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pedropascalsx · 2 years

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Oh Cristina, #13 did THINGS to me when I read it. Your choice of who you'd like it to be, but if you're taking requests then yes please ;)

LJ, my love!! I hope I did your prompt justice. Thank you so so so so much for submitting one and I really hope you enjoy this.

Javier Pena x F! Agent reader.

Summary: A stupid moment causes a world of hurt and you spend the next few months in an uncomfortable situation with one of your partners; but a fateful evening could change it all.

Warnings: Angst, smut, and Javi being an asshole. P in V sex, Oral (F receiving), Fingering and unprotected sex, creampie? Dirty talk.

PROMPT: 13. "i’d hold onto something if i were you".

Word count: 3.5 words (im so sorry this one got a bit away from me i didn't intend for it to be this long.)

A/n thank you to @psychedelic-ink for reading for me. And thank you to my lovely LJ for the prompt.

The news that you’d be stuck alone on a stakeout with Javier Pena that very evening made you groan loudly, pissed off and nervous about the idea of spending god knows how long with a man who despised you and without having Murphy there to keep the peace made your tummy churn.

It wasn’t always this tough with Javier Pena, but after you’d giggled a little too loudly at a joke from Steve Murphy about Javiers’ preference for a certain brothel – incidentally the same brothel you’d be staking out at - he’d held it against you ever since. You’d tried to break the ice a few times, but he’d just walked away or glared back at you; so, you’d just stopped trying.

No more friendly good mornings, banter or offering to grab him a cup of coffee at the cart – you’d gotten to the point where the only conversation you’d have with him would be about work and even then, he’d grind his teeth so loudly it was clear that he’d rather hear it from anyone else.

So, you sat at your desk and waited to hear the inevitable groaning and angry muttering from your partner about being stuck with you and just like clockwork he came into your shared office, spitting some incoherent bullshit and cursing Steve under his breath for being out with the stomach flu.

Pena had been given some intel from one of his girls a few days previous that Quica would be visiting the brothel a few days later to see Vanessa and the original stakeout plan didn’t involve you at all. Steve and Javier had been planning it meticulously for the last few days whilst you were busy working through the mountains of paperwork that your team had been neglecting.

You sat in silence for most of the morning, burying yourself in the last few piles of paperwork stacked up on your desk before he finally spoke; every word drenched in venom as his utter distain for you became more and more glaring.

“You’re only there because they’re making you be there – I’d rather do it alone. You don’t need to talk, you don’t need to do anyth-“

“I am just as capable as you Pena, and if any situation arises that would require my talking or me taking any action at all – I won’t be waiting on your permission.” You quip back cutting him off.

“Never said anything about your capability… but I care... I care about those girls and if anything happens to any of them; it’s on me. You follow my lead.”

Despite the harshness of his tone, you’re taken back by his words and the obvious truth in them.

“You’re in charge, Pena” you say raising your hands in front of you, “But don’t expect me not to do my job.”

You watch him nod his head a few times before loudly scoffing and shooting out of the door, leaving you in peace and with a feeling of dread bubbling up inside of you.

The stakeout.

He’d banged on your door a few times before disappearing out to his jeep, you lived in the apartment directly next to Javiers and he’d informed you earlier that day that he’d be driving and for you to be ready by 7pm. You were just slipping on your jacket as he banged the door, and the noise sent a shiver through your spine. You’d spent the last hour convincing yourself that maybe tonight would be the night that he’d let it go and you could go back to the banter and the messing around that you’d secretly really missed.

You missed the way he’d carefully push his aviators over the bridge of your nose when you were being blinded by the sun, you missed the way he called you hermosa and the way he’d perch himself on the edge of your desk and mindlessly chat shit with you just to piss off Murphy.

He was already sitting in his car when you’d bounced out of the building, he cursed under his breath at the way it made him feel. He’d hated that in the past three months of pushing you away and keeping you at arm’s length had done nothing to relax his feelings for you. He would never admit it out loud, but it had burned him more than he’d care to admit to anyone even himself, when you giggled at the stupid joke Steve had made. He’d never felt judged by you until that moment – you’d always ignored the comments about his preferences and never once said anything to him about who he chose to spend his evenings with, and he’d really appreciated that about you. You’d never said anything to him the morning after you’d arrived home late from the office, and he was in the middle of paying a cab driver to take one of the girls he’d requested to swing by his apartment home. You simply said hello to both of them and went on your way, it was obvious who she was and what she had been there for.

He'd been seeing his favourites on a more frequent basis after you’d joined the team, wanting to push away any feelings or urges he felt towards you, and it wasn’t working. He’d gotten comfortable with you – looking forward to making you smile or finding reasons to gently press his hand on the bottom of your back when he passed and hoping the sun would hit you in the face just enough for him to be able to use one hand until your chin to tip your face up to his, whilst the other hand gently pushed his beloved sunglasses onto your delicate face.

And then you laughed that fateful day, and it felt like a punch to the gut. It felt like you were laughing directly in his face, and he fucking hated how affected by it he was.

You approached his jeep slowly and with tentative steps and it made his stomach drop, he wanted to greet you with the certain smile that was reserved just for you, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he just raised an eyebrow and turned to look straight ahead.

“Good evening, Javi” you murmured as you climbed into his truck. It had been months since you’d sat in this very seat, and you cursed yourself for feeling sad about how much you’d missed it. He said nothing as you clipped your seatbelt in and just sped off towards the brothel.

“I phoned Steve and he filled me in on the plan” you say as you study his face, appreciating the curve of his nose that you love so much and the messy little hairs that stick out on his mustache, “Happy to follow your lead, it’s uh- it’s a great plan.”

He says nothing but a few short nods of his head confirm that he was listening. Before you know it, you’re pulling into the street where you’ll potentially be for the remainder of the evening and into the early hours of the night.

The house is pretty unsuspecting, and any walking past would likely have no clue what goes on behind those doors. He pulls up a few hundred yards from the house, far enough away for no one to see you two keeping on eye but close enough to see anyone and anything that would emerge or enter the front door.

The silence is deafening, you’d been sat for hours, and no-one had entered or left the house. You found yourself focusing on Javier and the way his fingers kept digging into his jean clad thighs, the way he muttered something quietly under his breath and how every time a car approached, he’d prepare himself to swing into action just in case it was Quica finally arriving.

After four hours the only movement from the house was an unidentified man arriving, going in and leaving less than 25 minutes later looking a lot happier than he did when he arrived.

It was only around midnight that the door suddenly swung open and one of the girls came out and looked around that you thought something was going to happen. She looked up and down and after a few moments Javi flashed his lights to grab her attention and she started to run towards the car.

“Vanessa!” he called as she approached the window “¿estas bien?”

“Lo Siento, Javi. El no viene.” You watch as she reaches out and strokes his arm a few times before whispering something you didn’t catch in his ear; he smiles at her and you can’t help but feel a twang of jealousy that he so easily gave her something he’s kept from you for so long. She doesn’t acknowledge you, but you didn’t expect her to anyway, and eventually she pulls herself away and runs back towards the house.

You hate how jealous you feel, the ugliness bubbling up in the pit of your stomach as he doesn’t take his eyes off of her once until she’s back inside and the door is shut behind her. You need to get away. The tension, the urge to admit something you’ve kept from everyone and for a long time even yourself threatening to reveal itself and you reach down and unbuckle your seatbelt.

“What are you doing?” he demands, and you jump at the unexpected sound of his voice.

“I’m not blind, Javier, and she said he isn’t coming. So, go. Go make something of this night, I’m more than capable of getting myself home.” Unsteady breaths coat each word, and you curse yourself for being unable to keep yourself from remaining collected.

“Put your fucking seatbelt back on” he scoffs before switching on the engine and speeding back off towards your apartment building.

“What is your fucking problem?” the words escape your mouth before you have time to register yourself saying them.

“You.” He quips back before letting out a low growl, “You. You’re my fucking problem. I didn’t need you here tonight, but fucking Steve… Just keep your mouth shut and stop breathing so fucking loudly.”

“Go fuck yourself, Javier.”

You’re not expecting his response, but it makes your blood boil. He says nothing, he just laughs. He laughs at you.

“Is that what you’re going to do, baby? Get home and then climb into bed all alone and fuck yourself with that little vibrator that keeps me up at night?”

You feel yourself go bright red, every part of you blushing pink as he continues to laugh.

“Wh-what are…” you attempt to stumble out a sentence, but words refuse to come to you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, baby” he growls out, “You can shame me for whatever I choose to do but god forbid I mention any of your choices.”

“I have never shamed you for who you choose to sleep with, Javier, I just fucking offered to walk home in the middle of the night so you could go see a woman who clearly likes you. I don’t give a fuck if you pay her for it or not.” You all but shout back at him.

“You’ve never shamed me? Fuck you. You fucking laughed at me. You fucking laughed in my face.”

“No, I didn’t. I laughed at a stupid fucking joke that Murphy made, and I only laughed because it was so fucking obvious that it was because HE was jealous. And I’ve tried multiple times to talk to you about it and you’ve been a fucking asshole every time.”

“No… you were laughing at me? For see-”

“No, I was laughing at Steve. It had been months since Connie had fucked off back to the states and he was too much of a bitch to go out and seek a woman in a bar and was clearly fucking jealous that all of those women hope that you’re going to pick them, and he doesn’t have the balls to even try.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. You’ve treated me like fucking crap for months and all because you’re too pig-headed to listen to someone when they’re trying to speak to you. Fuck it. I fucking miss you. I miss my friend, but I’ve had to face that fact I don’t think you were ever my friend. So, fucking willing to throw everything what was special to me because of a stupid giggle. And now you fucking use the fact I’m clearly lonely as a weapon? Honestly, fuck you, Javi.”

It isn’t until you finish your rant that it registers to you that he’d already pulled up outside your apartment building and you throw the car door open and make a beeline for the door. Embarrassment springing up in the form of acid rain, falling freely down your cheeks as he calls your name out from somewhere behind you.

You stumble into the building, letting the door slam behind you as you run towards your door – not wanting him to see you sobbing over something you can’t be sure was important to him in the first place. But before you can slam your apartment door, he’s pressing up behind you and pushing himself inside.

“Javi, I need to sleep” you croak out as you refuse to turn to face him.

“You need to listen. I need to listen. We can’t go on like this.” He says barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, well it matters to me.” He grits out.

“Why? Why now? You’ve had no prob”

“Will you stop? Stop telling me how I feel. Or what is or isn’t important to me? It fucking killed me when you laughed. When I thought you were laughing at me. For fucking months, I’ve been unable to look you in the eye or to fucking talk to you without it replaying in my head.”

“Well, if you’d have let me talk to you, you’d have known.” You yell at him, spinning around and facing him without a care that you’re still sobbing.

He takes a large breath in, and his eyes drop down over your face, before taking a step forward and reaching out his hand to wipe away a tear.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure who made the first move, you’re not sure how quickly it happened but all you know is his mouth is slanted against yours and one hand is gripping onto the bottom of your chin whilst the other is wrapped around your lower back.

The way he kisses is like a dream, his plush lips pressed against yours as his tongue eagerly licks through your mouth; soft moans escaping into his as he presses himself against you.

“Do you want this?” he murmurs against your mouth, and you nod furiously before pulling him back in for another kiss.

You pull at the buttons on your blouse and shrug it off onto the floor, before working on your pencil skirt; his hand helping you shove it down your thighs until it drops to the ground. You immediately start working on removing his clothes as his lips fuse themselves tighter to your own.

His hands work their ways up and down your body as he grips onto and squeeze any and every part of you, and he groans as you temporarily remove them from yourself to remove his leather jacket and shirt.

“Can’t fuck me if you’re fully dressed” you murmur into his lips.

“Wanna bet? You only needed to undress one part of me.” He says and you can feel his smirk against you, “How do you want this?”

“We have three months of being frustrated with each other to erase. How do you think I fucking want it?”

“Yeah? Well, then I’d hold onto something if I were you.” He says as he swings you around and walks you towards your couch. Bending you over the back of it and then dropping to his knees. He spreads your legs apart and rubs his palms up and down your thighs; “I’ve been fucking aching to find out how you taste” he growls before burying his face in your pussy. His nose notching against your entrance as he licks and sucks on your clit. The noises he makes into your core are sinful as you desperately moan and chant his name, you knew he’d be fucking good… but you had no idea he’d be this good.

He coaxes your first orgasm out of you within minutes, taking the time to lap up every last drop of your arousal as you keen in front of him.

“Good girl” he praises as he pulls himself back up on his feet, kicking your legs apart a little further before tracing a finger up and down your slit, “Going to need to stretch you open, before I give you my cock, baby.” A loud whimper escapes through your lips as he presses a thick finger into you, finding that sweet spot immediately. “Oh, there it is” he says with a cocky grin that you can’t see, but damn you can hear it.

He moves his finger in and out, increasing the pace each time before adding a second. You feel yourself clamp down around his digits as your second orgasm threatens to erupt. “Oh fuck, so fucking tight” he grits out from behind his teeth, “You want another?”

The yes you manage to croak out is small, but he wastes no time, adding a third and stretching you a little more before you cum hard and loud on his hand.

“Javi” you breathe out, “Please.”

“Please, what? What baby? What do you want? Use your words” he teases in your ear.

“I want your cock” you plead, “Please. I need you to fill me.”

“Yeah? Need me to fill you with my cock and fuck this pussy full of my cum?”

“Yes, oh god, yes, please.” You beg as you feel yourself clench around nothing at the sound of his zipper being pulled down as he frees his achingly hard cock and drags it through your folds.

“Hold on tight, baby” he manages to growl out before pressing the tip of him into you. The stretch is delicious, barely an inch inside and your pussy is already clamping around on him, “Relax, sweet girl” he murmurs as he pushes himself in further and further; loving the sweet noises that you make in response to him.

“You’re so fucking thick” you choke out as he fills you more and more with each thrust, “God you feel so good.”

The moment he’s fully nestled inside of you, he takes a minute to let you adjust, waiting until you inevitably start to beg him to move, and you don’t disappoint. A smirk spreading across his face as he realises that he finally has you in the place he’s fucked his own fist thinking about many times.

“Javier, move, please… Please” you plead as his hands find their way to your hips, anchoring you in place and keeping a tight grip as he rolls his hips back before slamming them forward and until you’re screaming and moaning his name. The sounds of your moans and his groans are only out shadowed by the sound of skin slapping against skin. His pace is relentless, delicious and desperate. A thick finger presses down on your clit before he demands you to cum, rubbing perfect circles against your bundle of nerves and just as he demands; you cum. Soaking his cock with your arousal, and feeling heat rise into your cheeks as you feel it drip down your thighs, “Good, good fucking girl” he growls as his picks up his pace, dragging his cock against that spot with every calculated thrust, revelling in the way you pussy sucks him back in and clenches around him so tightly. “One more” he says before sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your neck, “One more and I’ll fill this pussy up so deep and drag you into your bedroom and do it over and over, until you can’t take it anymore.”

His words alone are almost enough and the filthy groan that he unleashes as you clench down so tightly around him makes you flush. Two fingers find your overstimulated clit and he rubs perfect and precise circles over and over whilst slamming his cock in and out of you until you fall apart for the third time, this time whimpering his name in a desperate chant as he gently praises and assures you, “I know, baby, I know… you’re doing so fucking good for me, hermosa.” And the unexpected return of the affectionate pet-name makes you keen beneath him. His pace picks up yet again, but his thrusts become sloppier and sloppier, each one reaching deeper before he spills inside of you. His cum coating your walls with each thrust until he’s entirely spent and leaning over you.

His cock softening in your core as he places gentle kisses all over you neck and across your shoulders.

That night he keeps his word, taking you to your bed and making you his over and over. He keeps his word again and again and again for every night for the next week after; and with each visit and each lingering look he gives you at work – you make a silent promise to each other to continue making each other your own.

#pedro pascal #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javi pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x f!reader #javi pena fic #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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bird-lettuce · 1 year

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hello! i’m looking to get into blue beetle and was wondering if you could tell me about him? what’s he like as a person and superhero and stuff

thank you!

helloo!!! sorry for taking so long!!! you've come to the right place!!!!

(please bear with me, english is not my first language)

first, here's a reading list im working on! it's still very much a wip but it covers most his more prominent apperances (you can check my pinned post for a link to a spreadsheet that has more apperances if you want background/cameos) https://jaime-reyes-archive.carrd.co/#guide-eng

If you want the best intro to him as a character you should read his first book from 2006. It falls off a bit at the end with the writer change imo but the rest it absolutely fantastic and what made me love the character so much! A follow-up to that would be Blue Beetle: Graduation Day, his most recent mini.

Here's an abridged description of his character, more other media you watch him on and my thoughts about his different media and comic characterizations. Buckle up! We have a long way to go. I'll try not to spoil the first run too much:

Jaime Reyes is a a mexican-american teenager (15/16 in his first run, 17/18 in his most recent mini), son of mexican immigrants who lives in El Paso, Texas. He became the third Blue Beetle after Khaji Da, the scarab that belonged to the first Beetle, Dan Garrett, latches onto his spine overnight. He was scared and rejected his power at first, looking for ways to get rid of the scarab, who is capable of communicating with him in his head. Through some mentoring from more experienced characters and communication with the scarab they grow to think of each other as friends and brothers. (highlight: bb06 book one & #25)

Jaime's most important trait is his deep connection to his family and community, notably not keeping his identity as a hero secret from his family and close friends. He is constantly aided and supported by them in his journey to becoming a superhero. (highlight: bb06#1-7, 16, 17, 25-26)

He is a normal teen who was suddenly given powers, so a constant theme is the nervousness and stress he has about the amount of responsibility and expectations he was suddenly given. He tries to do right by his family and community, choosing to dialogue with any possible foe before attacking, and prioritizes the security of the people he protects over his reputation or being on the good side of other leaguers or authorities. Personality wise, he has a very light spirit, and a good sense of humor, he regularly jokes around while fighting. He is good-natured and often silly. (highlight: bb06#17, blue beetle: Graduation Day, Justice League Action)

As a hero, he is the wielder of a potentially world-domination weapon that has enough power to rival that of a green lantern (bb06#1), multiple teen titans, producing synthetic kryptonite (bb06#18), tracking people, protecting him from falling from the atmosphere (bb06#1), hacking batman's computers (the secret six storyline), producing a wide range of weapons, flying, a type of dimension-jumping (bb06#25), etc. The world is lucky that Khaji Da is in the hands of a good kid.

In his original story, he had no relationship with the other Beetles, being mentored by an array of different heroes. After Rebirth, though, he and Ted Kord were often written as a team, either as a duo or through ocasional teamups. It is important to say, however, that Jaime's growth as a hero was more impacted by his family, friends and mentors than it was by Ted. He is self-made and has a separate legacy from the other two Blue Beetles that should not be discredited. Their stories have been separate more than they have not, and recently there has been a subtle push to recognize Jaime as the current main Beetle, and Ted as someone whose time in the spotlight has passed, as opposed to having both of them as The Blue Beetles. (Blue and Gold #7, Blue Beetle: Graduation Day)

Notable relationships:

Paco and Brenda, his best friends

Khaji Da, the scarab. His brother and half of the Blue Beetle

Milagro, Brenda and Alberto, his sister and parents

The posee and La Dama, first rivals, then close allies in his community

Hector and Nadia, the people he trusts the most and the team's tech experts

Peacemaker, Guy Gardner and Starfire, his most notable mentors

Batman, who has gone out of his way to spend a lot of money on him and his family without them knowing lol. Compensation for certain wrong choices I'd say.

The JLI, legacy allies. Especially Booster Gold.

