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ashtxrie · 2 months

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oh no... am i falling in love? (sunoo)

PAIR. high school!sunoo x gn!reader GENRE. fake dating au, high school au, best friends to lovers, fluff WORD COUNT. 2.2k WARNINGS. none! NOTES. first post kinda nervous!! <//3 i need a sunoo irl he is truly the greenest of green flags

you and sunoo are those friends

you’ve got that type of friendship where something clicked and suddenly you were both attached at the hip for years

because apparently having the same clear muji pencil case with the holy grail 0.5 black muji pen at the beginning of middle school meant best friends ride or die in seventh-grade culture

like, someone who prioritized aesthetics in notetaking as much as you did? even in the confines of this crusty campus? crazy.

but anyway, with you being absolutely intent on making friends, sunoo couldn’t get rid of you if he tried but pls he could never survive without you anyway... who else would he trust enough to exchange his top-tier notes with?

and since then you’ve both been best friends for life! well, ever since the +6 with the introduction of sunoo's other friends [read: the rest of enhypen...]

and at first you were super happy because new friends!

but then they kind of stopped hanging out with you in the middle of sophomore year or so and went off into their own little world

and you were a little sad

ok maybe a lot sad. devastated, even.

but that was okay because that meant you were able to meet new friends and expand your horizons! you even got the chance to focus on yourself and join some new clubs, too!

who even is sunoo anymore lmao you don’t know him

but anyway

it was junior year and you were so tired of your friends bugging you to get a s/o

“[name], why don’t you date someone?”

“you’d really hit it off with so and so, don’t you think?”

“just put yourself out there”

ರ_ರ

ayo... excuse me

so one day you just can’t take it anymore

and maybe you should’ve thought this through but... nope

you don’t pause to think things through

because life is for living in the moment hell yes yolo gang

“umm guys i’m already dating someone!”

needless to say your friends go INSANE

like who tf is [name] gatekeeping from us they’re so fake /j

so like any sane and mentally adept person, you say the first name that comes to mind

“hahaha … sunoo!”

your friends stare at you. flabbergasted, shocked, stunned beyond words.

blink blink

“but … weren’t you guys just friends”

“NO”

you’re panicking but

trust

“we’re in LOVE”

ur friends are really like ok whatever, but go off

and that is how you find yourself dragging yourself over to sunoo's fifth period and placing your hands on sunoo's shoulders

“promise me you won’t freak out”

and ofc sunoo is already freaking out

bc why are you standing in front of the ap lang classroom with this crazily determined face and forcing him to listen to you

and this is how you get into this situation

with sunoo having a literal double take and you doing your best "pls help me out i beg of you" impression

“i can’t DATE you”

what

you give sunoo your best professional face even though inside you’re ???

bc um is it that bad to date you??

you are confused???

you’ve saved sunoo thousands of times in his high school career in both academics and social standing he can afford to pretend to date you ONCE

“WHY NOT”

“BECAUSE”

...

is he being fr rn

obviously you’re not getting anywhere and you turn around to walk away, kind of annoyed

“fine then, i’ll just find someone else to date me.” shrug (dies inside).

as soon as you say that, it’s like you’ve flipped a switch and suddenly sunoo is very concerned and almost a little upset

and when you don’t notice him contemplating something, he runs in front of you and nearly knocks you over

“second thoughts?”

sunoo scowls

although it looks more like a lil pout pushing at his lips and he crosses his arms

lmao who is this and what’s happened to sunoo

you shrug and start to leave for real until sunoo reaches out to tug at your arm

“NO, NO WAIT … I’LL DO IT”

you whirl around immediately and you are needless to say, very relieved!

｡◕‿◕｡

“perfect!”

but apparently sunoo hasn’t recovered from his fall from before

bc he can’t stop rubbing his hand against his neck and his face is all blotchy and pink

kinda cute, but in a best friends way. like wowie my best friend looks kinda adorable look at that boy go

but ofc sunoo has to ruin the special moment because he offhandedly says, “shouldn’t we have rules or something?”

rules???

RULES???

this is fake dating sunoo wdyfm rules? that's so silly goofy

“huh?”

“like … things not to do? maybe one big rule is not ruining our friendship???”

ʘ‿ʘ

he kinda smart for that

“ok easy then, just don’t fall in love with me”

apparently this is the WRONG thing to say?

sunoo is RED like boy is not pink anymore his cheeks are burning red

“you can’t just say that?”

????

you are confused bc what does that even mean

“why not?”

“that’s like ... y-you you can’t just say that.”

you are, if possible, even more confused?

“okay and?”

sunoo blinks

pls this boy has the audacity to just shrug

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

u are dumb af sunoo bout to throw hands here

but he won’t bc he loves u <3

so fifteen minutes later you guys decide to make three big rules

sunoo had a whole list of like twenty but you narrowed it down to these:

1. don’t ruin ur friendship

2. no kissing

3. and ur paying for three rounds of mint choco ice cream after this is over

honestly you think this is kinda rude considering sunoo is richer than ur entire life but whatever, at least he’s not leaving you out to the wolves

so when it’s finally time to put this fake dating thing to the test, you tug sunoo over to your side of the table during lunch and make sure to swing his hand

which actually feels kind of nice??

like you’ve never actually thought about this before

but sunoo is comforting

his hand fits right in yours, and he’s so warm

and i mean haha it’s not like this is a new thing, you two hold hands all the time!! but adjkaldjkfl not in a dating way

ur friends are shocked. bamboozled.

like they never thought you’d actually show up with a DATE

and bc they’re all RUDE they grill sunoo

but sunoo is best boy

best bf

and answers all their questions like a pro

that's my man

i mean what???

ur so proud

you let ur head rest against sunoo's shoulder and BITCH

sunoo presses a kiss to ur forehead

YO........................ insane.

why are u so happy? what is this??

it’s just so gentle and soft and you feel your heart getting all mushy and warm

your friends all give a big collective aww because one, they’re annoying af and yes y’all are cute cute and this is cute

but ur going through some existential crisis

and later when you’re walking with sunoo to all your classes, you can’t stop thinking that hey, this fakedating thing isn’t that bad

but whatever it’s just cause u miss spending time with sunoo!

yes, that’s it!

you’re just sad that sunoo always hangs out with his new group and you don’t get to see him as much

so this is nice!

you’re just going through some bff nostalgia rn... it's just gonna take some time for [name].exe to start working again

anyway now bc of this fakedating thing, you and sunoo just spend so much time together

like you guys have always been best friends, but this feels different

sunoo will run over to you when he sees you and wrap his arms around your waist

the first time he did it, he had the cuteness to go “is this okay? are you okay? is this too much?"

and YOUR HEART WENT !!!!!

you might’ve blushed

okay you did

but you convince yourself it’s just because ur touch starved and bitchless

c’mon... get it together

but whenever you call sunoo and wave at him, his face just LIGHTS up

and you’re pretty sure yours does too

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

needless to say, you kinda don’t want this all to end

because somewhere in the middle of all this, your head has gone from calling sunoo your fake boyfriend to your real boyfriend

and you don’t really want to go back to just being friends if you’re honest

wait hold up

uh oh

UH OH CODE RED

INTERPOL INTERPOL.....

did you just admit you liked sunoo?? in a FOR REALS way?

UMMMMM

so like the only way you know how to deal with things, you avoid it!

you start to act really distant

and now whenever sunoo wraps his arms around you, you stiffen up

and sunoo like the angel he is pulls away so quickly bc ?? is his best friend upset? uncomfortable?

did HE make his best friend for life, his 4lifer, uncomfortable? omg this isn’t ok what is happening

everyone can tell something is up

ofc they can, what with you going to the extent of running away whenever you see sunoo and sunoo reacting like the entire light got blown out his life

and bffr sunoo may be innocent but he ISN'T dumb

he knows your schedule he KNOWS you’re ignoring him

and baby is upset

because lately you’ve been starting to feel a lot more to him

and now you’re just gone??

that’s not okay and sunoo isn’t just gonna sit around and be sad

if there’s something he can do he’s gonna do all he can to try to fix it!

he corners you one day and holds up an angry piece of paper

“excuse me but you broke rule number one which is, in case you forgot, don’t RUIN OUR FRIENDSHIP”

“oh haha uh sunoo! hi uhh i gotta go 👉👉 ”

sunoo's face falls

and that was it

you just wanna hold his cheeks and tell him things are fine and that you love him

wait WHAT

but sunoo is still staring at you with that wounded look

like you’ve just ripped up his heart and torn it to shreds

bc that’s kinda what you’re doing

omg what’ve you done

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

“sunoo…”

his eyes lock onto yours so fast that you’re afraid he’s got whiplash

your mouth goes dry, and for a few moments it’s hard to talk

but you finally manage to tell him that “i don’t think we should fake date anymore.”

sunoo's face breaks

his eyes go wide, and it looks like he wants to stagger. and he almost does, just a little bit

“is it something i did?”

WHAT

this boy

kim sunoo is really gonna be the death of you

you’re shaking your head back and forth so fast because NO of course not of course this isn’t his fault

sunoo is Not Okay, and he looks so, so concerned for you. “because i swear i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. if i screwed up just tell me and i can fix it, [name], please”

you shake ur head, already starting to panic. “of course not. it’s not YOU sunoo. i just can’t fake date you because--”

you clamp your hands over your mouth

“because?” sunoo prompts, his voice careful

you just shake your head, already starting to turn and run back to somewhere, anywhere because this is stupid and you’re scared

terrified, actually

but sunoo just takes your hand and tugs you backward a bit, almost like a scene from a movie

you do that little twirl back and are face to face with the one and only

“do you … do you like me?” sunoo asks

that’s it

it’s out

you’re ready for your entire friendship with sunoo to come crashing down

“do you?” he repeats softly

you try to pull away but sunoo isn’t having it

he’s still holding onto your hand, gently, of course, and his eyes are boring into yours

you’re too scared to look because you’re afraid of what you’ll find

but when you can’t take it anymore and finally tilt your head up you realize something important

because his eyes aren’t full of disgust

in fact, that’s further from the truth

kim sunoo is staring at you with the biggest heart eyes you’ve ever seen and you’re confused as to how you’ve never seen this sooner

it’s almost like you’re his whole world, and now you can’t fucking breathe

is this real? chat is this fr rn??

your heart’s pounding in your chest so fast and there’s something bursting at your lungs

you nod faintly. “yes. i like you”

the huge grin that spreads across sunoo's face is everything

he rushes forward to pull you into a gigantic hug, even lifting you up a little as he spins you around and lets out a little happy noise

“i’ve liked you forever, [name], i can’t believe this is real”

what

so u could’ve been dating sunoo before??

“you dork why didn’t you tell me?”

“because you didn’t like me like that!”

BITCH WHAT

“well maybe i was confused” you pipe back

sunoo just laughs, burying his head in your shoulder. “i’m so happy right now.”

and honestly ?

so are you !!

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen blurbs #enhypen fic #enhypen sunoo #kim sunoo #sunoo #sunoo x reader #sunoo imagines #sunoo fluff #sunoo fic #sunoo soft hours #ashtxrie #— ash writes!

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yaut-jaknowit · 9 months

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The Monarch

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 3543

Summary: You’re staying on the mothership with who you thought was your lover. It was the mating season. Before your hunter goes off, he tells you that. You’re left heart broken and in shock. When he doesn’t return in a reasonable time, you leave the quarters and wander the ship. You find yourself at a private area. Out comes her.

Author Note: I told myself I would never make a pink Yautja (just my own preferences) but here I am, making another mommy Yautja to love on.

Masterlist

Ao3

“You’re nothing but a burden.” World shattering words. Gut wrenching words. Words that leave you devastated. No ground to stand on. Nothing to stable yourself.

Your mate, your everything, the person you dropped everything for to be with. He… he, god. No. He couldn’t do this. This wasn’t real! You had to be dreaming. Why would he say that to you? What led to this moment to be dropped nothing more than a pack of potatoes? You were too overwhelmed to think properly. To show any emotion besides a dropped jaw and just to stare into harden eyes. Eyes that used to soften when they found your form.

There was nothing soft or gentle about your giant. No. All of it was gone. Gone from existence.

“Why?”

It’s all that you could muster in the fog clouding your thoughts. Your hands shook at your side, trembling with uncontrollable anxiety. Blood rushed in your ears, the only sound you hear clearly. You just stared into his eyes, not a clear thought between your eyes.

He scoffed, mandibles pulled tight to show his disgust. “You are ooman. You not understand Yautja way. Breeding season, you are of no use to me.”

When you thought it couldn’t get worse, the universe willingly showed how wrong you are. How could a shattered heart break even more? You stumbled a couple steps away from him to hold onto the back of a couch behind me. Even that barely gave you any stability in this moment.

