just going to stay there while you hang out with your friend. You won’t miss me anyway.”
The last part of his statement was muttered under his breath, but you still heard it. Was that what he was being so moody about?
“Belphie? Are you jealous I’m hanging out with my friend?”
“Yes.” He replied. Rather quickly considering, with only a moment to scuff the tip of his shoes. “I don’t like that you’re spending time with them and not me. I don’t like being ignored.”
“I’m not ‘ignoring you’.” You tell him. “I’m just hanging out with my friend for a while. I haven’t seen them in a long time. They’ve probably been lonely too.”
Belphegor huffed again and sagged his shoulders. You know you got him.
Belphie might be kind of selfish sometimes, but there was one thing he could empathize with: being alone. He was cast aside and locked out, partially of his own doing, for a long time. So he didn’t want anyone else to feel that way.
“I just don’t like the idea that you like them better than me.”
“I don’t.” You assure him. Stepping in to give him a peck on the cheek, which he adorably flinches at. “I love you both. Differently, but equal. Why don’t we think of something we can all do together then, hm?”
“I’m kind of committed to this nap-tree-idea-thing.” The demon confessed. You have to giggle.
You all don’t nap, but your friend agree to get some ice creams from a vendor in the park and sit under the tree to enjoy them while Belphie napped. It was a remarkably pleasant afternoon. You were glad you got to share it with Belphie.
#obey me#obey me scenarios#obey me imagines#imagine#scenarios#obey me lucifer#obey me leviathan#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphie#obey me beel#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#asmodeus x reader#beelzebub x reader#beel x reader#obey me lucifer x reader#lucifer x reader#obey me satan x reader#belphie x reader#obey me mammon#mammon x mc#obey me mammon x reader
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Baby Momma Drama
***THIS HAS NOT BEEN THROUGH A TYPICAL EDITING PROCESS; ALL SHORTS ARE ROUGH DRAFTS***
“So I can’t take her to see my family?” Dem asked Nicole and she ignored him. He was tired of going back and forth with her about his child. He understood how she felt but she was just trying to control him and the way he parented his daughter.
There wasn’t shit he could do about what happened but apologize and try to be a good father. Nicole was not making that easy for him in the slightest. Then would turn around and use his absence against him when she didn’t get her way. Dem was genuinely remorseful about his actions and she knew that. He always took her feelings into consideration and practiced patience, hoping that she could really forgive him one day. However, anything he wanted to do with Melody she had to be there. Nicole didn’t want her around his family without her either, but they didn’t want Nicole in their presence at all. They only got to see his daughter twice in a whole year.
“Yo, can you fuckin’ hear?”
“Cleary, and just like before I said no. If they want to see her, they can come here, or I’ll gladly go to them.”
“And I told your illiterate ass they don’t fuck witchu. Unless you want A to beat you the fuck up.”
“Please! I’ll drag that bitch if she ever put her fuckin’ hands on me.” Nicole knew Avery couldn’t stand her and the feeling was mutual.
“Bro…” Dem counted to three doing his best not to get mad. This was where he’d been tested the most lately. “So you expect her to just not know her whole other side? She don’t even know her own sisters.”
“Nigga, I don’t care nor is that my problem! My baby is not going anywhere without me. The judge has approved this. I don’t trust you and in the eyes of the law you are not a fit parent. You don’t even have control over any of your own finances! I should actually be arguing with Lake about visitation, not you!” Nicole spat, flippantly. She got all of this information when they went to court. Lake being his guardian only worsened his case and made Nicole’s stronger.
“Really? But when you want dick, I’m trustworthy. When you wanna go out and be a hoe with your dumbass friends, I watch her and muthafuckin KJ too, you can trust me then though?”
Nicole didn’t have a rebuttal to that because not only wasn’t Dem lying but it made her valid points invalid. Dem was a great father and she had him on the tightest leash using the past as a way to control him. She was granted full custody of their daughter and that gave her even more leverage.
“Exactly, now you the fuck quiet with your stupid ass. Come get her ready, I’m taking her.”
“No the fuck you not!” Nicole pushed him back from going further upstairs and he held the banister as to not fall. It didn’t take much after that to set Dem off. He smacked the shit out of Nicole, and she bounced off the wall rolling down the steps.
Stuff like this really felt below Dem. Domestic issues with any woman wasn’t what he had time for or wanted to be involved in. He never reacted on anyone that didn’t do something to him first. It was simple math to Dem, don’t put your hands on him, if you weren’t ready to get knocked the fuck out, or sometimes worse. He handled his problems with finality, but he couldn’t just erase the mother of his child, so this was the bullshit he had to deal with all the time.
All of the commotion could be heard outside. Wreck and Roddy were standing outside smoking. They walked in and shook their heads watching Nicole try to beat Dem up. He wasn’t even really doing anything except flinging her ass around, and she was on the floor screaming all dramatic. This wasn’t the first time they witnessed her do stuff like this but in front of a judge she was miss innocent and perfect. The crazier thing was, nobody ever tried to invalidate her feelings, they just wanted a relationship with Melody, however she wouldn’t allow that unless there was one with her too.
“Chill the fuck out!” Wreck pulled her up from the floor and off of Dem’s leg.
“See! He put his fuckin hands on me, and I’m supposed to let him take my daughter? Get the fuck out my house!”
“Bitch fuck you! You wouldn’t be up in this bitch if it wasn’t for me! Lake was ready to send your ass back to the projects! I don’t have these problems with none of my other baby mommas! You the only one make shit harder than it gotta be!”
“Maybe because you didn’t fuckin’ rape them!”
That word took Dem out of the ring every single time and Nicole knew it. He backed down from her whenever she said it. Dem hated to think of himself like that and it only added to all the other names associated with him. Rapist. It didn’t sit right on his heart and the fact that he couldn’t even remember made it easier to swallow sometimes, but Nicole did not let him forget.
“You a fuckin’ nut, bro,” Roddy said, looking at her with disgust.
Dem said fuck it and walked out of the house. This shit was starting to take a toll on him. He didn’t even get to see Melody and it hurt. He loved seeing her because she didn’t look anything like him, but his father, she had inherited Hassan’s every feature.
While Poppy and Damaris were both on the fairer skin side and looked like him, Melody was the opposite. She actually resembled Loire. Nobody could believe it when they first saw her. Sav always joked that she could pass for Lake’s baby and that set Avery off. She didn’t think that was funny at all. Dem did get a paternity test though and she was indeed his. He could spend hours looking at her beautiful melanin-rich face.
“You ard?” Wreck asked him, getting in the driver’s seat. Roddy hopped in the back and he pulled off.
“I’m tired of her constantly throwing that shit in my face…I don’t even remember.”
“She a fuckin’ nut ass bitch, but I ain’t hear her say that when she was screaming from the dick the other night,” Roddy said.
“You be fuckin’ her?” Wreck asked, as he stopped at a red light and looked over at his brother.
“Sometimes,” Dem shrugged. “When she asks.”
“Nah, turn her ass down next time,” Wreck advised him. “She gon’ keep getting her way cause she think you owe her something. What type of bitch wanna get fucked by a nigga they accusin’ of some shit like that? Fuck that, next time she want some dick, curve her ass. I bet she start actin’ right.”
“Yup, hoes be tryna act like they don’t want sex as much as niggas. They be worse than us. Hold the dick and watch she be like,” Roddy cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for actin’ up Daddy, you can take the baby and this pussy whenever you want.”
“Roddy shut the fuck up,” Wreck laughed. “You on it with us tonight?” he asked Dem.
“Fuck no, you got super nigga back there,” Dem said referring to Roddy who simply shook his head. They had a little beef between them. “I got Damaris this weekend anyway and Haze be getting tired fast now so she can’t handle both of them for too long. I was hoping to get Melody so they can all be together. It’s fucked up they don’t even know their own sister.”
“Lake need to take that bitch back to court and get some custody rights. How the fuck she get to keep a baby away from her damn family?”
“She like Dem that’s why,” Roddy chuckled, lighting up a blunt. “Bitch do not care how her baby got here. She want this nigga and his daughter how she gonna get him.”
“Man, she the last bitch I’ll be with. I’ll marry Mu before I settle for her ass.”
They all started laughing because they knew how much Mumu got on his nerves too. The only reasonable one he had was Haze. She nor Mumu came close to the headache that Nicole was though.
“Talk to Lake, bro,” Wreck advised him. “Tell him you ready to be on your own and handle shit. You can’t keep going through this.”
Dem didn’t respond because he wanted to be independent and not have his brother in charge of his every move, but he wasn’t sure if he was actually ready.
*******
“Call Avery and see what she says,” Haze told Dem while standing at the stove cooking. He told her the watered-down version of what happened with Nicole earlier that day. “You already know if she says no then Lake will too. They don’t do shit without each other, but you need to see your child.”
Haze was well aware of the whole situation between Dem and Nicole. She didn’t really have an opinion because it seemed like a he say she say situation. However, if she thought Dem was capable of doing something so vile, she nor Poppy would be around him but Haze didn’t believe he could, even off his meds like Nicole accused. She found out about Dem’s condition and used it as yet another target on his back. Haze only witnessed Dem in action one time and although he was a bit erratic, he didn’t do anything to hurt her or Poppy. She just called Sav and he dealt with him.
“Cause my brother a whipped ass nigga now.”
“No, that’s marriage, Dem. A husband and wife supposed to have each other back.”
“Whatever, A will kill that bitch if they in the same space and it’s not even about Ky. Nicole disrespectful as fuck.”
“Call her,” Haze insisted. Dem blew his breath and started tapping on his phone.
“Hey baby boo!” Avery answered happy for him as always.
“Wassup?”
“Nothing, feeding your mean ass brother and his mean ass kids.”
“Stop actin’ like you don’t love them.”
“I don’t,” Avery whispered making Haze and Dem crack up. “So what you need? You don’t be calling me for no reason.”
“Nut ass Nicole said I can only get Melody if she’s there.”
“Well her bitch ass isn’t welcome in my house!” Avery snapped like Dem knew she would. “Did you forget what the fuck she said to me? What she said about Melody?! But the judge gives her custody?! I tried Dem, I really did try to be cordial with that bitch, but I don’t play about you and I most certainly don’t play about my husband, you know that.”
“A, I miss my daughter. I want y’all to see her. She gettin’ so big and she don’t even know y’all, her sisters, nothing.”
“What you want me to do, Dem?”
“I want y’all to come over her crib this weekend—”
“Dem, I love you, but I am not stepping foot in that bitch house. She better be lucky her ass ain’t on the street! Why can’t we meet her somewhere? What about coming over there—”
“Fuck no!” Haze yelled cutting Avery off before she could finish. “That bitch ain’t coming up in here, A! She be stressing him out to the point it irritate me, and I don’t have time for her smart-ass mouth because pregnant and all I will lay hands on her lying hoe ass!”
Dem wasn’t even a part of the conversation after that. He sat the phone down while Avery and Haze called Nicole everything but a child of God. Dem went to watch TV with his daughters.
“Mommy…” Poppy said, covering her ears hearing Haze talk loudly all the way in her playroom.
“Yea, it’s okay boo boo.” Dem sat on the big pink bean bag chair with Poppy and Damaris on both sides of him and watched DC Superhero Girls.
The way he handled most things that would set him off now, is to just sit with his daughters. They calmed the hell out of him. No medicine or treatment ever brought him that much peace. Nicole was trying to come between that, and he swore she was doing it on purpose, but Dem refused to backtrack and throw away all of his progress, but something had to give.
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Pinky Promises
Nanami x fem! reader
Warnings: nothing too much! maybe language but overall just a bunch of fluff and lovey dovey stuff
Word Count: 2.9k
Summary: Domestic Nanami and reader, just thinking about how much they love each other. sappy and cute stuff.
A/N: Hi! ^_^ Second time posting, I’ve had this one shot saved for a bit now! finally posting it lolz. I've noticed a lot of people have written domestic Nanami pics or drawn art, very glad society as a whole has this perception of him. it truly heals the soul I think. anyway, I hope u like this and sorry if there’s any grammar errors I wasnt able to catch U_U im thinking of doing a hc post next.... unsure hm, we’ll see ^_^!!
“I’m hooooome.” He says loudly as he steps through the apartment door, setting his briefcase down and taking off his beige coat. Putting down the grand kitchen knife she was using to chop up spinach, she rushed to the door with a smile and engulfed the tall blonde into a tight hug, saying hello. She took a deep breath, inhaling the soft scent of his cologne, the smell of something sour and musty soon taking over. Her face scrunched up and she let out a giggle.
“Oh god, Nanami, you stink, what did you go against today?”
“Nothing too bad. Just a grade 3,” He sighed “A smelly grade 3.” He sounded disappointed, probably because he knew he stunk too. Though the smell was horrendous, she still remained in his arms and he still held on just as tight.
“Are you tired? I was thinking of making dinner with you tonight but if you’re too tired I can-”
“No no. I’m fine. Just let me wash up and I’ll help out.”
“You sure?” She asked looking up towards him, questioning once more to reassure. He looked down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
“I’m sure, dear.”