The Reach, his main antagonists. Creators of Khaji Da

Other media

Batman: The brave and the bold: Jaime has a lot of remarkable appearances in BATB! He's literally in the first episode lol. I love his characterization and his dynamic with Batman, and the approach to Jaime's relationship with Ted Kord. His origin story isn't the same, but a lot of characters' stories were changed to be more Batman-centric so i don't really mind. He is also one of the main characters in the Wii game, and his banter with batman is really fun. Definitely one of my favorites

Justice League Action: a more light-hearted version of him! Really fun and the design is very cute imo. Also has some funny banter with Batman

Young Justice: the second season has The Reach as main villains, so Jaime is pretty prominent. He doesn't appear much after that though. It's not exactly my favorite adaptation but it introduced a lot of people to him so it's notable.

The dc animated movie universe: not that interesting lol he's mostly a bg character.

NOTES ON HIS COMICS

The Blue Beetle 2006 run by Lilah Sturges tries to tackle an immigration storyline, but does so poorly and has a very important main character siding with right wingers. The final issue has a couple of upsetting endings for some beloved characters. It starts after #30 and ends the book.

New 52 is awful. Awful. Changed his origin, his relationship with almost everybody, gave him a weird running joke with the scarab and a lot of the dialogue and characterization choices come off as insaaaanely xenophobic, racist and classist. Also all of it was retconned so it's not even worth reading.

Rebirth was written by Giffen and had Ted Kord back as a mc. Also changed the scarab's origin from tech to magic. Not a favorite of mine, a lot of it is based around Giffen's humor, which i never really connected with, and the dynamic between Jaime and Ted can get annoying after a while. I've noticed it's still enjoyed by a lot of people and only had 16 issues, so you should probably give it a try and see for yourself.

Blue Beetle: Graduation Day is very good. Probably his best book since his first run. It's just about to end, the final issue comes out next week. It's just a mini so it can feel like it was missing more issues to fully flesh out what it wanted to do, but it honestly is refreshing to have Jaime's family and cast back. Also introduced a new city, a new armor and a lot of new characters!! I highly recommend it

This is all I can think of without going into extremely detailed analysis and breakdowns of every little bit of content he has had over the years!! I hope it's understandable and helps guide you into this beloved character <3 He's absolutely one if not my favorite DC character, and means a lot to me. If you have any questions or would like me to clarify about anything I'd be more than happy to answer!!

#blue beetle #jaime reyes #ted kord #blue beetle graduation day #reading list #guy gardner #peacemaker #starfire #dc comics #comic recommendation #dc #sorry for not embedding that i can't do it on mobile browser anymore for some reason ;-;#i absolutely spent like an hour writing this in one sitting #he's my little guy what else can I do #im also very normal about guy ted and boosters histories if i couldn't tell by the everything else in my tags #batman #booster gold

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jawllines · 1 year

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OLIVE THAT WAS SO FUCKING HOT AND CUTE AND SWEET AND THE WHOLE BILL SCENE WAS SO GOOD I LITERALLY SAT UP SO FAST WHEN I GOT TO THAT PART<<3333

can i start off with the part when he’s reminding her of little her crying while patching him up and then her crying again at the end while patching him again oh my god sobbbing i love them sm

“Harry, like he always does, realizes the shift in her mood almost immediately. He makes a sound in his throat, fond and knowing before he abandons the dishes, drying his hand haphazardly on his thigh. Without hesitation, he bends down, places a hand on the side of her head, and guides her temple to his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss there. Y/N whines but melts into him all the same.

“Silly thing,” he murmured, “Don’t look so sad.” i’m so soft :( my favorite part i think :((((((

also how sentimental and vulnerable she lets herself be the entire time is making me so soft waaahhh

THEY ARE SOOO KISSY AND HES SO KISSY KISSING HER CHEEKS AND HER HEAD !! HER KISSING HIS WRIST AND HIS PALM AND GETTING BITEY ON HIM WHEN HE STARTS TO TEASE HER oh my godddd

baby baby baby baby babyyy i love when he calls her that i don’t know if i just realized it or if you recently started using it more but i’m obsessed with how much all of your harry’s use it

the part where he asked her about getting into the wine :( and him just kissing her when she goes all ramble-y explaining herself <33

“Do you even know how to suck cock, baby, or do you need my help?” It’s another tease, only this time Y/N lowers to her knees and bites his side, “Ah!” HE IS SOOOOOO

“And not a lot of people look pretty during a blowie babe, me included.”

“This causes Y/N’s mind whirls around in circles because A. She can’t imagine Harry not looking pretty doing anything, because he’s always been so gorgeous, and B. The thought of Harry with his mouth full sends a shiver down her spine in the best way. He was probably so irritatingly good at it too, how he’s good at everything.” YOU are so sick. the images in my head right now

the entire time he has her bent over the counter?? i want him so bad :O

“What is this? You don’t want to look at my sweet, shining face?” “C’mon!” “Sorry,” he murmured, “I only fuck people who let me see their pretty faces.”

GODDDDDDDDDD

THE ENTIRE BILL SCENE HAD ME SPIRALING SO BAD OMFGGGG THE WAY MY HEART WAS BEATING WHEN SHE WAS LITERALLY PRYING HIS HAND OPEN TO MAKE HIM DROP THE POCKET KNIFE AND UGH THE THOUGHT OF HARRY KNOCKED OUT ON THE FLOOR…. ALICE AND BILL 2 HARRY 1 LMFAOOOOOOOO LIKE BABE STAND UPPPPP

“This? Just a scratch, baby,” he winks at her, though he looks a little woozy, “It’ll stop bleeding here soon.” literally kicking my feet back and forth giggling

“If he didn’t know that his side hurt from the cut along his skin, he’d assume it was his ribs shifting to make way for his heart, swollen and full.” oh my god you’re joking </333

“I’d reckon I’m sweet enough to deal with the sweet tooth if you just kiss me a few times.” Harry flirted – he gets cheesier the more she allows it, but for some unknown reason, they still make her heart flutter. I LOVE HIM SO BAD

god i love them so bad and i’m so happy. them cuddling with the kitties and her little shop!!!!!! oh my god they are so cute

I'M SO SAD IT'S OVER BUT I'M SO EXCITED FOR FUTURE PATREON CHECK INS OLIVE YOU ARE SO SO SOO CUTE AND I LOVE YOUR BRAIN AND I'M JUST SO HAPPY I GET TO READ THESE. GENUINELY MY FAVORITE WRITERS EVER AND I KNOW THERE'S MANY TALENTED WRITERS BUT YOU ARE JUST- YOU ARE ONE OF A KIND I LOVE YOU SOSOSOSO MUCH (ALSO I REALIZED I DIDN'T DO THIS WITH THE LAST PART BUT OH MY GOD WAS SHE SO GOOD AND COUPLE-Y AND DOMESTIC AND SOFT AND THE SEXY SCENE WAS SO YUMMY) AHHHHH THIS IS SO LONG BYE ILYSM 🫒🤍

___________________________

IM SO OBSESSED WITH YOU THANK YOU BEAUTIFUL I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

#submission

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wrappedupinlight · 2 years

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DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS CLASSES ( bold what applies to your muse. repost ; do NOT reblog )

tagged by: i found it from a draft from a different blog, and i can’t remember who i grabbed it from?? sorry!

tagging: anyone who’d also like to do this as well!

(sorry! this meme was too much fun-- so im gonna do this one for nancy this time! c:)

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽 » toothy grins, stories around the campfire, clothes covered in pet hair, hot temper, old jeans, heartbeat in head, potatoes and steak, beaded jewelry, bruises like galaxies, mementos, backpack stuffed full, craigslist furniture, spontaneous road trips, air ripped from lungs

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙳 » homemade bread, white lies, easily excited, trying on hats, band geek, pep talks, no impulse control, sunsets, vintage fashion, long showers, selfies, following dreams, rosy cheeks, song mash-ups, pink lemonade with tequila, loves easily, animated storyteller, full of comebacks

𝙲𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲 » list of wishes,biting their tongue, band-aids and neosporin, shoulder to cry on, morning sun, necklaces, trial and error, homemade quilts, formal clothing, astrology fan, messages in bottles, pleated braids, speaking up for friends, feathers, motivational quotes, vivid dreams

𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙳 » bird watching, shy kid, wind chimes, trying to whistle, summer camp, apple orchards, lost in their head, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hoodies, thrift shopping, saving worms off the sidewalk, pig latin, bare feet, thunderstorms, numb fingers, braided hair, naming potted plants

𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁 » goose bumps, leather jackets, adventure, chewing nails, cares deeply but can’t show it, bronze locks, no sleep, taste of iron, netflix binges, never forgets, combat boots, stories behind scars, table for one, official soundtracks, sore calves, trusts themselves the most

𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙺 » always trying to be better, wanderlust, meditation, sweat pants, old photographs, yoga, sleeping in hammocks, nostalgia, minimalist design, breath of fresh air, baby animals, volunteering, perfectionist, doesn’t care about fashion, healthy snacks, noticing the little things

𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽 » school uniforms, thick jackets, sleeping with the windows open, logical advice, scrapbooking, compasses, i fight for my friends, sculpture gardens, cold morning air, big soul, likes routine, secret romantic, last to get jokes, sunflowers, practical presents, misty weather

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 » herbal tea, smell of rain, blinking away tears, camping trips, collecting bones, swiss army knives, first impressions, anxious thoughts, bobby pins, burnt marshmallows, too competitive, clothes lines, messenger bags, holding grudges, gets along better with animals than people

𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴 » flirtatious sarcasm, candid photos, lost phone chargers, adrenaline rush, picking dirt out from beneath their nails, social chameleon, clashing clothes, self-deprecating jokes, claw machines, sits in chairs wrong, smudged eyeliner, has too many sunglasses, eats nothing or everything

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁 » infectious laugh, family trees, shivers down their spine, lipstick and roses, mood swings, clumsy, believing in destiny, high expectations, sleeping in darkness, collection of nail polish, passionate, good grades but never studies, poetry books, blowing kisses, not knowing their own strength

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 » knowing everyone’s secrets, backpack covered in pins, envy, being in walmart late at night, earl grey, selective memory, conspiracy theories and cryptids, keysmashing, need to know basis, can’t cook, bags under eyes, experimental art, flickering bulbs, black clothing all year long

𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳 » piles of textbooks, cat in lap, keeping a diary, indecisions, scented candles, studying alone in a café, lingering touches, museum dates, unanswered questions, taking on too much responsibility, collections, chalk dust, comfy robes, unnecessary apologies, coming home after a long day

#;memes #;nancy wheeler #(( part of me was kind of laughing at the idea of a paladin #to kidna go hand in hand with mikes character being the paladin and shit--#but honestly like #... the point of being a paladin is like #fighting for a cause??#which she would!! b #but she wouldn't do it for any one person #she would do it for all the people she loves in her life #not some faceless leader type #so yeah!! this was so much fun to do omgggg #honestly with her i always go so back and forth about it--#but i do think that rogue kinda fits her a lot??#i have a lot of thoughts about nancy wheeler #and not *NEARLY* enough time to sift and go through them #so yeah~ lol)#(( also a part of me wanted to bold the 'better with animals than people' one so badddddddd #but nahhhhh #i let it goooooo lmao #because she sadly doesn't even have pets??#im sure one day she'll have at least a few tbh))

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

Text

┌─ “ ! „ LINE-UP FOR SECONDS

tw. real incest + psuedocest, a lot of niisan, dubcon, manipulation, coercion, threesome, breeding mentions, degradation, yandere undertones wordcount. 6.5k

a/n. late happy bday present for my one and only @seijorhi ♡ iM soRRY IM SO LATE but i hope you like it. i love you so so much you're an amazing person and just the biggest inspiration of my life i would do the impossible for youuuu

baji keisuke x fem!reader x hanemiya kazutora

“Would you mind moving your fat ass to the free spot of the bed by any chance?” You can’t help but let the smile grow on your cheeks as Chifuyu groans and whines at the mere suggestion, repositioning his elbow right between your shoulders to squish you straight back down into the covers, so you almost receive a face full of hardbacks and paper. You try to roll onto your back to get from underneath him altogether, to which your clingy friend only lays his body right back onto yours.

“‘S not my fault your room is so cold. I’ll freeze.”

“Matsuno, get off!” you giggle once the tickle of his breath crawls from your neck all the way down your spine, shifting enough to get a hand along his side and send him skitting off of you. Ticklish. Your saving grace. “It’s not even me who keeps the room cold. It’s the damn apartment.”

You’d met Matsuno way back, and despite being a couple years younger than him and an -exhausting brat at the time- apparently, he’d always been there for you. No matter how much Baji had tried to keep you away from his less than stellar ‘hobbies’, there had been the one meeting, and then a second, and a third— and somehow you had managed to endear the older boy enough that years later, you’d still be friends.

Your begrudging best friend only rolls his eyes before plopping himself a more respectable distance away from you on your bed. You stare at the side of his handsome face until he gives you another look, then shifts a little closer, scrunching up the plush between you two. You really can’t get distracted again though, so you frown down at the mess before you. And understanding as ever, Matsuno runs a calming hand through your hair. You’ve been pretending to do work for a few hours now, but at this point the words barely have any meaning left. Just black ink on a page that’s making your head hurt.

A flash of dark hair passes by your door from the corner of your eye, catching your attention too easily. “Chifuyu, d’you think you could keep from flirting with my sister every fucking time you’re around or what?” The deep voice catches you slightly off guard, ripped out of your less than coherent thoughts to pry yourself up onto both elbows. But the way his sharp, brown eyes linger on you for a few breaths too long to be without meaning doesn't.

You right yourself a little more automatically, pulling at one of your spaghetti straps when the position pulls the top too low for your liking. Not that he has anything to say about what you do or how you dress anyway, but the instinct is still there. Even the hand in your hair slows a little. Your brother doesn’t disappoint in his reaction when he crosses his arms over his wide chest and makes a little ‘tch’ at both of your silences. Still ever the distrustful older brother, it seems, even though you’re definitely old enough to know by now. And so does he, for that matter.

Of course, you and Keisuke have talked about it. You often joked that you stole his middle school boyfriend away from him, pulling grins and disbelieving chuckles out of him when you’d be making dinner alone in the kitchen. Sometimes, he’d just turn the tv up loud enough for you to cup your hands over your ears and walk out. No more words are needed between a big brother and his younger sibling. And he’d found his own best friend just as quickly, so it wasn’t ever an actual issue.

Your relationship is about as unremarkable as they come. Or— it had been, until a few months ago. You’re not entirely sure what changed, only that his eyes find you a bit more easily now, like a blaring warning sign that sends shivers all up your spine. Lingering gazes that you can’t help but overanalyze, because Baji Keisuke is surprisingly good at not letting himself get read. And though you feel that same unease settle into your stomach when he meets your eyes again, a colder, harder glare, you pipe up. “You’re so jealous, nii~san.” The over exaggerated way you jut out your lip and snuggle into Chifuyu’s shoulder is enough to get your friend laughing, though your eyes stay on the noiret in the doorway. “But I’m sadly not his type. He’s all yours.”

“You’re stupid,” Chifuyu snorts when you finish, pushing you away from him with a hand on your forehead, then clicks his tongue. “I’d sooner die than fuck either of you.” His laugh is pleasant, soft and gentle and it makes you happy to see him so happy- eyes tracing the glint of the ring that sits on his fourth finger, definitely after the state you’d pulled him through only a few short years ago. It’s a good moment. Only spoiled a little by the expression on Keisuke’s face when he places a hand on the top of the door and tracks his eyes over your smile, down your top, staring at the exposed of your thighs like he’s got something else to say.

—

Living with your big bro had never posed an issue. He wasn’t the cleanest and you had to see a whole lot of him, of course, but as a broke student there really wasn’t anything to complain about. Kei nii takes care of you, pays for the apartment without much complaining, he’s not the worst cook in the world, and best of all- he wouldn’t stand for you bringing home regretable fucks you’d feel embarrassed about when sober. The problems start with his best friend, the one currently splayed out on your couch in only sweatpants that sit much too low on his hips not to be distracting.

Pretty, clear skin of his shoulders and chest are almost entirely covered in tattoos, you’d basically seen the collection grow over the years. All toned and pretty and distractingly available all the time. You should rephrase: the problems start with Hanemiya Kazutora’s way of eating you up with his eyes. His way of looking at you always had been distracting, from as soon as he came out of juvie years ago and basically went back to spending all his time at your house. The house of your mom back then, which felt a lot safer than you do now. You can’t help but feel— off.

That’s what it is. There’s something off about Hanemiya’s eyes, something you just can’t put a finger on. Like a giant snake waiting for you to get into range, or a cat staring down at your vulnerable neck. Bright eyes that track you all the way from the door to where you shrug off a drenched coat and trace over you as you walk to the kitchen, wordless. After a few moments he chuckles though, nodding at your choice of clothing. “Nice shorts.” They’re Kei nii’s, not that you really thought much about it throwing them on. So you smile in thanks.

There’s a part of you that feels bad for being so creeped out whenever he’s around. A part that loves scolding the other half of you for being so hung up on the idea of jail, of what he had done when he was younger. Everyone makes mistakes, and you of all people can’t hold past actions against him if you don’t plan on doing it for the two other prominent figures in your life. But it’s just— you turn to lean against the dining table as he gets up from the couch and runs a hand through his hair— you trust your instinct. It makes the hairs on your neck stand up any time you have to be alone in a room with him.

Hairs that are very much on end right now, filling a glass with water to distract yourself a little. “Where’s Kei nii?”

“Out… he’ll be back soon though,” the soft voice comes from your left, your focus on the floor, then the door as you hear him walk a little closer. You’ve thought of bringing it up to Keisuke before, but always decide against it. Those two have been through a lot together after all, and it’s not like you actually have a solution. So you suck it up and send him a tight smile when he comes to rest against the table like you are, all skin and charm and a cologne that smells familiar enough to make you a bit nostalgic.

And in truth, it’s not like he’s been mean or particularly unlikable. If it wasn’t for the major creeps you get any time he smiles or feel the brush of his skin over yours, you’d probably be able to have a crush on him for a little while— until it dies out one autumn and you’re back to being just Keisuke’s little sister. You’ve sure had your fair share of innocent or not-so-innocent infatuations with the majority of his friends, each and every one earning you a disgruntled squeeze or string of explicits from said brother. Usually ending in some derivation of ‘fucking gross’ and a chuckle by you.

But you still have to get up and walk around when he turns to you, picking up the remote from the coffee table to flick through a few channels. You nestle yourself instead into the couch, the soft background noise doing little to actually make you feel more at ease. You’re in your own house, shaking about Kazutora following behind. It’s silly, Keisuke would definitely say it is.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you hated me,” he chuckles when you shift from your spot on the couch as soon as he lands on the other end of it, curling your legs to your chest. You give him a wide eyes look when you feel him staring, but he laughs. “Relax, bun bun. I’m not going to bite.” The slight flush of his ears and the way he props his feet up on the coffeetable are brushed off casually, but a cold shiver still covers your back in goosebumps.

“Of course I don’t hate you,” you mumble back, uncurling your hands from the tight grip on the plastic tool.

“But?”

“No but. I don’t… I don’t hate you, Hanemiya. We just don’t talk a lot.” You ignore the prickling of your skin when he hums, eyes flicking back to you every few seconds.

“You still got that boyfriend?”

With a deep breath in you manage to relax your shoulders, and rest your chin instead on your knees. “Mh-no, we’ve been done for a while. He up and left one day and didn’t bother even telling me about it so… it was pret~ty easy to figure out that it was over.” You turn your head to the side then, curl your feet into yourself a little more when you notice he’s still looking. Your cheek is pushed out on your knee. “Kei nii told you about that?”

His bright eyes seem to glitter when he smiles, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth for a second before he nods, looking from you to the documentary playing before you, then back. “Yeah, he has this amazing ability of not shutting up when it comes to you. It’s like he expects me to have a better idea of how to handle his pretty, little sister or something—” The little laugh that falls out of him rings sweetly through the room, the compliment almost flying over your head. “Which I don’t. Not one like you anyway.”