“But-but we, you, how….” All you wanted to do was break down and sob and do everything in your power to keep him. What did he except from you now? What were the next steps to proceed?

The now unfamiliar Yautja kept his head high with pride and arms firmly crossed over a chest you were laying on last night. Last night. Everything was fine last night. Just any normal night. Nothing to show the next morning your mate would abandon you.

He grunted before turning around, putting his back to you and walking away. His claws lightly clicking against the metal floors. Your vision went blurry as he left, unfocused. Mind blank as you tried to make sense of the situation. Then, you fell to your knees with a hearty sob. One that shook you to your very core. You released everything.

For hours, you leaned all your weight against the back of the couch and cried your eyes out. Even after your voice grew hoarse and hurt, you didn’t stop. Now, what were you going to do? Here you were, stuck on an alien ship, with no way back to earth. Your mate abandoned you for… for others. It’s not like you ask or buy a ticket home. With no Yautja to protect you now, you were fresh meat to the younglings or freshly blooded to screw with you. You weren’t going to last a week before someone went too far.

Your pride didn’t allow you to even think about asking your… your ex mate about helping you home. He already just abandoned you without a second thought. Why the change? Why had it changed? You roughly wiped at the tears rolling down you sticky, salty cheeks. More came to wet the skin there. It was pointless until your emotions finally run dry.

A hopeful, hopeless thought kept you there for an unknown amount of time. Maybe he would come to his senses and come back. Anything to give you an ounce of hope this was all a dream, a nightmare. But he didn’t come back in a reasonable amount of time. That made your chest ache somehow more.

That’s when you pulled yourself up by your pants, took a deep breath, and ventured out. Since, your mate decided to up and leave you out of nowhere, there was an unpredictable aura to what he might do to you if he returned and found you. There was nothing in the honor code from truly stopping him from killing you. You were prey. A small part of you didn’t want to believe it but now, you were thrust upon the world of predators as meek prey. Now, you had to survive all by yourself. Out in a world that was fully against you. Just that thought made you want to break down crying again.

The predators that you scuttled past could smell your sorrow, a nasty smell. Many of them already had a distain for the fact you were on the ship. None of this new to you. It was a small uproar at first. But your mate, oh your mate, he defended you and did what had to be done for your sake. Which was claim you as a pet so no one could touch or cause any sort of harm to you.

That’s why this whole change in behavior didn’t make sense.

Your feet carried you as your mind just wandered to all spectrums of the situation. All you were trying to do was reel in some sort of survival plan for the new future. All you had to was survive. Could you do that? Was it possible? You took a shuttering breath and dipped down an empty hall. As you did this, you felt the piercing eyes of predators slowly leaving your trembling frame. The weight finally being lifted off of your shoulders.

From there, you just lumbered along. Not in any rush or hurry. Not paying much attention to the surrounding area. Not caring about what could happen.

One of the wall’s of the hall turned to glass, revealing the vast void of empty space. Stars in distant galaxies sparkled, shining bright like diamonds. There were no nearby planets that you could make out. The sight made you shiver harshly. Here you were, nothing more than a bundle of atoms in a galaxy that didn’t give a shit about you. You were going to die.

So be it. You sat down, back to the wall and gazed out to the galaxy. Despite being dangerous and unforgiving, it was stunning. The stars and colors that the galaxy held took your breath away. Part of the reason you said yes to joining your mate and leaving your planet behind. Look where that got you know. At lease before you die, you can say you’re the only human to go this deep into space. Let alone see this far into the universe. You couldn’t help the shy smile on your lips at the thought.

As you sat there, you smacked your lips together and realized how thirsty you were. All the crying has made you dehydrated. Could you even make it out of the mess hall alive without him? Would you accidentally run into him? If you did, what would h-

A shadow casted over your tiny frame. Fear entered your body like freezing water. Your breath got caught as you didn’t know what to do. Should you dare to look, risk the wrath of a stranger, see the person possible for murdering you? Or just let them have their way and go?

Massive, dark green and mixes of browns, feet could be seen at the edge of your vision. Double shit. You were dead. The feet shifted then you felt a heavy weight settle down next to you. A deep, gruttle groan vibrating the air. All you did was pin your eyes on the ground and refused to move. Or wish death upon yourself.

The new form leaned back against the wall, same as you. Their shadow still blocked out some of the light on you, even sitting next to you.

Finally, you peeked look and felt like you were to shit yourself. Her eyes were already on you, as if she was waiting for you to sneak a glance. Her head wasn’t fully facing you, just looking out the corner of her eyes. You swore you saw an upper mandible quirk up once the two of you eyes met. A massive female was sat comfortably next to you, as if it was completely normal. She was adorn us beautifully created and wrapped clothing and jewelry. You immediately recognized her.

How could you not? A figure that was incredibly posing for just her title. But it wasn’t just that had you trembling in terror. We’ar-ow. Monarch of this mothership. Monarch. Who was sitting next to you without batting an eye about your presence. At this point, you swore there was beads of sweat rolling down your face.

We’ar-ow peacefully rested, eyes now gazing out into the vast universe her kind explores and hunts through. Though, she showed no interest either in a good or bad way, you scrambled to your feet. A swift, unsteady pace started to put as much di- “Wait.” The voice of battle worn yet gentle leader commanded. Despite not being one of her kind, all of your muscles froze. Nothing would listen to the instinct to dash away to somewhere safer.

There was soft tink sound of her metal jewelry behind you. Nothing major nor did a creeping feeling of dread grow. Which told you she hadn’t gotten up to chase you. Maybe she turned her head? Oh, you felt the stare of a predator now.

Claws tapped against metal. “Sit,” We’ar-ow commanded with a voice that held no room for arguing. It sounded like she didn’t even need to try. Like the tone was built in, intergraded since she was a child. Everything atom in your body shuttered; and gave in. You timidly turned back around and found her patting the spot you were just in with a massive hand. Hands that could easily tear your head from your shoulders without much hassle.

Your lungs wheezed quietly as you timidly stepped back over to her, giving yourself an extra foot. Then, you slowly lowered yourself onto the ground.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed how much she towered over you. Not reaching her midriff in this state, probably worse when standing next to each other. Why does she want you here? Your mind was running a thousand miles per minute trying to come up with a reason on why. But nothing logical came to mind, just thoughts of her luring you in to kill you. Even that doesn’t make much sense, yet here you are.

The massive female drew her hand back into her lap and stilled. From what you could feel – not daring to look, she was focused on what was outside the window. You could hear your heart pounding wildly in your ear. The only sound you could hear as you sat tense and rigid. A terrified animal resting next to a predator.

Through the overwhelming sound of blood pumping, you heard that tale tell sign of extra air. “You are that pet I’ve heard much about.” A flare of anger surged through you before a cold dose of water splashed it out. Calm, it’s okay.

Despite her speaking directly at you, you didn’t dare to respond, let alone look at her. “You know it is dangerous to be without your master, correct?” Shit, a question. Nervous of doing something wrong, I just dipped my head. Your mate had warned about going anywhere without him on the first day here. Being a pet gave you protection but some Yautjas don’t believe that humans deserve to be in the presence of them.

She hummed, voice deep and grumbly. “You reek of sorrow.” More of a statement than a question. Right, their kind have a great sense of smell. That meant she could smell everything. Once more, you didn’t say or do anything, afraid of angering her.

Chuckling, guttural in sound. We’ar-ow presence grew incredibly close, suddenly. Her warmth radiating off of her to soak into your skin. You couldn’t help but flinch. An arm raising to cover your head as if that would do a thing against her. “You are pet. I cannot harm you,” she reminded you like that would help your situation.

Almost, you scoffed and were close to opening your mouth to a make remark. One that would cost you your life. Instead, you held your tongue and waited for her to lose interest in you.

“Oomans are strange creatures. So diverse in personality and culture. Why do you k-ri? Why do you sorrow?” Those are questions that required words. Words you didn’t want to speak. Why was she so interested in you? We’ar-ow is an old monarch. She’s had to seen hundreds of humans before. So this whole interaction confused you.

A lump in your throat prevented any sounds from being voiced. Probably for the better.

There was a heavy huff next to you. “I asked you a question. Answer.” Oh, you were so screwed, incredibly fucked. She didn’t even have to pull the title card to have you even more petrified.

You finally were able to swallow the major part of the lump down and nervously cleared your throat. “N-no reason,” is all you can get out. Not daring to spill your trouble to the monarch of this mothership and clan.

She growled at your lie but didn’t move. “I hear your lie,” like a mother scolding their child. Nothing more needed to be said to know that was the wrong route. You flinched by curling into a ball and protecting your head with a terrified yelp. Words that could sound like ‘sorry’ could barely be made out behind your arms and legs. “Speak the truth. I’m curious what had upset a pet to run idiotically through my ship without their master.”

Nothing could move you from your ball. You swallowed once more. “I-I,” you started, immediately stumbling over your words. We’ar-or growled lowly. If it wasn’t for the earlier command earlier, you would’ve been up and out quicker than she could blink. You squeaked and curled up tighter.

“Speak clearly and firm. You make yourself prey by acting like one,” she said, eyes boring into your skull. You didn’t need to see to know this.

You gave a timid nod and breathed in. Gaining a few drops of courage from her words, I straightened back but couldn’t find it in myself to look at her. “My-my master, he abandoned-“ your heart ached at the reminder of what he told you earlier- “me. Told me I was a burden then left.”

Her response was a deep hum before the silence engulfed us again. You didn’t know if that was better than hearing her talk. All you could hear was your heart pounding and the air circulating through the vents. You had to stop yourself from curling up again. Don’t act like prey. Was it better to act argonaut or to be prey surrounded by predators?

“Abandoned you say? Disgusting. He took you into his care, you are his responsibility. I warned him, to ensure this is what he wanted. Dishonorable to abandon you,” she spoke, voice hardened with disgust. Like, she cared about the situation. Did she? Why would she? You found it in yourself to turn your head and looked at her. Her eyes finding yours immediately. “Now, you’re a pet without a master…” Now, you flinched and bowed your head

Rough, textured fingers pinched your chin and lifted your head. We’ar-ow turned your head this and that way. Her piercing eyes studying you. She bummed while in thought before dipping her head for a second. “So be it. You will be my new pet. I’ll challenge that pathetic male just to ensure he cannot say I stole you. Even if he dared to accuse that to me, I would best in a match.” Your heart felt like it exploded in your chest. The monarch… Oh my god. She just-no-I huh?!

You find your voice. “Why?” Immediately, you tried to bow your head again. That was incredibly rude. But her hand simply kept it raised. “Sorry.”

We’ar-ow chuckled. She wasn’t angered or offended. Relief flooded your veins. Almost, you almost relaxed but kept vigilant. After your mate had broken your heart, you weren’t going to be so naïve anymore. The female Yautja leaned in, long tresses slipping over her shoulder. Her hot, moist breath fanning over your face. “Because, I’m the Monarch.” You shuttered. And she was right. She needed no reason to give for taking what she wants. Even if it lands her in a battle.

Her hand was still on your chin and keeping your face towards her. You desperately wanted to pull away, shy away, but she didn’t let you. It seemed like she wanted to make you squirm and sweat under her gaze. “And I take what I want.” That sounded everything besides arrogant. It was truth. Both of you knew it without a doubt.

Your throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. “Okay,” you whispered, barely above silence. One of her upper mandibles quirked up. Her eyes scanned up and down your body before a look of disgust falling over her features. Her free hand pinched at the fabric hanging off of your shoulders that made up your shirt. Clothing that your ex-mate had created for you.

“This will have to change. You reek of that male. No more,” she stated firmly. For once, you agreed with her. It would be a good change, possibly for the better. Though, the pet thing will never sit right with you, you’ll have to work with it.

“And some jewelry. I will not have my pet look so meek or low status. You are pet of Tourk’on Clan’s Monarch. Keep your chin level and be proud of who owns you,” We’ar-ow offered for advice. You timidly looked into her eyes and held the longest eye contact before. It earned you a chuff and a smirk. “Good pet.” Praise that sent your heart fluttering. This time, in a good way.

With the hand not holding onto your chin, she ran a deadly claw down your temple, over the crest of your cheek bone, and down to your jawline before falling over. “You are mine now. I won’t abandon you like that scum male.” Fuck, that caused something deep inside of you to ignite. Yet, you kept your guard up. Your trust had been broken, harshly and without care less than two hours ago. You still ached. You still hurt. But, a small part of you desperately wanted to have what you had with your ex-mate again. It would be difficult to move on after everything that has happened. You could do it though. You have made it this far in a universe destined to kill you.

Then, a yawn broke the scene. You ensured your teeth were kept covered, something you were taught. We’ar-ow slightly pulled back before laughing and shaking her massive head. Today has worn you down to the bone. “Tired, my pet? Already?” You believed yourself to be crazy to think you heard a teasing tone in her voice.