While he showers upstairs, she gets back to readying the ingredients so they could begin cooking their masterpiece as soon as possible. Tonight she had chosen chicken alfredo with a tossed salad; One could say it was her favourite, but saying that would imply that she would eat it when cooked and served by whomever. But to her, she would only eat it when it was him who had made it for her.
Y/n adored him. He adored her. To her, he was her light. She could simply not imagine life without him, not after he had come in and changed her in such a way. She never in a million years would have thought to be so in love with someone. To have known someone who cared enough to hear all about her day or listen to all her tangents, whether they made sense or not. Who listened to her talk forever about anything just so he could see the faint glow of passion in her eyes. Someone who remembered the small details in regards to the things she loved and the things she despised; Like how she hated the feeling of peanut butter on her fingers and how she absolutely admired the scent of fresh pages in a new book. Sometimes, she felt undeserving of him.
He admired her like no other. Never did he believe he’d be capable of opening up to anyone in such a way, at least not until she walked into his life. He could write a million lists, all full of everything he loved about her. The way she smiled cheekily at him after a witty remark, how she'd give every hug as if it was the last, the way she was oh so patient with him. It took him time to become vulnerable in the slightest, he just didn’t know how to do so without burdening her. She knew his job was hard, he’d told her. But rather than running away like he expected, she stayed with him right by his side. She refused to leave him over that. If anything, it made her want to stay more since she felt the need to be there for him. It felt like a punch to the gut but a good one. “So, is this love?” He had asked himself then. Nanami had someone who brought out the much more joyful side to him. At the end of the day, he knew he’d walk through the front door only to see her, arms wide open and with a big smile offering a cozy hug. She was his home. Sometimes, he felt undeserving of her.
Putting the final piece of broccoli into the container, she tidies any clutter and went back to their shared bedroom. Sinking into the bed and falling on it with a plush thump, she lets out a deep sigh mixed with some sort of a groan. She herself was exhausted from work too to say the least. She didn’t deal with curses or anything like that, but she did teach a class of 9 year olds which one could consider just as frustrating. Yawning, she checks her phone to read the time: 6:15 PM. Nanami hadn’t been in the shower for too long, a small nap wouldn’t hurt. Quickly, she settled for a little 30 minute nap. That way, she could get up soon enough to help him out in the kitchen and not abandon him to do everything on his own. She turns her phone off and slowly, her eyes shut.
…
Y/n slowly opens her eyes and notices a grey throw blanket placed on her, something that she doesn’t recall going to bed with earlier. “Must’ve been Nanami.” Grabbing her phone, she turns the screen on, wincing at the incredible blue light piercing into her skull. “Fuck.” she mumbles. Once her eyes adjust, she glances back at the screen for the time: 7:30.
“FUCK,” she says, voice croaking “I overslept.” With the speed of light, she leaves bed and runs down the hall to the bathroom to freshen up. She soon makes her way over to the kitchen silently, slightly ashamed and guilty. Y/n mumbles a whine with a frown, “He’s probably done making things now. I could have helped.”
The kitchen is filled with the delicate scents of sauces, cheese and herbs. She watches him from the door frame, admiring her boyfriend. He stood in front of the stove mixing at the sauce for the alfredo, which scent alone made her mouth water. Nanami seems to be in his own world, as he stands humming to himself softly, stirring the pot of sauce and adding in the broccoli and spinach, not seeming to notice y/n. With a final stir, he carefully sets the lid and turns to rinse his hands. Her gaze sits upon his figure, how his grey oversized shirt slightly clings to his shoulders and loosens as it goes down his body. Looking down, she noticed the bright red christmas pyjamas he had on, the ones with adorable little reindeers all over them. Grinning, she remembers how she had bought those for him. She purchased a matching set for the two of them and insisted on wearing them all day on Christmas last year. Nanami had responded to the idea with a stern “No” which left y/n in shambles. She didn’t expect him to agree, but hey, a girl can dream. However, on Christmas day, lo and behold, she had woken up to find Nanami sitting on the couch, watching the news with his reindeer PJs on. Immediately, she had attacked him with hugs and kisses and all Nanami did was sit there and accept them, secretly loving it the whole time.
A deep voice throws her out of her thoughts. “You know, it’s rude to stare, right?”
Y/n chuckles quietly and makes her way over, wrapping her arms around him from behind, snuggling into his back.
“I like to stare at you, you’re cute,” she breathes in his scent once again, “ah, you smell so much better now. Like the nami I know.”
“I am not cute. I am a grown man.”
“C’mon, you can’t possibly be saying that right now. Not while you’re wearing these pants.” She coos, gently patting his butt. He goes silent, refusing to rebuttal knowing that he’s lost. He leans against the counter, his front facing her. Though he didn’t say anything, y/n sees this as an open invite to his arms. The rope of his arms finds her waist this time, her arms in an embrace around his neck.
“Whatever, tell me, how was your day, hm?” He posed, changing the subject.
“Same old, yenno. The kids and I had a discussion today about drugs and safety. It was cute, hearing them rat out their neighbours for smoking cigs and talk about how yucky they thought alcohol is. It was… sweet. How was work for you, hon?”
“Shit.” He retorts, closing his eyes, “Work is shit.”
“Oh come ON, I’m sure it’s not always that bad, right? Say, how’s your friend doing, you know, the one who kinda looks like one of my makeup brushes! Isn’t he good company?”
“Yeah, if good company means having to deal with a nuisance to society on a daily basis then by all means, yes, Gojo is wonderful company.” He joked, loosening his grip on her and making his way over to the stove to check on his sauce. She follows, opening the first drawer and pulling out a silver spoon, “You’re so mean sometimes. I think he’s a great guy to be around! I met him once, such a flirt.”
He teases calmly, “If you love him so much, why don’t you get with him?”
Taking her spoon, she lowers it into the pot and brings it back up to her face, blowing on it carefully before she puts it to her lips to taste. “Hmm, I would. But I don’t think he’s as big as you. I’ll have to pass.” She smirked, putting the spoon into her mouth as he watched and sighed in disappointment.
He glares,“God, you’re something else.”
“I’m just kidding, babe.” Bringing her spoon down for another taste. He swats at her hand and she retreats it with a whine. “Don’t do that. You’ve tried it already, and will again when we get to eat.” He scolded tenderly, “Plus, you shouldn’t be given these privileges anyway. It’s not like you helped out or anything.” He smiled, teasing her.
“Nanamiiii, I’m sorry,” she whines, half laughing, “I promise, I was going to help! I just got a little bit sleepy and sort of lost track of time…” He turned over to her and lifted her face with a finger under her chin. Laughing, he delicately caresses her cheek, tapping it admirably with a curled finger. The blonde chuckles and looks her in the eyes, “I’m just joking with you, love. I know you’ve been tired lately, I can tell. Why haven’t you been resting?”
Her smile falls and she sighs. Y/n wrapped her arms around his waist and brought him into her, hiding her face into his chest. It was true, she was exhausted but she didn’t deem it to be anything so serious. Work was just heavy this past week from having to grade her students’ work in time for report cards. All she wanted was the best for her kids and was finding ways to get the kids out of their comfort zones enough to do well in class. That reminded her, Nanami also mentioned having a student of his own.
She takes her face out of his chest and glances upwards. “It’s just this week of work, I promise I’ll be back to normal soon. I’ve just been busy with lesson plans and activities, yenno. Anyway, speaking of students, how’s the one you’ve been assigned to?” She posed in a soft tone. Half smiling, he turned around to add the strained pasta to the sauce, scattering it into the pot.
“He’s special. Quite lively. And cheerful. He reminds me of you sometimes,” his voice strains as he stretches to grab the bowl of cooked chicken to finally add into the pot, finishing the meal, “He’s got potential.” Y/n beamed with happiness. Nanami really seemed to like this kid and if he thought you had potential, then it sure as hell meant you had it.
She lets out a squeal, “EEEEEEK!!! That sounds amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Nanami suppressed a laugh and rolled his eyes, “It’s not that-”
“This calls for a drink, don’t you think?” She babbled with excitement, “We should have some wine! Right?”
Grabbing her wrist as she skipped her way over to the bottle, he reminded her, “You have school tomorrow. You always end up having more than needed and struggle to wake up in the morning.” Y/n frowned at his words, to which he noticed and tried to fix, “Tomorrow’s Friday, you can drink plenty tomorrow, hm? I’ll drink with you.”
“Ugh, fine. You’re right. But you have to promise.”
“I promise you ca-”
“No! You have to pinky-promise.” She demanded, pouting as he stuck out her pinky finger.
His heart skips a beat. Was she always this cute? Her angelic eyes stare into his tired ones. Bottom lip poking out, awaiting Nanami’s pinky to interlock with her own. He knew she took pinky-promises very seriously despite her grown age. It was among one of the many petty details that he cherished. Something about this pinky-promise was enough for her to ensure trust onto someone, it made him laugh. Her naivety is what made her so kind hearted, what allowed her to see the best in people. He felt that this naivety is why they’re together to begin with. He didn’t ever think she’d give him a chance. He reminisced of their first few encounters. The way she did her hair back then, the way she dressed, her shy smile and how she’d look at the floor whenever she’d blush. Maybe it was her timid nature that made him fall head over heels for her. Or maybe it was her generosity. Perhaps her beauty. He was unable to simply confine the reasoning for his infatuation with just a few traits. She grew overtime, more comfortable and less shy, she was more confident around him but he knew he could still make her blush so badly that she’d have to hide her face from him. He enjoyed their banter, her company. He felt it was luck. Or maybe it was fate. Who knows. He didn’t want to think so much about it. He wanted to live in the moment, adore her in this present time. In that instance, he felt the strong urge to kiss her. And so he did.
The kiss was short and sweet, yet full of an unfathomable amount of love. It took her aback, she didn’t quite see it coming. She too stood in the present moment, then and there, cherishing the man she loved.
His lips leave hers and he extends the smallest finger on his hand, declaring, “I pinky-promise.” And a ginormous grin washes over her face. In a whisper, she squeals and scoops her arms around his torso, resting her head onto his chest. They stay like this for a while, not too long really, but to them it felt like an eternity being in each other’s affectionate embrace. He goes to speak and she feels the vibrating boom of his voice make his way up from his chest.
“I love you.”
She sighs, “I love you too.”
Turning her head, y/n smoothly gets on her tip toes and clasps her arms around his neck, giving it a tender kiss and attempting to make a trail leading up to his sharp jaw. Catching onto her tactics he laughs, putting his big hand against her face and pushing her back.
“Seriously?” He chuckles, “You couldn’t wait till after dinner? Come on, take out the plates.”
“Wait for what? I was just kissing you! You’re so dramatic, Nami.” She lies, playing innocent. She knew damn well what she was trying to do. She wasn’t going to admit to it though. Taking out the plates and utensils, she readied the table.
…
After dinner and meaningless conversation, the two lovers tidied and headed towards their room. “Do yo wana wah a mohee tomowwow nie?” Y/n proposed from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. He perks his head up, confused, “Do I want to what?” She spat into the sink and rinsed her mouth, repeating her question.
“I said, do you wanna watch a movie tomorrow night? Like at home? There’s this documentary I saw on Netflix, it looks really good! It’s crime related.”
“That sounds fine with me. Though, that’s only possible if you don’t end up drinking too much. I always have to get you to sleep early when you drink.” He states nonchalantly, nose poked into a thick book. She rolls her eyes and smiles, “I promise I won’t drink all that much.” Shifting his book to the opposing hand, Nanami silently takes his pinky finger and holds it out to y/n. She snickers and reciprocates.
“You’ve now pinky-promised. Don’t break it, y/n.”
“I never do.”
The nightstand lamp illuminates the room with a soft yellow glow. Shadows of objects on the nightstand hang on the walls. Laying in bed on her phone, y/n turns over to Nanami, who was still reading his book. “Nami, come lay next to me, I wanna cuddle. Please?” Her voice faint. He looks down at her and puts his book away immediately. He could use a cuddle too. Bringing himself down, he lays on his back, y/n closing the gap between the two. Their legs intertwine, her arm and head resting on his chest while one of his hands rested on her bum, the other dotingly playing with her hair. Neither of them spoke a word for a while. Until y/n broke the silence.
“So, were there no other pairs of pants you had left to wear or-”
“Please, be quiet.”
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk hcs#jjk oneshot#jjk x y/n#nanami smut#nanami hcs#nanami oneshot#nanami kento#jjk gojo#gojo#gojo satoru#writing#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen hcs#hcs#nanami fluff#jjk imagines#jjk drabbles#nanami x reader
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i’m not ready for that s.r.
pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader (anyone could read though)
summary: Even though Steve has been living in modern times for a couple of years now, he still finds himself not used to the present, especially when it comes to women. But when he meets you, an outspoken girl who completely embodies the kind of woman “he’s not ready for,” Steve is forced to reevaluate what he wants.
warnings: 18+, explicit language, dry humping, unprotected sex, sex in a hotel room, a small age gap (but not mentioned much), probably some typos and/or bad grammar, disregard for card games and 60′s music
word count: 2,828
author’s note: This is my first time writing a fic! So, tell me what you think and if you’d like more stuff from me.