“I don’t—”

The door swings open hard enough to make you jump an inch. Kei nii does lift an eyebrow to see you sitting in the middle of the room, tilting his head in confusion. “You two bonding all of a sudden? That’s a first.” His low voice breaks the thick silence that was built to let out a low sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a hum. Before you can think of a response, he drops his eyes a little to your legs again, so you spread your knees to make sure nothing’s exposed, but no. You’re all covered up, and if he notices your frown his way when putting away his coat, he doesn’t mention it.

“It’s not,” you quickly quip back when his lips curl into a satisfied grin, letting him pull you from your spot to sit there himself, “we just haven’t talked a lot.” It’s a pretty feeble excuse, you’re plenty aware. Though all the years you were the one skitting around him most days after all, happy to let Kei shoulder most of the conversation responsibilities if it meant that you could slide off to your safe, little room. If it meant getting rid of the constant feeling of eyes on you. Isn’t this the same big brother that told you to trust your gut when you first started going to college parties?

When he tugs you back a little by your hand, you turn over your shoulder to watch his suspiciously blank face turn a little softer, a little sweeter. “Don’t go yet, just sit back down.”

“You took my spot.”

He’s not shaken. Just pulls your arm down more, and even with the little bit of pressure you can feel the way his strength works in on you. The look isn’t just for show, it says, I’m stronger than you. “Sit,” he says again, mouth corners curling up when you grab his shoulder to hold yourself from toppling into him. It doesn’t really work, and before you know it you’re falling over with your knees either side to catch yourself from falling right on top of him.

“Fuck you,” you whisper at him when Keisuke chuckles under his breath, using his free hand to clamp over your hips and pull you down properly, which means you’re now— in his lap, chest heaving a little too close to his and your shirt ridden up over his forearm, basically eye to eye. “Nii nii…” It shouldn’t be weird. It shouldn’t be a big deal to touch your own flesh and blood like this, and you know you could laugh it off. If only his eyes weren’t so damn dark and blown out, you would.

“Should I come back in a couple hours?” Kazutora suddenly clears his voice from the other side of the couch, sounding a bit too amused for your liking, and you can feel the heat from your chest climb just as quickly all the way to your cheeks and ears. “If you two want to get it on…” They probably glow with an obvious color of embarrassment, your lip lifting in protest. But Kei nii just looks satisfied with himself, narrowed eyes pinning you in place. Kazutora grins at you too, a toothy, gleeful smile at your misery. You dig your nails into the soft skin above your big brother’s collarbone in an attempt to make him let you go.

“What is— Don’t be fucking weird, we…” you bite your lip when you glance back over at your brother, his hands still on your hips. “Niichan, this isn’t funny. Lemme go.” It’s not quite so easy to ignore him when he drops his face into your neck, second arm wrapping around your shoulders to keep you in place as you jerk back. Because yes, you’re aware you’re the pervert here. His mouth is just- basically on your tits, and the breath he blows out goes through your shirt and tickles and he’s never ever asked for affection this way before. You’re not sure whether to curse him out or encourage him to let it out.

For a few seconds you sit like that, squished to your brother’s warm chest, your own shallow breaths seeming much too loud. But then you find the other man’s gaze, the way his tongue swipes out to wet his lips, and it has you pushing yourself off of Keisuke’s lap. Your brother doesn’t look too happy, but you really don’t care.

“I’ve got a lot of work left tonight, so you can eat without me,” you breathe out too quickly, busying your hands with the edge of your top when you stand. “Goodnight, aniiki. Goodnight, Hanemiya-san.” And then you’re out of there, legs a little too shaky, and with two sets of eyes trailing you all the way down the hall. You don’t manage to get much done.

And when someone comes to the apartment barely an hour later, you pretend not to hear the way the bed squeaks in the other room, muffling low groans by wrapping your pillow around your skull. If you don’t die of embarrassment, maybe suffication will do.

—

The next day is uneventful. You do your very best not to linger in any room with either of them too long. It’s not subtle, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the burning of Kazutora’s eyes on your face every once in a while, but it’s easy to ignore when you’re distracting yourself with cleaning up their mess. Whatever was said after you locked yourself in your room, you’ll never know. But you’re not particularly curious. You can’t help but think about it too much, the way his hands had flitted up along your sides with a bit too much eager possession, the barely tangible brush of his lips along your pulse point.

If it was someone else, it’d be romantic. You put the towels down in their spot in the bathroom, and fish out your phone when it vibrates against your thigh. A message from Chifuyu, curiously prying about your silence. But what can you say? That you’re having doubts about living with your older brother now, after almost five years of peace? That everything that happened last night felt the furthest from platonic, and that you hadn’t shaken him off like you should’ve? You look up when someone clears their throat, leaning against the doorframe as he does.

“You’re being rude.” It’s short, direct, his voice dripping with something you can’t quite pin-point. All you’re sure about is that he doesn’t sound too pleased when he says it, but it’s not mean. “Y’know Tora has had a rough life. He’s only around as often as he is because I don’t want him to feel alone.” Not exactly why you’ve been avoiding them— today, at the very least, but it still makes you grimace. You clean up the counter, put the toothbrushes left, right, left again- anything to keep yourself busy. Anything not to have to look at him. “The least you could do is pretend like you don’t hate him. I don’t like all your friends either, but you don’t see me making a fuss.”

“I don’t hate him,” you say again, voice threatening to break. It’s nothing you haven’t said to yourself before, but hearing it like this hits a bit harder. “What do you want me to do, niisan? I don’t have much in common with him.”

“He really likes you, you know,” Keisuke suddenly says, shutting you up instantly. “He says you make him feel at home, like he’s got some family of his own.” You should feel guilty, his tone says. And you do, disarmed with a single, simple sentence. This isn’t really news to you. Kazutora had come up here and there in conversation with your best friend before, about his home life, how Toman had been everything to him growing up. It’s a slap in the face to you, someone who’s always had someone.

“I went and got us some lunch. Come join us,” he asks, though it’s more of a demand. One you’re more than inclined to abide by, considering your actions all day. If he noticed, Kazutora most definitely did as well, and though it wasn’t the reason you’ve been walking on eggshells, it definitely hasn’t helped. Keisuke’s dark hair is damp, falling over his eyes as he leans forward to check your phone when it lights up. You stay silent though, biting your lip as you drag your nails along the white porcelain of the sink. “Okay?”

You nod. One short, deliberating motion as you try to find words to your thoughts. You want to speak up, really. You want to be an adult and talk over whatever it— that situation yesterday night— was, but your tongue feels so heavy. Too heavy to speak, let alone ask the pointed questions that are glued to your tongue. Seemingly knowing you won’t speak, he lets out a deep sigh and walks further into the bathroom. His hand comes to rest on your arm, his fingers wrapping loosely around your wrist.

“You’ve never been this fucking quiet in your entire life,” he grins, handsome face relaxed when you turn to face him. “Is that what a man’s gotta do to get you to stop acting up? Huh, brat?”

Heat flares right back up under your collar before you can help it, putty with the way his eyes flick from your eyes to your lips and back again. As easy as breathing, he rakes his hand up along your arm to tug you into him, letting you topple unmoving against his chest until you can smell his shampoo and the scent of fresh linen. “My little sister likes to cuddle, ‘s that it? You touch starved or somethin’?” Your hand shoots up and fists into his shirt to push yourself off, but you don’t quite manage to let go.

Not when he wraps his strong arms around you, not when a puff of air comes to the crown of your head, and not when his thumb presses comforting circles into your skin. “You’re so tense,” he mumbles into your hair, “don’t be like that. I can touch you, you’re family. You’re the one making it weird.” It’s soft and true and you instantly feel a bit sorry, because maybe Keisuke’s just going through some stuff. Maybe he needs this. But the silence still drags on too long, his hands sliding down your back, down, down, down until—

The buzzing of your phone breaks it. And Kei nii groans out loud, brows furrowing deep and harsh when you move to pick it up. His arm stays clamped around your waist, pressing your body too close to his own glowing skin. “Why the fuck-,” his eyes narrow further when he snatches the device from your hand, “is Chifuyu texting you still. Why is… I- are you two fucking or something? I thought you said I didn’t have to be worried.” His voice is low enough to have your hairs standing up on your arms, growled with such a visceral, sudden anger that you open and close your mouth a few times like a fish gasping for oxygen. His face is so close to yours when he stares you down, waves the phone back and forth in your peripheral vision.

But why- you have nothing to feel guilty about. “No, we’re not! He’s engaged, and he’s my friend, niisan. Why are you like that- a-and let me go!” This time you do push against his chest, an affronted furrow coming to your own face when he glares. You understand being worried about a mutual friend, but how can he even think that. Accuse you of doing something so vile. “He’s like a brother to me!” you breathe out to placate him, making a pitiful whimper when his grip on you gets a bit too tight for comfort. “Niisan, believe me, I’m not doing anything like that!”

You put all the force you have in your arm to widen the distance between you two, but Keisuke quickly puts your phone down to grab your chin and make you face him again. His hold does let up a little as he looks down at you with those deep, blown out irises that glint in the harsh LEDs. And then he clicks his tongue, leans down until you’re basically nose to nose and you slump in his hold. You can’t help it, it’s instinctual. If you want out you’d really have to fight, and you don’t actually want to hurt him, right? This is your big brother, the one you love with all your heart. Even when he’s mean and a hassle, even—

You freeze when his lips meet yours, first ever so gentle, but quickly pushing down more when you don’t pull back. Not that you’re in the state to do much of anything except listen to the pounding of your blood rushing past your ears. He leans in more and kisses deeper, pulling you by your belt loop into him as you shake and tremble, tongue brushing against your mouth. You finally pull away at that, almost toppling back from the harsh movement. “Don’t say stupid shit like that,” he grunts, straightens up to regard you and the way you’re looking anywhere but him. “You’ve known Tora for longer than you’ve known Chifuyu.”

He stays for a few seconds of silence, his own chest moving up and down hard enough to show under his shirt, before running the back of his hand under his nose. Your own head is spinning, confusion and anxiety mixing into a tight ball that sits at the top of your throat and keeps you from saying anything. “Come eat.” You don’t speak when he grabs your hand and laces his own fingers between yours, or when you pass by Kazutora who’s propped up on the bed. If he heard any of the commotion in the bathroom, he doesn’t let it show.

Just gives you a long, languid up and down that sends more cold shivers down your spine. Kei nii places your chair closer to his before forcing you down to sit, rakes his fingers along your back again, then plops into the chair himself. Like nothing ever happened. And the other dark haired man sits down across, tapping his hands on the table a few times before he smiles, pointing at the food. “Baji, wanna share?” His lithe voice rings loud through the apartment. It’s colder than usual, you think, biting your bottom lip hard. Kazutora’s smile is still off, a little too turned up at the corners, a little too predatory.

It only seems to widen when he meets your eyes without faltering, his own cheeks flushing a little. “You know what they say, sharing is caring.”

—

In a way, you anticipate the knock before it comes. Your music isn’t loud enough to entirely drown out the sound of the two of them watching tv or the call to some other friends, but it’s enough to keep you with your head down in the books. You have too much to think about as it is and not enough time in the day to make all the mangled pieces fit. Because the more you think, the more you remember— things you never took notice of now amplified with a spotlight. Keisuke had always been possessive, had always been unrelenting on any man you ever hung out with. You used to think it was a little funny, a little cute.

But with the memory of his lips on yours, the way his hand had slipped along your spine to keep you in place… Your body has a strange sensation that starts in the low of your belly and spreads all around. You pull out one of your earbuds to listen for the noise of them. The tv is out, and considering the phone call earlier it isn’t a stretch to think Kazutora has left for the night, and your brother is taking a shower like he usually does before bed.

You groan, raise your arms above your head, and drag yourself from your desk to let yourself drop into the covers with all the dramatics of a toddler. And it’s as you’re thinking over everything yet again, any sign you may have misread— the knock comes to your door. You turn your head towards it. “Hey, brat,” he mumbles, sounding … quiet. Keisuke isn’t loud by nature, nor is he particularly talkative, but he’s never quiet in the way that he sounds now in front of your door. “Did you lock me out of your room?” he asks at the silence, gently jiggling the handle a few times.

“I was finishing up my paper,” you softly respond, thinking over your words. “I didn’t try to lock you out.”

The man on the other side is quiet for a few seconds too, before he hums. “You gonna let me in at least?” Though the thought does cross your mind, you do get up to unlock the door. The tall man steps inside, leaving the door open after him. He goes to sit on the bed and you follow. “So…” So, time to talk, you think in response, sitting down too. “You didn’t like it, ‘s that what it is?”

The question takes you entirely off guard. “Wh-what? No, I- That’s not- You can’t just do that!”

“Why not? If you liked it, and I liked it—”

“I didn’t like it, niisan!” you snap back, barely noticing how he turns towards you so his legs are spread either way. Every touch sets you on fire though.

“That’s not what your face said earlier,” his lips quirk up when you try to hit him, grabbing your one hand, then the other too when you try again. “It’s okay if you did. I know you better than anyone else, don’t try to deny it.” He leans in, as if to kiss you again, and you pull back- hitting your head against the headboard in the process. “Stop wiggling, I just want to try something. Don’t make such a scene.”

“Niichan,” you yelp, turning your face aside when he crawls closer, nuzzling along your chest up your throat. “Why me? Why me?”

“Because I love you,” he only says, a logical justification for the sin at hand. You can’t help the way your body warms, glowing under him. But it’s beyond you why you just lay there and take it when he lets your arm drop to cup your cheek, lean down into your space- so close you can see each individual eyelash and the small scar on the bridge of his nose. ‘Just let me,’ he mouths, before his lips are back on yours. There’s no innocence in the way he kisses you, the hand that slides into hair at the bottom of your skull and tugs. Just tongue pushing inside and greedy, wet kisses that make your stomach flip.

He groans when you kiss back, a throaty sound, pulling back to look at you. Your flushed lips and teary eyes are enough to have him huffing, diving back in again. He tastes nice, your mind supplies, and your mortification only burns through your chest hotter. “See,” he pants when he pulls back, “you want it. I know you.” He traces his finger along the seam of your mouth for a second, prying it open with a hum. “Someone we know told me you would, you’re a little slut- hm?” It’s unfairly effective, his fingers dipping inside your mouth and exploring your tongue, spit coating them as he presses further. “Y’should’ve told me, baby. If I knew my little sister was such a whore—”

“Stop, stop please. We can’t.” Though you say it, you have no intention of actually moving, everything hurting from the need, the touch. You want it, it rings through your skull.

“We can.” As his hand dips under your shirt, you can feel your panties cling to your pussy, a traitorous feeling of your own body working against you. You never wanted this, you didn’t, he’s wrong and you know it. But his large hand pawing at your tits under your shirt and the way he nudges a knee between your legs is working. “I can tell,” he whispers in a sing-song voice, thick lashes framing his dark eyes.

You let out a little sound he accepts with a grin, pulling his fingers out to kiss you again. Sloppier, letting his spit stay on your tongue. “My little sister just wants to get fucked by her big brothers, right? That’s what gets your pussy gushing?” He chuckles when you squeak at his hand, grabbing his wrist where it’s making it’s way into your pants.

“Please-” stop. It doesn’t quite make it past your lips, definitely not when he licks a stripe from your jaw down your throat, sucking a mark into the skin. Your body is so hot and everything is sensitive to the touch.

At this point you’re just as embarrassed of the situation as you are at getting turned on in the first place, of how you can’t manage to say ‘no’. Even though you know you should. Even if everything is crumbling around you. His self-satisfied grin only grows when the wet sound of his fingers sliding around in your wetness makes you slick more, your body actively sabotaging you. You turn away, bury your face into your pillow as he starts rubbing your clit. The rough pads of his fingers feel like heaven, and your thighs shudder when he rubs you just right a few times, biting down on your neck.

He grinds himself against you, head cocking back with a sigh. He’s hard. Your big brother’s cock is hard in his pants, and he rubs it between your legs enough to have you mewling and shuddering. It’s embarrassing, it is, but as long as no one knows… “Say it for me,” he asks then, already busy shuffling your shorts down your legs. He rubs a palm over your pussy, before landing a slap straight between your legs and laughing when your legs twitch. “Come on, tell me you want to have that ‘big brother’s cock’.”

He spanks your pussy again, before spitting on it and lazily rubbing that around. “Come on~”

“You started without me?” it sounds from the door, your eyes shooting open to watch Kazutora with only a towel around his waist. A towel that’s tenting over his cock, as Keisuke grabs your tits again and rubs himself against your soft thigh.

“Just a little. Hurry up, I’m hard as fuck.” He shoves his pants down to let you admire him for only a second, mind flip flopping between both men again and again. Kazutora does as asked, undoes his towel to scoot in next to you two on the bed, and groans when slapping your tits, pinching your nipple between skillful fingers. His cock twitches, glossy tip and red and so hard, it’s hard for you to imagine he hasn’t been for a while.

“Fuck, I knew you were gonna be so good. I fucking told you, Baji.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathes out, making room to let Kazutora latch his mouth onto your nipple and suck, his free hand toying with your clit. It’s unfair, the amount of stimulation leaves you a cockhungry mess. Your brother kneads your thighs for a few seconds, eyes narrowed, before he takes over for Kazutora to spit on your pussy again, leaning down to suck on your clit.

But he seems to think better of it and groans, getting up between your legs to pull your hips level with his. “I’m fucking her pussy though. Your big brother’s gonna fuck your pussy nice and full.” Your mouth is occupied by Kazutora’s, so you can’t even whine or say anything in response. But the effect is instant, pussy clenching and more slick mixing with the mess between your legs.

Kei nii grins, before lining up. “You like that?” Kazutora asks when he pulls back, looking too lovingly into your eyes. He’s all flushed, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You’re a twisted little thing, baby. I love it though. I really do.” He sits up on his knees to brush some hair away from your face, then smiles so pretty. “Open up.” As Keisuke rubs his throbbing cock between your legs, arms clamped down on your hips like his life depends on it, you can’t help but whine out long and pitifully, something that makes him smile.

Another tap to your lips has you lulling out your tongue, letting Kazutora rest the head of his cock onto it. Your lips wrap around him as he sighs, placing his large hand on your head to push a little closer. While your brother slides in between your legs, stretching you so wide it stings, Kazutora stares at the way you swallow around the cock in your mouth and fucks into your mouth. Spit dripping down your face and tears clumping your lashes together, moaning incoherently. Kei nii pushes in deeper, places his hand on your belly to make you feel every inch as it slides into you so much more.

“You gonna let me breed this cunt nice and good? Fill you up, fuck my baby into you?”

You choke around Kazutora’s cock when it’s paired with a thrust from both men. “Shit, she likes that. You like your brother’s cock this much?” Your agreement is muffled, but Keisuke’s face lights up a little too eagerly when you still do your best to nod, bottoming out inside. Your pussy is a mess, spit and your own slick dripping down your ass into the fresh linen.

“Call Kazutora niisan too,” he orders then, thumb on your clit as he pulls back, narrowed focus on your cunt as it clings to his thick cock. “He’s been wanting this for longer than I have, y’know.” Kazutora lets you up to take some much needed breaths, before he leans down to kiss you again, cup your cheeks and worship your mouth. Tugging your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on your tongue. As Kei starts a ruthless pace, hard, deep thrusts creating a lewd ‘pap’ every time he bottoms out. His cock fills you up so well, it’s making your mind twist. “Come on, slut, say it.”