Before you had a chance to do or say anything, two sturdy, thickly corded arms slipped underneath your form. You were simply lifted to be curled against a chest. By god’s grace. You felt like you were dead or dreaming because she didn’t just pick you. God, did she? You looked down. It was her arms holding you to her body. The Monarch was carrying you. Carrying you. She was holding you in her grasp. Her powerful, lethal legs started a path to the designation in her mind. Wherever that might be.

Through the halls of a ship We’ar-ow ruled, the Monarch carried you like a sack of potatoes. All the Yautjas that crowded the halls either stared or did a double take. Many mandibles dropped. Almost an uproar of whispering between everyone sounded the moment the two of past. We’ar-ow didn’t even twitch a muscle in response. As if she was expecting this to happen.

After an elevator ride to the highest floor on the ship, one you’ve never could even dream to be on, she stepped into her room. Or what you believed as hers. We’ar-ow dismissed everything and head straight to a room off to the side. It was around twice the size of your ex-mate’s bedroom.

Off in one corner was an hugely oversized dog bed, more considered a normal bed in your eyes. A large bowl was set close by to said bed, filled with clear liquid. Toys and such, like cat or dog toys sat neatly on the mattress covered bed. Blankets and furs as well.

We’ar-ow didn’t let you have much time to take in the room from her arms and brought you over to the bed. You were placed down. It was heaven. Your body sunk into the fabric as it swaddled you. She stood above you at her full height, apposing and known as fatal. Her piercing eyes pinned on your form and nothing more. “I will let you sleep before retrieving you at a later time. I will change your old master to a duel and win you over.” If this was anyone else, it would be arrogant and boastful. This wasn’t just anyone. We’ar-ow has set out a plan of action she will proceed with.

No if, and, or but’s about it.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow #A new yautja has appeared

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thenbecauseggoes · 9 months

Note

Could you write something ab evan being jealous ? Maybe some angst and then smut?

A/N: hi there anon!!! im so sorry it took FOREVER to get to your rec i was MEGA busy with work but im back now!!! i hope this is good and im trying to use the advice that one person gave to me the other day lol so i hope this is good!!

Warnings: smut, pnv, riding, jealousy, crying, lmk if i missed any

WC: 1897

⋆⋆☆⋆⋆⋆⋆☆⋆⋆⋆⋆☆⋆⋆⋆⋆☆⋆⋆⋆⋆☆⋆⋆⋆⋆☆⋆⋆⋆⋆☆⋆⋆⋆⋆☆⋆⋆⋆⋆☆

🎧♱★★♱🎧♱★★♱🎧♱★★♱🎧♱★★♱🎧♱★★♱🎧♱★★♱🎧

Jealous Guy

evan peters x fem!reader

Today was the very first day that Evan invited you on set for one of his movies. You knew full well why he hadn’t before, he was a jealous guy and couldn’t stand you being too friendly with his co-stars. It’s not that he didn’t trust you, no he trusted you fully. He just didn’t trust other guys to be as respectful of your relationship. This particular movie had been American Animals and you were so excited to see it that Evan just dragged you on set. You sat out by the set while Evan was in his dressing room, you looked around for any familiar faces and upon finding none you looked down at your phone until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Uh, hey,” a man timidly said “my name's Drew Starkey” he extended his hand for you to shake which you do.

“Hi! I’m Y/N L/N” you smile at the boy, Evan would definitely be mad right now but you were having a wonderful time talking to Drew.

“So, who do you play? I’ve never seen you before” he questions.

“Oh i’m not in the movie, i’m actually Evan’s girlfriend” you smile proudly, you were so proud to be able to say that no matter who you were talking to. Sometimes it didn’t even feel real to you.

“Oh cool!” you had been so wrapped up in the conversation that you hardly noticed Evan standing in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest. As the conversation went on he only got more frustrated, did this guy not know you were his? He decided he’d had enough and walked up to the two of you.

“Evan! Hi babe, have you met Drew?” you tried to introduce the two

“Yeah, i’ve seen him” he wraps his arms around you from above and shoots Drew a look that can only be read as get the fuck away from my girl.

“Uh, I think it might be best for me to leave,” Drew nervously says “nice to meet you Y/N!” Once he’s out of sight Evan leans down to your ear.

“I don’t trust him for one second” he whispers.

“Evan, baby he was just being friendly” you coo back at him, reaching a hand up behind you to run through his hair.

“Sure it starts friendly until he’s making advances on you” he says before placing a small kiss to your hair.

“Evan, I made it very clear I'm your girlfriend” you crane your neck to look at him, he looks absolutely beautiful in this costume. He opens his mouth to say something until he’s called over to the set. It's an unsurprisingly long day on set, leaving you to be no short of extremely bored. The particular scene with Drew in it had ended and he came up behind you, tapping your shoulder with an excited ‘boo!’ leaving you to jump a bit in your seat and then laugh.

Since they weren’t filming at that moment, Evan jumped at the sound of your laughter ringing out throughout the building. He found the source of the noise quickly and what had caused it. Drew. He had to ground himself, he was an actor after all and he couldn’t let this throw off the scene for everyone else who wasn’t having a particularly bad day. But he couldn’t ignore the pit of rage growing in his abdomen, allowing him to clench his fists and close his eyes. He tried to focus on taking breaths and ignoring how Drew sat in the chair across from you. He was so smug, with his legs crossed and his hand tucked in a fist under his chin while his other hand was laid across the armrest of the chair. Evan was sure if he looked any longer he might explode so he decided it would be a good idea to just focus until shooting was over that day.

When they finally wrapped on filming the last scene for that day he immediately went back to his trailer. Drew was long out of his costume and still talking to you. You found it awfully odd how Evan didn’t come and say hello and that he’d be out shortly. It made guilt churn inside of you, you didn’t think you did anything wrong. Maybe he was mad about Drew? That couldn’t be it considering you made it extremely clear that you were Evan’s girlfriend.

“Sorry Drew, i’m gonna go make sure Evan’s okay,” you explained, getting out of your seat, “it was nice to meet you though!”

“Nice to meet you too y/n” he smiled, pulling out his phone and scrolling as you made your way down the hall to the exit of the studio. You look around a little bit until you find the familiar trailer with a sign with Evan’s name on the front. Before you walked to the door you heard a choked cry. Was he crying? You prayed he wasn’t crying. You walked up to the door and knocked a couple times.

“I’m- uh changing” you heard a weak voice say from somewhere deep in the trailer.

“Evan, baby, it’s me” you spoke through the open window of the trailer. It takes a few seconds but he comes to the door and opens it. Your worst fears come true when you realize he’s been crying. He’s changed out of his costume but his face is all red and puffy, his fluffy blonde hair is disheveled and his big beautiful eyes are bloodshot. “Oh baby” you speak before enveloping him in a hug. The door shuts and locks behind you as he wraps his arms around you tightly. He sits down on the floor with you still in his arms. Your hand comes up to his hair and goes through it, your eyes shed their first tear onto his chest.

“Do you like him better than me?” he manages to choke out softly into your ear.

“What?” you check to make sure you heard him correctly

“I said, do you like Drew better than me?” he asks again, pulling your head back to look you directly in your eyes.

“Is that what’s got you so worked up baby?” you ask which earns a simple nod from him “oh Evan, you know I couldn’t ever ever love anyone as much as I love you. Especially Drew, he’s nice but he’s not you. No one is you” you press a loving kiss to his lips which he returns.

“Thank you” he whispers against your lips “I love you”

“I love you too” you whisper before leaning towards his lips again. You tangle your hands in his hair and pull slightly, earning a groan from Evan. “Let me take care of you?” you ask, pushing him back onto the ground with your hand. He gulps but nods as you grind against the growing bulge in his pants, earning a few whimpers from him.

“So beautiful.” you whisper in his ear before planting open mouthed kisses onto his neck. You suck lightly on his sweet spot which makes him moan out.

“Fuck, baby please” he grabs your hips to keep you moving over his bulge.

“Don’t want people hearing us hm?” you tease before getting up and closing the open window of the trailer, just to sit back down on him again. You really don’t want to tease him at this point just because of how much he’s had to endure all of today. “Gonna show you how much I love you” you coo at him before slipping his pants off and sliding his t-shirt over his torso. You run your hands up and down his abs, he tightens them and lets out a low groan. His hands find your waist and slide your shirt over your head.

“Baby, you’re so pretty” he groans out before undoing the clasp on your bra and toying with your sensitive nipples. He takes the left one in his hand and pinches it. You let out a high pitched moan at the sensation, almost completely forgetting you were supposed to be taking care of him.

“Evan, please let me take care of you” he leans back and lets go of your nipples.

“Mhm, do whatever you want baby” he groans out as you kiss down his collarbone and down his torso. He’s squirming under you and breathing hard. He’s a mess of whimpers and whines as you trace your lips down to the place where he needs them the most. Your fingers loop under his boxers and tug them down just enough to free his aching cock. It springs up onto his stomach, hard and dripping with pre-cum. You trace your hand across the tip which elicits a small whimper from him. His hands find your hips and squeeze hard enough to leave marks but the pain was completely overrode by the pleasure.

You lined yourself up with the tip of his dick and started to sink down. You let out a soft moan while he groaned from deep in his chest. You sat there for just a moment, letting yourself adjust. No matter how many times you and Evan fucked you were never really able to start immediately moving because of his size.

“Fuck, baby you can move if you’d like” he managed to get out so you rolled your hips over him. His breath hitched and it took everything in him not to cum right then and there. You start bouncing on his dick and moan out with every roll of your own hips. His groans only get louder as you continue on him. You lean down to his ear so that he’s able to hear your nosies clearly.

“See how perfect you are for me” you reassure him “no one can do what you do baby” you place a small kiss on the space under his ear and he whimpers. His hips chase yours every time you bounce on him. He captures you in another hungry kiss and softly pulls on your hair. You moan at the feeling which only spurs him on. His hips start thrusting to meet yours halfway. Your moans get more broken and you’re sure that the trailer is shaking. There’s nothing you care about more than Evan right now. “Evan…” you manage to moan into his ear.

“Yeah baby, say my name, fuck, just like that” he grunts out with a particularly harsh roll of your hips. Your moans get sporadic as he starts taking control, thrusting up into you with no particular rhythm. He’s just making sure you both get to your impending orgasms. His thumb finds your clit and starts drawing small circles. Your hips buck into him and you feel that all too familiar coil start to snap in your lower abdomen.

“Evan… fuck, i’m gonna” you whimper out against him

“Please, baby, i’m close too” he moans as your walls tighten around him. It only takes a few more thrusts for him to pull out and shoot his seed all over your body. Your body collapses onto his as he places a soft kiss to your hair. “You’re all mine” “I know Evan” you smile as he helps you get your clothes back on and get in the car. All you know is that the night is far from over.

✮ my recs are open!

✮ masterlist

#evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters smut #warren lipka #american animals #drew starkey #ahs smut #ahs asylum #tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #american horror story #ahs coven

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heliads · 2 years

Note

aside from congratulations, I have a request.

If you could do something very angsty for me? The whole fic is happening while y/n is smoking a cigarette, she *ran* from her fraction to dauntless because her parents were abusive and too strict, now she is stuck between two men who want her. The love-hate relationship with Eric and the too needy and draining with Four. In the end she puts the cigarette out and decides whatever you feel like.

I'm just feeling angsty fics lately, you know? Thanks in advance❤️

ok but the cigarette as a framing device for the plot is so superior, anon your mind >>

masterlist

There’s a spark on the table in front of you, one bright bit of red in the midst of all this darkened gray and gloomy charcoal. Your mind races ahead of your body, wondering if you should put it out before a fire starts. Anyone else would, you think, the possibility of further damage too great for any temporary satisfaction of inaction.

Instead, you cross your legs and watch it until it burns out on your desk. Over your time in Dauntless, you’ve learned how to gauge risks, how to tell what’s going to blossom into something deadly and what is just that, a spark, something that will flare for a second and then die out into nothing. There are far more sparks than people care to think, just embers in ashes that will choke out soon enough. Hardly any risks are worth the revolutions that people like to imagine.

In the end, maybe that’s the lesson you learned from Dauntless, that everyday acts of bravery are only valued because they have no real meaning. Anyone can tell themselves that they’re changing the world when they pick up a blade and choose not to send it spiraling into someone’s head, or when they stand up to a playground bully for using their fists one too many times.

Talk all you like of integrity, of courage, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Nothing does matter around here, that’s precisely how Dauntless works. You send a bunch of diehard adrenaline junkies into a building, whip them up on lies and promises to never be afraid again, and see what happens. They’ll cloak their bodies in black shadow and save you the trouble of trying to convince them to hide themselves away.