After waking up in a world filled with people dressed in unfamiliar clothing, using confusing language, and carrying around these tiny devices they called “phones,” Steve experienced the expected amount of disassociation. He said things which earned him weird looks, struggled to understand modern references, and sometimes secretly wished he could just go back to his own time.
But if anything, Steve Rogers was determined.
He kept a notepad to track the new things he learned and reviewed them in his spare time. He made an effort to listen to the radio and watch popular TV shows. Steve even managed to tailor his wardrobe to a certain degree. Except for the khakis. The khakis were essential.
Despite his acclimation and newfound understanding of the 21st century, Steve still struggled with women. And in all honesty, he doesn’t even feel that open to dating. He’s completely content with simply working and living his life, romance not much of a priority of his.
But Natasha keeps pushing it.
“What about that girl from accounting?” she says, “Laura, Lisa…”
"Lillian,” Steve answers, “lip piercing, right?"
"Yeah, she's cute."
"Yeah, I'm not ready for that.”
•••••
So, when you show up with a total disregard for authority, a smile that could fool the devil, and a snarky attitude all complete with a cute little nose piercing, Steve doesn’t quite know what to do with you.
Your words are much bolder than any woman he knew from the 40’s. You behave with a certain level of confidence and self-assuredness that it’s impossible to believe that you’re only in your twenties. And you don’t shy away from showing men up, never one to hold your tongue. Steve notices that you don’t mind interrupting people. You seem to get a glint in your eye each time he clenches his jaw after you’ve cut him off.
Everything about you is overwhelming to Steve.
Any time he tries to correct you, you scoff, blowing air through your plump lips. Always rolling those brown eyes in annoyance. (It makes Steve want to scream.)
Nothing is ever easy with you. There is always a rebuttal, or some type of teasing remark, or simply a look that tells him “you can’t tell me what to do.” It enrages him. Steve doesn’t think he has ever met a person who could find a way to fight him on every single thing.
Now, as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips, freshly-manicured nails on display, Steve wonders how he’ll ever manage to get through to you.
•••••
You hadn’t known much about Captain America before you’d agreed to work with him and Natasha when S.H.I.E.L.D. started falling apart.
You had been working for the agency for a while now, assisting in the capture of criminal individuals as a sort of immunity for your own crimes. Your skills were too valuable to waste, and honestly, they knew you’d escape any prison they put you in anyway. Despite this, you weren’t the most reliable.
You often took risks, and your youth raised a sort of concern amongst other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. No one trusted a girl whose main motivation to be an agent was to avoid prison. And because of this, Nick Fury did not bring you on for the Avengers Initiative right away. You needed time to grow, time to figure out your priorities.
For two years, you focused on your development, learning how to control your abilities and use them most effectively, and in the meantime, you only took on small missions. You were happy with this, so happy that when Fury began reaching out to you with the intent to bring you back on for more advanced missions, you promptly avoided them.
One quiet afternoon, you were feeling the soil of your succulent, trying to figure out if the plant needed watering when you got the call that Nick Fury was pronounced dead.
Immediately, your stomach dropped.
Your mind was racing as you rushed to the hospital, hoping that this was all some sick joke. A test. Something Fury had comprised to teach you a lesson.
Natasha noticed as you stood frozen at the door of the hospital room. Your heart ached seeing him lie there lifeless.
While you pretended that you didn’t care about him, Fury had always been important to you. He had given you a second chance when you didn’t even think you deserved it. He saw potential in you when others saw you as a delinquent. This grief, coupled with the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised, led you to agree to work with Natasha and her new friend, Steve Rogers.
•••••
Since the beginning, your presence had been an immediate concern to Steve. Along with your untamed attitude, he didn’t like the way you would make hasty decisions that left him wondering if you were still alive. He had to bite his tongue at your stubbornness. And each roll of your eyes pushed Steve further and further to the edge. After a while, he had had enough and pulled you to the side to express his disapproval.
You stare at him expectantly with your hands still on your hips, waiting to hear why he’s singled you out.
He lets out a breath, “these antics of yours have got to stop.”
You instantly laugh. Because he has to be kidding.
It takes everything in him to remain calm when you flash him a smile and saunter away, throwing a “oh loosen up, Captain,” over your shoulder.
He has to stop himself from watching your hips sway. He catches your wrist. “No. Not ‘loosen up.’ You need to be more responsible.”
“Well you need to understand that I’m not a soldier,” you yank your arm back. “I’ll follow your plan,” you offer, “but sometimes things don’t go as planned and we have to make adjustments,” you say, speaking slowly as if Steve’s a child.
He steps closer, now towering over your small frame. “Your ‘adjustments’ almost always result in dangerous situations.”
“Really?” You cock your head to the side, “Is that right?”
He narrows his eyes at you.
“So, this is coming from the man who jumped out of an elevator?” Your perfectly arched eyebrow raises tauntingly. “Right?”
You chuckle as he rolls his eyes. You don’t miss the hint of a smile in them.
•••••
You do eventually try to be more of a team player, sticking to the plan when you can. You figured you’d be working with them more often, so it was in your best interest to make yourself easy to work with. Your efforts don’t go unnoticed.
Steve is grateful that you don’t pull any surprises when the Winter Soldier makes his attack. The revelation that it was his best friend already enough to throw him off.
Surprisingly, when Steve decides to go after Bucky, you offer to join him and Sam. Your excuse being that you don’t trust two men to get the job done.
Honestly, you just didn’t want to go back to your life before. Working with Steve was exciting. He was exciting. The way he’d catch your eyes after you’d say something snarky made your stomach flip because there was a hint of a threat in them.
You enjoyed the way he wasn’t afraid to touch you. He liked to grab your arm and pull you to him when you didn’t listen. He’d once backed you up against a wall when he thought you weren’t telling him the full story pertaining to the mission. And while he was angry, you couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to have him take you right then and there.
You had come to terms with the fact that you wanted Steve Rogers. You just didn’t know if he’d want someone like you. You were aware that he probably hadn’t encountered many women like you in his past life.
•••••
While your eye rolls and sassy comments do remain, Steve finds himself enjoying your presence despite himself. The struggle between the two of you slowly morphing into playful teasing, teetering the line between that and sexual tension.
“How’d you end up here anyway?” Steve asks as he lays down an ace of spades.
You grimace and tuck your king of hearts back into your hand in embarrassment. “We’re on a mission, silly.” You giggle, the diamond in your nose catching the light.
“Mhm very funny,” he says. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
You don’t say anything. The only sound coming from your breathing and the Solomon Burke song that’s playing through your phone speaker.
You hum along as you pretend to search your hand for a card to play.
Steve nudges your knee. You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t answered him or because you still haven’t put down a card.
“You mean how’d I end up doing this? Working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
He nods.
“It’s a long story,” you manage to let out.
“We’ve got time.”
You sigh and place your cards down on the mattress knowing you were gonna lose anyway.
“A while back, I lost someone…someone very important to me,” you say, “and all I wanted was to hurt the people who took them from me.” You glance up to meet Steve’s eyes, “one thing led to another, and I sort of lost myself. I hurt people in ways I never intended to, caused the kind of pain that,” you search for the words, “that I had always been so afraid to feel.”
“I was so blinded by rage,” you shake your head, “I just completely forgot my morals.”
You feel the bed shift, and Steve reaches out for your hand.
“Long story short, Fury offered me a job. Said I could use my skills for good. And next thing you know I’m going on these crazy missions and catching ‘bad guys,’” you say using finger quotes.
You sigh, “you must think the absolute worst of me now, huh?”
Steve chuckles, “no, not at all.” He pauses and his eyebrows crease. “It actually makes me respect you more.”
You let out a laugh, “well then, sir, you are most definitely twisted.”
He shrugs, “maybe I am.”
You notice that he never let go of your hand, and for a second you swear you feel a flutter in your abdomen. Lightly, you slide your fingers up his arm, tracing the veins. He doesn’t move or protest. Instead, he brings his other hand to rest on your knee. You look up at him as his hand moves from your knee up your thigh, gripping you firmly where your shorts end.
Steve looks at you for approval, and when you nod, he pulls you in by your hips and leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours.
You haven’t felt like this in awhile, and it takes a lot of strength to hold back a whine. Steve continues to tease you, only letting his lips lightly touch yours while rubbing circles into your hips under your shirt. Impatiently, you link your hands together behind his head, and when you grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, Steve finally leans in, letting his lips press against yours.
Almost instantly, you climb onto his lap, straddling him. The playing cards from earlier are hastily pushed aside as Steve scoots back, bringing you with him.
His hands find your hips again as he sucks on your bottom lip. You softly grind into him, causing Steve to groan into your mouth. He works to control himself. He hadn’t expected it to feel this way with you. So desperate, so needing.
You can feel his hardness through the material of his sweatpants, making your arousal even more apparent.
Steve leans down to kiss your neck. The feeling of his tongue makes you buck your hips, searching for some type of friction. His hand travels up your side and comes to cup one of your breasts. He runs his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden.
This must give him an idea as he moves to pull your shirt over your head. He grabs you again and takes your nipple in his mouth. You moan, continuing to grind onto him as his hands cup your ass. At this point, you’re sure that your arousal is leaking through your shorts.
Steve feels completely lost in you, your body setting him on fire and awaking something within him he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.
He continues his assault on your breasts as you fight to control your arousal. You feel his cock twitch under you. “Please, Steve,” you say breathlessly.
“Please what?” He mumbles around your breasts.
“I need you.”
Those seem to be the words he needed as Steve promptly flips you over, roughly yanking your shorts down. He tosses his shirt off as you grab onto the waistband of his pants, urging him to take them off. He pushes you back on the bed, leaning over you. You feel his knee press into your cunt and let out a moan.
Steve grabs your face, kissing you sloppily, and trails his hand down your body. You nearly grind onto his hand as he places his thumb over your clit and rubs slow circles over it.
“You like that, honey?” He teases as he rubs you over your panties.
You nod, biting your lip.
He grabs your chin, “I said do you like it? Answer me.”
You cry out, “yes, Steve yes,” You whimper, “please I need more.”
He scoffs, “who would’ve thought to get you to act right, I’d just have to play with this pretty pussy?”
You let out a pitiful whine.
“Now you wanna be a good girl huh?”
You’re afraid you’re going to cum just from his words when he stops and drags your panties down so slowly that you want to scream. The smug look on Steve’s face makes your face burn. He’s enjoying this too much.
Once they’re off, Steve settles between your thighs, making you look him in the eyes before reaching his hand down and dragging the head of his cock from your folds to your clit. You moan as he gently taps it against your clit a few times and makes a comment about how wet you are. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he lines himself up at your entrance. Steve groans as he eases into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper.
He bottoms out, and you both moan. Steve begins to thrust, and you’re already so worked up that you know you won’t last long. He brings his hand down to rub your clit causing you to cry out.
His thrusts become more forceful. Your eyes close tightly, your sharp nails digging into his shoulders. He leans his forehead against yours, “I know you want it, sweetheart. I know you wanna cum.”
His words shock you but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core.
“Come on, honey, cum for me.” Steve says as he thrusts into you. Your walls spasm around his cock, causing him to groan into your neck. He never lets up on his thrusts though, continuing to slam into you as your first orgasm ripples through your body.
“You feel so good around my cock, baby,” he brings a hand up to lightly wrap around your neck.
You groan in response feeling your abdomen tighten once again.
You can tell Steve is close now, his thrusts becoming frantic and rushed. You clutch onto him as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. Your name falling off of his lips repeatedly in your ear.
“Cum inside me, Steve,” you plead, “I wanna feel you.” He groans at your words, and you feel his hand tighten around your throat. You look at him, and his eyes are dark with lust, you feel yourself clench around his length. The look he’s giving you fills you with a primal need. You plead one more time, pushing Steve over the edge. His thrusts begin to slow, the feeling of him filling you up is enough to bring about another orgasm.
You find it difficult to keep your eyes open. Sleep begins to take you, and you drift off with Steve guiding you to lay your head on his chest.
With one hand caressing the side of your head, Steve stares up at the ceiling of the hotel room, Nina Simone’s voice floating out of your phone.
“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me,”
“And I’m feeling good.”
•••••
Initially, seeing a girl like you would have made Steve doubt himself.
But now, he knows he’s ready for you as he sits next to you holding your hand as you prepare to get your first tattoo.
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader angst#steve rogers x black!reader#black reader#steve rogers#captain america#marvel#marvel x reader#captain america x reader#enhanced!reader#steve rogers x enhanced!reader#captain america smut#chris evans
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DANCING IN THE DARK // Light Yagami x Reader
word count : 4992
genre : fluff, crack
summary : it’s your birthday, and the yagami siblings have prepared some tricks up their sleeve.
a/n : made this for my birthday last year because why shouldn’t i and honestly light is my comfort character. also i keep on saying this but the internet needs more light fluff fics :) and for anyone reading this on their birthday, may you have a wonderful day! <333
"Happy birthday [Y/N]! Thanks for inviting us!"
"Oh Sayu, behave yourself!" Sachiko scolded her daughter who was running in circles around you before hugging you. You shook your head, implying that it's alright. You were close with her anyway. "Happy birthday [Y/N]. We hope you'll like these small presents we got you."