The string of spit between your faces is broken when he pulls back to gaze at you and your fucked out expression, fucking his cock into a tight fist with your spit. Your mouth falls open when Kei nii pinches your clit hard, legs clamping around his ass, and stare back at the half blond-half noiret as he waits. “Tora nii~chan,” your voice comes out high pitched and whinier than you’d like, but the way he reaches down to grab his balls is intoxicating. “Tora niichan, wan’you to fuck my throat as nii nii breeds me, please. Please, p-please—”

Keisuke chuckles. “You’re gonna make him cum.” But he doesn’t slow, just rocks the bed back and forth as he drives in and out of your pussy with a crazed focus, hitting your spot just right. You grab at his arm to dig your nails in while Kazutora gets back over your face, this time gripping your face tighter as you lick along the slit.

“Such a good little sister. Our little slut.”

#tokrev smut #tokyo rev smut #baji smut #kazutora smut #tr smut #tw.incest #tw.breeding #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #💫ch.baji #💫ch.kazutora #🍯honey.pot

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stanmixtapes · 2 years

Text

“𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪“

pairing : bucky x reader

summary : when reader finds her scars unappealing, bucky is always there to show her how much those scars proves how beautiful she is.

words : 1.2k

warnings : scars, scratches, kissing, talking about violence, gunshot wound, fluff. please let me know if i missed any!!

request by @mind-of-a-girl , here you go, my first ever fic!! I hope you like it, keep in mind english is not my first language so im so sorry if theres any mistakes or any grammatical errors <3 -Honey

(gif is from pinterest)

the decorations and lights in the Avengers Compound was so extravagantly decorated. the place so so bright you could never miss it as a party hosted by none other than Tony Stark himself. ‘Extravagant’ was practically his middle name, always finding a reason to throw a party for something. this particular party was just a simple get-together with everyone and a few other people (to Tony a few means a few hundred).

you’ve always find an excuse to exclude yourself from events like these not because you don’t like them but because you’ve never really found yourself to ‘fit’ in stuff like this. to your luck, Tony had insisted on you attending the party, even bought you a dress so here you are in your room getting ready. you started to put on your dress, feeling the soft fabric on your body you decided to take a look at it on the mirror.

like a switch you immediately wanted to take it off. it was a backless dark blue dress and it’s beautiful, just not on you. you could see all of your nasty scars that you’ve been trying to hide on the backless part of the beautiful dress. its as though you ruined the perfect piece of clothing. running your fingers to the edge of your dress that ends just on top of your knees, you could see scars and scratches that started on your thighs.

you couldn’t look at your face in the mirror, afraid as if the mirror would mock you. you don’t know how long you’ve been standing in front of it, you didn’t even realize the door opening and the presence of someone.

“doll?” bucky softly called out to you, closing the door behind him. you didn’t answer him, you didn’t even notice he was in here. looking at you up and down and the reflection of the mirror standing in front of you, he wondered what did he do to deserve someone as special as you, but your expression on the mirror says the opposite, he quickly realizes what’s going on.

bucky slowly made his way behind you, “you look so beautiful.” he ran his hands on the sides of your arms. you were pulled out of your thoughts, finally noticing bucky behind you. tears welled in your eyes when reality hits you,

“look at me.” you ever so slightly whispered. he looks at you, his face washed with worry, “what do you see in me?” you asked in the same whisper trying to mask the shakiness in your voice.

“i see a beautiful person with a big heart, i see a badass agent, i see someone who puts everyone else before herself” he gently replied.

“i don’t- i dont see a beautiful person,” you shook your head, your eyes were trailing your own body up and down in the mirror

“then i suggest you see an eye doctor doll.” he joked. he knew you didn’t find it funny, you still had that frown on your face.

a frown that doesn’t belong on your pretty pretty face. he knows this feeling all too well. he had his own scars, he had been stuck in his own thoughts thinking about what he did in the past and they would never go away no matter what he did. until you. you were his light in the dark. you’d always be there to wake him up from a nightmare, to kiss his scars and tears away, to remind him how beautiful all of him is. at moment like right now, he wants to do the same for you.

so he kissed your scars on your shoulders following to your lower back and it sent a pleasant chill down your spine. you felt him stop at a spot and noting the curve of his smile.

“oh i remember this one, it was when you kicked this one guy who was like twice your size and stronger than me. you snapped him like a twig, that was so hot.” he chuckled at the clear memory of you fighting a Hydra agent that you so clearly won.

He pulled back from your skin to look at your shoulder in the mirror, grazing his finger on a healing scar that sits on the soft skin of your shoulder.

“this one. you remember this one?” he asked and you nodded but letting him continue.

“it was when you jumped and took a bullet for me. you saved my life.” his eyes softens.

gently, he turns you around so that you’d look at him and not his reflection. “you should be proud of your scars, they are what makes you stronger. you taught me that.”

but you don’t feel pride for them, they make you look embarrassing, like a flaw.

“i want to-“ you sniffled, looking deep into his cerulean eyes. “i want to be proud of them and i don’t know why i can’t. i feel like i don’t belong anywhere with these scars on me.”

bucky’s heart shattered at your confession. his hands automatically starts to cup your face as the pads of his thumb swiped the stray tears away. “you don’t have to belong anywhere. that is what makes you special, you stand out to be the finest of the finest. you don’t need any of that. you’ve always found my scars beautiful, what makes yours any different?”

“thats not the same, you’ve gone through so much more-“

“stop, don’t do that. y/n you’ve helped me get through all that. i want to do the same for you.” he admired how the light illuminated your face. it was like looking at an angel.

“do you love me?” he asked.

“of course i love you.”

“all of me? my scars? my metal arm?”

“yes, why are you asking me this?” bucky smiled at her confused state.

“because i love you, i love you for you, for your scars, for your bruises, for your everything. you might not see it but i do.”

“see what?”

“see the beautiful because beautiful is you.” he softly smiled,

if you weren’t you were fully crying before you’re definitely are now. he loved you for who you are and you do too. he leaned down to press his lips on yours as tears were now freely making their way down your cheeks.

they were happy tears and you were smiling. all of the negative comments you’ve made on yourself forgotten because it was worth it. one of these scars that littered your body have saved bucky’s and other people’s lives. bucky knows its going to take time for you to be comfortable with your scars and he’s willing to help you along the way just as you did for him before.

“i don’t ever want this moment to end but i think we should go. unless you want Stark constant bickering about us not being there tomorrow morning.” bucky chuckled, leaning his forehead onto yours. you nodded, you really didn’t want to be scolded by Tony considering he did insist you to be at the party.

both of you pulled away and this is the time where you really got to get a good look on bucky. he was wearing a darker blue suit with a white dress shirt and a tie.

“i wanted us to match.” he innocently stated.

“i’d say you look very handsome.” you wiped away all the tears and silently chuckled.

there it was, the beautiful smile that belonged on your face. he extended his arm which you happily took and made your way to the door. the old you would find it hard to believe that you’re slowly accepting your flaws but she would be proud. bucky showed you that the scars doesnt change who you are because it makes you better and much stronger. he showed you that he loves you and you love him.

masterlist | prompt list | add yourself to my taglists!!

#bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers #mcu #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #hurt comfort #comfort #bucky fluff #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan characters #winter soldier

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svenotes · 3 years

Text

stay with me | jjk

❝ maybe staying another night at your boyfriend’s isn’t such a bad idea ❞

[ PAIRING ] : jeon jungkook x reader

[ GENRE ] : established relationship au + smut and a smudge of fluff

[ WORD COUNT ] : 6k

[ WARNINGS ] : oral sex, some real good tongue technology on jungkook’s part, fingering, overstimulation, penetrative sex, creampie, LOTS AND LOTS of dirty talk, jk calls oc ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’ way too many times, oc worried that her bf is going to get tired of her, some mentions of anxiety, jk is the sweetest bf and even sweeter at sex, there is barely any plot and just a lot of sex im so sorry

[ AUTHOR’S NOTE ] : i'm on my period and i got horny and then this happened

masterlist | wattpad cross post | ao3 cross post

“No.”

Jungkook shuffles behind you, the bed moaning. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

You shake your head, failing to suppress your smile as you slip on your thong. However, it does little to hide you from him. Glancing at the mirror, you see him shamelessly stare at your ass, licking his lips before he meets your gaze through the glass with a boyish grin.

You turn around to face him. “You’re going to ask me to stay.”

Jungkook hums, eyes dancing across your bare skin, darkening. Heat rushes to your cheeks as he admires you, confidence swelling in your chest and you take a moment to admire him. He sits at the edge of the bed, naked and yours, white, silk sheets pooled around his lower abdomen.

Your eyes trace over his rigid muscles, and your fingers itch to touch him. Even under the dim light, he is beautiful with his dishevelled hair and swollen lips. You finally meet his gaze and swear your knees almost give out. Heat pools in your stomach when you see the hunger in his gaze, breath hitching in your throat. Your thighs press together reflexively and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Wrong.” Jungkook pulls you at you until you're straddling him. He cranes his neck to press butterfly kisses along your jaw. “I was going to ask you to not leave.”

“Baby.” You thread your fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands. “That means the same thing.”

“Don't care,” he hums, pressing a firm kiss against your lips. “Don’t go.”

His plea tugs at the strings of your heart. It’s hard to say deny him. It’s especially hard to deny him with his dick hard, prodding against your thigh and his lips coercing you to stay cocooned under the sheets with him. However, the anxiety that builds in your chest is overwhelming and the thoughts that kept you up the night before still linger.

“Jungkook.”

“Unless you’re telling me you're staying, I don’t want to hear it.”

You giggle, leaning down for a sweet kiss. Minutes pass by before you pull away with a burn in your lungs and clouded mind. He chases after your lips, but you tilt your head for his lips to press against the corner of your lips, to his reluctance.

“Baby,” you start, “I need to go home and get new clothes. I’ve spent the entire weekend here and now I have nothing to wear.”

“I like you naked, anyway.” He grins as you slap his chest, failing to bite back your smile. “You can wear my clothes.”

“I have no underwear left.”

“I have a laundry machine.” He traces every curve of your spine, sending shivers down your back. “You’ll have clean clothes tomorrow.”

You brush the long strands of his hair from of his face. “I could grab some new clothes and come back tomorrow.”

“It’s going to be dark soon,” he reasons, unhooking your bra with two fingers and you cock a brow. “Leave in the morning — after breakfast. Dangerous people come out at night, y’know? I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”

“You would’ve won me over with that one if you didn’t unhook my bra,” you remark, pinning him with a look.

“Really? Wait, lemme redo that—!” You let out a heartfelt laugh, throwing your head back and he grins. “Seriously, don't go. I don’t want you walking outside late at night.”

“The sun’s only about to set, I can get home before it gets too dark.”

Jungkook’s brows pinch together, lips curling downwards. “You’re trying so hard to leave. Why?”

Your heart misses a beat and you pray he doesn’t notice the hesitation in your eyes as anxiety swells in your chest. Your worries flood your mind as a reminder as why you must leave.

“You're going to get sick of me if I don't give you some space.”

“I could never get sick of you,” he retorts, holding you closer with a shake of his head. “And I don't need space from you. Wanna keep you in my arms forever.”

Your gaze softens on him and his cheeks are coloured pink. “Kook.”

“I don’t want you to leave — not tonight.” He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat. “Want you to stay with me.”

You indulge in the idea; one more night. You could stay one more night. You could. However, the fear in your chest does not allow for it. You’re scared — worried if he spends every waking moment with you he’ll soon get tired of you. Perhaps it’s a stupid thought considering you’ve been dating for over a year now, but the dread still lingers. No matter how much you reason with it, it haunts your thoughts — keeps you awake in the middle of the night even as he rests in your embrace.

He drags you from your reverie, pressing a kiss against the sweet spot under your ear and you let him have his way for now.

“Don’t go,” he says again in a whisper, pleading with his eyes. “Please. I want you to stay.”

Before you can answer he leans down to press his lips against yours. His lips meld with your own in a fervent kiss, his hand trailing down your body and tracing the curve of your ass, as he presses himself against your core. You roll your hips against him as the kiss becomes more sloppy and desperate with every press of him against you. Waves of pleasure shoot down to your core, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Jungkook,” you moan.

His lips trail down the underside of your jaw, pressing a wet kiss against your pulse. A coil of desire begins to tighten at every nudge of his shaft against your nerves, nails digging into the skin on his back in response.

“Ngh — Jungkook, please,” you urge as presses his hips against yours, applying pressure to your bundle of nerves.

“Please, what, baby,” he hums, smirking against your skin. “Use your words.”

“Touch me. Please, ah,” you moan, throwing your head back against the pillow. “Need you to touch me.”

He throws your unhooked bra to the side. Bringing a hand to wrap around your breast, he squeezes it adoring how soft and pliant you are under his touch. You arch your back as his tongue flicks against your perked nipple.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his warm breath fanning across the pebbled bud on your breast. “Thought you had to go, hm?”

“Jungkook—!”

“I won’t stop until I’m satisfied,” he says, hoarse, searching your eyes for an answer. “I won’t let you go until you’re begging me to stop. Do you want that?” He rolls grinds his cock against your core, groaning. “Won't stop ’til I feel your hot, tight pussy milk me for every last drop. Ah, wanna feel you fall apart on my cock, see you all pretty and full of my cum, hear you beg for more and more until you break.”

You gasp at his vulgar words, the hot, white coil tightening in your stomach. You wish so badly for him to be inside of you when you clench around nothing. His lips wrap around your perked nipple, licking and biting you, eliciting the sweetest of moans from your lips as his tongue swirls around your bud.

Your thread your fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands at the nape of his neck how he likes it. He moans against you as you continue to experimentally roll your hips against him, desperate for some friction — for him.

“Do you want that, too, baby?” He asks, leaving a trail of kisses up the valley between your breasts. “Means you can’t go home though. You’ll miss your train if you let me do the things I want.”

“Are you sure you’re not going to get tired of seeing me every day?”

You try to laugh, but your voice comes out strained and full of worry. It doesn't sound like a joke as you hoped, voice shaking as you ask your question. Your heart thunders in your chest and you wonder if he can hear it.

Jungkook stills, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed and eyes full of confusion.

“You think I’m getting tired of you?”

You look away from his piercing gaze and he doesn’t like it. Taking your face in his hands, he urges you to meet his eyes and you find yourself meeting his concerned gaze.

“Talk to me,” he says, softly.

You take a deep breath, eyes flickering to your hands resting against his chest. Mustering the courage to open up, you meet his gaze again as he patiently waits for your response, a thumb rubbing soothingly against the soft skin of your cheek.

“I—I’m scared that you're going to realize I’m not as great as you think I am,” you begin softly, voice shaking. “I’m worried if you spend too much time with me you'll get sick of me. I’m scared you’re going to get tired of me and leave me.” You pause, noticing the bewildered expression on his face. “I wanted to leave so I could give you space in case you wanted it. I didn’t — I don’t want to suffocate you.”

He’s silent for a long moment and you know it’s because he’s collecting his thoughts. However, a part of you still worries. You worry it's because he realizes he has grown tired of your presence. You worry he realizes that you have too much emotional baggage and doesn’t want to deal with it. You worry because you have a hard time accepting someone’s love.

“I haven’t done a good job at being your boyfriend,” he starts and your eyes widen, “if you’re thinking I’m going to get sick of you.”

“No,” you reply immediately, cupping his face. “It's not you. It’s my insecurities — my anxiety. You’re more than perfect. You say and do all the right things, Kook. I just… I’m scared one day you’re going to get tired of me — tired of constantly reassuring me, sick of having me around all the time and clinging to you.”

You’ve talked to Jungkook about it before. He knows about the thoughts that keep you up at night — the worries that gnaw at you until you’re in tears. He knows and he stays. He tries to help you in every way he possibly can. He holds you when you need it, whispers reassuring words, comforts you no matter when or where. He’s there for you in every possible way because he loves you.

But sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you — especially when it comes to him.

“Baby,” he starts and it’s hard to meet his eyes, “I will never get tired of you. I will never get sick of you.”

“You don’t know that—!”

He cuts you off, “But I do. I know because I can’t get enough of you. I don’t think I ever will. Every moment you’re not with me all I want is you. All I can ever think about is you. You drive me crazy and you don’t even know it. All I ever want is you beside me, in my arms, in my house with me. I always want you right beside me — right where you belong.” A pause. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you, too.” Your response is almost immediate and he smiles, leaning to press a soft kiss against your lips.

“Do you know how much I love your laugh?” You’re silent. “Do you know how much I love making you smile; how much I love waking up beside you and falling asleep with you in my arms. How much I adore your victory dances when you win games and your snoring—!”

“Hey!” You complain, but there’s a smile curling on your lips to match his.

“I love you so much — every single part of you — I couldn’t possibly ever get sick you. I love you so much I don't ever want to let you go.”

Hesitantly, you look at him and let the sincerity of his words sink in. His eyes are full of adoration for you and your heart is enveloped by a sudden warmth only he can elicit in you. Lifting your hand between your bodies and extend your pink finger to him.

“Promise?”

He doesn't hesitate to wrap his small finger around yours before sealing the promise with a sweet kiss. “Promise.”

“Okay,” you say, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I wasn’t being too clingy this weekend? I wasn’t bothering you or being annoish—!”

“I’m going to stop you before you say more things I don’t like.” He smothers your face in his hands, eyes narrowed. “Remember, I wanted you here this weekend, too. And I want you to spend another night because I love you and I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

“Okay,” you murmur, shyly. “I’ll stay the night.”

“Good. I want my pretty girl beside me,” he chuckles under his breath, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. You notice his eyes grow softer, an emotion you cannot decipher hidden behind the awestruck in his eyes that leaves butterflies in its wake. “Move in with me.”

You blink. “What?”

“I—!" His eyes are wide as if he didn’t expect himself to say the word himself. His eyes flicker downwards before they meet yours again with purpose. “I want you to move in with me.” A deep breath. “My apartments too big for just one person and I miss you whenever you’re gone. You spend more time here than you do at your own place anyway. Move in with me.”

You search eyes and all you're met with is sincerity. “Are you sure?”

“Yea,” his smile is soft but it makes your heart swell. “Yea, I'm sure. I’m tired of waking up every morning and not having you beside me.”

“Moving in?” You ask, uncertainly.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, but I wasn’t sure if you were ready. And you don’t have to give me an answer tonight or tomorrow. I want you to think about it and if you’re not ready, that’s okay because I’ll wait for you. You’re worth the wait.”

“Kook—!"

“I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, ___.” Your eyes widen at the declaration and his cheeks are coloured pink despite the bright smile on his lips. “I know we’re not there yet, but I want you every single day for the rest of my life. So while I wait for you to be my wife, I want to move in with you.”

Jungkook momentarily stills before he realizes the soft pressure against his lips is your own, smiling into the kiss as he closes his eyes. He kisses you tenderly and sweet, but there is desperation behind them. You’ve kissed Jungkook thousands of times but he still makes your head dizzy as he slips his tongue between the seams of your lips. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, your fingers tangled in his hair and his own pulling you closer towards him.

He pulls back first, a string of saliva connecting you before he places another firm kiss against your lips. “Was that a yes?”

“Yea,” you breathe, grinning. “Yea, it was.”

He flips you onto the bed with practiced ease, your back hitting the mattress as he hovers over you. You giggle as he places butterfly kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, face hidden in the crook of your neck. “My pretty, pretty girl.”

“Jungkook.”

“Yes.”

“I want to cum.”

He laughs, pulling away. “Shameless, too.”

He leaves a trail of kisses down your body until he’s a hair's breadth from your cunt. His fingers brush against your closed slit, arousal leaking through the flimsy material as he presses against your core. Your breathing becomes erratic when he presses a kiss against your clothed lips.

“Baby — fuck.” Your eyes roll back as he drags his tongue to your clit, the friction from the fabric on your nerves driving you crazy. “St-stop, agh, teasing.”