Dauntless sticks to Dauntless out of misguided pride. Thus, the other factions don’t have to waste a single breath in convincing the brave to stay away from their pure homes when your fearless faction already keeps to themselves more than even the Abnegation.

But you guess that’s what you signed up for back when you chose Dauntless in the first place. The cigarette you’ve been smoking sends up a flurry of ash at the moment, as if even the smoke can’t bear to think of the memories even more than you could. Doesn’t mean you can hide from it any more, though, and you take a drag just to wash down the foul memories with a blast of acid down your throat.

It comes as quite a surprise to anyone who’s ever known you to hear that you weren’t a Dauntless-born. You’ve seen your share of shocked reactions, how their eyes widen to a comical size before they start proclaiming that this couldn’t be, that you’re the most Dauntless person they’ve ever met. Of course you are, you’ve butchered parts of yourself in your hurries to cut away all that wouldn’t fit in here. You are what they made you, and in the end, that is Dauntless through and through.

Once upon a time, though, you weren’t. The image appears in a wave of bluish gray mist, and when you close your eyes, it burns with all the fervor of the sparks still clinging to the lit end of your smoke.

You hadn’t just been a transfer, you know, you had been worse. An Amity, the worst kind of person to ever end up here. There’s no one the Dauntless hate more than the Amity. At least the Abnegation had the common sense to try and claw for power over the city, even if they’re misusing their position to waste resources on those who can’t better the place.

The Amity, though? They’re such a lost cause that it’s laughable. Who in their right minds would ever cast away the chance for success and ambition to run forever out in the never ending fields surrounding the city limits, pulling crops and wiping sweaty brows until you die? Their smiles are all fake, everybody knows that. It’s a front for something malevolent, like the fact that not everybody is so thirsty for blood that despite all odds the yellow clothed faction might actually be kind.

That scares the Dauntless more than anything, so you spit at this totally foreign enemy and cast them aside. There’s a reason Dauntless soldiers gunning for a new place on the wall have to be forcibly conscripted into serving time in Amity. They swear off ever stepping foot in that faction, even though it’s statistically impossible that the city wall could have guard towers all around without having somebody there to watch over Amity.

You don’t bring it up, your heritage. It’s not your birthright any more than it’s Max’s, or Eric’s, or any of the other Dauntless leaders. You are no longer the sort of person who could live and die without a fight. You’ve split too many lips and knocked out too many teeth to ever look at someone smiling and not feel a need to end it.

It just wasn’t for you, that’s all. For Amity parents, yours were certainly on the stricter side of things, and you grew to hate how they ordered you around in the midst of Amity’s supposed freedom. The hypocrisy rankled, dragging at your skin with nails and talons until you could bear it no longer.

Maybe, if you hadn’t been someone who grew up with such desperate hatred of all who promised sweet things and never kept their end of the deal, you wouldn’t go out looking for the complete opposite. Dauntless would never lie to you like Amity did because Dauntless will never claim to be a place where flowers could bloom or skies could stay sunny forever.

No, if Amity was a spring morning, Dauntless is damned hellfire through and through. It’s still warmth somehow, still bright and fierce as anything, but worse, in a way that makes you spit at the world that could have been yours. Dauntless teaches you to be strong so that you can make others weak, but at least you get some sort of pride out of it.

Your light is burning through the cigarette faster and faster, a small heap of ashes collects on the surface of the table in front of you after you tap it. They spread out immediately, staining the tips of your fingers with a silvery sheen.

It hadn’t been enough to just live in Dauntless, you wanted to own it. Same as everybody else, of course. If you’re at Dauntless, you want to be at the top. That’s the principle of the place, and also how it manages to keep its wheels of war turning year after year. The people who end up winning want to stay ahead of everybody, and those who are dealt a losing hand push others down to get to a better level. The constant falling and rising keeps the faction in perpetual motion.

So, if you were set on making it big here, it makes sense that you’d brush shoulders with the same sorts of people. There are two types of viewpoints when it comes to shaking Dauntless to the core: those who want to make it worse, and rarer still, those who want to make it better. There are two names that come to mind when you think of this particular dichotomy, two young men who would give their all to wake up and see a Dauntless utterly different than the one they met during their shared initiation.

Eric Coulter is the first kind of radical. He’s more monster than man, which is precisely why you get along with him so well. Eric saw the fight in you, that hunger to either change this faction or tear it down to your level. He’d sooner kill than save, but no one’s instincts are better in a fight.

You take another breath of smoke and fire when you think of him. Eric is your slow poison, the one you always love to pick. He’s a rush, pure thrill with a human mind to make you worse. You spend a week head over heels, and Eric makes you feel like you could take on the world. The next seven days, you hate him so much you can’t think straight because he took your broken pieces and shattered them even more.

There is no reasoning with him, your madman. Eric is on a course straight to hell, and when you’re together, you run with him as fast as you can. If this is how you die, at least you’ll do it with a smile. You have never been stronger than when you’re by Eric’s side, and he is the same with you. He is Dauntless in the way that a blade is Dauntless, for cutting without a second thought; how a bullet is Dauntless true, for striking clean through fear you have ever dared to call your own.

If Eric is the brutal side of Dauntless, though, then there must be someone on the other end to balance him out. You met this counterpart during the initiation that the three of you shared. Years later, the training instructors would say that they’ve never seen the top rankings switch around so often as they did when the three of you were going through the initiation process. Eric would be on top for what he claimed would be forever, then you’d snatch the lead from him in the blink of an eye, and then the title would be conquered by someone else, and that someone was Four.

Four. Four fears, four weaknesses when everyone else seems to have so many. Four has something even more uncommon than Eric’s furious strength: calm capability. Four could look down the barrel of a gun pointed at his head and talk a shooter out of killing him. Four could look at you and see someone not just capable of love, but worthy of it as well.

You may never understand him. Four came from twisted memories, just like you, but where it’s only sharpened your jagged edges, Four’s past has made him kind. Every day, Four wakes up and decides that he’s going to take the fight against madness and win. He takes the power that Dauntless instills in its wild youth and uses it to spare, not to damn.

The worst part about the saving is that Four refuses to stop trying to free you. If he could come out of the tailspin of Dauntless, he’s certain that he can pull you out as well. The only issue is that you don’t particularly want to be dragged out onto dry land when drowning makes you feel more than you ever have. Not everybody is cut out to be a martyr, and Four’s cardinal sin is that he can’t fathom that you wouldn’t share his unconquerable spirit to save and save and save again.

It’s exhausting, in all brutal honesty. The smoke burns your lungs as you think of it, how Four begs and pleads with you every other night to do better, to come out of this. He’ll chastise you for your monstrous tendencies, then praise your strength, anything to convince you to come out of the dark and into the light with him.

Doesn’t he get it, though? We are all in the darkness here. There is no light to be found, no great fire to run towards in the midst of inky blackness. The only sparks are the people here, the points of brightness that will burn themselves out before they manage to contribute to any real flame. Nothing is real here, nothing but the blood we spill and the bones we break. Anything else is a delusion.

That doesn’t stop Four from trying, though. Some days, it feels as if you’re caught in the middle of one great war. Eric convinces you to kill off the rest of the world in favor of being the one left after it all ends, then Four makes you believe that there might be a life for you in which you could lay down your weapons and just rest, just be whole again.

In truth, neither side is quite you. How could you pick a side if neither one is right? Eric’s face comes to you out of the darkness, the sharp edges, the cunning smile as he drags you down beside him. You’re in freefall with him, constantly waiting for the impact, knowing that both of you would gladly pull the other with you if it meant you would die with someone you loved by your side.

And Four, his eyes as warm as blood coursing around a knife. He is the closest you will ever come to forgiveness, the only shot you have at ever being more than this mass of bullets and endless rage. Four is your chance at an armistice, your one way out. If you do not have him, you will never have anything again.

And do you, in the end? Want anything that cannot be yours without someone guiding you to it? The answer comes slowly, brought over in ripples of bluish silver smoke that curls around your fingertips like the rush of scarlet around a fist. You want what you have always wanted, that rare delight that made you choose Dauntless over anything else back when you were sixteen and living was still something that you couldn’t understand. Do you now, though? Will you ever?

You close your eyes, letting the burn of nicotine on your lips do the talking instead of your own words. You’re making your choice now, just as you did in your Ceremony all those years ago. There aren’t just two paths before you, there are countless journeys that are yours for the taking. You’ll run down as many as you please, with or without who you please. Two young men were not where your story began, and they will not be where you end.

Neither of them, then. Eric is too cruel, Four is too draining. You are some mess of both of them, and that means you have enough of their spirit to ever need them by your side forever. You take one last drag, then stamp out your cigarette decisively on the smooth surface of your desk. Down the hall, you can hear a gun fire at the same time, the echo spinning around your head with the last strains of smoke. This is not your epilogue, you know. Only the start of something new that only you will see. It is your choice, then, to see what you make of it.

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @poisonmenegan, @ozzynka, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes

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mysteriawrites · 10 months

Text

Matchup for @sea-side-spectre

Hihi thx for the request. You were a bit harder to match had to think on it for a bit because I had two really good choices, but wasn’t sure which was better until I thought on it for awhile. So your matchup is…DRUMROLL PLEASE!!!

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

REN ZOTTO!!!

(Honestly it was a huge tie between him and Enna Alouette, but I made em wrestlesanji over you and he won (aka i remembered that Enna was afraid if the ocean and realized that it probably wasn’t gonna work lol)

You and Ren kinda just feel right. You both have an appreciation for life and the outdoors, are a little quirky, and overall easy going and goofy. You two would have a lot of fun together.

You guys met at the beach on a clear night. You were a merperson attending Iluna Institute of the Mystics. You couldn’t sleep that night, so you decided to go outside for some air and maybe a swim.

You were enjoying the moon and stars when you noticed a particularly strange looking star. It was shone very brightly, was green, and headed right towards you? In a flash if light the “star” rushed past you over head and crashed on the shore line.

You swam to back to land to investigate and discovered that the star was actually a space ship. You got closer, the eerie silence insisting you turn back, but your curiosity got the best if you. Suddenly the door popped open and a paid of strange blue eyes peered back at you. The figure slinked out from inside and there stood a tall man with horns, fangs, claws, a tail, …and no clothes.

You tried to back away slowly so he could turn and run, but the man pounced on you. He he stared at you for a moment as you trembled in fear too scared to scream. He brought his face real close and…he smiled? He introduced himself as Ren Zotto with such an innocent puppy smile and said how excited he was to meet an earthling in person.

Before you could say anything the staff had arrived and saw you guys’ compromising position. Oh boy did you have some explaining to do, although you weren’t quite sure what the explanation was yourself.

Fast forward after finding out Ren is an alien prince and destroyer of worlds who wanted to see what life on earth was like and enrolling him in a Iluna. Ever since you guys met Ren had clung to you like a lost puppy. He wasn’t very shy, but since you were the first person he met he was very attached to you whether you liked it or not. Always saying hi to you in the halls, sitting next to you in class and at lunch, even following you back to your dorm (you had to explain to him that he couldn’t live in your dorm).

Because of how attached he was to you the school had assigned you to help him get settled and aquatinted. You taught him all the things about earth and it kinda reminded you if yourself when you first came to land. You guys became very close and went to all kinds of places together like the aquarium, the movie theater, the zoo, and the beach. He seemed particularly fond of the ocean like and you so you taught him everything you knew.

Lately though Ren had been acting strange: getting lunch for you, being very snuggly, purring, and singing you songs in his language (animal crossing-). You learned from Kyo Kaneko and Aster Arcadia, Ren’s roommates (cause i said so) that apparently Ren had grown to have affections for you, so he was exhibiting the courting rituals of his people.

You ended up avoiding him for awhile after getting this information in an attempt to process your own feelings. Ren became very sad after that, and it killed you to see him like that, but you wanted to find the best way to respond to his feelings.

Once you came to terms with everything you invited Ren to your room. You told him you’d agree to go out with him, but also explained to him how courting on earth worked differently. So you compromised and decided to combine rituals between merperson, alien, and human.

And from then on you two were dating. It’s a bit of new territory for him cause he’s never had a “mate” before so you do have to take the lead a bit, but overall he’s a very good boyfriend.

Although Ren is pretty playful and easy going he cane keep you grounded when needed. He compliments you in everything you do and he treats your gifts with precious care. He loves it when you show him tons of earth movies on your dates and when you teach him about the ocean.

You encourage him and his love for music and teach him about the ways of earth. You enjoy going on walks outside together and enjoying nature, and he promised to take you to him home planet one day.

Very silly goofy relationship that’s filled with chill vibes and positivity.

This was a really hard one. There were a lot if good contenders, but none that real fit right. Only one that felt right were Ren and Enna. (Ps i finally hear the fuck boy laugh after watching Ren complications for research)

Runners Up: Enna Alouette, Alban Knox, Selen Tatsuki, Vox Akuma

Disclaimer for anyone else reading this: all of my nijien writing and fics are fictional and don’t pertain at all to the streamers behind the model. Please respect them and others in the community thank you.