"Thank you! But you shouldn't have.. Really." You blushed. They only clicked their tongues friskily. "Hah! Though that's nothing compared to what Light got you!"
"Oh, where are your parents dear?"
"They're in the kitchen preparing and.. stuffs. Come on in you two before it starts—" You barely even summoned the rain, but there it went, an immediate, hostile rain invaded the city just as you had expected. They quickly stepped inside and before closing the door, you checked it there was anyone—someone in particular— who'd come running to your doorstep. But there wasn't.
"Mr. Yagami's still at work?" Sachiko nodded. "He'd be here by dinner time. I told him to go straight here."
"I understand." You replied meekly and shifted your gaze to the window. "How about Light? Where is he? Is he coming?"
"Of course dear! Why even ask? That boy wouldn't miss it for the world. He should be here in some minutes. He said he was gonna pass somewhere before heading here."
Before you could reply, as if summoned at the mention of his name, came Light casually barging in the front door. You thought he looked more like a thief rather than a prince coming to see his damsel who's not really in distress.
A thief drenched in the rain, that is, holding a bouquet of roses and nicely wrapped boxes of different sizes. He sure got you a lot of presents.
"Light! What did I tell you about bringing a raincoat?" Sayu huffed.
"Haha I said I'd be quick though— and it's fine.. Hello there [Y/N]. Good evening." He ran to you, handing you the presents and bouquet before hugging you tightly, the rainwater on his clothes permeating on yours. Of course you couldn't properly hug him back since your hands were occupied. You merely gave his cheek a peck and he whispered, "Happy birthday [Y/N]," before pulling away with a grin.
"Thank you Light! Although I really appreciate your gifts, what I don't is this." You pointed to your clothes with your lips, looking at them. His grin widened. He anticipated this to happen. "You are soaking wet."
"Yeah. I'll go change clothes. Be right back!"
"It's raining cats and dogs! You're gonna get even more drenched!"
"I already am so that won't matter when I enter the house."
You watched the siblings continue to quarrel. You sighed fondly and handed Light an umbrella. "There ya go. Though you really should've brought an umbrella or raincoat first."
"I'm sorry then, Ma'am." He chuckled. "You should go and change too." And with that, he headed back to his house, three blocks away from yours. Sayu snorted. "I thought he was incapable of being a dummy. Guess that can't be helped."
"I heard that!"
You giggled and put down the presents before going upstairs to change clothes.
Surprisingly when you went down he was already there. Guess you took too long to change. He seemed to be having that kind of conversation with your father. On the other hand, your moms were talking and laughing to themselves. You had no plan of interrupting either of their conversations so you went to Sayu who was idly playing with her hair, sitting on the carpet. As expected, she was full of topics—mostly just about girly stuffs which you didn't really mind— especially her continuously fangirling to that TV actor, Hideki Ryuga. And, well, you actually were too. It wouldn't kill you to fangirl sometimes, right? It went on like that for about some minutes.
A hand being suddenly placed on your shoulder was enough to startle you. You turned around, gazing up to see Light whose brow was raised.
"Oi oi Sayu. Don't brainwash her into joining you and your addiction to that TV star."
"I'm not brainwashing her! I mean, who wouldn't fall for Hideki Ryuga? Right [Y/N]?" She squealed.
"Precisely!" You winked. Light heaved a sigh dramatically as he sat beside you. "Psh. I am more handsome than him, and [Y/N] can attest to that."
"Who says I can?"
"I— whatever. Can't believe you'd choose that actor over me." He huffed and looked at you with disdain.
"Of course I will! Any girl will dump her boyfriend for Ryuga—"
"Hmm. Are you really older now? Or just a thirteen-year-old trapped in that body?"
"Hey! What makes you say that?"
"Nevermind me. Go and join Sayu in her silly fangirling and keep your childish mode activated." He rolled his eyes and was about to stand up, but you clung to his arm and began to act like a cat by playfully rubbing your head against his cheek— which was odd to say the least. He gave you a dubious and irritated glance.
"Oh! Is my Light jelly? My my, you look like a girl on her period, which is kinda adorable."
"Cut it out! Do you mean to say, you on your period?"
You slapped his arm. "I don't act like that during my red days! I certainly don't!"
"Oh yeah because you act way worse than that."
"Augh. You're just jealous! Come onn saaay it! My babyboy is jelly~"
"Good Lord, would you mind cutting it out? If admitting it is gonna make you stop then yes, I am jealous."
He was internally dead. Seeing his reaction made you laugh maniacally (c̶o̶u̶g̶h̶s̶ ̶k̶i̶r̶a̶ ̶l̶a̶u̶g̶h̶), even getting your parents' attentions.
"Talk about being childish, hah! Babyboy got jealous over an actor~ Ah, you are so adorable that I might even squeeze you to death!"
"Shut up. You're no fun."
"Oh, but you're enjoying this, aren't you babyboy?"
"One more of that ridiculous nickname and I swear I'll kill you."
"BABYBOOOOY~~"
"Shut up, or I'll shut you up!"
"I dare you babyboy!"
He looked severely annoyed when he glared at you and leaned his face closer to yours. He looked like he was going to eat your face rather than kiss you, but then—
"EHEM!"
There went Sayu, whose presence was completely forgotten by the both of you.
"Oh. Would you mind leaving us alone? We need privacy. Kids aren't supposed to see what's next."
"No way! You're taking her all to yourself Light! That's no fair."
"Fair enough since I'm her boyfriend."
"And I'm her bestfriend?!?! You're just her boyfriend. Bestfriends come first before boyfriends!"
Sayu rebuked, clinging to your other arm and pulling you away from Light. He had no rebuttals and only clung to your other arm, keeping you away from Sayu who was also determined to get you away from him. You already knew where this was going.
'Good Lord' you mentally sighed. And yup, there they went, playing tug of war, with you as the rope.
"I came first, so get your ass away from us, Light!"
"You get your ass away from us!"
"No you!"
"HOW ABOUT YOU TWO STICK YOUR DAMN ASSES TOGETHER AND GET THEM AWAY FROM ME?? For the love of heaven, stop!"
"..Err...Sorry." The two Yagamis murmured and let go of you. You three soon heard a chuckle coming from behind. It was your mom.
"While you guys wait for the food, why don't you try out the karaoke? I'm sure you are great singers. Hmm my [Y/N] may be an exception though."
You whined at your mom's comment. You stood up and Light grabbed your arm before Sayu could, giving her a sharp glare. "She's gonna stay with me, got it?"
"Hmph. Fine then. Enjoy it while it lasts, big brother."
She pointed her fingers from her eyes to his before playfully winking at you. You grinned and shook your head as you made your way to the sofa. You had no idea that their exchanged glares had a double meaning to it.
After they finished picking song numbers and it was your turn, Light secretly handed Sayu two eggs, telling her to be careful in handling those.
Yup, he had five eggs—no not including his own and certainly NOT the number of his own—hidden inside his jacket's pockets the whole time.
You three had made it clear that you were the first one to sing even though you were all fully aware that you suck at that. They innocently looked at you when you glanced at them. You eventually entered the numbers and just as you were about to murder your first notes you heard a loud CRACK! You thought something fell somewhere in the kitchen, but then the second CRACK! came. It felt like something fell on top of your head. And you were right.
But you were already too late when you saw egg shells falling down your hair. And they weren't the only thing—
"What in the nine circles of hell is this?! Oi—" CRACK! CRACK! and CRACK!
The last one missed but by the time you were already a mixture of skin and eggs. The worst part was that one yolk was dripping on the right side of your face, and your mouth was opened due to shock at the same time so some of it got inside your mouth. You absolutely hated the smell and worse— you were sticky! You looked at the siblings who then burst out laughing. The adults were too.
"Now that's what I wanna have for breakfast." Light quipped.
"SHUDDAP! Were you guys all on this?!"
They didn't respond. You walked towards the siblings who were now slowly backing away. You scowled and raised your hands, about to touch them, but they scurried away, with Sayu using her brother as a shield.
"I am so gonna get you two! Sayu, why must you betray me?"
"It was Light's idea!"
"Hey no—" The three of you continuously ran in circles in the living room, with them (mostly just Sayu) screeching and frantically flailing every now and then the closer you got.
They were terrified of the egg monster that you were.
"Don't be mad [Y/N]. Did you know that eggs will do wonders for your hair? At least you don't need to go to the salon now."
"I know but it wasn't only my hair! I am so gonna get you, Light, you little ass!"
"Welp there you go [Y/N]! He's all yours!"
Sayu halted and tripped not only her brother but you too since you were accelerating too fast. Light fell on his chest, and you fell on his back, the gooey substance dropping to his jacket. And to make it worse, you nuzzled his hair with your yolk-covered one. He squirmed, panted, and whined ridiculously.
When he regained his strength he immediately wiggled you away from him. He stood up and removed his jacket, but the smell still lingered since his hair and nape were also covered with yolks and egg whites.
"This wasn't part of the plan.. Sayu..."
"Hehehe."
You dramatically threw your hands up and wheezed to get their attention.
"This is very unfair. I just changed clothes and now I definitely need to take a shower to get rid of this yucky smell."
"I may have to as well."
"Are you implying that we'll shower together?"
"Of course not! Unless you want to— but on second thought, no way! I'll go back home and return—"
"Nope, you're not going anywhere. I had it worse than you! You can easily wipe it away."
"But the smell—"
"You'll have to live with that until the party's over, mister."
You glared at him and walked upstairs to straight-up take a shower that took about thirty minutes. Even though you used as many shampoos as you could, there was still a slight smell left. You honestly weren't anticipating that.
As you languidly made your way downstairs you heard the clicking of metals, indicating that they had already started eating without you, the fucking birthday girl. Mr. Yagami had also arrived. Guess you really took too long and missed some tea— if there ever was.
Light glanced at you and gave a smile of mischief. You raised your middle finger but quickly hid it when your mom glanced your way.
No other choice but to sit beside your stinking boyfriend since it was the only vacant seat left. And you couldn't help but laugh when you saw the egg remains there.
"Let's properly start dinner then." Your dad announced. "Huh? I thought you guys had already started."
"We did. But it wasn't official. Of course we won't officially start without the birthday princess~"
"What difference does it make? And really, dad?"
After the prayer you eventually started eating. Just looking at the food already made you feel full and you were sure that you'd soon look like a pregnant woman after eating all those. Of course, there also had to be some entertainment otherwise it wouldn't be a normal dinner for you.
"Few visitors, huh?" Light elbowed you. "Obviously."
"Why didn't you invite the other neighbors?"
"Do I look like I'm close with those vivacious people?"
"Of course not." His grin somehow irritated you. He's doing this on purpose.
You puffed your cheeks. It was true though— you only had limited visitors this year, specifically the Yagami household. Let's just say that they're the only benevolent family in the neighborhood. You weren't really acquainted or interested in befriending your other neighbors and their kids since first of all, they're literally kids. And even though some of them were at the same age as you and Light, you couldn't really vibe with them. You had lots of friends though, but their houses were too far from yours. You could've had invited them too but it was raining cats and dogs. They might get stranded and you weren't really a fan of sleepovers. They did greet you via text earlier. Although, it was still rather saddening.
Both your parents shifted the topic to your university lives, the rankings and all that stuffs, including reminiscing old times, but they weren't comparing. It was all good to them.
"As expected! Your son is number one as always." Your mom smiled to Sachiko. Your dad then butted in, "Oho, I heard [Y/N] once swearing to beat him. Would you let that happen Light?"
"No way." He chuckled. You shook your head. "Watch me do it."
"I've been doing that for years."
"Tch. I was always first but then you stole the spotlight. Be thankful I don't hold a grudge on you." You jested. Him and your parents chuckled in unison.
"The spotlight isn't the only thing I stole from you though."
"Wow, you are capable of being cheesy too?" You coughed to apparently hide your smile and avoided your parents' sly looks. "Yes yes, you stole my heart too Mr. Know-It-All. You were supposed to be my rival but you cursed me."
"Did not. My charms were only being effective."
"Tsk."
"Wow, you two might be the smartest couple I've ever seen! But you know my teacher once told me if two smart people were to collide then it'd be chaotic." Sayu butted in.
"Why is that?"
"Because they'd keep on contradicting each other with their own beliefs and when they get into arguments it'd be super long but very logical. She also said it's not good because there's no contrast between them. They're already perfect and too much perfection isn't good."
They may be some truth to what she said. You and Light exchanged glances, mentally communicating.
"There's a bit of rivalry. Sometimes. And it's rather fun." He replied. You nodded in agreement. "Besides, we're not entirely perfect. Look at your brother, he's very meticulous in mapping out scenarios and good at speculating probabilities. He's the school prodigy. But that school prodigy has a secret. Wanna know what? He dances like a withered vegetable being shaken up in someone's hands." You, except for him, all giggled. But he had a comeback of course.
"I can dance, excuse me. Hiphop just isn't my style. And you know what? Not only does [Y/N] destroy a song's purity, she can never be a match for any sports for me."
You harshly stepped on his foot, earning a loud groan from him.