“You’re not in the position to make rules, baby,” he says, rubbing against your clothed clit. “I’m going to take my time with you — have you begging for me to taste your cunt. And when you do, I’ll use my tongue to lick every little drop of sweetness from your pussy. Make you come on my mouth over and over until you’re begging me to stop.”

You whine, “Please.”

He teases you, moving your underwear aside just enough to lick a long stripe from your pussy to your clit. Groaning, he meets your eyes as your underwear slides back in place.

“You taste so good, baby,” he purrs, pressing a kiss against your thigh. “And you're so fucking wet. Bet I could slide right into you.” His fingers are back on you, brushing against your clit but not enough to do anything. “You want me, baby?”

Your arch your back in response to his next ministration. “Yes.”

His touch is gone just like that and you whine, brows furrowed in frustration. He snaps the waistband of your thong against your skin with a smirk.

“Beg.”

“Jungkook—!”

You’re about to complain, but he cuts you off. “Beg or I’ll fuck myself using that pretty mouth and leave you dry. Tell me, baby, how bad do you want me?”

“Please, baby, I need you.” Your hooded eyes meet his heated gaze. “Need your fingers, mouth, cock — you. I need you so bad. Wanna feel you so bad, please.”

“Could be better,” he muses before he presses a kiss against your clothed core. “But I’m impatient.” He taps your hips. “Up.”

Helping you out of your underwear, he brings his face towards your core, blowing against your opening. His nose brushes against your thigh as he places another kiss against the soft skin, hooking your legs over his shoulder.

“You’re soaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

You hum, contentedly when his tongue brushes against your slit. “All for you.”

“My pretty girl,” he rasps, nose brushing against clit. “So wet and needy for me.”

Before you can complain again you feel his hot, wet tongue press harshly against your lips before he drags it up to your clit. He swirls the rosy muscle on your clit, teasingly until your moaning and breathless. Without warning, his lips envelop around your throbbing bud, sucking in full force you scream his name as your hips buck. Warm hands hold your waist down as he hums, tongue licking against your entrance again. For a moment he dips inside you, moaning at the taste of your sweetness before going back to suck at your clit the way you love it and you see stars behind your lids.

He repeats the motion over and over, swirling his warm tongue around your swollen bud and sucking it in a way that has you forgetting your own name. Against your slick lips, he whispers praises, before he slips two fingers into your warm cavern and curling his fingers inside you.

“O-oh, fuck—!” you gasp, fingers tangled in his hair. “Don — mmngh — don’t stop, ngh.”

“Gotchu,” he grins when he finds your sweet spot. “Does it feel good, baby?”

“S-so good.” Your nails scrape against his scalp and he emits a low groan. “So fucking good, fuck.”

His fingers continue their onslaught at a new pace, brushing roughly against the spot that leaves you breathless. His lips are back on your clit like a hot suction and you scream out from the overwhelming pleasure.

“So fucking tight,” he muses, pressing a kiss against your bud. “Your pretty cunt's taking my fingers so well, baby. You sound so pretty while I fuck you with my fingers, but you sound prettier when you cum, you know that?”

Your head is spinning from euphoria, ecstasy and the lack of oxygen, but it doesn't matter — not when he's bringing you closer and closer to your release.

“Mngh — J-Jungkook!” He sets a new violent pace that leaves you overwhelmed as he hits your sweet spot. His name falling out your lips like a broken record while he licks at your juices, groaning against your cunt when you fist his hair and pull him closer to you. An electrifying coil in your lower abdomen tightens, building further when his ministrations bring you closer and closer to your peak. You clench around his fingers, bucking your hips further into his hand, whimpering as you say, “God, yes — ngh, fuck. I’m so close.”

“Cum for me.”

Euphoric pleasure slowly, yet surely floods through your body, his lips enveloped around your sensitive bud as he curls his fingers against your soft spot. With one last flick of his tongue, you fall off the euphoric cliff as he laps at your juices. He presses harsh, but sure circles against your clit with his thumb as you ride out your orgasm. Your hip spams, thighs trembling as he coaxes you through an indescribable, mind-blowing release that leaves your vision white.

His lips don’t leave your nether regions, wincing at the oversensitivity. You tug at his strands of hair but he shakes his head.

“Not done with you yet,” he whispers, licking the fruits of his efforts once his fingers slip out of your dripping cunt. “Wanna have you crying my name. Wanna show you how much I love you. Will you let me?”

You lift your head from the pillow, leaning on your elbows as you sit up. He holds your stare, smirking before he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit to your sensitive bud and you shudder. His grip on your thighs tightens to keep you in place before he lowers his head between your thighs, the hot suction back on your clit.

“Agh, Kookie.” You throw your head back, chest heaving. “I’m too—” Gasp. “—sensitive.”

“You can take it.” A kiss against your nether lips. “Wanna show you how much I want you — how much I love the taste of you. I’m not letting you go until you’re begging me to stop. You up for that? Want me to remind you how good I can make you feel?” He dips his tongue back in you and you hiss. “Can you be my pretty, little slut, baby, hm? You wanna make me happy, don’t you?”

“Y-yea.”

You feel him smile against your thigh. “Who does this pretty pussy belong to?”

“You.”

“That’s right.” A rewarding stroke his tongue. “This pussy belongs to me. You’re mine. This pussy is mine. Will you let me play with this pretty cunt, baby?”

He watches you with hunger in his eyes and the desire to have him use you as he pleases to seek his own pleasure overcomes you.

He brushes his tongue against your swollen nub, and you gasp, “Yes.”

“Pretty girl,” he hums and you’re immediately wrapped around his finger. “Do you want to be my perfect little slut?” You nod, meeting his heated gaze, a wolfish grin curling on his lips. “You're too good to me, you know that, baby?” He teases his tongue around your entrance, eliciting a whine from you. “My pretty girl.” Lips wrap around your clit and you scream, body falling limp against his sheets. “My perfect, little slut.”

And with that his tongue is on you, violently bringing you to another release. You are oxygen and he is a man deprived, burying himself deeper in your cunt. A growl emits from the back of his throat as you thread your fingers through his hair, your winces from oversensitivity shifting to moans of pleasure. He finds home between your thighs, reluctant to leave as he licks at every drop of sweetness you grant him. Jungkook brings you to release over and over until your tears stream down your face and you find it hard to take the pressure of his tongue against your overly-sensitive nerves.

With one last wave of pleasure washing over you, he pulls away. His cheeks are coated with a warm fuchsia, lips parted as he looks at your cunt with a predatory gaze. From his nose to his chin, he is covered in a sheen of your juices, eyes blown out as they meet your own.

He adores your fucked out expression, your chest heaving while you catch your breath. His tongue swipes at the remnants of your release on his swollen lips, the back of his hand wiping the excess off his chin before he leans down to catch you in a short kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes search yours for any sign that you want to stop, but he finds nothing.

“You did so well, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“You told me you would make me pretty and full of your cum.” His gaze hardens on you, dark eyes trained on your own. “‘M not full of your cum yet. Can you fix that?”

“Such a greedy slut.” A smile grows on his lips as he leans down to your neck, nipping at the skin. “I made you come on my mouth so many times, but you still want more. Greedy, needy slut.”

“For you.” You wrap your legs around his waist as you grind yourself against his dick. “Only for you.”

He groans, hips rolling in rhythm with yours. “You like being my slut?”

“I like being yours.”

He stills for all of a second before he breaks out into a grin, laughing as he presses a kiss against your lips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pulls his lips back on yours. As he leans towards you, his shaft presses against your folds. You’re barely able to focus on the kissing as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation as he grinds against you, coating his length with your juices.

A knot forms in your lower abdomen like a hot, tight coil wanting to snap. You can already feel yourself get needy at the feeling of his length against your folds, but before you can act upon it—!

“Tsk.” Jungkook clicks his tongue against his teeth as he catches you trying to slip his cock past your folds. “You want my cock?”

“Mhm,” you hum in a daze, eyes lazily meeting his. “Want you inside me.”

“It’s not going to be that easy, baby.” You furrow your eyes at that, mouth opening in protest. “Beg for it. Tell me how badly you want to be fucked by my cock.”

You frown. “That’s not happening—!”

There’s a teasing pressure against your pussy that makes you gasp, eyes rolling back as your mouth hangs open. A soft whimper escapes from you as he adjusts his cock to rub against you, mixing his pre-cum with your juices.

“What was that?” He asks, smirking and you glare at him through your lashes. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I can give you everything you want if you just—” he leans down until his lips brush against your ear, his finger grazing over your sensitive clit and you hiss, pushing your hips against his hands for more, “—beg.”

Again, you ignore his request but more so because he aligns his cock to prod against your cunt and you cannot focus on anything but your need to have him buried in you. You can feel the sudden weight in the pit of your stomach as you lick your lips.

“So hungry for my cock,” he grunts. “You want something to fill you up so good you forget your name, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry at the lack of attention on your sex. “Please.”

“Please what?” He asks, lips curling because he knows he has you exactly where he wants. “Words.”

“Please fuck me,” you give in, frustrated as your walls clench around nothing. You’re hungry for more — body craving more of what he’s willing to offer; of the undeniable pleasure he would provide if you just gave in. “God, I want your cock — need it. Need you to fill me up, need you to fuck me — nngh!” You moan, body going rigid against his as his head rubs against your swollen bud, fingers tweaking at your perked nipples. “Want you so bad, baby. Wanna be your perfect, little slut so bad. Have me however you want, I don’t care — do whatever you want to me. I don’t fucking care.” You grind yourself against him, chest heaving as the desire for him to fill you up becomes desperate. “Just fuck me, baby, please.”

“That’s my girl.” He rewards you with a kiss. “I’ll fuck you, baby. I’ll fill you up with my cock. Gonna bury my cock deep inside your slick cunt. Gonna stretch out your walls so good no other cock will be good enough for you — no other cock could ever fill you up like mine. No one will fuck you better than me.”

“That’s right, baby,” you urge. “Make me yours.”

Painfully, slow he slips his cock into your warm cunt, groaning. He’s big, in both length and grith, causing a slight burn accompanied by an abundance of pleasure. Moans fill the room as he fills you up to the brim, inch by inch until he no longer can. Your hot, slick walls clench around him and he groans, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

“Stop that,” he growls, brows furrowed in concentration. “You’re so fucking tight, ah. If keep you do that I’m going to fucking blow my load.”

“Do your worst, baby,” you say, eyes hazy. “I want you to ruin me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, unsheathing himself from your cunt until the tip is nestled an inch within your entrance and then slams himself back into you. A lewd moan erupts from both of you as the stars decorate your vision. You arch your back, pressing your chest against his, eyes rolling back every time he sinks back into you. With each thrust and roll of your hips, he rubs himself against the spot that leaves ecstasy rushing through your veins.

“You’re so, agh, hot like this.” You can feel the pressure build in your stomach, the coil tightening with every brush of him against your sweet spot. “So hungry for my cock.”

“Feel so good in me,” you moan, watching as his dick slips in and out of your cunt. “Fill me up, ah, so good. Fuck, take what’s yours, baby.”

He visibly shudders at that before latching his lips on your perked nipple. His tongue laps around the perked bud on your breast, spare hand coming to knead the other before he swaps breasts.

You groan, dragging your nails down his back, sure to leave a mark. “Oh, fuck.”

Your eyes roll back as the head of his cock brushes roughly against the spot that has you seeing stars. He has your toes curling, his name coming out like a mantra as he ravishes your body, moaning into your neck. A knot of pleasure tightens, burning like a hot coil and he knows with the way you pulse around his dick that you’re so, very close.

You can taste the bits of your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, but it’s still not enough. You need so much more and he hears it in your pleas.

“Puh—please,” you breathe as you feel him press his lips against your pulse. “Hard—oh, my God.” You barely get the words out of your mouth before he’s ploughing into you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs. “Ngh, like that, fuck. S-so good, baby. Feels so good.”

“Yeah,” he groans, biting your neck. “So good to me, fuck. Such a good fucking girl.” At that, you squeeze around him and he lets out another lewd moan. “You gonna cum?”

All you manage is a nod and a sharp breath of air. His hand slithers down your body to find your clit and he presses against it harshly, eliciting a hiss from you. It’s oversensitive from the multiple times he made you cum on his tongue, but he doesn’t care because he knows you love it. He’s quick to rub circles around the bud and smirks to himself at your vocal response.

“Don’t — ah — stop.” You feel the coil burn more, pleasure building in your body like rapid fire. So fucking close to your next release, even as the sensitive bud stings. “Gonna — ah — gonna cum.”

His lips are eager for yours, pressing against them in a searing, hot kiss as he tries to coax the orgasm from you with his sinful lips. You can taste yourself on him and hum. His release threatens to unravel before him, but he fights against it so he can feel you wrap around his cock when you cum. He lifts himself off you to admire the blissful look on your face as you slowly become undone before him.

“Pretty girl — ngh,” he whispers, hot breath fanning over your cheeks and you whimper. “All mine. Come — ah — for me, hm? Come all over my cock, baby.”

Sweat drips down both your bodies, your walls clenching around him as he fucks you hard. Every thrust leaves his head nudging against your sweet spot, clouding your vision white. A fire builds within you again, leaving you to gasp for air between every moan.

“Kook, I — ah, I can’t come—” Moan. “I can’t come again.”

Softly rubbing against your clit, he presses a chaste kiss on your lips. “You can take it. You’ve been such a good slut for me, tonight, baby. You can do it. Come around my cock for me.”

And with his words and one last thrust, the burning coil snaps, pleasure rushing through your body in euphoric waves. Your veins flood with ecstasy and he soon follows, his seed coating your walls. Overwhelming pleasure unravels within you both like a wildfire, spreading across your bodies as he continues his pace to ride out your highs. His lips find yours once again, pressing a lazy kiss against yours as you both ride out the last remnants of your orgasms.

Once he’s caught his breath, he slowly slips out of you, lifting himself to admire the way his seed spills out of your pretty cunt. You feel his cum spill out your cunt, down your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he says aloud and your lips curl into a tired smile. “So dirty and full of my cum.”

He leaves the bed, heading towards the washroom to grab a warm cloth and you lay there, tired. Exhaustion seeps itself into your bones, lids heavy as they flutter shut. You don’t hear Jungkook return, but rather feel him when a warm cloth brushes against your swollen pussy, cleaning you up. He’s swift to clean you up the best he could before attending to himself and putting the rag away. Maneuvering over you, he brings the blanket over your bodies, nudging you to lay beside him.

“You were so good, baby,” he whispers as he pulls you closer towards him. “Always so good for me.”

“Mhm.”

He chuckles. “Are you tired?”

“Yea.” You nuzzle against his chest finding comfort in listening to his heartbeat. “I honestly could’ve knocked out after that first orgasm.”

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss against your forehead. “Sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

“We do?” You furrow your brows. “Why? What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna help you pack your boxes so you can move in by the end of the week.” You laugh along with him, throwing a leg over his own as you get comfortable. “Are you sure? You really ready to move in?”

Unable to hide your smile, you press a chaste kiss to his chest. “Yea, I’m sure.”

"You’ll be stuck with me for a long time,” he hums, exhaustion washing over him. “I won’t be letting you go for a while.”

"You better not.” Your smile quickly turns to a frown when you finally notice. “Jungkook?”

“Yea.”

“I'm hungry.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jeon jugnkook #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fluff #bts scenario #bts #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook imagines #usersuhdays

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9tzuyu · 3 years

Text

a widow’s surprise

prompt: “who wouldn’t be angry? you ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years!”

note: i have no idea what this is i’ll be honest, this was just for funsies and i wanted to see if i could write this prompt. so don’t be too harsh </3

warnings: none :P

ty moli for proofreading <333

🏷 : @c-is-writing @nermalina @wandaromanova @blackxwidowsxwife

. . .

adjusting to life without natasha felt impossible. it took over a year and a half to accept her death. you’d gone through all the other stages of grief, but acceptance was the most difficult to come to terms with.

it’d been three years now, and you still cried on anniversaries, the date of her death being the worst of them.

but you could get through the days, weeks, months. time no longer felt as suffocating as it once did. you no longer carried anger towards sunny days or the presence of someone else’s company.

things were casual. you were out with friends, laughing as you kicked rocks down the pavement. there was no particular destination in mind, but it was nice to feel free for just for a little while before you had work in the morning. the conversation was smooth, there was talk of moving cities and following dreams too far-fetched to even fathom.

before you knew it, you found yourself back inside your car. as you shut your door though, your pocket-sized picture of natasha fell from your sun visor. the action caught you off guard, causing your breath to stick in your throat.

as much as you hated to say it, natasha hadn’t crossed your mind in a little over a month. remembering this triggered a surge of guilt to shock your heart.

you didn’t want to forget her, and that’s what it felt like. how could you do that? and how would natasha feel about it?

with a deep sigh and a clenched jaw, you put your car in reverse and drove yourself home.

you fumbled with your keys as you unlocked the front door. to your surprise however, you were met with a head of bright, red hair twisted into a french braid.

it couldn’t be.

“natasha?”

the familiar-looking woman spun around at the sound of your voice, setting your now empty box of cheerios on the counter.

“hi.”

“you- no, there’s no way!”

“yes baby, it’s me. im here.” natasha moved to step towards you, but you backed away instantly, not missing the flash of hurt reflect in her eyes.

“you’re not real, you’re not real, you’re not real! this is some fucked up joke played by the universe. you’re dead. you’ve been dead! this can’t be hap-”

natasha swiftly moved in front of you, cupping your face with her hands. they were gentle, soft to the touch just as you remembered.

“i’m not dead. this is real, i’m really here. i’m sorry i was gone for so long.”

she pulled you in for a hug that you were sure would break you. “oh my god i missed you so, so, so much.”

“i- how?”

“they call me black widow for a reason, baby.”

the excitement in the air quickly died down, your face frowning into realization that she’d been alive the entire three years you’d mourned her.

“why the fuck didn’t you tell me anything?” natasha tilted her head in confusion. “are you angry?”

“who wouldn’t be angry? you ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years!”

the russian crossed her arms, rolling her eyes in faux annoyance. “i can get you a new box of cereal tomorrow morning if it’s that important to you.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me. you’re not- oh my god!” natasha picked you up bridal style mid-sentence, not caring at all how mad you were.

“you can be upset all you want later, or even now, i don’t care. you can scold me all you want, just let me hold you while you do it.” you clung to the back of natasha’s neck, waiting for her to set you down.

and when she did, you found yourself in the bed of your room. you sat up, waiting for natasha to lay down. she already knew what you wanted, and she was happy to comply. her back lay flat against the mattress, arms reaching out to lay you on top of her. it was something you liked to do whenever you were extremely upset and having her hold you from behind wasn’t enough.

your hips laid across the belt of her jeans, hands digging their way underneath natasha as her arms crossed over your spine.

“you’re like a koala,” she mumbled.

“you always say that.” you giggled before pressing a kiss against her cheek. “never, ever do that again natasha, or i’ll… well i don’t know what i’d do, but i wouldn’t be happy.”

“making you happy is the only thing i want to do.”

your grip around the russian tightened, as if you were afraid she’d slip away again. and although you tried to ignore it for the sake of the moment, the overwhelming realization that natasha was back shocked you yet again.

one sniffle and natasha pushed you back. she could tell you were trying to suppress your cries, but she knew it was better to let everything out than to keep it locked in.

“i’m here. it’s okay, you won’t ever lose me again. i’m here – i promise i’m here.” she cooed. the back of her index finger offered a gentle stroke around your face.

you looked down at natasha once more, taking in her appearance. her green eyes were bright, radiating liveliness as they scanned over your body. her lips were pink and full, and her infamous red hair was tangled, strewn across the pillow beneath her head.

“the last time i saw you the ends of your hair were blonde.” natasha grinned, your statement flooding her brain with memories of the night you bleached her hair.

“i cut off what was left when i got bored of it. do you not like my hair the way it is now?” she teased, giving your hips a small squeeze.