#multi fandom blog #multifandom #multifandom account #multifandom writer #multi fandoms posts #multifandom fanfiction #matchups #multifandom x reader #multifandom imagines #nijisanji en #ren zotto #ren zotto x reader #iluna

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ruthlesslistener · 1 year

Note

So when I was little I was like. Deathly afraid of snakes. Terrified and awful at even being around them. A sharp contrast to my sister who at the ripe age of 10 would happily want to hold and touch snakes, even if she really shouldn’t. (She’d over turn logs and wood to look at the babies? Little snakes curled up under them. Much to my horror.)

Anyways around 14 I started trying to get over it, bc my rational brain had kicked in and I knew they weren’t any real threat to me. They were just creatures trying to live and explore safely as well yknow? I held a snake at that age for the first time and I actually enjoyed it. Wasn’t frighten and was proud of myself for not freaking out about it despite it being v new and nerve wracking. (In the years following with trying to connect with Mother Nature I’d also be trying to breath and get myself to not freak about being close to spiders and some other bugs. Still. Working on those.)

Since then I haven’t had access to snakes in front of me. High school didn’t have any science teachers with snakes and I’m in a city for college so even worrying about them being in the brush is gone. So my fear/progress with snakes had largely gone dormant. But! You keep posting snakes and esp your thoughts and experiences with Juniper and it’s?? Really?? Helped me wrap my head around being cool with snakes. They’re funky noodle creatures. They’re pretty chill usually. They’re creatures with habits and personalities like anything else. Just noodle shaped. No more dangerous than a dog or cat really, maybe even less so considering big dog breeds. Arguably prettier than a lot of dogs too.

Idk it’s just been nice hearing about Juniper. She sounds like such a delightful noodle to live with honestly. And hearing about your experiences with her has grounded snakes back into reality instead of Evil Serpent Creature Of The Brush. So thanks for that ig✨✨

!!! I've just had this sitting in my inbox for a couple days now because I genuinely couldn't come up with the words to answer it. I've loved snakes all my life but was raised by a parent who was and still is scared shitless of them, so being able to reduce some of that terror by just nerding out about them?? That really made my week.

Now, if you want some more fun info about my experiences with them that ground them even further into 'this is just a little guy' territory:

Snakes are hands-down one of the most gentle, least-capable-of-evil vertebrates that I've ever worked with (which to be fair, includes parrots and rabbits so we've got a high bar here), primarily because they seem to only experience a few emotions: fear, hunger, curiosity, and contentment, and each of those motivations take up the entire braincell currently running at the moment. Which is likely far more simplistic than what we give them credit for- they can be very clever little things when they want!- but what surprised and delighted me the most after getting Juniper (even with all the research I did!!) was just how much curiosity takes up that one active braincell. Snakes are very frightened, sensitive beings, but when they feel secure enough for it, they are SUPER inquisitive. Everytime after 7, Juniper will poke her head out of her hide, and will actively watch me go about my nighttime routine until I settle or she gets bored enough to fall asleep. When I take her out, her primary mission is to explore wherever she can, investigating every little change in her environment before coming back to me to coil up under my crossed legs (or trying to wedge behind the bookshelf). They're often flagged as simple animals, and their emotions likely are quite primitive, but there's just a certain sort of joy that one gains from watching an animal explore her surroundings and seeing the little gears turning in her brain that makes it click just how similar we are to each other, even after years of evolution, and how magical it is that she has grown to understand that I am harmless enough for me to be a familiar anchor point when something New and Scary but also very Intruiguing comes along. And it's delightful to interact with her and see that realization click into place, and to also know that I wouldn't get a bite from it without great warning. Because snakes only bite when scared or hungry, and she is neither scared of me nor mistakes me for her dinner. That's a marked difference from interacting with parrots or rabbits, and also much less painful of a bite prospect- snakes do not have big beaks or jaws made for crushing through wooden materials, with sharp edges that slice right into your flesh. They've just got a whole bunch of little pinprick teethers, and no bite force whatsoever to hold it up. A bite is much less scary and much less likely to happen from a nonvenomous snake than from most other animals

(They can presumably also get angry, but the only time I've ever seen an angry snake was a very territorial, horny male in breeding season who'd mistake hands for othet snakes. Even then, all he'd do is push at them with his coils or grumpily shove at the hand with his face. No striking! Just the snake equivilant of hip-nudging.)

Something else about Juniper that really surprised me when I first got her- snakes aren't born knowing how to eat! They've got the instinct to strike at food and coil it, but the actual size they need to strike, amount they need to coil to kill the prey, and which way to gulp it down is a process learned by trial and error. Some can bonk their wee faces too hard on the strike and scare themselves so bad that it stops them from eating; some will try endlessly to eat a rat from the side or the ass end and then get so frustrated by their efforts that they give up. Juniper, luckily, is not either of those- she's a garbage disposal of a ball python, one that'll eat anything as long as it's not covered in substrate- but she was terrible at striking when she was little, terrible at figuring out how to eat said prey, and is still pretty terrible at wrapping her meals, like any proper snake should. I got her eating frozen/thawed when she was only 75g, so it's likely that she's never learned how to kill prey, and so sometimes she just...doesn't even try. I can't ever give this girl a live rat!! She doesn't know how to kill it like a proper python!!! And that's just so very funny to me. It really shows you that snakes aren't instinct-driven killing machines like people say, but animals equipped with a basic understanding of what they need to do and no actual experience on how to do it. She's at least figured out how to eat her reheated rats facefirst like a normal snake should, without enthusiastically trying to chow down on it from the side, but the way she's learned to manouver it against her body until she finds the right way it needs to go took almost an entire year of practice. And it's fascinating to see her do it, as she'll often use her own coils to help push her food to where she wants it to go. It might seem callous to state how much I enjoy watching my snake eat, especially since I love rodents, but the clear enjoyment/enthusiasm she gets out of a meal and the way she problem solves to get it in a configuration where she can eat it shows just how much more is going on upstairs than what we think, and that's super cool to me

(She also wipes her face after meals! Usually because a bit of substrate gets caught in her mouth and she hates the feel, but I've seen her do it even when nothing is in her mouth. She'll go up to one of her rougher pieces of decor, then carefully wipe her face on it, one side after another, just like how people do with napkins. I'm not sure if this is to help realign her jaws or if the fur of it tickles her face when no subtrate is in her mouth, but it is extremely cute)

Anyways, I'm so very happy that I've been able to use my love for snakes to help you appreciate them better! Here's a couple pictures of Juniper for you, taken when she was just hanging on my lap chillin while I called my family (or crawling over me so that she can get a good scope of the new apartment)

#demonicintegrity #miss juniper everythingbagel #reply #i can go on for ages about her antics honestly #she's such a character and its so fucking cute #just such an inquisitive and sweet and gentle little soul #and I get the delight of being the one to take care of her

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ayamari-no-goshi · 1 year

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Don’t Forget to Write (4)

AO3 -> first, previous, next

Fandoms: DC (Batman comics)

Summary: From Dick’s POV. Damian happened to win a contest to illustrate a new book by an up and coming author. Being the good brother he is, Dick decided to check the book.He quickly realized he was reading a very first hand account of one of Jason’s old cases, and deciding to act like a normal person would, he decided to read some of the author’s other works. What he found shook the very foundation of what he thought was true?

Warnings: rated T - mostly for swearing and questionable mental health. Amnesia

Parings: none

Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr

“What are you doing…?”

Dick looked over from his place near where all the water bottles and some juice boxes were spread out on the cart he’d rolled over for cleaning duty as Bruce, back in his full costume, walked over. While sight, Dick hadn’t missed the flicker of emotion as he caught sight of Jason sitting in front of the open drink fridge, scowling at it.

“What does it look like, old man?” Jason snapped as he stretched and popped his back before shifting so he could more easily remove one of the shelves.

Between his statement and movements, even Dick had to take a moment to remind himself he hadn’t hallucinated it. Jason was really there.

“Something contaminated one of the bottles.” Dick supplied as Bruce finished silently reassuring himself in the same way he had.

“So you’re cleaning…?”

Jason shot Dick a look which clearly stated he wasn’t impressed with Bruce’s brilliant conclusion. “Oh, that’s right, you’d rather have me back in the cell.”

“No! That’s not…” If Dick wasn’t mistaken, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t, Bruce took a moment to ground himself before speaking again. “It’s just odd to see you doing something so… mundane.”

Openly confused, Jason straightened up. “Are you expecting me to hit one of you with a tire iron again? Or mess around with your equipment? Or flip around the Cave like him?” He gestured to Dick before moving his hands in what only could be describe as defeat.

The answer was a resounding ‘yes’ to everything, except maybe for the tire iron. But neither of them could say that. Not yet. While Dick had suffered through the phantom images of a boy taken too soon, he couldn’t imagine how haunted Bruce was after losing his son.

Unlike with Dick, there wasn’t the same hesitance about replacing memories of someone. Jason needed and had wanted a father, and from what Dick had heard and seen, Bruce responded in kind and flourished just as much as Jason did. But then everything came screeching to a fiery halt. Jason died, and their dad never recovered.

“I… I want you to be happy.”

“Happy?” Jason repeated as he stiffened before squaring his shoulders and taking a few steps forward. “You’re a real piece of work. Do you know that? You brought me here in fucking handcuffs before putting me in a cell. And now you’re saying you want me to be happy?” He gestured to the scars on his face. “You clearly knew who I was before this happened, and now you’re just jerking me around. If you really want me to be happy, let me go home and leave me in peace.”

Bruce’s hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch him, but if he did, he didn’t act on it. “You know you can’t leave until Black Mask is located and captured,” he stated instead.

“Of course. Why’d I expect anything else?” His brother turned his back on their dad before moving back towards the shelves removed from the fridge.

To be honest, Dick thought Jason might go back to the cell to sulk, but it was a pleasant surprise to know he was going to continue helping him. While it had turned into something like bonding as Dick managed to get his brother talking about shows and movies he liked, which weren’t too many, it was going to take a while for the almost friendly mood to return. Whatever would he do without Bruce’s inability to talk?

“Will you be okay on your own for a moment?” Dick questioned. While he didn’t get a verbal answer, his brother made a shooing motion towards him. “I’ll be right back. B, walk with me.”

Once he managed to lead his father closer to the training area, Dick ran his hands over his face. “Seriously? B, what’s wrong with you?”

“You know we shouldn’t prove any information he doesn’t already know,” Bruce stated. Ah, there was the logic that he liked to hide behind.

He shook his head. “But it doesn’t mean you have to keep pushing him away. Bruce, whether or not he remembers you, that’s Jason. That’s your son, my brother. I know we have to be careful with how we introduce information to him, but we need to start repairing those bonds now.” He glanced back over to see if Jay had decided to watch them or not. Eavesdropping was common in the family, but it didn’t seem his brother was all that interested. Weird. “When he realized you knew him, he immediately assumed he’d been a criminal because of how you handled things last night.”

Bruce’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “I hadn’t realized that.” A muscle moved in his jaw, a sign he was upset by the situation, but it still took him a few moments to decide to elaborate. “Dick, I got him killed. I don’t… I don’t have the right…”

He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. “Do you hear yourself? When you were acting as a civilian, you were surprisingly pushy about wanting to interact with him. Now that he’s really here, you’re acting like he’s going to shatter if you get anywhere near him. You have a second chance, Bruce. This isn’t going to be easy, but if you don’t get over whatever guilt or grief is still eating at you, you’ll never be able to properly face him.” Dick patted his father’s shoulder. “Use your words. Don’t let this slip by.”

…

Startled cursing interrupted the silence of the Cave. Concerned, Dick glanced over to the cell where Jason was taking a nap. It was day two of having him there. He’d been livelier that morning, humoring Damian with another round of warmups and tea, but once they were done, decided to rest. There was a slight frown on their youngest brother’s face as he watched him retreat, but it appeared to be more as if he was expecting something.

They hadn’t heard anything else from Jason until started cursing. The only obvious change was the presence of Cass, who was standing in the doorway of the cell. Catching her attention, she gave a good-natured wave. Oh, she just scared him. Nothing big.

After some grumbling that Dick couldn’t quite make out, a disheveled Jason followed Cass out of the cell to where Tim was waiting for them. If Dick wasn’t mistaken, it looked like Tim had some case files with him. That could be problematic, especially with how Bruce wanted to keep Jason from looking at anything related to their work. So, either Tim was doing what Tim did best and ignored what Bruce wanted, or these were cases that had been closed. No matter what it was, there was a slight spring in his step when he moved. After all this time, he finally got to live one of his dreams and work with Jason on something.