Dinner went smoothly. You felt like you didn't need to eat for at least three days, however there were still some desserts to eat. The conversation regarding each families' personal matters continued with you being quite invested in it. Then eventually, the 'most' awaited part arrived—they actually saved it for last—wherein they sang you a happy birthday as you made your wish. Who knows what it was? Only you know the answer to that. You blew your candle and they clapped happily. It made you feel like a kid but it was fun. And then you continued to eat. Cake, ice cream—and there were a lot more. For some reason you also requested a bag of potato chips.
And you already felt bad for the horrors your toilet was about to see.
It was the karaoke's time to steal the spotlight, again. You only watched them sing, although a bit out of tune they were clearer better than you completely murdering those notes. You tried ushering Light to sing but he irritatedly responded a no to you for the nth time. There were only two times you heard his singing voice— and damn, he really is a talented man. But it wasn't exactly his main forte so he refused to do it again.
"Let's get drunk too!" You jested, looking at your parents who were now acting like drunk and cheesy teenagers. Welp they had some drinks.
"[Y/N], you know I don't drink." Light shook his head and sighed, sensing an incoming annoyance at the way you were acting.
"Oh? If that's the case then mind you explaining to me why you're still alive because-not-drinking-would-lead-to-dehydration-which-apparently-leads-to-your-death-if-not—"
"You know that's not what—"
"Let's get high on caffeeeeeine insteaaad!! One cup of bullshit and the other crappuccino!"
Your parents glared at you. Your boyfriend was beginning to get highly concerned. "Why is she like this?"
"Perhaps too much coffee is really unhealthy, that's why, son."
"Whaddaya mean coffee? She didn't even drink any! All she drank was milk! Eight glasses every other day! Blame the milk!"
'What did I do to deserve this?'
He thought, and there you went again with your maniacal laughter. If Light and you hadn't known each other he'd definitely think you're a complete psychopath.
"Oh dear! Did I just say that? God, why did I do that? Liiiiiight..." You shook him. "If I ever start acting like that again please stop me."
"You are acting lke that right now. That's not cute. You're not even drunk."
"Quit being a killjoy, I'm enjoying my 'drunk' state. This is an experiment."
"What the hell? You are sober yet you're doing things worse than people who aren't do."
"But it's honestly fun."
"I can't blame you for being so irritatingly childish since it's your birthday, but it's time to stop that. Stop it. Get some help."
"Stop me then. You're the good guy here."
"How can I stop someone so crazy?"
"They say a kiss on the forehead can stop someone doing crazy stuffs.."
"You're only making that up."
"So what if I am? I speak facts. So, go on, please."
He pressed his lips together and thought about it. It was barely visible but you were sure that he's blushing.
"HAHAHAHA! I forgot my babyboy can't kiss without feeling so yucky about it."
"Hush."
"Psh, don't bite on me mate! I'll do the honor then." You were already kissing his forehead the moment he thought about running away. You weren't able to hold back a smirk as you did. He was grimacing the whole time, but he was actually enjoying it. But of course, he'd never let it show.
To 'annoy' him more, you butterfly pecked your way to the tip of his nose. You pulled back at least an inch or two from his face. And to your surprise, he pecked your lips.
It was so light that you thought it felt like hair on your skin. Thankfully your parents and Sayu—or maybe not Sayu—were too busy to give a damn about it.
You wordlessly sank back, face the reddest it could ever get.
"You stay still now."
"Heh... How about one mor—"
"Absolutely not. That's a kiss worth for three months. We had a deal back then, didn't we?"
"I'm starting to regret that deal."
"It was your idea."
"Let's disregard that deal."
"Nope. I gave my word. You did too."
"Oh come on!"
"'Kissing is a waste of time,' you say."
"I take it back!"
"You don't." He chuckled. You elbowed him and groaned.
You then were idly eating more of the chips as you watched your parents dance shamelessly. They began to coax you and Light to do the same because it was your special day after all. You and Light had different opinions about it. And, he was in.
"Why not? Afraid of your true skills being exposed?"
"Why should I be afraid to expose talent? Heck it's just not my liking. Besides, didn't we already dance?"
"Yeah but that was last year on your 18th birthday. You danced with other guys too. So maybe, maybe— just maybe, I only want to solo you right now."
"Wha— pfahahahaha! Did you just say that? Say that again!"
"Ah? No. Nevermind. Forget it."
"Awe sorry. It's just rare to see that side of yours. Hmm, how can I refuse now?" You pressed your lips in order not to laugh at the way he looked, as if he was regretting everything he did in his life. You stood up and offered him your hand, in which he refused to accept since it was his job to do in the first place.
"Oh! But I don't wanna dance here. Let's go to my room. I have an idea." He merely nodded. "Mom, dad, we're just going to go upstairs! In case you'll wonder why we suddenly disappeared."
"Can I come with you? I don't really want to dance or sing with them." Sayu jumped at you. You shook your head and Light spoke on your behalf. "Kids aren't allowed. Let us have our privacy this time."
"—Sorry but he's right. I do have some games you can play for you to pass the time. Or books, over there if that piques your interest. Don't worry, we'll be back quick to make sure you won't be lonely."
"Alright! Thank you!"
"Ah but why not join us here?" Your mom frowned.
"We have some business to do in my room—" That came out vague, but it was too late. Your mildly drunk dad had already replied, "Don't forget the protection, okay?" Leaving you, Light, his parents, and your mom to have that 'What the fuck?' look on your faces.
You two raced to your room nonetheless, quickly locking it. He was surprised to see how much of a mess it was. Mostly just the bed and the heap of completely random things on top of your cabinet. If he's a neat genius, you're the untidy one.
"Do you ever seriously clean?"
"Why clean it when it'll just eventually turn into a mess again? I can work perfectly fine in this state."
He shook his head and picked up a pillow and the bedsheet lying on the floor, but you stopped him before he could lay his hands on your one-hell-of-a-mess bed.
If you two ever do get married someday, the marriage would certainly include a lot of chaotic things and arguments about the chaos you've bestowed upon your damned house.
"I didn't bring you here to be my personal cleaner. Stop that."
"I'm actually doing you a favor???"
"We have other business. Cleaning is uninteresting. As your girlfriend, it's my duty to stop you investing yourself in such a boring activity."
"You're not really much of a good influence, are you? Fine. But I'm gonna do it once we finish anyway."
You snorted and opened the curtains to add a slightly relaxing view to the scene.
The rain hadn't stopped, still hostile and loud. You were lucky your room had a nice view of the streetlight. Though it would've looked better at dusk— more romantic to a lovers' liking when they dance as the sun sets, coating the sky in a mixture of lively, serene colors, with the streetlight slowly coming to life and they wouldn't realize it because they're lost in their own world.
You smiled at the thought. You wanted to do that with Light even though you knew you would never say it out loud— or who knows?
While your boyfriend was looking at the window, you turned on your lamp and the purple LED lights you had hanging on the walls and turned off the ceiling light. The room was then turned to a dull purple one. But it looked better than before—if you were to ignore the tangled mess on your bed of course, in which case was thankfully barely visible now— and at least to set a specific mood.
"Outdoing ourselves, aren't we?"
"Yes, well.. doesn't it look more.. romantiiiiiic to you?"
"Maybe. All that's missing now is the music. And maybe roses too, hmm? But it's alright. I have the prettiest rose here already."
"Oh my God. Are you really Light Yagami, or just a spirit who had taken over?"
"Shut up. I thought the word romantic was never in your dictionary."
"Ah, but I have a lot of words in my dictionary, so you'll never know, my dear." You winked and took one rose out of the bouquet he had given you. You handed it to him. "There goes your rose."
He cringed, but he was smiling too. He tucked your hair behind your ears and placed the rose on top of it. Now all that was left to do was to play the music.
"Hey Light. We're gonna regret being this overly romantic one day, aren't we?"
"Probably. And all that cheesy stuff. But who knows? We may or may not end up like our parents and continue whatever this saga is."
"Yep. But I also think we'd regret it more if we don't grab the chance to do it."
"Well said, [Y/N]."
You grinned and went on to play the music on your vintage gramophone. Needless to say you were quite the quaint one. And Light knew well of this.
"Shall I have this dance, my lady?"
"Why, I thought you'd never ask."
You hid a smile as well as he. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands were on your waist and you two slow danced, the rest of the world falling away. You thought whenever someone would say it, they're just exaggerating. But you were wrong. It really did feel like it that it might have been the closest to heaven you'd get.
Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you...
His eyes were locked on yours. This time, he wasn't holding back anymore. He was feeling the moment just as you were. And who cares if your movements weren't completely in sync with the music that was barely audible due to the rain?
Shall I stay?
Would it be a sin?
If I can't help falling in love with you...
The smile you were hiding broke out when he pulled you closer. It was definitely a rare event so you had to savor it. Slow dancing in the dark, just like old lovers.
Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be...
You might've had already ran out of steps halfway to the song. You two stood still, bodies pressed with you looking up at him. He rested his forehead against yours. Your faces were so close that you swore you could already feel his lips against yours.
Take my hand
Take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you...
And at that moment you really felt that you wanted him to take your whole life. You couldn't dream a world without your Light anymore.
To your surprise, he cupped your face and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a while as your bodies merely swayed to the rhythm of the song.
You love this man. He's not entirely perfect, but he's the best for you. He's your match. He's your lover. He's your rival. You were his, too.
"Psst, Light. I love you.." You whispered, pecking his cheek.
He stared at you with amusement, his adorable smile growing wider.
"I love you too."
"Even if you smell like shit right now..."
"You too. But did I complain?"
"Oh shush." You laughed. His arms tightly embraced you, and you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself as you two continued to lightly sway your bodies. He as well closed his eyes, leaning his cheeks against your head.
He considered this moment to be one of the bests where he's genuinely happy.
And outside, unbeknownst to you, stood a lonesome fellow under the streetlamp, drenched in the rain, a wistful smile on their face as they looked up to witness a moment like that from you two, wishing that one day they'll get to do that with someone too.
#light x reader#light yagami x reader#death note x reader#death note x you#light yagami x you#death note imagines#death note fluff#character x you#my comfort fic lol#sayu yagami
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Daily Speedwrite Pairings: Day 6
“Toss me my keys“ -KiriBaku
You can literally tell when I write these during the day and during the night. The difference in grammar and imagery is UNCANNY
“Oy, Shitty Hair.” Bakugo growled from his position on the common room couch.
Normally, the spiky-haired hero would snap back in rebuttal, swearing that Katsuki’s hair was no different than his.
“Shitty hair!” Bakugo once again called, grunting from the shock of being ignored.
“Don’t make me come over th-“
“what?” a tiny voice sounded from a small blanket bundle on the loveseat.
Bakugo let out a sigh and moved to sit next to his friend, “What’s going on, Kirishima?”
“You’re gonna laugh.” the voice was softer, followed by a sniffle.
“Well obviously I am, I’m me.” Bakugo replied nonchalantly, “but, if it’s making you so upset, I won’t bully you for it.”
“Thanks buddy. Reassuring.” Bakugo could practically hear Eijiro’s eyeroll.
“Will you please just tell me?” Bakugo responded with an eyeroll of his own.
Kirishima sighed, then looked at Katsuki. He seemed to be genuinely concerned. Odd...
“I just...” he sucked in a breath, “I just miss being a kid.”
Bakugo grinned softly and sighed, wrapping his arms around the bundle, “I do too.”
“Wait really?” Kirishima pulled the blanket off of his head, his fiery hair now fully visible.
“Hell yes. Back when I could just enjoy life without constantly having to worry about that shitty Deku beating me.”
“I miss trampoline parks, and getting scrapes and scars from stupid stuff.” Kirishima propped himself up on his palms, throwing the blanket over the couch.
“Stupid shit scars were the best.” Bakugo’s smile grew fonder, signifying his nostalgia, “y’know, I think I miss my stupid fights with Deku the most.”
“Heh. What’s the catch?” Kirishima asked with a scoff, “No way you’d miss something with Deku.”
“Ah you read me like a book, Shitty Hair.” Leaned against the armrest, “Hey. If you’re missing your childhood, maybe I could jog your memory.”
Kirishima’s eyes sparkled as his grind grew wide, “You’d do that for me?!”
“You think I would’ve reacted the way I did if I wouldn’t?” Bakugo scoffed, ruffling the latter’s hair
“Hey!” Kirishima whined with a giggle, “And how would you do that?”
“Same way I would fight with Deku.” Bakugo replied before getting the jump on his friend.
“AH! HEY! BAKUBRO-“ Kirishima yelped as he wrestled with his friend.
“I’ll remind you of your childhood with something childish how bout that.”
At that point, Bakugo dug his fingers into Kirishima’s sides.
“Hehehehehehey! Nohohohot thihihihihis!” Kirishima whined.
“What? I thought you wanted to be reminded of childhood.” Bakugo cooed with a snarky grin.
“Nohohohot lihihihihikehehe thihihihihis!” The spilt haired hero was shrinking into himself, desperately trying to shake the feeling.
“Ah. Boring. Stop giggling, I wanna hear you laugh.” Bakugo chimed, moving a hand up underneath Kirishima’s arm.
“WAIHIHIHIHIT BAHAHAHAKUHUHUHGOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAHAP!”