“no, no, i love it! red has always been your look. and it’s much softer than the blonde, anyway.” natasha hummed her reply before tugging you back down into her arms.

“let’s just stay like this for a while, yeah?”

“of course natty.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

carolina (spencer reid/reader

Title: Carolina

Request: no, but it was written for @spencerreidbingo

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: smut/angst, with a tiny bit of fluff

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (praise kink, mild-innocence kink, daddy kink, fingering, oral (male & female), penetrative sex, unprotected sex/cream pie, grinding/petting, hairpulling, breathplay, multiple orgasms, possessive kink, orgasm denial), partying, drinking, swearing, large age gap (between two consenting adults), professor/student, post prison!reid, quick mentions of drinks being drugged (but not actually happening) (if I missed anything, please let me know)

Word Count: 9,064

Summary: Spencer thinks his peer is innocent. But little does he not, she’s not as innocent as he thinks.

A/N: it’s based on carolina by harry styles, bc im a sucker for a good harry song. This was written for @spencerreidbingo (i’ll have a separate post with more about that). this takes up the breathplay square on my card (pictured below). This is also the first time im writing a blowjob scene, so im really sorry if it’s not good. i also didn’t have a beta for this, so im kinda blindly posting this. and, lastly, this is a lot longer than i intended. i didn’t mean for it to get this long… it’s just a bunch of words my brain wouldn’t stop saying until i wrote it... i seriously hope you all enjoy this. thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

~*~* THIS DOES CONTAIN 18+ CONTENT!! *~*~

{***}{***}{***}

I kept my eyes low as I stepped into the lecture hall 5 minutes before anyone else. The professor was writing something on the chalkboard, so his back was facing the room.

“Uh, hello,” I spoked, stepping closer to his desk. He jumped slightly and dropped his chalk at the sound of my voice. I would have expected him to know students would be showing up earlier, considering it was the start of a new semester. And, I honestly would have assumed he was told a new student was coming. That’s not my job.

“Oh, sorry,” he turned around to face me. I smiled softly, watching

as he bent down to pick up the chalk. I cocked my head to the side, watching his backside as he stood back up. He pushed his hair away from his face. “You must be the new transfer,” he asked, resting the chalk on his desk, beside a pile of pens.

“Yep. That’s me…” I smiled, looking up at his face, keeping myself from further checking him out. I quickly offered my hand and gave him my name. “I know I’m early. I figured I’d get the syllabus from you now instead of after class,” I nodded as I adjusted my grip on my bag. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes lingering on my face and then down my body, and that moment felt like an eternity. I shouldn’t be mad or frustrated with him. I basically did the same thing to him moments ago.

I cleared my throat to get his attention once again. “The, uh… The syllabus?” I asked as my smile faltered slightly. He looked at me before looking at the pile of papers on his desk before quickly moving.

“Right, right, sorry,” he muttered as he began shuffling through the piles of paper on his desk. “Um, here you are,” he looked back up at me as he handed me a small packet. I looked at it for a moment before looking back up at the teacher.

“Perfect, thank you,” I spoke, my words kind of lingering because he never actually gave me his name.

“Right, sorry, Spencer. Spencer Reid. I won’t be a drill sergeant about the whole Mr., Dr., Professor. You can call me whatever you want,” he smiled as he placed his hands on the back of his chair. I held back my laughter and the wildly inappropriate joke that I wanted to make.

“Well, Professor Reid,” I smiled as I looked down at my watch, “I better go find a seat before your class starts. I can’t wait to be in your class,” I looked up at him before turning to find a spot. When I sat down, Spencer looked at me with a smile, before going back to writing on the chalkboard.

I quickly and quietly pulled out my books and pens as the other people in the class filed in and took their seats. Spencer quickly finished writing on the board before turning around to greet the class. And, even as he spoke to the class, and looked around at each of the other students, his eyes always landed on me, lingering for a moment before going elsewhere.

{***}{***}{***}

Five months. Five months into being in Spencer Reid’s class, and I have been suffering. I’m not a new student anymore. But the only friendship I’ve made is with my fucking professor, and there’s a certain level of tension between us. That tension was probably thanks to him staring at me during lectures, and me teasing him while he taught. It wasn’t too bothersome, but I definitely wanted something to happen. Unfortunately for me, I don’t think anything will happen.

So, can someone please tell me why I invited Spencer over to help me study for a test? It’s a stupid question too, that I already figured out the answer to… I even finished studying for the day, and I’m going to a stupid party. Maybe I could get him to go with… And maybe, just maybe, something could happen.

I nearly jumped when there was a knock on the door. It’s not that I forgot he was coming over. It’s that I was so wrapped up in doing my makeup and forgot what time it was. My mascara almost smudged when I jumped back. Thank God it didn’t smudge too terribly.

I grabbed my shirt off the counter and threw it on (not bothering to zip it), before running to the front door. I smoothed out my skirt before pulling the door open. And, there stood Spencer.

“Hope I’m not too late,” he looked down at me and smiled. Although, his smile didn’t stay for too long when he saw what I was wearing. He wasn’t disappointed though, no. He was… He clearly liked what he saw, I’ll just put it that way.

“Oh! Thanks for coming over, but I actually figured it out. I should’ve called you,” I looked up at Spencer as he stepped into my apartment. I struggled to zip the back of my blouse as I walked towards my room. I looked back over my shoulder and noted that Spencer was, indeed, still following me. “Can you zip me up,” I stopped in my tracks before giving up on zipping my blouse. It was a black crop top that paired well with the pale pink tennis skirt.

“Where… Where exactly are you going tonight? It’s a, uh, it’s a school night,” he asked as he lifted his hands. The cool metal of the zipper pressed against my back, causing a shiver to go through my spine.

“Uh, there’s this party,” I answered, stepping away from him and towards the bathroom, “Thought I’d go,” I looked at him in the mirror. Spencer looked around the bathroom, at the messy mess I had made on my counter. Different pallets of makeup and tools were strewn about, a varying amount of hair care products tossed here and there. It honestly looked like a bathroom of a pageant queen, and not a 20-something-year-old. In my defense, I had to dress to impress someone here in this stupid university.

“Is that, uh… Is that smart?” Spencer asked, leaning against the door jamb. I looked up at him as I put on some luxurious red lipstick. I smiled as I looked at him.

“I think it is,” I laughed as I picked up something else and turned to look at him, “You wanna come? I wasn’t invited,” I smiled wickedly as I looked at him. His face paled two shades as he looked at me. “Oh, c’mon, Professor, no one will know us there, and I can assure you, no one will even see us,” I looked up at him as I readjusted his tie. He looked down at me before swallowing roughly.

“I don-”

“I do need a designated driver,” I spoke before cutting him off. I walked past him and towards my room. Part of me wondered what he was thinking as I so rudely rushed past him, or cut him off, or whatever I was doing. I wished I could hear his thoughts. I wondered if they consisted of “The mouth on that girl,” or, “I should punish her for the way she’s acting,” or, my personal favorite, “I should put that mouth to good use,”

“How old are you again?” Spencer asked once I sat down on my bed. I looked up at him as I slipped my shoes on.

“22,” I smiled and stood up, “Why, is that important?” I smiled as I grabbed my coat and purse.

“Couldn’t remember,” he lied. We both knew he was lying. He even knew that too. Freaking walking computer is what he is. There's no way he conveniently forgot how old I was. “Are you going to be out late?”

“Why? It’s not like you’re my dad or anything?” I laughed, leading him back to the front door of the house. “I don’t plan on being out too late. I know there’s class tomorrow,” I shrugged as I walked towards his car.

We both stayed silent as he drove with the directions I was quietly giving him. I was pleasantly happy that we were both quiet, but what I hated was the sudden awkward sexual tension that was between us. If he didn’t have this… domineering personality over me there probably wouldn’t be this tension between us.

“Are you going to come with me?” I looked up at him as I unbuckled. He glanced over at me with slight disappointment in his eye. I felt a little bad, but I really wanted to go to this party, I wasn’t going to let my professor’s disappointment stop me. “Please,” I whispered. He sighed before unbuckling himself. I had to force myself to not verbally giggle with excitement before slipping out of the car. Spencer looked down at me as I twisted my hips to swish my skirt. I smiled as I entertained myself. I'm sure if I wasn't watching my skirt, I would have been staring at him, giving myself away.

“Steps,” Spencer muttered as we got closer to the porch. I looked up at him before looking towards the small staircase. I looked up at Spencer with a smile. He glanced back down at me, a worried crease in his brow. I looked down at my skirt and smoothed it out. I looked at the door as we stood close to it, I contemplated knocking.

“So, you weren’t invited to this party?” Spencer asked, looking down at me. His voice stopped me from knocking. Instead, I looked up at him and smiled back up at him. He raised an eyebrow as he waited for an answer from me. My smile grew playful as I looked back at the door, raising my fist to knock on it. “No answer?” he asked, still waiting for my answer.

“Oh, please, Professor Reid, I can get into the hottest parties in LA without an invitation,” I smiled at him. That was a little bit of an over-exaggeration. Most college parties I could get into. But not LA parties. Someday though…

The door swung open, and we were instantly met with loud music blaring through a speaker somewhere in the house. People’s voices and chatter carried all throughout the house, coming through the various rooms and clusters around. “Are you coming in to babysit me? Or, are you going to go back to your car to read the science of the mathematical phenomenon,” I looked up at him, offering my hand to him. I wasn’t exactly sure if that was a real book or not, but I wouldn’t put it past Spencer to read.

“I’m not babysitting you,” he corrected as he looked down at me with a disappointed look in his eye. I smiled and rolled my eyes.

“Are you going to come in and watch me drink and party and have fun, Professor… Or, are you going to go back to your car and read your silly little book,” I looked down at my hand, silently telling him to take my hand and come in with me.

“I, uh, I don’t think it’s exactly in the rules for a professor to party, let alone drink, with their students,” Spencer spoke before looking down at my hand. I dropped my shoulders and looked up at him.

“Fine then… Suit yourself,” I turned around and basically skipped into the house, leaving the door open for him. I made my way towards the loud kitchen and grabbed for a cup and bottle of whatever booze was nearby. I blindly grabbed for a bottle of Grey Goose and dumped it into the cup, no mixer, no chaser.

“First off,” Spencer’s voice came from beside me. I looked up at him and took a long sip of vodka. “You shouldn’t be taking drinks from people at a party,” he spoke, taking the cup from me. I looked up at him, then the bottle and a new cup. I was only a little annoyed that he took my drink.

“I… I’m young. I’m not dumb,” I grabbed a new cup and poured more vodka. I looked up at him and offered him a sip. “I know not to drink something given to me by someone I don’t know.” I scoffed before taking another long sip. I cringed a bit at how strong it was.

“Even then someone could slip something into a drink! Even if you did know them!” Spencer exclaimed, causing the surrounding people to turn and look at us. I dropped my shoulders as I looked up at him.

“If you look around, Spencer, you’re the only person that I know. So unless you’re the one slipping something into my drink… And, as an FBI agent… I don’t think you would,” I cocked my head to my shoulder. Spencer looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You have more to say,” I added before taking a sip of my drink.

"And, secondly, you're not as innocent as I had originally thought you were," he watched as I brought the cup of straight vodka to my lips. He looked rather unamused with my talent for drinking straight vodka.

"You thought I was innocent?" I asked, nearly sputtering the liquid with my laughter. "Please! I've never been innocent in my entire life!" I shouted over the music. He raised an eyebrow at my statement, and suddenly I had the greatest idea in the world. "But maybe, just for you, I'll be a good girl," I smiled before drinking the rest of my drink in one go. Spencer looked down at me, his lips pressed into a fine as he stared down at me. Ohh, that definitely awoken something in him. I bit back my smile with my offer. Innocent… He thinks I’m innocent. Ha! I honestly don’t remember the last time I was innocent. And, honestly, just for him… I’d be an innocent, good, little girl for Spencer Reid any day, every day even. “I can be your good, innocent little girl,” I smiled at him and cocked my head.

"I don't… I don't think that'd be… appropriate," he spoke, his words very quiet. We both knew that even though it was inappropriate, we both wanted it. We both knew what we wanted to.

I glanced at him before pouring more drink for myself. "You should learn to pace yourself," he stated and changed the subject. He nervously looked at the bottle of vodka and then around the room at all the other people drinking. Or, he was just looking for a drink that wasn’t booze. Did he actually want to keep me safe, or was I just overreading him?

"It's a college party, Professor! I'm not going to pace myself!" I shouted just to get his attention back to me. His head shot back down to me. The level of concern on his face only made me feel a little bad, mostly because he was concerned for me. But, he should know… This is a college party. “Do you want some?” I asked, offering my drink to him again. I held it up to him, close to his lips. His face twisted up as soon as the scent of pure vodka hit his nose.

“No, no thanks,” he held up at hand to block the cup from his face. I pouted before bringing it to my lips. “Do you usually come to parties,” he asked, his eyes darting around the room. Part of me wondered if he wanted to continue that question with “Like this?” But, I was too busy keeping my eyes on his face, rather than looking around the room like he was. Although, I’m sure he was used to keeping an eye on his surroundings. I’ve never been too worried about it, I probably should… But hey, you only live once. Going to college parties with your 38-year-old professor, and drinking straight vodka, and not really caring about your surroundings proves my point of YOLO.

“If I don’t have class or anything to study for… Yep,” I looked up at him with a sneaky smile. The joke with that was his particular class had a test coming up soon, and I should be studying for it. He knew that too because he just announced the test this morning. Although, he did come to my home, to help me with said test. “But, I wouldn't show up to his class hungover. It’d disappoint him too much. And, he’d care too much about me to even focus on the rest of the class,” I spoke, answering the questions he was thinking. It’s not like I’ve shown up to classes hungover before. Granted, I’ve never shown up to his class drunk or hungover. Mostly because I didn’t want to disappoint him, and only him. Anyone and everyone else can go blow themselves.

“How do you know that?” Spencer asked, looking back at me with furrowed eyebrows. I smiled and stepped closer to him.

“How do I know what?” I cocked my head to my shoulder. I already knew what he meant by his question, but… I think teasing him and messing with him is fun. And, he knew that too.

“How do you know that you’d disappoint him?” he looked down at me, pressing his chin to his chest to get a better look at me. His hands were away from me, even though I really wanted his hands anywhere on me. I looked over at my hand and the cup I held before bringing it to my lips. I took a long sip, trying to finish the contents in one go. I tossed the cup over my shoulder and looked up at him with a lazy smile.

“Because being hungover, with the slight possibility of still being drunk, would totally disappoint him… And I would hate to disappoint him.” I whispered and shook my head. Spencer looked down at me with something in his eyes, and I loved the way he looked at me. “I told you, Professor, I’d be a good girl for you,” I cocked my head to my shoulder and smiled, “And only for you,”

“You’re drunk,” he pointed out an obvious fake statement. So, I cackled and shook my head.

“I had one drink,” I scoffed and waved off my in the air, “Most definitely not enough to get me drunk,” I flattened his tie out before gripping it tightly, “Like I said, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” I smiled before dropping my hand from his tie, “So, why would I show up to your class… Hungover…? I know you’d care… And I know it’d disappoint you. That’s the last thing I want to do to you,”

Spencer’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed roughly. He quickly looked between me and the room, then back at me, then around the room. I faked a yawn before looking away from him.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay, Professor?” I smoothed out his jacket before turning and leaving him alone in the kitchen. I smiled as I skipped away from him, my skirt swishing with my movement. I secretly hoped he’d follow me. But, a quick glance over my shoulder told me he was still in the kitchen.

However, when I finished my business and left the bathroom, Spencer was leaning against the wall right beside the door. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Follow me,” he muttered, grasping my wrist and pulling me down the various halls and past multiple groups of people. I giggled the harder his grasp grew on me and the faster he moved. I’m happy people were too busy with themselves to notice a 30-something-year-old man was dragging a 20-something-year-old girl down the hall, to which I can assume was one of the only open bedrooms. Fuck… I hope it's a bedroom.

He was a man on a mission. Not letting anyone get in his way. The smile that grew on my lips was pure excitement. I couldn’t help it. I’m sure we’re both getting what we wanted… I hope.

I let out an excited yelp when he shoved me into, exactly what I thought, an empty bedroom. I’m surprised he knew that there’d be an empty room. Most of them are occupied, with couples (or more) doing exactly what I hope we’re about to do. Which was fuck each other.

Spencer slammed the door shut, and quickly locked it before pushing me against it. I looked up at him and giggled like a fucking kid in a candy store. Again, I couldn’t help it.

Spencer was quiet, which led me to be quiet. The air in between us quickly grew hot and tense and thick. I really wanted this to move faster, but I wanted him to be the one in charge. I was willing to let this be slow and let him be in charge. So, when he grabbed both my wrists and held them above my head, I smiled so hard my cheeks began to hurt.

“Tell me what you want,” Spencer’s voice was low and deep as he moved close to me. There was little to no space between us. Which left little to the imagination, for me anyway.

I looked up at him, with the biggest doe eyes I could muster, silently telling him that I wanted the most, in the entire world, was to be on my knees, with his hand tangled in my hair, and his cock down my throat, or to be fucked so hard that I won’t be able to sit properly for several days. But, I couldn’t be that blunt. You gotta play up to that moment before you get it. I’m sure in the end though, I’ll get both things.

I swallowed roughly, trying to think of what to say, because, like I said, I can’t just be blunt yet. So, when I opened my mouth and words just came out, I was pleasantly surprised with what was said. “You’re old enough to be my father, Professor,” I smiled at him as he pinned me against the door. He pressed his hips against mine to keep me against the surface. I could feel a large bulge against my inner thigh, causing me to shiver. “Does that mean I get to call you daddy,” I whispered as I looked up at him through my eyelashes. He is the one who said I could call him whatever I wanted… And he did just ask me what I wanted, and I guess I wanted to call him ‘Daddy’. There was no guessing about him.

Okay, he wasn't exactly old enough to be my father. But he was a lot older than me. Most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with men 15 years older than them… and most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with their professor… I just wanted an excuse to call him 'Daddy'. And he knew that too. So, if we gave each other an excuse for that to happen, then that was all I needed.

I dropped my head to my shoulder to allow him to attack the space on my neck. He dragged his nose across my jawbone before stilling. His lips were just over my neck. As his breathing got heavier, it tickled across my skin.

“That does have a nice ring to it,” Spencer hummed as he dropped my hands and stepped away from me. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him. I missed having his body pressed against mine, and he knew that.

I looked at him as I brought my hands to his belt. "I thought you said this wasn't appropriate, Daddy," I whispered as I quickly undid the belt buckle, without looking. I almost couldn’t move fast enough to unbutton and zip his pants. If he wanted me to stop, he would have stopped me by now. “Can I?” I looked up at him, a plea in my eyes.

"You've changed my mind," he muttered, watching me with such close intent, “God, please keep going,” he spoke like if I did stop now he’d probably die. I looked up at him as I slipped my hand into the waistband of his boxers. He hissed as my fingers brushed against his cock. A small smile grew on my lips.

“Didn’t take much convincing,” I smiled as my fingers wrapped around him. A small groan fell from his lips as I looked up at him. When I pulled my hand away from him not even a moment later, he looked down at me with an alarmed expression on his face. I quickly spat on my palm before sticking my hand down his pants. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” I whispered as I slowly stroked up and down his length. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

“I’ve wanted this since you stepped foot in my classroom,” his voice was low and gravely as he spoke. My breathing picked up a little bit as I looked up at him.

Okay… Maybe he did know how long I’ve wanted this. Because I also wanted this the second I stepped into his lecture hall. I wanted his cock in my hands and his hand around my throat. It only took-what, five months for this? I’ll make it worth the wait.