As they got to work, both he and Cass decided to leave them alone so they could bond. If needed, Dick could check in on them later.

And unfortunately, later came sooner than expected. After being forced to take a lunch break by Alfred when Damian surprisingly joined them, Jason and Tim started getting into a heated debate. There wasn’t any malice behind it, but both were getting frustrated with the other. Worried, he and Bruce went over to investigate.

“Is everything alright?” he asked as his brothers noticed them.

“It’s fine.” Tim made a dismissive motion with his hand. “We’re having a disagreement over which of these cases are related.”

“This is the Coolage series,” Bruce murmured as he glanced at the files spread out on the table in front of Tim’s affectionally dubbed ‘conspiracy board’. While Dick wasn’t as familiar with some of the ongoing cases in Gotham anymore, this was one he remembered. Several similar murders had occurred periodically throughout the years starting around the time Dick found his identity as Nightwing. They suspected it was related to at least one of the crime families, but they hadn’t found enough solid evidence to be able to act on it. After giving Tim a look, which told everyone Bruce hadn’t approved of the choice to show Jason the files, he requested an explanation of their disagreement.

Before Tim could respond, Jason turned his attention from the board to them. “You have a copycat.”

“There’s no evidence…”

“I know you’ve been at this for however long, but these ones don’t fit in with the others.” Jason pointed to a few of the photos which were hanging on the board. They were some of the earliest victims associated with the case.

“But the victim profile and method of murder line up,” Tim argued.

Jason shook his head as he continued to look at the photos. “It’s a copycat. These ones…” His hand passed over his face and seemed to pause on one of the more prominent scars as he closed his eyes. “I can’t explain it… Everything you’ve gathered makes them look like they’re part of this, but they’re not. They smelled like apples…”

“You met them?” Bruce’s voice was sharp. This was something they hadn’t known.

“A lot of the working girls look out for the kids, and in turn, they’d help them stay away from the cops. Even if they can get off the streets, they tend to remain friendly.” He offered as he moved slightly as if he was looking at something that wasn’t quite there. Perhaps he was. Strong memories sometimes temporarily did that. “Several of them look familiar. But these ones,” he gestured at the ones he singled out again, “there’s that smell. Their friends didn’t trust whoever helped get them clean. Said they acted weird right before they vanished.”

“We don’t have any record of that,” Tim murmured as he glanced at Bruce. “The GCPD couldn’t get anyone to talk, and neither our evidence nor theirs found any strong scents. But they were found in the bay...”

“Most people don’t think details like that are important, and even back then, we had a lot of trouble getting information out of anyone associated with Crime Alley. It’s worth looking into,” Dick agreed as he watched Jason turn and head back towards the cell. “Jay, what’s wrong?”

“Give me a minute.” He disappeared into the cell. Moments later, he reemerged with his beaten-up laptop. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed as he placed the device on the table. “I thought it was just an idea for a story…” He moved away to show a document. “But I think I wrote this down.”

After making a face at the poor shape the laptop was in, Tim was the first to review it. “You did. And you might have identified other potential victims. B, take a look.”

Jason stiffened as Bruce brushed past him without a word. Uncomfortable with the close proximity, he moved away from the others and waited while uncertainty flickered across his face.

“I’m amazed,” Tim stated as moved closer to Jason while Bruce did his thing. While faint, Dick could make out hints of awe on his face. “You have information about their habits and relationships we never would have. This might be the break we’ve sorely needed for years.”

Seemingly uncomfortable by the praise, he glanced around the Cave before lingering on the display housing his damaged Robin costume. Was that a sign he was starting to put the pieces together? “How’d I even get that information? Their deaths were before… well…” his gaze drifted to his damaged hands.

“You were a bright kid with a big heart.” Bruce’s words were soft and caring, causing Jason to look up with wide, startled eyes. “I’m not surprised you noticed something was wrong and catalogued what you could.”

Not sure what to make of the change from aloof to almost fond, Jason expression and posture became guarded. “Then that’s probably what ended up happening to me. Stuck my nose in something I shouldn’t have and paid the price.” He then groaned. “Now I have to go through my files and try to figure out if I pulled anymore crap like this. You said I did, and I didn’t want to believe it. I’m just a fucking writer.”

“Language.” Between Bruce’s familiar scolding tone and the baffled expression that appeared on Jason’s face, Dick had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“I’m having a miniature crisis regarding my non-existent memories, and you’re worried about me swearing. What is wrong with you?”

“Just ignore him. Do you need any help?” Dick offered while ignoring Bruce’s slight frown. If the man wanted to be upset over his son’s dismissal of something familiar, that was his problem, not Dick’s.

“If you want, we can easily crosscheck your files against ours,” Tim excitedly added. “We can start with the book you’re getting ready to release. We already know that one has parallels to Black Mask.”

“Just… just don’t delete any of my files.” Jason’s voice was resigned. “I’ve spent way too long trying to get everything out of my head. You’ll need my flash drive.”

…

The sheer amount of information Jason had written down over the last few years was staggering. He’d already released sixteen novels that all were related to his cases as Robin, but he had hundreds of documents of cases that ranged from a few sentences to fully completed files. Several of the completed ones had been rewritten in a coded language which would need time to translate. For now, those ones had to wait until Jason redid them, unless Tim or Babs came up with a translating software. Knowing the two, they were going to try it, but for now, they had to leave that task to Jason.

After getting him set up at a nearby table, they left him to his own devices. Both Dick and Tim agreed he needed time to sort out his thoughts, but they weren’t entirely sure what Bruce was going to do. Now that he seemed to be adjusting to the idea that Jason wasn’t going to vanish as soon as anyone took their eyes off him, he was trying to act more like the awkward dad he was. But did that mean he was going to silently spend time near him? Or would start asking his opinion about the ‘family business’? Or was he going to lose his nerve and fall back to his Batman persona as more of a buffer?

He needed to make up his mind soon. The lack of consistency was sending Jason mixed messages and making it harder for him to trust them. Every once in a while, Dick would catch Jason glancing over at their dad with his brows furrowed as if he was trying to figure out some sort of puzzle.

A few hours into his task, Damian appeared with tea. While he continued to wear his signature scowl, he seemed set on turning it into his version of bonding time. Jason didn’t seem to mind, especially because it meant he got to partake in more of Alfred’s sweets. He also seemed to be developing a genuine fondness for his youngest brother, and Dick thought that was a good thing.

Deciding he needed his own break, he wandered over to them in hopes of stealing a cookie. While dodging out of the way of Damian’s attempt to stop him, he moved so he could look over Jason’s shoulder to check his progress. Not pleased with the sudden closeness, Jason leaned away before scowling up at him. Whatever playful thing Dick was planning to say died on his lips as he noticed something seemed off.

His brother’s scars looked different. They weren’t quite as prominent as they’d previously been. Was it just the light or him getting used to seeing them? He hoped that was the case because what would be healing them? No one in their family had any sort of meta ability. Maybe it had something to do with whatever force brought him back to life. If that was the case, it could be tied to his recovering memories. No matter which it was, he’d have to keep an eye on his brother.

“Can I help you?” Jason snapped, bringing him out of his thoughts. His shoulders had tensed, telling Dick he’d noticed his change in mood. “I know I’m ruggedly handsome, but you staring at me like that is unsettling.”

Despite himself, Dick chuckled as he pulled back and gently patted his brother’s shoulder. “It might sound weird, but you’re starting to look livelier.” That was true too. Jason was starting to look healthier – there was more color to his skin and his cheeks didn’t seem quite as sunken. That could be another reason his scars seemed different. Even his voice sounded less raspy. “It’s a wonder what a few good meals can do.”

Jason huffed and glanced away. “Excuse me for not exactly having access to a lot of money these last few years.”

Ah shit. He misstepped. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I forgot.”

Instead of anger, there seemed to be a twinkle in his brother’s eyes. “Guess your mind’s starting to fail you, old timer.” As the words slipped out of Jason’s lips, they both froze. That had been one of Jason’s many nicknames for him, and one he liked to use explicitly for teasing. Did that mean…? No, he realized had to squash his hopes for the time being.

“Why did I say that? I’m pretty sure I don’t know your age…” Jason ran his hands through his hair before standing. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

“Stay in this general area. We haven’t shown you most of the Cave, and there are some nasty surprises for intruders on the lower levels.” As he finished his warning, he noticed Damian seemed ready to follow their brother, an angry scowl was plastered on his face. “Dames, he wasn’t being insulting.”

“But he referred to you as ‘old timer’. While you are older than the rest of father’s adoptees, it’s hardly appropriate.”

Dick ruffled his hair and knelt down. Keeping his voice low, he explained how Jason had a habit of giving nicknames to the people he cared about, and different ones were used in different situations. The fact he used one of them so naturally was a good sign. At least Dick was pretty sure it was a good sign.

As he contemplated more, he watched as Jason eventually wandered over to the display with his old uniform. He stared at it for several minutes before deciding to collect his laptop and return to the cell with his belongings. When he didn’t re-emerge for a while, Dick stuck his head in to check on him. He was laying on the cot they’d placed in there for him while slowly examining his plush robin as if it held all the answers he needed. Hopefully, that meant he was beginning to piece together his own past.

…

On the fourth day of Jason being there, Dick found him assisting Steph and Cass with their equipment upkeep. He must have needed a break from sifting through his files. Bruce was watching them carefully; most likely unhappy Jason was working on equipment without his memory back. He wisely hadn’t said anything, or if he did, Dick wasn’t present for it.

After hearing some laughter, Dick decided he wanted to go investigate again. He knew he was probably pushing his luck with checking in so much, but he felt like he needed to. There was still a part of him that believed this was some elaborate dream.

“I hope you’re not talking about me,” he said innocently as he announced his presence. Cass waved at him.

Stephanie looked back over her shoulder, and he could tell she was grinning through her mask. “I told him about all the times you fell on your face.”

He purposely acted betrayed. “Spoiler, how could you?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t told your friends about how me and the others have screwed up over the years. I can’t wait until Ba… I mean Oracle finally sends me the footage of Jay going after you with a tire iron.”

“In my defense,” he glanced at his brother who was watching the interaction with thinly veiled curiosity, “I had no idea he could fit in there.”

“That’s your problem, not mine, Golden Boy.” Oh, another old nickname from Jay.

This one baffled Steph. “Why’d you call him that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s the first out of Batman’s partners. He’s the one everyone is supposed to live up to.” He paused for a moment as his brows furrowed once again in confusion. “Or it’s because of that ugly ass costume he used to wear. The blue and gold one with the high collar.”

“Excuse you,” Dick stated as Stephanie howled with laughter, “my fashion taste is impeccable. But I’m surprised you remember it.”

“How could I not remember that abomination?” Jason’s teasing grin fell as he glanced over at Bruce. “Do you have any updates on Black Mask? Tall, dark, and brooding won’t tell me anything, and I’m getting stir crazy.”

“Well, we know his men have ransacked your apartment.”

“Assholes.”

Dick ignored him. “And we’ve narrowed down his current hideout to one of three locations.”

“Let me guess, until it’s verified and scoped out, no one is going to make a move.” When Dick nodded, he groaned before pulling out his pack of cigarettes and placing an unlit one on his lips. He must really be getting stressed about being kept in the Cave. “I’m so done with this shit. Seriously?” He swore as Cass stole the cigarette.

“Aw, and here I thought we were bonding.” Steph’s teasing was met with a half-hearted glare from Jason.

“You might think of it that way, but I know when I’m being babysat.” When Dick opened his mouth to say something, Jason dismissively waved his hand. “I get you thought I was dead, and I obviously went through some shit, but I can take care of myself.”

“Be that as it may, Black Mask is still a dangerous enemy to have.” Bruce surprised all of them by coming over. His tone was patient and almost fatherly.

Jason rolled his eyes as he got up from his seat. “And when he ends up breaking out of Blackgate or Arkham, wherever they decide to put him this time, in a month or posts bail, he’ll be just as dangerous then too. Probably more so because there would be a bigger grudge against me. I’m not going to deal with this again especially when I know this isn’t how you treat everyone who gets targeted by the various costumes in this city.”

“If that happens, we will catch him again,” Bruce promised without acknowledging why he was treating Jason so differently.

“‘If’, you mean ‘will’,” his brother spat. “Instead of just continuing to round them up, how about you do something more permanent about it? It’s a win-win for everyone.”

There was a moment of stunned silence at his outburst. After stiffening, Bruce recovered first and bluntly stated, “I don’t kill.”

“Who said anything about killing?” Jason’s anger echoed around the Cave as he threw his hands up. “I know your morals won’t let you. Although, there would be a lot of Gothamites who would probably sing your praises if you did.” He moved in front of Bruce and poked him in the chest. “You’re supposed to be one of the smartest men on Earth, right? If not, I know you have access to them through whatever connections you have in the Justice League. How about designing a jail that you actually can’t destroy? Or, better yet, go after the crooked cops, guards, judges, and whatever other fucks take the bribes and let these monsters keep escaping! Justice means nothing if you can’t keep them behind bars.”