“Begging already? How ticklish are you?” Bakugo chuckled, snaking his other hand up underneath Kirishima’s arm.
The redhead writhed underneath the torturous grasp of his friend, “TOOHOHOHOHO TIHIHIHICKLIHIHIHIHISH!”
“Aww. That’s so cute.” Bakugo chimed, blowing into Kirishima’s ear.
Kirishima’s face flushed as he turned toward his shoulder, “NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOREHEHEHE! MEHEHEHEHERCHYEHEHEHE!”
“Are you gonna stop being sad?” Bakugo interrogated, pulling both hands up to gently spider along the latter’s neck.
“Yehehehehehes! Stahahahap! Uhuhuhuhnclehehehe!” Kirishima whined as he shrugged his shoulders upward.
“Heh. Glad to be of service, Shitty Hair.” Bakugo pat Kirishima’s stomach before rising to his feet. He made his way to the door and slipped his shoes on.
“Where are you going?” Kirishima cocked his head.
“Toss me my keys.” Bakugo ordered, “we’re gonna go get ice cream and go to a trampoline park.”
Kirishima whooped and hastily slipped into his shoes, “Time for more stupid shit scars!”
“Woo! Stupid shit scars!” Bakugo mocked in Kirishima’s voice, copying the latter’s movements.
“I’m gonna do a big backflip off of the wall.”
“And when you break your neck, I’m gonna be pissing myself laughing.” Bakugo replied, casually walking out the door, “C’mon shitty hair.”
Kirishima was happy to hop into the passenger side. Thank God for Katsuki Bakugo’s empathetic side.
#bnha#mha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#tickle#bakugo#bnha tickle#mha tickle#Bakugo katsuki#Katsuki Bakugo#katsuki#eijiro#eijirou#eijiro kirishima#Kirishima eijiro#eijirou kirishima#kirishima eijirou#mha Bakugo#mha kirishima#lee!kirishima#ler!bakugou#ticklish!kirishma#Mine#duckywrites#July speedwrite challenge
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My Love Is Not A Joke - [Mammon x Reader]
Fandom: Obey Me!
Ship: Mammon x gn! reader
Word Count: 1.9k
Rating: T
A/N: just thinkin about the amount of effort it would take to convince mammon you actually like him and you’re not just being an ass to him like everyone else made me feel a lot of thiiiings and then this was born lol.
Mammon lives in a liminal space between fear and a love so fierce it threatens to consume him. It’s a hell of his own making-- too cowardly to tell you how he really feels and too devoted to let you go.
And so you are forced to exist in this hellish space with him. Each time you try to get close he pushes you away, afraid he’ll be the butt of just another joke. Each time you try to give him space he pulls you back in, terrified you might leave him. It’s an exhausting game of tug of war between his ego and his heart and, frankly, you’re sick of being the god damn rope.
Eventually you reach your breaking point.
You are lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying another days worth of back and forths between you and a certain white haired demon boy. This has become as much a part of your night time routine as putting on pajamas or brushing your teeth. Every flush of his cheeks-- be it in anger or embarrassment or affection-- every dumb argument, or sweet sentiment, or stupid joke. They all play like a never ending feedback loop in your mind. But tonight a thought strikes you as you roll over to finally try and get some sleep-- as long as Mammon is engaged in this endless war against himself you’ll be stuck in it right along side him. He’s never going to give himself peace. He’ll fight until there’s nothing left of himself. So if the two of you are going to get out of this mess it comes down to you.
It’s a scary thought, the idea you might have to be vulnerable and make the first actual move. Scary enough that you try and let it go. Maybe you can just sleep on it and think about it more in the morning.
But now you can’t think of anything else. The thought begins to ruminate in your brain and there’s no way you can sleep at this point. You stay awake all night wondering if there’s any other solution. Any other way out of this mess. It turns out you also exist in the liminal space between fear and love. The idea of telling Mammon how you feel is paralyzing. And so you go to school the next day not having slept at all.
This pattern continues for nearly a week. Each night you stare at your ceiling going round and round in circles. And maybe Mammon can take this awful tug of war but you certainly can’t. You don’t have millennia to stay away pondering this shit. You’re a mortal and you’re being driven in-fucking-sane. So finally, on the seventh night of nearly no god damn sleep, you fling off your covers and irritably begin stomping down the hall.
You ignore Beel who is hip deep inside the refrigerator cleaning it out of whatever the hell is left inside. You passively wave to Levi when he sticks his head out of his room to ask you to play games and mumble some lame excuse. You’re on a mission to resolve this once and for all and nothing will stop you.
You make a beeline to your destination and once you reach Mammon’s door you begin to pound on it aggressively.
A familiar voice rings out from inside. “Jeez, cool it, Lucifer. I told you, I’m working on it. I’ll have all these late assignments done by tomorrow just gimme some time.”
“It’s me.”
There’s a pause and you can’t practically hear the gears turning in Mammon’s head as he registers who is speaking.
“Oh well why the hell didn’t ya just say so? Come in.”
You open the door to his room and find Mammon sprawled out in one of the arm chairs in the center of his room. His feet are propped up on the table and his leather jacket is flung over the couch opposite of him, leaving him in his normal jeans and black shirt. You can tell he’s been running his fingers through his white hair in frustration as it’s mused and messier than normal and his brows are knit in concentration as he looks down at his notebooks.
“Stupid Lucifer. Makin’ me do all this damn work in one night. It’s not fair.” He says, tossing the books onto the table as you shut the door behind you and approach him.
You have a rebuttal about how it’s not exactly ‘unfair’ since all of that work had been assigned weeks ago, but it dies on your lips when he looks up at you. You can feel you heart jump into your throat as your eyes meet, the normal façade of the student mode dropped here where he is comfortable and alone. People often attribute fastidiousness with appearance with Asmo, but Mammon is usually just as put together. Seeing him so relaxed is special, it’s something you know he reserves for only people close to him.
Your not sure how long you stand there at the edge of his chair looking down at him but it must be longer than normal because the sound of Mammon clearing his throat pulls your attention. “Eh? Do I have something on my face? You’re staring and it’s weirding me out.” His cheeks are pink and he looks absolutely anywhere but your face. “Anyway, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Couldn’t wait to see me until tomorrow, huh?”
Well.. It’s now or never. You’ve plucked up enough courage to make it this far so you might as well commit.
“Mammon, I like you. A lot. And I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable but I just... do. So. Yeah... Do with that what you will.”
If you weren’t borderline unhinged from the complete lack of sleep and frayed nerves and being so vulnerable, you would find the way his eyes quadrupled in size fucking hilarious.
“Wha? What do you mean? Is this some sort of dumb prank.” You can see him looking past you at the door. He’s searching for his brothers, searching for a camera, searching for the evidence that this is all some elaborate joke at his expense. You can already hear the derisive laughter he’s waiting for playing in his head. ‘Stupid, Mammon.’ ‘How could you think they would ever like you?’ ‘Got you good, huh?’ ‘Actually thought that they might like you? You’re even dumber than we thought-’
You cut off whatever string of insults he’s playing in his own hand by gently touching his face, cupping his cheek with your hand.
“It’s not a joke, Mammon. I like you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way but... I need you to know that.”
It’s clear that the moment you touch his skin his internalized war rises into a crescendo. It breaks you open to see his eyes soften with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before, blue gold shimmering with an emotion you can’t quite place but sends your heart hammering harder than it ever has before... and then immediately they harden again. “Do you have a fever or something?! Jeez, leave it to a human to get sick right when I’m supposed to be doing something else. I don’t always have time to be-”
He begins to rise from the chair and it’s clear he wants to run, wants to hide, wants to lick his wounds before they can even form. You can tell he’s already written this off as another joke at his expense. If you let him get away from you right now you’ll lose that look you found in his eyes just moments ago for good.
You push down on his shoulders, seating him in the chair again, and then wordlessly climb on top of him, pinning him beneath your weight. Surely he could pick you up and yeet you across the entire god damn room if he wanted to, but the action seems to break the string of negative self talk long enough for you to actually speak to him.
“Mammon.” You grab his face between your hands and force him to look at you. His expression is wild-- scared and hopeful and completely unguarded. “I. Like. You. And it’s not some joke. If you don’t feel the same way just tell me. But if you do-”
You don’t get to finish the rest of the sentence.
Mammon kisses you like you are oxygen and he’s on the verge of drowning. One hand shoots up to the back of your neck, pulling you close, tangling his long tanned fingers in your hair. The other comes to rest on your thigh. It’s all you can do to twine your own fingers through his soft white hair and pull him closer as he rocks into your body. You feel tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as a surge of emotion races through you. You’ve never felt so much for one person in all your life. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re being crushed under the weight of it all.
At some point you physically can’t keep kissing him because you’re afraid you might actually suffocate. You pull back to take in a breath but he continues to hold you close, keeping his hands in your hair, lips still only inches from your own. You look at him, his eyes are more gold than blue now and you feel like you might catch fire if you look at him too long. You let out a breathy “Oh...”
Apparently he’s decided you’ve had enough time to breath and he’s on you again, pulling you close and making desperate little noises every time you part lips even briefly. You wonder if maybe you can die from catching on fire internally because every part of you feels like it’s engulfed in flames.
Eventually you manage to part again, long enough to put a hand on his chest and keep him from chasing your lips. You’re breathing heavily, trying to suck in air but finding it hard to do so when Mammon is looking at you like he’s just waiting for the chance to devour you again.
“So..” your voice comes out an octave higher than normal and your face turns scarlet, clearing your throat so you can try to speak somewhat normal. “Uh.. I take it... we’re on the same page then? Y’know... about... stuff...?” You’re not exactly eloquent but Mammon just kissed you to the point of ceasing brain function so, really, who can blame you?
There’s a beat of silence, and then Mammon speaks, voice deeper, quieter, and more serious than you’ve ever heard it before. “Don’t leave, okay?”
You’re not really sure what he’s referring to. Leave this chair? Leave the Devildom? Leave him? But he’s raw and real and so fucking perfect staring up at you perfectly kissed like that and the answer comes to you without thinking.
“Never. I’m never leaving. I’m here for as long as you want me.”
Suddenly both of his arms are around your waist, drawing you close. Your face is pushed into his neck and his into yours. You breathe in the smell of his aftershave and shampoo and you’ve never felt more at home. Your hearts are pressed up against one another and you know you’ve never felt more right than in this moment.
The last thing you hear him whisper as you drift off to sleep for the first time in nearly a week is a whispered. “Always... I’m always going to want you, silly human.”
#obey me#obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x reader#obey me mammon x mc#mammon x reader#mammon x oc#obey me imagine#obey me imagines#obey me fic#fic#0-2k
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finale — show me yours & i’ll show you mine
➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung
➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.
➙ word. 2.1k
➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |
➙ synopsis.
“show me yours and i’ll show you mine.”
x
“be nice," taehyung mouths across from you as he sits next to mina.
the red handprints on his cheeks becoming more apparent with each passing minute. it was half-believable to say taehyung fell face first in the snow, got stuck there for more than two minutes and voila, sported a red face upon your return to the kim’s.
but now, you’re just lucky no one’s pointing out the very obvious palm shaped mark on his pudgy cheeks as he stuffs his face with food.
“oh, mina, do you have any plans tomorrow? you could stay over and spend christmas morning with us," mrs kim asks as she passes the bowl of the roasted potatoes seokjin’s been boasting about.
“o-oh,” the brunette stammers, holding the fork with both hands as if citing a prayer of hope, “no, i couldn’t intrude on you any longer.”
“no such thing, we’re all family here.” mrs kim waves a dismissive hand and even that brief gesture feels warm, “___’s mother and i have known your mother since we were kids and i watch you two grow up with my boys - you’re basically daughters i never had,” she shoots you a smile, eyes crinkling in the corners.
not seeing the remark coming, you end up almost choking on the mushroom soup you’re just in the middle of enjoying.
“i can’t say i’d love to have tae as a sibling but here we are,” you jest, half-heartedly while laughter erupts from everyone at the table.
if there’s a god, please don’t let mrs kim find out i fucked her oldest son.
“i heard yuukal co is interested in your flower arrangements and wanna buy exclusive rights to have you deliver them to the company whenever they have an event lined up?” namjoon chirps up, dimples digging into his cheek as he digs into his
“the secretary of yuukal co was an acquaintance of mine in college, that’s probably why.” the brunette says shyly, pushing her hair to the back of her ear.
“so, you’re not planning on going back to college?”
but it’s your voice that makes her blink once and stare at you like you’re some tricky math question.
“what- oh,” she shakes her head, as if shaking away the trance that delayed her response, “i don’t know, my major has nothing to do with what i want to do so i’m thinking of taking another year off.”
you nod casually. understandingly. “i’m sure the college has plenty of spots for people who actually wants to be there, i guess.”
it’s not a new low. but it’s a kind of low you never usually stoop to.
no one seems to notice though, as mina laughs. obviously uncomfortable by your remark, “haha yeah.”
“taehyung got offered a job at the company he interned in last year,” with a smack on the aforementioned boy’s back, seokjin proudly announces.
and just like that, taehyung takes the spotlight to himself.