“Does that feel good,” I whispered, carefully picking up speed and adding the slightest bit of pressure in my grip. Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed roughly and nodded. I smiled before pulling my hand away from him, again. I slowly lowered to my knees and kept my eyes on his face.

Spencer looked down at him as he gently pushed his fingers through my hair. His fingers gripping hard on my roots before pulling hard. I smiled before very slowly pulling down his slacks and boxers in one go. I was only a little bit intimidated by his size, but the excitement I felt went straight to my core.

I took a deep breath and swallowed roughly before looking up at him. My mouth fell open, and my tongue stuck out, silently telling him that it was okay. Although I don’t really know why I was telling him that it was okay, we both knew what we wanted, and it was only going to take me doing one thing.

I made eye contact with him as I ran my tongue on the side of his cock. Our eye contact didn’t last long, mostly because he let out a moan and dropped his head back. I smiled as I licked across his tip. A sweet and salty taste was on my tongue.

My jaw fell slack as I carefully took his length into my mouth. I closed my lips around him before slowly bobbing my head, with my tongue swirling around the underside of his cock. I wrapped a hand around what wouldn’t fit into my mouth. And wrapped my free arm around his leg for support.

The sounds of his moans and grunts filled the mostly quiet room. Music, although muffled through the walls and door, could still be heard from outside of our own world behind the door and four walls.

“You were right,” he struggled to speak through groans, “You aren’t as innocent as I thought,” Spencer's hand had a rough hold in my hair as he held me against him. His cock was penetrating my throat, and breathing was beginning to get difficult. My eyes grew wet and tears grew in the corners of my eyes.

“You’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me as the tears started to roll down my cheeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if my makeup started smudging and I looked like an adolescent raccoon. “You look so pretty with my cock down your throat,” he struggled to let out a coo, before moving his hips closer to my face.

Everything about this moment, his hand in my hair, the sounds he was making, the way he smelled, being here… Was intoxicating. I’d give anything to be in this moment again. And I’d give anything to get this moment sooner.

My knees would hate me in the morning, I just know it. I could already sense the dreaded carpet burn before he even started. But, in all honesty, it’d be worth it. Walking into class tomorrow morning, with bruises and day-old wounds on my knees, just to see his expression.

As I began to pick up pace, the sounds Spencer was making started to become more urgent, easily telling me he was close. But, before he could finish, I pulled away from him, crashing into the wall to get away from his grasp. He looked down at me with a mild frustration on his face. I smiled before wiping my chin clean of spit.

“I guess chivalry is dead. Whatever happened to ladies first?” I asked, my voice a rasp from how raw my throat was. I looked up at him, feeling a certain level of sass grow in my smile. Spencer quickly tucked himself back into his pants before grabbing my hand.

“Come on, on your feet,” he muttered as he pulled me back up to a standing position. I nearly toppled over into him if he didn’t hold me upright. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Bed… Now?” I whispered, my tone showing how urgent I was. It’s not that I wanted this over with, it's that I wanted everything to happen to me all at once, and I wanted it to last for a long time.

Spencer nodded before cupping my face in his hands. He was harsh when he pressed his lips to mine, like his life depended on it, if he did kiss me now the world would end. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started guiding me towards the bed. And when the edge of the bed hit the back of my legs, he pushed me back onto it. I quickly moved so my head was resting on the pillows. Spencer was quick to take his cardigan off and be over me.

“You’re not going to fail me, are you,” I joked as he quickly started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck. He lifted his head and looked down at me with confusion on his face. “If I’m a bad fuck,”

“If you ask that again, or bring up class while we’re doing this… Then yes,” he muttered as he looked at me. I laughed as I pushed my fingers through his hair.

“Oh, shut up,” I laughed as I pulled him down to kiss him, again. One of his hands landed on top of my breast, carefully kneading it, causing me to moan into his mouth.

His hand slowly drifted away from my chest. I pressed my head into the pillow and looked up at him with a smirk. He carefully dragged his fingers up from my chest to the base of my neck, causing me to let out a shaky gasp. I wanted fingers and a hand around my neck, carefully cutting off my airway just right. Suddenly, I never wanted something so badly in my life. Something dark flashed in his eyes as he looked down at me like he knew what I was about to say.

“Do it… I fucking dare you,” I muttered, placing both my hands around his wrist. My nose twitched as I stared at him. “I said fucking do it,” I spat, pushing his hand down more onto my neck. My words slowly got cut off as the pressure in his hand and fingers tightened around my neck. A moan struggled to escape me, but did eventually fall from my lips. He seemed pretty happy with that.

“Is that good,” his voice was a growl. I looked at him and moaned.

“Harder,” I begged, my voice growing raspier the more I spoke. He smirked before allowing his grip to tighten. His other hand was still sitting on top of my hips, and I could tell where he wanted to put it. I’d be a dirty, rotten liar if I didn’t want his hand up my skirt. In fact, I’d love it if he did more than just his hand.

Spencer swallowed roughly before finally sneaking a hand up my skirt and resting it on my underwear. My grip around his wrist got tighter as he pushed past my underwear and past my folds. My eyes fluttered closed as another moan was strangled in my throat.

“You’re so wet,” he purred as he slowly moved a finger around my clit. I looked up at him, as I struggled to swallow roughly. A dark smirk grew on his lips as he watched me struggle for a moment. “Does that feel good,” he asked, mildly mocking me from earlier. His movements picked up speed just a little bit, and my body reacted, well tried to react.

“Oh, you’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me. His pupils were so blown I could nearly see my reflection in them. “Another thing you were right about,” he whispered as he slipped a finger into my entrance, and curled it just right. My vision slowly blurred before my eyes rolled into the back of my head. Another moan struggled to escape my throat as Spencer added a second finger.

My body was on autopilot as I lifted my hand and hit his wrist a few times, telling him that I desperately needed to breathe. When I reopened my eyes, I looked up at him a moment before he removed his hand from my neck. Worry and concern flashed in his eyes as I breathed. Air burned like fire in my lungs as I took a deep breath. As I exhaled a loud moan followed behind, easily telling Spencer and I that I had reached my first orgasm of the night. I just hope there will be more...

“You did such a good job, Princess,” Spencer whispered as he looked down at me. With his free hand, he brushed the tears away from my cheeks. He carefully withdrew his hand from between my legs and held them up to his face. He looked at them for a moment before placing them in his mouth, sucking and licking them clean. I took a shaky breath and nodded.

He very sloppily pressed his lips to mine, then on the corner of my lips, and down my jaw, and neck. With one quick movement, a loud rip filled the room, as he tore my shirt off my body. I looked up at him with shock in my eyes. To be fair, that shirt was flimsy, to begin with. I was more worried about leaving my chest so exposed as we left the party.

“Oh, I’ll give you my sweater,” Spencer muttered before attacking my neck and then down to my collarbones, and over my breasts. I gasped as he wrapped his lips around a nipple.

“Mmm, Daddy,” I whimpered as I shifted under him. I brought my hands back up to his hair, tangling my fingers in the hairs on his neck. When he sensed that I was growing restless (even though he just started), he quickly left wet kisses down the rest of my body

“I like the way that sounds coming from your mouth,” he whispered once he was in between my legs. I looked down at him just as he looked up at me. “Good on your end for wearing such a short skirt,” he smiled before pressing his lips to my inner thigh. A shaky breath tumbled from my lips as I looked at him. “Makes for easier access,” he added before going higher up on my leg.

“You’re not going fast enough,” I whined as he just kept kissing, or licking, or rubbing my inner thighs. It was honestly getting annoying. I kind of felt bad for him. Considering I’ve already cum once, and I got him close but didn’t let him finish.

“I’m not going fast enough?” Spencer looked up at me. I shot him a scowl as I shifted slightly on the bed. Spencer looked back down the apex of my legs before looping two fingers around the band of my underwear. As soon as I lifted my hips, he pulled my underwear off my body and chucked them to the ground beside the bed. “How’s this for fast enough,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before licking between my folds. A breath of air got caught in my lungs as my hands found their way to his hair, my fingers getting knotted up in his roots.

“Mhm, Spencer,” I gasped, rolling my hips up at him. He hummed, sending vibrations straight to my core. My legs wrapped around him, my heels digging into his back as my own back arched.

“Ohh, Daddy, please don’t stop,” I cried, pressing my head into the pillow beneath my head. My fingers pulled hard on his hair, pulling him closer to me. He hummed again as he pushed two fingers back into my entrance. My grip in his hair tightened, and I could feel my grip wanting to loosen.

My breathing picked up as a familiar feeling grew in my stomach. And all I could say was his name, and the suddenly loved nickname I had for him. He seemed to appreciate my reaction too, because he worked faster. Messy and wet sounds, mixed with my breathy moans and calls of his name filled the room, and my end was near.

“Fuck,” I shouted as I finally came undone. I could sense if I didn’t pull him away, he’d keep going, and going till I couldn’t take it anymore. And, honestly, that sounds great, but I think that’s for next time. I wanted him in me now. “Spencer, Spencer,” I cried as I tried to pull his head away, but failed so hard.

“Nuh huh,” he hummed, looking up at me. I took a deep breath and pressed my head into the pillow beneath me and threw an arm over my face. “Please, Spencer,” I cried as I bucked my hips at him, “Fuck me, please, fuck me, Daddy,” I moaned. He was going faster than before and was clearly trying to work me to the end faster too. It was hard to breathe, and speak because my words would just get stuck in my throat.

Although, when I did cum, again, for the third time tonight, Spencer did move away from my legs. He knelt between them, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. My body was shaking lightly as I tried to come down from my high.

“Please,” I whispered, lifting a hand up, trying to reach for his tie. He looked down at me with a smile and raised an eyebrow.

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I spoke. I could feel my voice becoming a little whiney. Spencer moved so he was hovering over me, his fingers gently brushing hair away from my face.

“Tell me what you want, Princess,” he whispered cupping my face in his hand. I looked up at his face, admiring his lips, and eyes, and nose, and the way his lips had a sheen from when he licked them clean and whatever was leftover from when he was eating me out.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” I begged, begged. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine for a moment. He sat up away from me to remove his sweater and shirt. My head was spinning from excitement, I didn’t even notice that he was totally undressed.

Spencer was back between my legs, looking down at me like I truly belonged right here. Or, like I was his to fuck with. Either way it was a good feeling.

“Ready?” He asked, his voice so low that I could hardly hear it over the bass of the loud music. I rapidly nodded my head, worried my answer was the wrong one. But it wasn’t. I desperately wanted this. Needed. I needed this.

Spencer hovered over me before putting an opened mouth kiss on my lips. I could hardly breathe as he rubbed the tip of his cock against my clit and entrance. I could feel a moan getting caught in the middle of my throat, my body not being about to handle anymore teasing. Until, he very slowly pushed into me.

“Oh, good girl,” he repeated. Those two words, constantly coming off his tongue. Making me feel good. The praise that I hadn’t heard in such a long time, that I longed for. Part of me wondered if he knew I wanted it. “Has someone not been taking care of you?” he asked, looking down at me. I stared at him, not trusting my own voice. My mind was too distracted with the way I felt, light and airy but at the same time full. So I shook my head.

“No, Daddy,” I whimpered and kept shaking my head. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled before moving his hips. It took him a moment to get a perfect rhythm. He lips attached to different spots on my neck, leaving hickies in his wake.

“Spencer,” I whispered as I moved my head closer to my shoulder to let him have more space.

“You feel so good,” he grunted as he moved his hips so he was deeper in me, “You feel so good, and you’re all mine,” he pressed his forehead to mine as he wrapped his arms around my lower back, pulling me closer up to him. My breathing got deep, my chest heaving with each breath I took. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, closer to my face.

“Oh, be quiet,” I whispered before putting my lips on his. He smiled before passing his tongue between my lips. A moan fell from my lips, which he seemed to enjoy… Considering it was probably just music to his ears.

“I’ll only be quiet if you keep making those little noises,” he muttered against my lips. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He smiled again as I knotted my fingers in the hair on the back of his head.

“Faster,” I breathed out, keeping my eyes on him. Spencer laughed lightly as he picked up the speed. My hips bucked with his, meeting at the right points. “Please,” I whimpered as I threw my head back more into the pillow. He pulled his arm away from my back and brought his hand between our legs, where we met.

“It’s okay, Little Girl,” Spencer whispered before pressing his lips to the side of my face. I let out a shaky breah and arched my body into his. I couldn’t believe how good I felt. I almost wasn’t sure if it was fair that my professor was better in bed than other men my age. He was more experienced, to be fair. “You can finish, it’s okay,” he kept his voice low. It almost sounded like he was giving me permission.

I nodded my head, breathing heavily through my nose. “Mmm, Spencer,” I moaned, loudy, as my walls fluttered around him and my release came. And a few moments later, Spencer thrusted deep into me with a grunt, filling me with his essence. His body collapsed on top of me whence he finished.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my fingers still tangled in his hair. My limbs were sore and shaking slightly from the rough movements. Spencer laughed lightly, agreeing with my statement. “We can’t sleep here,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on the ceiling above us. I wished we could just sleep here, mostly because I was exhausted after everything we did.

“I know,” Spencer replied as he slowly moved off and away from me. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “You’re messy now,” he muttered as he basically tumbled off the bed. I quickly sat up, just to make sure he was okay. Although I was happy he was okay, I quickly regretted moving as fast as I did.

“Your sweater,” I mumbled, reaching out towards where his sweater was lying. He looked down at it before picking it up to hand to me. He also grabbed a fistful of tissues and moved to between my legs, again. “Just give me your boxers,” I looked at him as he wiped the insides of my thighs clean. He looked back up at me, still cleaning my legs.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he spoke as he tossed the dirty tissues to the trash. He grabbed his slacks and boxers, tossing me his boxers. I slipped them on under my skirt, and then slipped his sweater on.

“I’d hope so,” I whispered as I stood up. My body wobbled for a second, nearly falling over, before I caught my balance. Spencer looked back at me, looking at how fucked I looked. I mean, I probably looked about the same as him.

“I’d given you a ride home either way,” he said as he redressed. I looked at him with confusion on my face. Either way? So even if we hadn’t had sex, he would have given me a ride. I asked him and he said yes. So I would hope he’d given me a ride, even if we didn’t fuck.

Once we were both ready to leave this stupid party, that I didn’t even enjoy (well, I did, I was just in a different world), or was even invited to, we walked out. It was as easy as pie. And, since no one really knew either of us were here, I won’t be known as the girl who fucked the professor.

The drive home was quiet. Like, even quieter than the drive here. He didn’t even have the music playing. I wondered if it was my fault, if he was regretting what we had done. If I had known he’d be so regretful, I wouldn’t have wanted to fuck him. But, I guess its too late now.

When I looked out the window, I realized we were parked outside my apartment building. I looked down at my attire and looked back at Spencer.

“Thanks… Thanks for the ride… And thanks for the sweater. I’ll be sure to give it back to you… Eventually,” I looked up at Spencer as I pulled the door open to leave.

“See you Thursday,” he nodded at me. I looked at him before slamming the door shut. I scoffed before turning to walk up to my home. I couldn’t want to sleep.

{***}{***}{***}

Two weeks. Two weeks since Spencer and I fucked. Okay, not too bad. I don’t regret it, and I’m not afraid to say that. However, I think he might be regretting it. Considering he’d been nothing but ignoring me since the night of the par-Well, I wouldn’t say ignoring me since then. He did fuck me in his office the following Thursday. But, it’s still been two weeks since he last said anything to me. Fuck, I’ve never been so mad.

“Good morning, Professor Reid,” I looked at him as I skipped into his lecture hall. I heard his words begin to greet me back, but fail when he saw what I was wearing. “Best get to my seat. Excited for today’s lesson,” I readjusted the cardigan that hung off my shoulders before turning to go to my seat.

I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull as I walked away from him. Or, was he staring at my ass. Most likely my ass. It was my ass he was staring at. I was wearing a fairly short skirt, so that’s on me. But, I’d do anything to get his attention today. And it would appear I have gotten it.

His lesson wasn’t actually anything important. It was just revision for the test coming up soon. But, it was obvious he had other things on his mind, and I was very clearly one of them. It was honestly a little distracting if I’m going to be honest.

So, I was happy when he called the end of class 5 minutes early. Although that excitement was gone the second he called my name to the front to talk. I looked at the ground as I stood by his desk, waiting for the very last person to leave so Spencer and I could have our moment alone.

“What are you doing wearing that?” Spencer asked as soon as it was just us. I tried to ignore the fact that he was trying to take the sweater off me, and made my shoulders drop.

“What? This old thing?” I asked, pulling the cardigan that he let me wear around my body. I looked back at him and smiled. He was not smiling. “You gave it to me,” I scoffed, letting him take it off me without a fight. I watched as he folded it over the back of the chair before turning to face me.

“I gave it to you so your,” his words began to get jumbled up as he gestured to my boobs, “So you weren’t exposed in front of any-”

“So no one would see what belonged to you?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. Spencer looked down at me, a flabbergasted look on his face. I smiled and cocked my head to my shoulder.

“I… I never said that,” Spencer shook his head.

“Yeah, but you thought it,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Spencer looked down at me. I could tell that he was trying to be the one in charge, kinda like how he was the other night. But it was so, so clear that he couldn’t be in charge. That he wouldn’t be in charge now. That this was just embarrassing to him. Maybe that’s just how our dynamic would work. Out in public, I was the loud one, the one who made everyone think that I was in charge in the bedroom. And, Spencer, in public, was the quiet, shy, nervous one, who was clearly submissive in bed. But in actuality, he was telling me what to do, when and when I can’t cum.

“Why were you wearing that?” he asked again, his voice pulling me from my very dirty thoughts. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Because you were ignoring me! I needed to get your attention somehow! And then I remembered I still had that,” I smiled at him. I wished I still had his sweater on, because it was actually quite cozy and warm. The look he gave me made me drop my shoulders, suddenly feeling ashamed about the current situation. So, I stared at him, feeling annoyed. More annoyed than I have over the last two weeks. “Do you regret it?” I finally asked, not really knowing if he’d be mad with my question.

“Pardon me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at me. I shook my head and looked down at the ground. “It’s not that I regret it-”

“So you do,” I looked back up at him and dropped my shoulders again. Before Spencer got the chance to say anything, I cut him off, “Oh please, you loved shoving your tongue, and cock, down my throat,” I scoffed before looking at him. The expression on his face flinched slightly as he looked back at me from behind the desk. “I get to… I get to be your good, little girl, your princess for, what, a week? A day? 12 hours? Whenever the fuck you want... And I’m supposed to go back to normal life the next day? And… And pretend that nothing happened!” I stared at him and shook my head. Spencer looked over at the door and back at me. “Thinking it’ll never happen again!” I shouted. I didn’t mean to shout, honest. But I was starting to get angry. He made me feel something like I belonged to someone. And now I don’t feel like that.

“Will you stop talking for a second,” he muttered before stepping away from me and his desk. He walked over to the door and shut it. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as he walked back over to me. “I never said you had to pretend as if nothing happened. And I never said that I regret it,” he spoke in a harsh whisper. I looked at him with mild irritation on my face.

“It sure fucking felt like it,” I spat at him.

“You’re all I think about… Christ, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that. I never said you had to forget everything… Because I’ve been having a hard time forgetting it myself.” He looked up at me. I almost refused to look at him, but his voice was so soft that I had to look at him. “I never expected you to forget,” he added.

“Then why are you acting like it didn’t happen,” I stared at him before swallowing roughly, “You made me feel like I was wanted, that I belonged somewhere, with someone,” I spoke as I stepped closer to him. It was only a little bit closer to him, not as much as I wanted. But he stepped closer to me, making it so we were the closest we had been all day, in one large step. "You remind me of home," I added in a whisper. Spencer smiled and cocked his head to his shoulder.