“Or,” Jason backed away and gently shook his hand showing he was getting an idea. “Have them serve their time outside of Gotham. Even the worst psychiatric hospital with a criminal ward is a thousand times better than Arkham. Everyone knows you come out crazier, especially after some of the things Hugo Strange changed in there. Seen some people come home after a few months there after having a break from being exposed to Fear Gas. It wasn’t pretty. Blackgate’s not much better, but, hey, at least it doesn’t have the psychological torture Arkham does. I guess that accounts for something.” His words were sarcastic and biting.

After taking a deep breath, the tension in his shoulders lessened as some of his fight left him. “I know. I know you… all of you are trying to make the city safe, and it’s way more than most people do. It’s just… I think I can remember when you brought hope to the city, but, especially in the lower rungs of the city, that hope doesn’t exist anymore. Everyone just got used to it, to you, and proceeded on as if nothing changed. Too many people still end up working for the Families or whatever costume broke out this week because they’re desperate. Others just get caught in the crosshairs of whatever scheme started up this time and end up hurt, missing, or dead. And don’t get me started on the turf wars, trafficking, and worsening drug trade.” He sighed. “Some of us normal people who still care try to help in little ways, but it never seems to be enough. Everything good in this city eventually ends up corrupted or destroyed.”

“Jay…” What was Dick supposed to say after that outburst. While the rest of them were constantly exposed to the worst of Gotham (and for him Bludhaven) while working, they could at least retreat and take a break from it at the end of the day. But Jason grew up witnessing what Gotham had to offer every day. Somehow, it made him one of the most compassionate people Dick ever met, but it also made him slow to trust. Maybe that was why. He saw how good intentions backfired more directly than the rest of them.

“Don’t.” His brother held up his hand to make sure no one touched him. “I shouldn’t be taking my anger out on you.”

Cass moved forward and cocked her head as she watched him. “You care so much. You want to help?”

“I’d like to do more than I am,” he eventually replied, “but between a broken body and no voice, I don’t have much to offer.”

There was a faint smile on Bruce’s face. Maybe he needed to hear Jay’s outburst to be able to fully reconcile the man in front of him was the same boy who agreed to become Robin to help the people of Gotham. “I will look into other options,” he promised, fondness coloring his tone.

Jason, who still expected him to be distant, bristled in uncertainty. “I’ll hold you to that. Prove those aren’t empty words.” Turning towards Steph and Cass, he gestured towards the workbench. “I think I’m going to stop for now.”

“That’s fair. Thanks for your help.”

After Jason nodded and headed back to the cell, Steph shook her head. “I so was not expecting an outburst like that. I thought you were going to combust at one point, Boss Man.”

“It always bothered Jason when criminals escaped justice,” Bruce explained. “While he didn’t talk about it much, he said sometimes there was retaliation against people who had provided me with information to help with a case if the criminal ended back on the streets.”

“My dad’s mentioned similar things.”

“He does make a good point though,” Dick murmured. “Guess figuring out how to fix the human element of Gotham’s legal system will be our next big task. I think we at least owe him that.”

…

A little later that day, Jason had taken to wandering the main level of the Cave. Dick recognized the behavior. If he was still Robin, he’d been making his way to his favorite gargoyle to think. Or, if it was daylight, take a walk around his old neighborhood. He disliked being emotionally vulnerable around people, so he needed time to center himself again away from everyone.

Dick was willing to give him space, but surprisingly, Damian wouldn’t be dissuaded from making sure he took time for tea. It took a little bit of coaxing this time, but Jason eventually agreed. It seemed to be business as usual as they set up and began, but the breaking of porcelain and agonized screaming ruined the tense calm of the Cave.

Rushing over, he found Jason standing and gripping his face. Blood was dripping onto the floor from his fingers, but was it from his hands or his face? “Ugh… It burns! No, no, no, no!!!” There was almost a primeval fear in his voice.

“Robin, report,” Bruce demanded as he rushed forward to try to help.

“Father, I…” Damian had backed away. While he tried to keep up the appearance that he was in control, both his voice and uncertain position of his hands showed he didn’t know what to do. “He wasn’t supposed to respond like this.”

“What do you mean? What did you do?”

=======

Notes:

Sometimes when you write, you get a scene in your head that's so strong that it must be written. That's what the scene at the end of the chapter and the beginning of the next were to me

#don't forget to write #Writer AU #fanfiction #fanfic #Dc comics #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Jason Todd #Red Hood

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burnwater13 · 9 months

Text

Grogu

Sometimes people were straight forward. They said exactly what they meant and you could trust their words. Then there were the times that people said things that seemed straight forward but you’d find out, typically at the worst possible moment, that they weren’t really saying what they meant. It was aggravating. Annoying even. Grogu wondered if Gor Koresh had felt that way.

After all his dad had actually said, “I promise you will not die by my hand.” A Mandalorian’s promise was as good as beskar. Or was it?

Grogu was pretty sure that this promise really meant something like, ‘I promise I won’t do anything to you because these critters over here have that covered and I’m not going to stop them or interfere in any way because you got yourself into this mess, now you can try to get yourself out of this mess.’ Or words to that effect.

Grogu didn’t actually blame his dad for that at all. Gor Koresh had tried to have the Mandalorian killed so he could steal his beskar armor and presumably get a lot of credits for it. It certainly wasn’t going to fit the shorter person. And Mandalorian armor wasn’t easy to modify. You had to bring it to a Mandalorian armorer and good luck finding one of them.

Grogu supposed that maybe the Mandalorian was trying to teach the greedy mob boss a lesson of some sort. The only lesson he was taking from the words and events that transpired was don’t cross a Mandalorian. They’d be happy to give you the same chance at success that you thought you were giving them.

Now that was the real rub to it all. Din Djarin was an honorable person. But it wasn’t that sort of honor that caused him to take risks that made no sense. He wasn’t going to go off and do something silly like face down a whole bunch of battle droids just because he made a promise. But he was going to hold you to your own standards. In many ways that was worse. Especially if you were a mob boss or a certain Imp Warlord. If you wanted to play stupid games with him you could be assured that you were very likely to win stupid prizes.

Grogu could understand why Mandalorians in general might behave like that. They were warriors at heart, but they still liked peace and quiet when they could get it. If they just fought non-stop they’d never have time to polish their armor or eat their rations in tiny little bites. So they followed the standards of the people who fought them. For the most part.

Grogu wondered if that’s why the Jedi had such a problem with the Mandalorians over the years. If someone grabbed you using the Force and prevented you from firing your weapon at all, how could you let their weaknesses stop their success? Unless you tired them out and then what? He was sure that the Creed had something to say about hurting enemies who weren’t actually a threat to you.

So it just became a vicious cycle. Fight until your opponent is exhausted. Then they do the same thing to you and it goes back and forth until what? Someone gets lucky? That was probably true.

Of course that was all predicated on the Mandalorians wearing their beskar and the Jedi having their lightsabers. If those things changed it would get awful pretty quickly. It had been awful as far as Grogu knew. The Mandalorians had a civil war and then the Imps decided to ratchet it up and destroy the planet and well, now, the few Mandalorians who were left wondering the galaxy had to put up with people like Gor Koresh. Uff.

Grogu wondered what kind of Mandalorian he would end up being. He saw the advantage of having the beskar armor, but that would just mark him as a target to everyone who was greedy and knew the value of the beskar. Or he could follow the path of the Jedi and get robes and build a light saber and find himself fighting people because that’s what Jedi did when words didn’t work.

Grogu was pretty sure that words were not going to be his best bet because he really didn’t like Gal Basic and he didn’t know any Huttese or Jawaese, or even Jawa Trade Talk. Maybe he could just use the Force to calm everyone the heck down? That had worked, more or less with the mud horn.

At least he had sometime before he had to work any of that out. They were headed to Tatooine and Grogu liked visiting that planet. The people he met were mostly friendly and at least he’d get something good to eat. No matter who your enemies were you needed to keep your priorities in order. He was sure the Mandalorian had told him that. Grogu promises.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin

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upismediacenter · 1 year

Text

LITERARY: Not a Fairytale

I loved fairytales when I was little. I always dreamed of being swept away by a charming prince and living happily ever after. It’s funny how it was all I longed for, and yet our story seems like the exact opposite of one.

Our story was not a fairytale because there was no “love at first sight” moment when the world slowed down and all I could see was you. In fact, our meeting was so unremarkable that I don’t remember much of it. For the longest time, you were just one of those people at school; someone I knew from afar. My first significant memory of you was on some random lunch break in 9th grade. You were sitting behind me while I crammed a Math assignment. You must have seen me struggling for some time already. “You’re using the wrong formula, try it the other way,” you said, looking at my solution over my shoulder. I stared at it, confused about where I went wrong and why you, a person I’d barely spoken to, felt the need to point it out. You walked me through it, unprompted, and eventually, I understood. “Oh thanks. Wow, you’re actually good,” I said, maybe a little too surprised. Honestly, until then I assumed you were kind of–

“You thought I was stupid?” You asked flatly. “No! I didn’t say that!!” Even though I might have thought it. My whole face went hot as I tried to explain myself until I turned to look at you and saw you laughing. Gosh. What a stupid smile. It made your stupid face look stupidly boyish and cute.

Our story was not a fairytale because there was no damsel in distress. I wasn’t in the habit of owing other people so I looked for a way to pay you back. You said I could proofread your essay. That’s how I learned that you were better with numbers than with words. No biggie, that’s where I could help. You also didn’t accept favors; if I do something for you, you’d have to do something for me. You bought me a snack as a thank you. In return, I kept you company during free period. It was one favor after another and another.

Our story was not a fairytale because you certainly weren’t Prince Charming. You were actually quite the opposite. I was getting to know you more during this time. You were stubborn and always had to be right. You loved to tease and I was sensitive. We were entirely different, but it was good in some ways. I was a worrier, always thinking about things out of my control. You were laid-back, often bringing me back to reality. You grounded me. I was starting to realize that there was so much I didn’t know about you. You were smart but not loud about it. I thought we’d never be close, and truthfully it still doesn’t make sense that somehow we are.

Our story was not a fairytale because, unlike Cinderella who fell for her prince on that very first night, it took months for us to cross the line of friendship. Gradually, our friendly favors turned into something more. Before I knew it, you read my favorite books and I played your favorite games. You walked me home and I made you stay for dinner. You’d lend me your jacket and I’d let you sleep on my shoulder.

Our story was not a fairytale even during our happiest times. There were never any perfect moments, there was always some kind of a mess. Like when you told me you liked me and I almost choked on what I was eating. The magical moment was kind of ruined by my constant coughing and frantically looking for water. We did laugh about it after, and oh how, I love your laugh. Or on our first date, when the movie we wanted to watch was sold out so we went for a dragging foreign film instead. We got so bored that we ended up just making fun of it. Your smile that day is still etched into my memory. I liked these imperfect moments because, unlike the fairytales, they weren’t anything grand or unattainable. They were real. It’s these small moments I cherish the most.

Sometimes I do wish we were in a fairytale, though. I wish our story was a fairytale so it could end in happily ever after. Yesterday, you were in my room, sitting beside me while we did different things. I was working on my calculus assignment which you’d have to check, knowing me. You were writing your college application essay which I’d have to proofread, knowing you. I couldn’t bring myself to start my own essay because that would mean accepting that things are changing and they wouldn’t be the same next year.

It’s been two years since I’ve gotten used to seeing your smile and hearing about your day. What happens when we don’t see each other as often anymore? What happens when we make new friends and build new lives? What if your new life won’t have room for me anymore? What if the four walls of our high school building were the only thing keeping us together? I ruminated over these as the deadlines to applications draw closer and closer.

“Do you wanna take a break?” You said, making my heart drop. What? So soon? “From your homework. You look tired,” Oh. Thank God. “Yes please,” I said, exhaling deeply as I scooted closer to you. You stopped writing and we talked about everything and nothing at all. How your day went, the new album you were listening to. You talked about how you wanted to go to a music festival, but the tickets were already sold out. You said we should go next year instead.

Next year. You said it as casually as breathing. Not even a doubt in your mind about next year. You didn’t know I was worrying about an unpredictable future and yet you somehow managed to pull me back. Here, to the present. Right now, I am with someone who is making plans with me a year from now. The future is something I still can’t bring myself to imagine, but it’s enough to know that you could see me in it. Even if it’s a future as small as 365 days.

“Why are you smiling?” You ask, bringing me back to our conversation. Because of you, my comfort and safety. The one who holds my hand in the dark. The one person who’s sure of me. “Nothing. You’re right, we should go next year.”