“oh my god, that’s wonderful news. kim taehyung, when were you going to tell us?” mrs. kim is the first to say something, eyes brimming with anticipation as she looks at him, waiting for him to tell everyone at the table more about it.
but the fact of the matter is, kim taehyung is torn between working a nine-to-five, subsequently making his parents proud or going professional as a full time gamer.
he breathes out an ‘uh...’ before his lips curl into a forced smile.
“surprise?”
x
some time after dinner, you end up drinking and playing card games. mrs kim already went to bed and it's a hour past midnight and all four of your find yourselves in your house to not disturb the kim couples.
the grinch is playing in the background because you, taehyung and mina won against namjoon and seokjin who wanted to watch frozen.
“frozen is so unchristmasy,” taehyung complained.
though, at one point, you did backtrack a little - only a teensy bit - and sided with seokjin who looked like he just won a lottery when you casually say, “i mean frozen’s got that wintry feeling and christmas is in-”
“oh girl, not you choosing a man over your best friend,” taehyung started tickling your sides as giggles erupted from your lips while trying to beg for forgiveness.
“okay! okay! i’m grinch team all the way!”
“is that allowed? yah! you can’t say that after converting to team frozen!” seokjin’s rebuttal sounded every bit casual.
in retrospect, him joining taehyung’s ticklish assault would have felt out of character had you not fucked behind taehyung’s back nor kissed like you were star crossed lovers just hours ago.
“two against one! not fair! seokjin- ah- hahahaha!”
one good thing came out of it though: you ended up sitting next to seokjin. it made you a little too conscious of him - of his cologne, of his thigh that brushes against yours with every movement you make and pretend like it’s nothing and of the ghost of a touch of his pinky finger that lingers on your knee when he seemingly places a hand on his own knee.
still, it’s the closest you could ever be in public and it’s enough to tell mina to back off.
she doesn’t seem to notice but her compliments are equally distributed to everyone in the room. she seems to be the giggly drunk. giggling at every single thing everyone say.
somewhere deep in your heart, you feel the guilt gnawing because of your uncalled for hostility.
“i better get home,” she starts to stand at 3:07 am and you wave a dismissive hand, “no, it’s so late. stay over. please. you promised to make me your special hot chocolate in the morning.”
she objects at first like she turned down mrs kim’s invitation to spend christmas morning at the kim’s. and that’s how you know your views have been blinded with jealousy to see mina for who she is - a cute, lovable girl who’d be the heroine of every romance novel there is.
“oh thank you, thank you!” her arms flail around before they wrap around you in a drunken hug.
you laugh, hugging back.
x
the memories of how you huddled together like children and fell asleep in the living room, is hazy but when you wake up - the time on your screen displaying a 6 something am - you find a blanket draped over your body.
the light from the kitchen pours over the living room but not enough to wake the slumbering bodies there.
seokjin shoots you a smile when he sees you ambling over to the dining table with hair pointing in every direction, eyes squinting trying to block out the light while holding the blanket around your shoulders.
“you’re working? jinnie, it’s christmas,” you whine, head resting on his shoulder, feeling your heartbeat skip at the small contact.
he chuckles, bumping his cheek against your head before you hear the sound the keyboard again.
you stay like that, blanket curled around your body, seokjin typing away at his laptop.
that is, until his velvet voice cuts through the silence.
“so... i reckon that red handprint on tae’s cheek isn’t because he fell face first in snow.”
“it was because i slapped him in the face,” you wave your injured hand that’s now wrapped with a panda printed band aid instead of the duck ones seokjin used in the beginning.
he takes your hand, making sure not to apply too much pressure on the injury and kisses the top of your hand, “why would you do that?”
your cheeks warm at the gesture but you clear your throat, trying to play it cool, “because he told me we looked good together after all that shit he put us through.”
silence lulls in once again.
it feels like the longest you’ve ever gone with your heart palpitating inside your chest and unspoken words hovering over you but not quite reaching the who they’re supposed to reach.
“do we?” seokjin muses.
“do we... what?” you ask despite having an inkling of what he means.
“look good.” he turns to you, one arm on the table, thumb brushing against your pinky finger.
“i don’t know- we never even took selfies together.” you shrug.
“i think our selfies would look cute,” he pauses, naturally pouty lips curling into a smile, “so cute that the guys in your dm’s would be devastated to know that you’re dating me.”
“i can’t... do this,” the words slip out of your mouth like a waterfall like it’s bound to pour out of your heart through your mouth at some point, “because taehyung was... right. i don’t have a love language - even if i did, it’d be being jealous of every girl that talks to you. lashing out at those girls even though it’s completely understandable why they’d have heart eyes when they talk to you because you’re just that amazing... and... and... you like me? why?”
seokjin’s eyes look like someone personally plucked stars from the sky and trap them in those dark brown irises.
no- actually, he’s looking at you like you’re the star and he’s the moon that shines silver white rays just to have you notice him.
“who’s to say i don’t get jealous?” he cups your face, brows furrowing like you’re a math question without a solution and he’s going mad trying to figure you out, “i get so jealous at the thought of guys sliding into your dm’s, let alone make a pass on you but then i thought ‘if she’s not looking at me then i just have to try harder to make her notice me’ and i might or might not’ve reciprocated mina’s passes to make you jealous...”
you feel the corners of your lips tugging into a smile as you smack his chest lightly, “ass.”
that earns a chuckle from the man before he goes on, “but i’m not even sure what my love language is either, last i used it, i ended up getting dumped because apparently i’m too boring.”
“you’re not boring...” red flashes in your vision as you spit out the word, offended, “your dad jokes are bad but that’s what makes them so lovable. you’re so tall but you’re a literal walking teddy bear. you have biggest, kindest heart... and you’re so hung.”
something devious and prideful flashes across his eyes for the briefest moment before he asks ever so softly, “yeah?”
“yes.” you take his hands and grip them tightly, wishing the touch would convey your feelings.
“isn’t that kind of your love language?” his thumb feels callous against your skin as he rubs circles on the back of your hand. but that’s what makes this feels real - an affirmation that you’re not dreaming, “so... show me more... show yours and i’ll show you mine.”
you’d want to say you share a deep, passionate kiss to seal your promise for each other. but when you open your eyes - not knowing when you closed it - you’re staring at the white ceiling with neon starry stickers tacked up on it.
and seokjin?
he’s nowhere to be found.
the morning air sends shivers down your spine as you pull your blanket over your head, trying to tune out taehyung’s voice.
but the universe seems set on kicking your sleepy ass of your bed when the door swings open with a bang!
“get up! get up! it’s christmas!” the tall boy literally screams in your ears before hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potato and setting you down on the toilet in the bathroom with a “you better wash your face by the time i come back!”
you do as told.
eventually.
since the presents are all set under the christmas tree at the kim’s and you’re not looking to upload a christmas morning story in mismatched pj’s, you change into a cute totoro onesie.
mr and mrs kim got mina - she thanked you for letting her stay over last night even though you woke up to an empty house, she even has different clothes on than last night - new kits for the florist.
taehyung almost hugged you to death when he unwrapped his new ps5 that he’s been dying for.
namjoon got a new pair of gucci loafers from taehyung and booked an interrogation slot with their mother because-
“kim taehyung, where did you get all this money?”
you suspect he’s going to reveal his gaming channel to her where he got sponsors from to buy namjoon those loafers.
and seokjin gifted you with a heartshaped necklace as well as a new pc set for taehyung and a signed book of namjoon’s favorite writer that he’d been talking about for ages as well as an all expense paid trip for his parents to thailand.
“thanks for the necklace,” you lightly bump seokjin’s elbow as you come to stand next to him at the sink. he’s washing the mug he used for hot coffee.
he steals a glance at his family and mina in the living room. they’re laughing over taehyung having his head down, sitting on his calves like he’s asking for the forgiveness of a lifetime after confessing that he didn’t want to work a nine-to-five and wanted to go pro.
then his eyes find yours again. the glint in them makes your heart stop before he leans down, lips brushing yours ever so gently yet very seokjin-like.
you think your heart just burst as you freeze in your spot, staring up at the man with slightly parted lips and warm cheeks like a high school girl whose crush very obviously hinted he likes her back.
he raises a quizzical brow at your reaction before realization settles on his face and his lips curve into a smirk, “what? did you think last night was all a dream?”
x
taglist. @aretha170 @scalubera @ambersaesthetics @heyjiminnie @hyuck-me @fanfuckingfic @fangurl-ontgeside @bri-mal @waves-and-woods @rjsmochii @kimmieloveswho
#bts fanfic#bts fic#seokjin fanfic#seokjin fic#seokjin x reader#bts x reader#bts x you#seokjin x you#bts scenarios#seokjin scenarios#bts smut#seokjin smut#seokjin fics#bts fics
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return from Sicily 🖤
sfw // gn reader // so much pining like whew
Hello everyone, it is i, Cozy, back to give you a lil snack between schoolwork. This was fully self indulgent, to a worrying degree, so my apologies for that. But please enjoy, it was a fun little writing exercise since it’s been a while!💖✨
A distant car door shut, the sound muffled by the thick brick walls that separated you from the sparsely populated street where La Squadra Esecuzioni has been residing for a little while now. It’s not an uncommon sound, not at all actually. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up to heavy car doors slamming in the middle of the night, men of disputable morals stepping out and going about their even more so morally disputable business. But instead of filling you with annoyance that you’d have to lull yourself back to sleep again, this faint slam meant the return of your capo!
He’d been off on his very first holiday since joining Passione. Perhaps it was even the first in his life, the past never really presenting such opportunities unfortunately. 10 days. 10 whole days since the looming figure that brought a sense of calm and comfort to your shared homebase had left to start his travels to Sicily. And God had you missed him. You thought your crush on him had been manageable, maybe it would even dim by not seeing him for a while.
But oh no. It got worse. It got so much worse.
You hadn’t realised it before, but living so close with your teammates had conditioned you. You saw them every single day, for worse or for better. And that also included Risotto. Sometimes he’d be too busy to come out of his office but you were always sure to pay him a quick visit. Just to check up on him, you told yourself. You’d shoot him a warm smile that always received a small nod in return from the tired form pouring over his work.
A rush of excited energy barreled through your body, trying to suppress the need to wait at the front door like an overzealous golden retriever. You put down your phone and exhaled deeply, mentally preparing yourself as to not let on how much you’ve missed seeing him around.
You heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking and got up from the living room couch you’d been lounging on as casually as possible. Casually making your way to the entrance to casually welcome back your colleague. Casual.
Risotto looked...magnificent. His skin had darkened under the Sicilian sun and given him a nice tan that evenly spread over his figure. He was wearing a simple black shirt that clung to the right places, adorning his chiseled chest and barely holding onto his built biceps. His hat was nowhere in sight and his silver locks poked out in different directions, clearly not bothered to tame them for his drive home.
Your quick once-over cut short over the sound of your own voice. “You’re back! Did you have fun? I missed you-” To your own surprise the words left you all too soon. In an attempt to fix the slip up you hurriedly continued. “We all missed you, I mean…” you trailed off. Risotto’s lips quirked up into an amused smirk, showing off his dimple that rarely appeared. He looked a lot more relaxed than before he left.
“Oh? We?” he said, making it a point to lean to his side to direct his gaze to the empty apartment behind you. No one else had been home. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and the desperate need to run and never return. Why was this already so hard?
You nervously chuckled and wrung your hands together, casting your eyes down at Risotto’s bag that had been put near the messy shoe rack Formaggio promised to clean up while your capo was gone. Sensing you weren’t going to rebuttal his comment, he continued. “It was nice. But I did miss you all, too.” The baritone of voice only stoked the fires burning under your skin.
He had missed you. Your mind swatted away the unnecessary word that followed his statement indicating that he’d also missed your teammates. You really needed to get a grip on your feelings.
You looked up again, feeling a bit braver to face your capo. “You look at ease, it really did you good, huh?” you softly hummed. His eyes held kindness in return, no matter how dark and spooky they were to some, they held no sharp edge whenever they landed on you.
As soon as you both stepped further into the apartment you heard him let out a deep sigh. It wasn’t of displeasure, no, those were way deeper and mostly kept for difficult meetings. He was breathing in the familiar smell of home. One that strangely enough had become the one he most associated with you. Walking behind you towards his room with his bag gripped tightly, his hand clutching the straps even harder turning his knuckles white.
He’d missed you too. So much. His trip was fun and relaxing and he could finally spend time by himself after being surrounded by people 24/7. But with every stroll past the beach, every dinner spent by himself- calmly sipping a glass of deep red wine, he wished you were there to spend it with him. To hold your hand and gently sway it as the sea breeze washed away the stress work had caused to settle onto you both. To rest on the beach together, lazing on a towel while the sun beamed down and a comfortable silence that rested between you.
Risotto was thankful for the holiday he never thought he’d have while working for Passione, but even more thankful to be back home. Where you were.
You had kindly opened the door for him, that cute smile resting on your lips as you let him pass by. The room smelled fresh and sweet like the breeze outside, the wind fluttering the curtains. “I changed your sheets and opened the window for you. Thought you wouldn’t mind it.” you shyly said as he set down his bag and huffed down on the edge of his bed. Idly caressing the light sheets in appreciation. He offered you a quick smile in return, instantly making that heat rise back to your cheeks.