“You do belong somewhere,” he whispered, resting his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him, feeling my heart pick up speed, and butterflies appear in my tummy. “And that somewhere is with me,” he brought at hand to my cheek, allowing his thumb to rest on my lower lip. I looked up at him before he pressed his lips to mine.

I was honestly expecting him to say something else. I don’t know what. But I liked what he said, it made me feel really good. Like, I belonged with him, and nothing could change that.

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @thebluetint

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red-doll-face · 3 years

Note

Here is a request for slashers if they're open. My brain does a thing where I am affectionate w a person but if I get nudged away (even if it's just to readjust the position), it goes "oh no. They don't want u to touch them. Do not touch ever again or they will get mad at u. U disgust them." Even tho touch is my love language & it hurts, I just won't touch. If confronted, I will get confused & panicky cuz "u didn't want me to touch? Im respecting ur wishes? Did I miss something?" Its a mess.

Requests are indeed open, I’m sorry I take foreverrr to do these but i hope u enjoy! I don’t know what to call this tho. For simplicity’s sake I’m calling this nervous reader lmao, idk what else to call these.

Slashers x gn nervous Reader

Jason Voorhees:

Jason can very much relate to the feeling. When he first meets you, he’s sure that you’re frightened. He restrains from being too close to avoid coming off as overbearing, doesn't want to touch you because if you flinch he’ll be so hurt. He just assumes he disgusts you. Based on the reaction all of his other victims have when they see him, he’s sure you’ll probably be the same.

Once Jason is sure that you don't feel that way, he’s a cuddle monster. He wants to be close all of the time, holding hands, letting you sit in his lap, you name it. He’s so starved and quickly decides that touch is his love language too. He’s not even sure how he’s lived this long without it.

The only time I can see Jason maybe gently sort of setting you down elsewhere and walking off is when he senses strangers on the property of what once was Crystal Lake. He’s out the door before he can even see your hurt expression, Which is worse because this might lead you to jump to conclusions.

If you distance yourself from Jason, he immediately is thrown off. He can’t directly ask you if he’s done something wrong and when he tries to initiate affection with you and you don’t reciprocate whole heartedly, he’s at a loss.

He’ll get on one knee while you sulk on the couch and give you a silent plea to tell him what's wrong. You can panic and try and avoid it but he is certain there's something going on and he wants so badly to know what he’s done to put you off. You tell him and he immediately is shaking his head no, he could never be mad at you, never be disgusted with you. You’re the most breathtaking person he’s ever had the pleasure of holding, the first, most likely.

Jason nods because he understands how you feel. In the future, he’s persistent about how you feel when he untangles himself from you, making sure you’re ok.

Michael Myers:

In the later stages of your relationship, Michael is insatiable when it comes to being in contact with you. For a long time, towards the start of your relationship, he didn’t like it. It felt weird. All of the touch he's experienced prior was so clinical and sterile that he doesn’t quite know how good touch is supposed to feel. He’s so touch starved that he’s almost positive he doesn't even need it.

Slowly, he builds a tolerance for it, much like one does with alcohol, constantly checking his boundaries and letting him control the situation and he’s all for movie night, huddled up on the couch, or waking up with his head on your chest. His own personal pillow.

There are, however, moments when his need to make someone tremble with fear and then blodgeon them to death with a can opener from their own kitchen becomes too strong, so he tries to keep away from you. In the past, he might have used you to satisfy similar desires of a sexual nature and may have really hurt you but he knows that it’s not always enjoyable to you.

Then, you stop touching him. Much like Jason, he starts to think you’ve become sick of him. Sick of his coldness, his muteness, his withdrawn demeanor. Maybe you’ve moved on and he tries to tell himself he doesn’t care but he doesn't think he can see himself touching anyone but you now.

It gets to the point where he comes home one day and you look heavily troubled, expressions he’s seen on your face before, only in the event that something terrible has happened. You ask to speak to him and he obliges.

You explain that you don’t think this relationship is working, that you’re pretty sure he’s disgusted with you and how difficult this event is because you didn't even want to talk about it but it's been hurting you for too long.

His response is to stand up very slowly, pick you up and lay down with you over him, simply laying there. Hopefully, knowing you’re the one person he would ever allow to participate in this intimacy is enough to show you that you mean more than you think you do to him.

RZ Michael Myers:

This Michael is more perceptive to your touch than his counterpart, your touch sends little shivers down his spine and as soon as he gets pretty used to it, he’s eager for more. This also takes some time but significantly less. He’s enamored with the idea of returning to a somewhat normal life. Your affection grounds him in that fantasy as much as being a murderer might take him out of it.

As he establishes a relationship with you, he may even be the one to start touching you instead of the other way around. He’s read books and always wondered what it might feel like to have someone genuinely touch him without fear in their eyes. Without malice.

An unsuccessful ‘day at work’ might have Michael feeling a little het up though. He can be moody and more rageful. Neither you nor his hobbies can calm him. He seems colder than usual in these states and can come off as very standoffish.

So when you try and touch him and he shrugs your hand off his shoulder, he can’t or isn't in the state of mind to address your frown and worried look. Michael, instead stomps off somewhere to be alone for a while; maybe take his anger out on something else. Some unsuspecting soul or maybe even a poor animal in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After he’s calmed down some, he returns and almost forgot about that sad little gleam in your eye before he left. Michael remembers when he sees you blankly staring at the TV, pointedly avoiding his gaze even as you utter a weak welcome home. It’s not very welcoming. He sits stiffly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re closed off from him and he doesn't like it at all.

Migrating towards you slowly, he eases you into a familiar hug, his big bear hugs that are a little tight but inviting all the same. His huge torso and long arms seem to swallow you in his warmth. You hardly reciprocate. You look a little surprised. Though he never addresses it verbally, (which is probably better for you) Michael offers a single glance that communicates everything he needs to say. Don't ever think that again.

Thomas B. Hewitt:

Thomas’ self esteem issues and self image are not good. He honestly doesn’t like to imagine what he looks like to other people unless it can be as a threatening man you don’t fuck with. Meeting you, he realizes that it’s good to protect his family but he’d rather you not see him as someone only capable of harm. Tries his best to get the point across that while Hoyt may be adamant that horrible things happen to you, he’s not going to let them.

Thomas has received affection but always a familial affection. A pat on the back from Monty, proud claps to his shoulders from uncle Charlie, and hugs and kisses from his dear Mother. Nothing so foreign as a strangers touch over his arm or a soft embrace.

Unfortunately, Thomas can get reactive when you attempt to touch him without his mask on. He’s absolutely settled on the false reality that you’ll see his face and immediately decide that you never want to touch him again. Interacting with you with his bare face? That's a no for Thomas.

He puts on his mask that covers the scarred skin over his face and you look dejected. He was preparing for you to pressure him but instead finds himself trying to find out why you won’t touch him now. It’s not his face, is it? You respond with your reasoning. Thomas is so confused. How could you think that you disgust him? That he doesn’t want you to touch him?

He’s quicker than the others and immediately sweeps you up into his arms and holds you as close as humanly possible. Feeling disgusting and like some sort of burden is a feeling he’s so familiar with and if he can take it away from you, he will.

Will aggressively initiate touch with you for the next week or so just to solidify the fact that he cares about you and won't reject you just as you didn’t reject him.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba is a great cuddle buddy and partner. Hugs are his favorite and he hugs his brother all the time, lifting both Nubbins and Chop Top into the air for some brotherly love. If you’re smaller than them he’s all about picking you up and perhaps a little rough housing with you. He’s careful though or at least there are attempts made to be careful

Bubba, though he could easily spend the whole day doing nothing and everything with you, has work. Chores, butchering. Cooking, and tending livestock. Plenty to do at the sawyer house and he does most of it. Suffice to say there are times when you want to lather attention all over him yet he has to go back to work.

So caught up in work that he doesn't get what's going on til way later, when you’ve had time to stew in your emotions, firmly telling yourself that Bubba is annoyed by you probably. He’s baffled and confused at your silence, your crossed arms. The little furrow in your brow. He can already tell there’s something upsetting you.

Honestly, Bubba is so affectionate I can’t see him being the kind of person even capable of alluding to the fact he might be disgusted by you. How, if all he wants to do is love you? You may bring it up as a joke that you thought he didn’t like you and he almost seems offended. Not like you?

Bubba can squash any feelings you may have about that and then some. He will not let you drown in insecurities, not on his watch. This man will do everything in his power to make you feel beautiful because you really are.

I’m sorry these are super long but thanks for requesting!

#slasher x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #rz halloween movie #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #friday the 13th #thomas brown hewitt x reader #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer x reader #bubba sawyer #leatherface x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #slashers

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Note

omg...but imagine sex with nagito on the beach 👀

ミ☆ Consider it imagined ;) Word Count: 2419

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader, Explicit sexual content, a little angst but not heaps Read on AO3

“I think I want to kiss you.”

Komaeda stiffens beside you. The gentle rise and fall of his bare chest ceases entirely as he holds his breath. His hair has just started to dry again after your swim, the ends are beginning to curl but the majority of the strands still lack their usual volume. It makes him look smaller, more vulnerable.

You can’t help but wonder if it was genuine happenstance that you caught him in the ocean tonight, or if his luck had a hand in it. Thinking about his luck too much always stresses you out, would seeing him standing waist deep in the water - droplets running down his bare skin and glinting the perfect moonlight - be considered good luck or bad? Did he curse his talent in that moment, or did he see the adoration in your eyes, the way your breath caught at the sight of him, and praise it.

You hear Komaeda laugh, a familiar sound. Pleasant, but altogether fake, like a strawberry milkshake with too much syrup, “I will admit, that was quite a funny joke, if a little hurtful.” he looks at you from the corner of his eye, “Though i cannot rightly criticise you for making jokes at my expense, there is little else i am good for.”

It hurts that he thinks you would make such a cruel joke. It hurts that he doesn't have it in him to believe it.

The wind rushes by and you shiver. Even though you are mostly dry after your brief stint in the ocean, the cool air still makes your skin prickle. Komaeda’s jacket is spread out on the sand beneath the both of you, a gesture that is likely more intimate than he intended for it to be. You worry, frequently, that for all Komaeda’s posturing about talent and hope, that maybe you still don't fit the bill. That you may be worthy of his worship, but fall short of being worthy of his love.

“I wasn't joking.”

Komaeda chokes on what might have been a laugh before it died in the back of his throat. You can hear him shifting slightly, his hands clawing nervously at the jacket beneath him. Again you can't help but wonder, if this moment is good luck, or bad. The sound of your heart is so loud in your ears, and your hands are shaking so furiously that you are surprised the stars in the sky haven't all imploded. The moment feels big enough.

You hear a little more movement beside you, clenching your muscles in a bid to keep still, like even the slightest twitch from you will scare Komaeda away like some frightened animal. Ridiculous, Komaeda doesn't scare easily.

“I won’t stop you.” he whispers, you turn your head just enough to look at him. He’s rolled over onto his side, his slowly drying hair cascading down over his shoulder, pale eyes glinting in the moonlight. Your heart is hammering at your ribs.

You wet your lips with your tongue, and follow his lead, rolling onto your side and carefully examining his face. His eyelashes are really pretty, and they’re faint, but at this proximity you can see a small smattering of freckles across his nose. Like constellations on a cloudy night.

His lips taste like salt when yours press against them, chapped but soft and undeniably gentle. You shiver with more than just the cold when you dart your tongue out just a little, and he readily opens his mouth to accept it. He lets you explore the inside of his mouth, the sharp ridges of his teeth, the underside of his tongue; a moan cuts loose from your mouth and you tangle one of your hands in the back of his hair. One of his hands comes to rest on your cheek and you almost sob.

“I want to do more than kiss you.”

His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, and your eyes meet his. He blinks slowly down at you, contemplative but hungry, “Again, if that is truly what you want. I won't stop you.”

There's a heavy weight in your chest at those words, at his assertion that you could have your way with him, but not a single shred of genuine reciprocation. You are ashamed of how weak your voice sounds when you whisper, “Do you...actually want to? Or are you just letting me because I want to?”

Komaeda’s head cocks to the side, “I don't understand why the distinction matters.”

“I’m not just chasing some momentary desire, Komaeda.” you laugh bitterly, “I have feelings for you. Romantic ones.”

He stiffens for a moment, and you can see the cogs turning in his brain. There's an icy chill down your spine as you prepare for his rejection. He loves everything about you, but he doesn't love you.

Unannounced, Komaeda swings his leg over your hips and rolls you onto your back. Looming over you with a smile that actually reaches his eyes. You can count how many times you have seen that on one hand, but here he is, grinning down at you with an indescribable warmth that you feel from your chest all the way down to your toes.

“I was more than happy to be used for your pleasure.” He breathes, eyes turning misty as they meet yours, “To be able to touch you for just one moment, but this...this.” a breathless laugh escapes him, shaking his boney shoulders, “for you to return my feelings...the bad luck around the corner must be immeasurable, but im…” he heaves a shaky breath, “im so happy.”

His feelings. His feelings. The words vibrate around your head as you struggle to even comprehend them. He has feelings for you. Nagito Komaeda is leaning over you, pale hair lit up by the moon eclipsed by his head. Bathing him in a halo of white light. He looks angelic, and he has feelings for you.

“I want you.” You breathe, “Please, Nagito.”

His breath hitches at the sound of his first name dropping from your mouth. So unbelievably intimate, so tender. He tilts his head down, and slots his lips against yours. This time his hands waste little time before wandering across your skin, the bathing suit you picked up from the supermarket hides little, and you feel your flesh buzz as his hands pass over it. In the end, his palm sits comfortably in the curve of your waist and his other hand is planted beside your head to keep his balance. The salt in his mouth is slowly dissipating, giving way to a taste that must only be him. Your arms twist around his back, tracing the bumps of his protruding vertebrae, dancing across his fragile skin.

Your tongue slips into his mouth and you feel his hips twitch. With only the layers of your bathing suits to separate your skin, you can feel his growing hardness very prominently. You buck your hips upward to feel it again, and Komaeda instinctively bites down on your lower lip.

“Oh no. Did I hurt you?” He whispers, pulling back and brushing across your lower lip with his thumb, “I’m so sorry, though I shouldn’t be surprised that someone as worthless as myself would cause you pain.” You feel him start to move, “I should go-“

In a feat of strength that surprises even you, Komaeda is now pinned underneath you, arms pushed backwards onto the jacket atop the sand and wrists gripped tight in your shaking hands.

“Don’t go.” You press a hot kiss to the side of his throat, “You didn’t hurt me. I liked it.” You graze his neck with your teeth and he quakes below you, “I don’t want to stop unless you do.”

His breathing is shaky, his thin body quivering so much that you're almost surprised you can’t hear his bones rattling, “I don’t...I can’t stop. If you could read my perverse thoughts right now, you would be disgusted by what you would find.”

You laugh, releasing his arms and running your fingers down his chest, “Doubtful. I think if anything I’ll find that your thoughts mirror my own.”

Komaeda squeaks when you pull one of his nipples into your mouth, sucking gently, you run your knuckles up and down the side of his ribs. Smiling when you can hear his heart race, “Such a pretty boy.” You whisper, circling his nipple with your tongue. His hips stutter upward to meet yours, he seems to like it when you whine.

“I...I…” Komaeda’s throat bobs, “I’m not doing anything...I should be worshipping you, but I’m just lying here…”

“Shh, Nagito.” You breath, grinding your hips down on his, gentle enough that he can only just feel it, “I like doing this to you, I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long.”

“You...you’ve also been thinking about it?”

“Thinking, among other things.”

Komaeda barks a laugh, covering the lower half of his face with a hand, “Are you implying, that all those nights I fucked my pathetic hand thinking only of you, that you were-“

“Three cabins down, thinking about you?” You giggle, dragging your tongue up his collarbone, “That sounds about right.”

“I must be dreaming…” he whispers, looking past you and up at the sky, “it looks like the constellations are caught in your hair.” His shaky hand comes up and cups your cheek, “I don’t want to wake up.”

You smile, gently working his swim shorts down over his narrow hips, “Then don’t.”

He pushes himself up on his elbows, pretty face turning nervous as he is suddenly naked in the open air, though he isn't alone for long. He watches in awe as you toss your swimsuit off into the sand somewhere, eyes wide and watery as they trace the curves and angles of your body. His hips dig into your thighs when you position yourself on top of him, hands pressed gently on his chest, worried that his birdcage ribs might shatter if you put too much weight on them. You can feel his heart racing under your palms, fragile, perfect, beautiful boy. He is shaking under you, pale skin shining in the light of the moon. You lose your breath, completely enamoured with him, with his big green eyes, the mess of his hair, his collarbones so sharp that you swear you could cut yourself on them.

“I haven't done this before.”

Komaeda’s breathless silence is filled only with the ebb and flow of the ocean behind you, with the salt in the air and the stars in the sky. He sits up a little, arms shaking under his weight as he holds himself at eye level with you. He takes in a wheezy breath, one side of his mouth quirking up in a familiar nervous smile.

“You don't have to.” He whispers, “I...I’ll only disappoint you.”

It only takes a gentle push to his chest for him to fall backward onto the sand. Blinking up at you with wide eyes as you slowly start to lower yourself down onto him, “You could never disappoint me” you breathe, and then he is inside of you.

Just where he belongs.

The prettiest moan you have ever heard rips loose from his throat, his head tossed backward onto the sand and eyes scrunched shut. He is twitching inside of you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he isn't sure what to do with them. You lift yourself up just a little, and he almost sobs when you drop back down again. It feels good, you feel full. There's a twisting in your gut that tells you to just move, just move. You aren't sure how much longer you can resist it.

Komaeda is in a similar state. You are so warm, so tight, so perfect. He can feel his hips twitching with a desire to just give in, to pump himself as deep inside of you as possible. It’s pathetic, it’s selfish, but he wants you to be his. He wants to be so far inside that you can't pull him out again, he would do anything to be here forever. Completely naked, out in the open, in the middle of the night with you writhing on top of him. Your face twists in absolute pleasure, and he can't help lording over it. Over the fact that he is doing this to you.

Then, you moan again. Head lolling backwards as the guttural moan morphs into the syllables of his name.

He can’t hold back anymore. His hands snap up to your hips, digging in tight enough that your eyes open in shock, and he pushes his hips as far up as they will go. You call out his name again and it is all he can hear, hips snapping up again and again, dragging more perfect noises from your mouth and letting out moans of his own everytime he hears you say his name.

Your eyes drift down to his, letting out a sweet little whimper as he hits a spot inside of you that sets your insides boiling. Your nails dig tight into the taught flesh pulled across his ribs, turning his pale skin a bright red, your own hips meeting his every thrust with a desire to have him deeper, to have him faster. He throws his head back in a breathless laugh that almost sounds like a sob when he feels you clench around him, you’re perfect, you’re real and you’re so fucking tight.

You don't even have time to warn him before you topple over the edge, the world flashes white behind your eyes as your walls twitch around Komaeda’s desperate cock. He lets out a rattling breath, so close, so close, so close-

“Nagito” You breathe, “cum inside of me, please.”

He feels like he is going to explode, in more ways than one when he shoves himself up into you one last time, finally cumming with a high-strung moan that sounds suspiciously like a declaration of love.

Then, all is quiet again. The ocean breeze is your only company as the two of you come back down. At some point the jacket slipped out from under Komaeda, and now his messy hair is tangled with sand. You reach down and try to comb some of it out with your fingers, he nuzzles into your palm. Content.

You smile down at him.

“I love you too.”

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #/request #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa

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hhjs · 3 years

Text

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary — Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

You accept it.

For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all.

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour. Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe. While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him.

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell.

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose. You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night. See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart.

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.” he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

“I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side.

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous.

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it.

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say.

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

—

Kiss underneath a mistletoe.

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right.

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different. Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

—

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh. Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you? "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know. Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

—

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear, "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

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