“I’ll let you get settled.” You were glad he was back home safe, maybe you’d rest easier now and maybe your feelings would reach a more manageable level again. But before you could get far, not even a step further towards the hallway, you felt a big hand grasp your wrist. It felt warm and calloused, one that has worked hard and endured too much. You bounced back but steadied yourself to face Risotto who had cleared his throat and swiftly let go of your wrist. Bold move there, he warned himself.
“Sorry, I- I got you something.” he grumbled out the apology, brow creased as he dipped down to reach for something in his bag.
“Here.” He handed you a strangely shaped crumpled newspaper, cursing himself for not wrapping it in something a bit nicer. It was much heavier than your average weekly publication so you held it steadier, gently trying to unwrap whatever was hiding inside. Excitement was still bubbling inside, but a sense of ease that only Risotto supplied had nestled its way into you.
Risotto took over the discarded newspaper to let you admire the gift, trying his best to hide his excited stare, eager to know if you’d liked it. In your hands rested a ceramic mug, it looked handmade and the uneven strokes of shiny blue coloured glaze gave it a rustic touch. Lemons and leaves decorated the sides, making you turn it over a couple times to fully admire the handiwork. You were so enamoured by the gift you’d forgotten to let him know your thoughts.
“For your collection…” he trailed off, getting a bit nervous at his choice and doubting if you’d liked it. He knew you had a particular taste in mugs that were allowed into your hallowed collection. (not to be touched by your other teammates of course)
“I love it Ris. Really, it’s absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much.” You really did love it, your heart could barely take how much you did. Clutching the mug in your hand, you reached over and hugged him. He had barely processed the relief of you liking his gift to be hit with your form clinging to his torso. Carefully, he placed a single hand around your middle, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable as he reciprocated. “Thank you.” you quietly let out while giving him a curt squeeze.
His arm eased you down to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, feeling his very own surge of warmth ghost over his cheeks. His hand remained on your side, comfortably resting there, feeling right at home. You didn’t mind, not in the slightest. You were just so happy he’d returned and even brought you a thoughtful gift.
“Maybe next time I could show you around the shop I got it from. They have lots more to choose from.” he urged himself on, hearing his own heartbeat reach new speeds at the suggestion and its implications. A next time, but with you by his side.
You held onto the mug for dear life, clasping your fingers even tighter around the sides in case you’d drop it and shatter it like your chances with Risotto. Your mind raced, his suggestion having caused a mild short circuit of all functions. After a trained breath you find the strength to reply. “I’d like that very much. Just be sure to keep Ghiaccio away from the fragile stuff.” you chuckled nervously. A heavenly sound to the smitten capo.
“The rest of the team- as much as I like them- are uhm… not invited.” The smile that danced on his lips and the glint in his eyes made your heart flutter all over as you looked up at him.
A holiday? Just the two of you?
“Oh. Oh.”
You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his as the thought settles between you. His hand on your hip hadn’t moved, only growing warmer and now finally urging you to scootch a little closer. His soft touch lingering on the small of your back now, closing in the distance and letting your hands rest on his chest as he moved to your inviting lips.
You felt like you’d burst any second, steadying your breath seemingly the hardest task you’ve had to face yet. But then your lips met, softer than any you’d felt before and easing over yours like it was the greatest privilege ever granted. A warm palm cupping your cheek, only deepening the finalisation of your mutual holiday plans. Everything you’d both been wishing to let out finally coming together, moving along your lips with a deep need and hunger that got its chance to grasp at a godly buffet.
With disbelief you both let go- regrettably so, softly gasping for air. If you wanted to go on a holiday together, you would still need to be breathing to get there. As you shared the lingering moment of closeness, appreciating the warmth and love of each other’s gazes, your hearing picked up on scuffling in the hallway.
Mortified you snapped your attention to Melone in the doorway collecting what looked like money from a passing Formaggio and Prosciutto. “Told you they’d do it after he got back.” he smuggly grinned, counting his winnings as you heard Risotto let out a small chuckle under his breath. Earning him a playful jab to his side from you.
“Melone, I won’t kill you if we split the winnings. We have a holiday to save for.” you grumbled.
#cozy drabble#risotto x reader#risotto nero x reader#jjba x reader#jojo x reader#jojo's bizarre adventure#la squadra x reader#pls someone hold my hand i cannot take this rice man#gn reader#sfw
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i’m bad too 15 || kdy & reader
title: i’m bad too - drabble series
pairing: kim doyoung x reader
genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au,
word count: 1.8k
warnings: none !!
a/n: a “leading” chapter, before something actually happens! so, not the most exciting, but... yeah. :D
please let me know if anyone wants to be tagged!
taglist: @wownajaemin @crescent-iak @ncttboo @byunbaekby @jinfizz @doyoungyoung @ahgayeah0305 @doyobun @sexualitaeyong @mrkleelvr @m1ss-foodi3
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If it’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself, it’s that you hate when Ten chews his food with his mouth open. He chomps it like a cow munching on grass, and sometimes, he even makes those weird wet sounds if the food is soft and squishy enough.
But after laying in a hospital bed for a week, unable to speak, you’re missing the ability to call your big brother ‘disgusting’ across the table, toss something in his direction, and him opening his mouth to show the contents of his dinner inside.
“Are you fucking insane? You let her go into hellfire, knowing damn well she wasn’t protected?” The voice is familiar, loud, and straining, like they’re on the verge of tears but too instilled with anger to let the sadness seep through. “I thought I said to keep her fucking safe if you wanted to work together.”
“I don’t work in the field, Ten. I don’t control what happens at the moment.”
“Yeah, but you set the commands. You give the orders. She’s fucking on her deathbed, Taeyong—“
“Don’t fucking say my name in public,” he hisses through his gritted teeth. “Listen. If it’s not her, it’s me.”
“I’d rather it be you.”
“You need me, Ten. Who is gonna do the dirty work for you? Look at those pretty fingers. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. But your sister—you know damn well she’s got potential to be more. This is just a hurl she’s jumping over. When she recovers—“
“You’ve got to be fucking insane, you think I’m gonna let her go back out there when you put her in harms way?”
Before the conversation could continue, you hear the door click shut, and the shuffling of flat shoes tapping against the cold tiles, reaching to your bedside. You can’t see, your body won’t let you fully awaken, and you can’t speak with this tube lodged in your throat. But the whiff of the cologne that comes hits your nostrils is a familiar one. It’s Doyoung.
He sighs, like he’s been troubled and you can’t even blame him. You told him not to worry, that you’d stay safe, and here you are—unable to move, unable to wake up, unable to breathe on your own, and unable to talk.
You hear his moments; the scuffing of his oversized denim jacket against the leather seat by your bed, browsing through the drawers with each push and slam until he finds what he’s looking for, and when you hear the television turn on, you could only assume it was for the remote.
“I wonder if they have Marvel movies playing,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular until you realize he’s speaking to you, in spite of the fact that you’re very much in a deep sleep. “I know they’re not your favorite, but you tolerate it. I never got to ask what kind of movies you liked. I… I guess I was being a little selfish when you gave me attention that I never considered to ask.”
You wanna tell him that you actually don’t even like movies, in fact, you prefer sitcoms in spite of your very evident opposite personality. If you could, you would tell him that you watch those superhero movies because he’s into them, that if you get to see that pretty little smile on his face, it makes you forget all your problems and… the moment is worthwhile.
Warmth reaches your fingers, and you could only assume that it’s Doyoung holding your hand. It’s a familiar feeling of home, like you’re meant to be here with him, except the current setting isn’t necessarily favored.
“Do you like Spongebob?” He asks, as if you could even respond. “Mm. Doesn’t really seem like your thing, but I feel like you’re the type to not look like you enjoy it, but you actually love it because it’s annoying.”
He’s… right. You want to laugh, genuinely laugh because Kim Doyoung is spot on with his prediction. He knows you better than he gives himself credit for, because he doesn’t change the channel and watches the TV with you.
“I bet you like sitcoms,” Doyoung mentions randomly, eyes still on the screen. “Like maybe not Modern Family, but maybe like… Parks and Rec. You don’t seem like you’d enjoy the Office too much, maybe Michael Scott is too much of a character but Andy Bernard looks like a guy you’d scare to the point he’d piss his pants, but you’d like him.” Again, you think to yourself. Because Doyoung got it right yet again.
He’s quiet for a bit, letting Spongebob play in the background and you could hear the conversation between Spongebob and Patrick. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s actually happening, but the feeling of being with Doyoung like this, hand in hand with something stupid playing on TV is your favorite.
It’s casual. No missions, no guns, no family business—just you and Doyoung.
Doyoung doesn’t say much on the day you finally wake up. With a tube wedged down your throat, it’s difficult to have a two-way conversation anyways, and seeing you like this probably breaks his heart, so any word that leaves his mouth might be with a stutter and a sob.
Spongebob plays on the television for another hour before Doyoung eventually breaks the glass of quietude, letting out a soft chuckle at something Patrick said. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, glancing over at you. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Spongebob.” Although you can’t speak, the soft squeeze of his hand gives away your approval, and a gentle smile tugs on his face.
There's another moment of silence, just before Doyoung lowers the volume of the TV before gathering enough courage to talk. It takes a lot to get himself to speak up against you, someone he sort of feared yet at the same time had strong feelings for.
“I know what you do,” he announces, eyes never leaving the flickering screen with cartoon characters under the deep blue sea do stupid things, unmatching to what he wants to say next. “I can’t say that I totally get it, because I don’t. I’d be lying if I said I did, but… you do those things, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what to make out of it, but I get why it was hard to confess… those things.” He runs his fingers through his greasy locks, accumulating in oils from how long he’s stayed here without going home to shower. “I kind of thought I was going to date someone really simple one day, yaknow? Settle down with a girl who has a job, sweet and kind, with the same end goal in mind. Get married, have kids… all that fun stuff.”
Your nose twitches at that. Because you’re definitely not that.
“But then I met you, which is… well,” he lets out a faint laugh, “... the complete opposite of all of that. You’re dangerous, cold, and oftentimes, I’m left hanging by a thread, confused on what we are and what I actually mean to you.”
If you could, you’d interrupt him right then and there. Tell him your sorrys, belatedly confessing your true feelings for him, let him know you’d be better for real this time, but truthfully, you’re not sure if he’ll believe you anyway.
“And I could just drop everything right now. Just get up, leave, move on. Tell you that I don’t want this anymore, that whatever you’re in, I don’t wanna be roped in and get involved in your baggage.” It’s like you could hear the cracking of your heart as it falls into the depths of your stomach because your chest feels empty when he says that. The worst part is when you can’t defend yourself, tell him that it’s not like that, but in the end, Doyoung does it for you.
“Yet, I’m still here, right? Because I don’t get you, I don’t get whatever it is you got yourself caught up in, but… after knowing, it oddly makes me… trust you more. So, I’ll stay.”
“Fuck,” Ten curses underneath his breath, getting slightly frustrated with the wheelchair being caught on the steps of your home again. “Fucking shit, nothing here is disability accessible.”
It’s still hard to talk, but a weak laugh escapes from your lips.
“Don’t laugh, you’re the one in the wheelchair not doing shit.”
When he gets you through the front door, and into the hallway, you can’t help but stare at Ten curiously. He furrows his brows at this, hands at his hips with a gesture of his chin. “What’s in your head?”
“Uh,” it’s straining to speak, but if not now, it’s never. “I overheard a conversation when I was asleep. I-I don’t know if it was a dream or… I don’t know. But I heard you talking to someone, uh, someone particularly… with a reputation.”
His body goes rigid.
“Right,” you state, feeling more confident that the discussion was definitely not a dream. “So this entire time, you’ve been working with the organization?” Ten only sucks his cheeks, unable to formulate a proper rebuttal, so you take advantage of this. “This whole time, you let them constantly probe and ask me to be part of them—”
“I told him not to—”
“Well, he’s been asking, Ten, and he hasn’t stopped. I got contracted to be part of them temporarily, not permanently. This was supposed to be a one and done deal, you realize that, right?”
He scoffs. “You think that anything you do with Lee Taeyong could just be easily brushed under the rug? Hell no, you have to be insanely rich to pay off that guy. He thinks you’re talented, you know? What do you think this is?”
“I could just get up and leave—”
“In your fucking dreams, kid,” Ten lets out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. “I agreed to work with him before I knew that you were already contracted with him. There’s shady people in the business. There’s so many messed-up dudes who would bend the laws to get what they want. I don’t want that, but I have to protect myself.”
“But—”
“Wanna hear something, kid? Taeyong doesn’t think this accident,” Ten gestures to your wounds, heart tightening at the sight of you in pain. “... this accident, is just… it. He calls this an obstacle. He thinks this is just a bump in your progress, something you need to overcome before you hop back into the field and start training all over again. He’s not gonna let this go, doesn’t matter if I’m his client. Fuck, kid, he has a shit ton of clients.”
Uneasily, you grip onto the wheels of your seat. “Then what do you want me to do?”
“It’s your loss, kid. Either kill Taeyong and take his seat or you gotta work for him.”
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