Our story is not a fairytale, because our happy ending isn’t guaranteed. But being with you in that moment made me realize that maybe for now, I don’t need to be certain about everything. Our happily ever after is today, here, right now, and that’s all that matters.

#MC2023 #justlikeMagiC #literary #english #thewraith

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spookybabcs · 2 years

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it was the 4th of july... | a self para

cillian wasn’t sure when it had happened exactly. he was never very good at talking about his feelings, not necessarily because they weren’t there, always just below the surface, threatening to make him vulnerable and small, but because he’d grown up terrified of being weak, even for a moment. ‘only sissies and fairies talk about their feelings,’ cillian’s dad had always said. and so cillian had buried them, hiding them from any and everyone.

but for whatever reason, boredom maybe, sat up late at night in the tour bus on the way to the next city, by the light of his phone, cillian had put pen to paper and scribbled out a few lines that felt important to him at the time. personal. vulnerable.

he hadn’t shown them to anyone. they weren’t anywhere nearly good enough to be a real song, a song that he and his band performed in front of thousands every night. he left that to the others; they’d always been more gifted with words. but even still, he continued to write, and in the two months they’d been on tour he’d already filled a notebook with lyrics.

some of his entries were shorter than others, just a pair of lines here and there, though some of them had manifested in a verse, a chorus, an entire song. cillian was actually proud with some of them, though there was no shortage of lines he’d crossed out several times until they were no longer legible.

most of them were about the same thing. that hot summer night he’d spent under the stars with his band and a couple of the other bands on tour with them. that’s when it had started, and cillian always seemed to come back to it, references to summer, and fireworks, and dirty little secrets laced through each entry. he wasn’t sure why one person should have such a hold on him, his brain, his heart, his pen.

im sorry every song’s about you…

cillian stared at the line, reading it over a dozen times, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he considered it. was he sorry? did this affair that had meant so much to him mean anything at all to the person he couldn’t stop writing about? probably not. and so cillian decided he wasn’t sorry at all. that if he were to ever share these words with anyone, he’d like for him to know just how not sorry he was.

but even still, he couldn’t bring himself to cross out the words. maybe he was sorry. sorry that he’d allow himself to feel something beyond the usual physical attraction. sorry that he’d ever gotten so attached in the first place that he couldn’t seem to let it go.

cillian sighed, opting to underline the line rather than cross it out before closing his notebook and falling back onto his bunk, staring up at the ceiling of the bus. he put his earbuds in, turning his music up loud enough to drown his thoughts out, though he couldn’t ignore the weight that had settled on his chest. cillian closed his eyes, letting the steady rocking of the tour bus lull him to sleep as they continued towards the next destination.

#the fall out boy inspo here is... not subtle #* self paras ; all #* self paras ; cillian kelly #* cillian kelly #* verse ; tbd

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seriouslysnape · 2 years

Note

Hi i’m not sure if you closed requests yet but maybe poly!marauders when their s/o is receiving letters from a secret admirer and none of them know who it could be

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: REQUESTER -> IMPORTANT NOTE: I tweaked your request a bit -- I just found the idea funny and cute -- HOWEVER, if you want me to redo it, I absolutely will. It isn’t often that I change requests up, so I totally understand if you want me to write another one :)

“I think you’re overreacting a bit, don’t you think?”

____

Sirius’ and James’ eyes scanned the parchment that was held in Sirius’ hands as their brains comprehended the words that were scribbled from line to line in the form of a letter. James’ brows were pressed together as he read, his jaw clenched so hard that the muscles were beginning to ache.

“Reading it over and over won’t make you feel better.” Remus flipped the page in his Herbology textbook that he was skimming over, clearly unbothered by this whole situation.

James continued to read over his shoulder, and Sirius didn’t look up from the letter, his hands bringing the paper even closer to his face.

“This fucking guy- what a fucking slimy, no good-”

“Hey. Simmer out. Not that big of a deal.” Remus breaking away from his studying for a moment.

“The fuck are you talking about, Moony?” James seethed. “How could you say that?”

James and Sirius were usually very respectful of your privacy. They didn’t snoop through your things or copy your homework answers when you weren’t looking. As a matter of fact, all three of the boys were good about leaving your personal belongings be. They believed in boundaries, and going through your things was a line that none of them would cross….except for one thing. James didn’t do it to just you. James was a universal mail peeper. If James found a letter of one of his friends unattended, then he was going to open it and read it.

It drove you absolutely nuts, along with Sirius and Remus. Time and time again James had gotten his hands on your personal mail, and while the contents of the messages usually weren’t anything majorly personal – it was still irritating. Remus was usually the most aggravated by it, and time after time he had mentioned to James that his mail snooping habit would come back to bite him.

James’ curiosity hadn’t really peaked when he spotted the unopened letter sitting on your desk in your dorm. James allowed himself in (with your permission, along with your roommates’) to retrieve his Quidditch sweater that you had borrowed for a few days. He had actually passed right by your desk at first, not even noticing the perfectly wrapped and stamped letter. It wasn’t until he passed back by to exit your dorm when he saw it sitting there, practically untouched and unread. James didn’t pay super close attention at first, only making a note of its existence. It wasn’t until he realized that there wasn’t any real label of identification that he was struck as intrigued.

He had taken the letter into his hands, tucking his sweater under his arm as he looked over the envelope for any kind of hint as to who it was from. The longer that James didn’t get a clue, the more interested he became. He took the letter with him, ignoring the screams of his morality telling him to leave it alone. He had scurried into his dorm in a ball of excitement, eager to get his two best pals in on this as well.

James had chirped when he entered, waving the envelope in the air with a grin to grab the attention of Sirius and Remus. James thought that it must’ve been something ultra secretive if there wasn’t any kind of sender information on it. James’ side of mischief was beginning to show, and he was about to learn a huge lesson about curiosity. This wasn’t any kind of letter. This was a letter from an admirer.

A secret admirer.

The letter was light on details, but the words were nothing short of romantic adoration. It was heartfelt and real, and there was no question that this mystery writer had it bad for you. James, Sirius, and Remus had all read the letter at the same time – taking all the information in first before coming up with a reaction to it. Remus hadn’t thought very much of it, only offering a shrug and a chuckle before returning to his bed to continue his studying. Sirius and James, however, hadn’t taken it as lightly.

“Relax, mate. It’s probably just a first or second year who’s sweet on her.” Remus suggested, not looking up from the textbook in his lap.

“No, no, no. I bet it’s that dirty seeker on Slytherin. The one that I got into it with a few weeks ago at practice.” James waved his finger as if he had come up with a cure to solve world hunger.

“I think you’re overreacting a bit, don’t you think?” Remus chortled.

“Overreacting? You think we’re overreacting?” Sirius hissed, waving the letter in the air frantically. “Some wanker is trying to sneak around us to get to her, and I’m ‘overreacting’?”

James snatched the letter from Sirius’ slender hands to give it another lookover, and just as Remus had said, the words on the page didn’t change.

“No one is trying to ‘get to her’. As if she would ever let that happen,” Remus snickered. “Are you seriously worried about that, Padfoot?”

“I mean, no. But don’t you think this is serious?” Sirius marched to the end of Remus’ bed, standing over him with his fists at his sides.

Remus shrugged, and set his textbook aside.

“Not really. I think you’re both being-”

“Look!” James suddenly shrilled. “No first year has handwriting like this. No guy has handwriting like this.” James announced, and Sirius scurried back over to look closer.

Remus had to hide the smirk on his face, because this was a million times funnier than it probably should’ve been. Remus couldn’t help himself. He was getting so much entertainment out of this that he couldn’t help but add fuel to the fire.

“Maybe it’s from a girl.” He suggested.

“A girl?!” Sirius and James echoed, their eyes widening to double their size.

Before either of them could ask more questions or Remus could add something else to the situation, their door opened to reveal your entrance. It had been a nice day for you, and you were in a particularly good mood. Sirius and James didn’t even bother with a greeting – too determined for answers and an explanation. They practically pounced on you, your expression turning frazzled when they started bombarding you with questions.

“Pup, who is this letter from?” Sirius asked.

“Did you know about this?” James questioned.

“How many of these have you gotten?” Sirius posed.

You were too puzzled and confused to answer, because you were unaware of any letter being addressed to you lately. It wasn’t until Remus stepped in to peel them off of you that it began to click in your head.

“Hey – ease off, you two. She just walked in,” Remus crawled off of his bed to give you a proper greeting. “Hi, bunny. So Jamesie here found a little something of yours, and decided to give it a read and share it with us.”

Remus put emphasis on his words, knowing that you’d get what he was trying to say. Your confusion melted into realization, and you turned on the charm and nonchalant demeanor to weasel your way through this.

“Jamesie, you’ve been reading through my mail again, haven’t you?” You questioned, and James’ cheeks tinted a shade of pink.

“Well, I mean….no-well, yes. It was-it was there when I went to get my sweater, and I kind of just opened it and read it and I didn’t really mean anything by it but I-”

“How many times have I asked you to stop reading my stuff? I have my own private stuff too, you know.” You said to him, and he shrank into himself with knowingness.

“That is not the issue at hand,” Sirius piped up, snatching the letter back from James and shoving it into your hands. “Read it.”

The three of them circled around you as you read line to line – James and Sirius waiting anxiously for your response. Remus held his grin back through steady breathing and focused behavior. When you finished reading with a beaming smile and a sweet reaction, Sirius and James immediately knew they had blown this out of proportions.

“No doubt. It’s from a second year boy that I tutor for Potions,” You explained. “He’s just in that awkward crush phase – and he’s sent me a few of these before. He’s harmless.”

James and Sirius blinked mindlessly. So Remus had been right. They were suddenly finicky and squirmy, a bit embarrassed by their brash reaction.

“A second year?” James echoed.

“Mhm. He’s sweet, just a touch too eager I suppose,” You smiled, sharing a glance with Remus. “I’ll talk to him. He just doesn’t understand boundaries.”

James’ blush went redder – what a stupid thing to get so worked up for. He felt bad for being so distrustful, and he made a note to himself that he wasn’t going to go through anybody’s mail anymore – or at least, not your mail. Sirius and James didn’t have much else to say, and there wasn’t much point in dwelling on this further.

The evening went on, and Sirius and James were relatively quiet. They kept to themselves and allowed the four of you to piddle around to do as you pleased. Remus continued to review his Herbology material for the next day’s exam – and you sat at his side and helped him study to be sure that he had all of the information retained. You chatted with Sirius and James some as well, but they were much more self-contained than usual. By the time bedtime came around, James and Sirius were beginning to return to normal.

Thankfully, it was Remus’ turn to have you for the night, which you were grateful for. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to keep your cool composure if you had to snuggle up next to James or Sirius all night.

“Goodnight, Jamesie.” You kissed his cheek, and he laughed sheepishly.

“Night, angel.” He replied simply, turning to crawl under the covers of his own bed.

Sirius stood rigid at his own bedside, waiting for his goodnight send off before slipping under his single sheet that he preferred.

“Sleep tight, Siri.” You kissed his jawline instead and he plastered a grin.

“Sweet dreams, puppy.” He returned, and let his stare linger for a moment when you padded over to Remus’ bed.

Remus sighed when you slid onto the mattress, his arms immediately wrapping around you to pull you flush to him. There was silence for several minutes – the only sound being James’ shifts and turns to get comfortable and Sirius’ light snores once he was asleep. It wasn’t until you were sure that both James and Sirius had fallen into a slumber that you spoke to Remus.

“Do you think we took it a little too far?” You whispered so the other two wouldn’t hear.

“Nah. I think James learned his lesson.” Remus grinned, overly pleased with your performances.

Truthfully, it had been Remus who had written the letter. Well, Remus came up with the words, but called in a favor from Lily to actually write it all down so neither Sirius nor James would identify Remus’ handwriting. It was a harmless, successful practical joke that would hopefully prevent any more of James Potter’s mail creeping habit.

“Do you think we should’ve let Sirius in on it?” You asked next, feeling a touch guilty for making Sirius get so worked up.

“No way. It’s funny when he overreacts,” Remus chuckled. “But I’ll be sure to tell him tomorrow. He won’t be able to completely let it go otherwise.”

Remus had mentioned to you a couple of times in passing that he thought it’d be a funny joke, but Remus never confirmed whether or not he wanted to give it a go. It wasn’t like it was a complicated plan or anything. He sat down with Lily, told her what to write, and then Remus sealed the letter and planted it in your room when no one was there. It was simple, easy, and foolproof. The first and only time you had read the letter was when you had first walked in, and you hadn’t had the chance to really think about what it said until you had a moment to ponder. The letter had been genuinely heartfelt, and even if you hadn’t known that Remus had written it – the words spelled out ‘Remus Lupin’ with clarity.

“Did you really mean everything that you said? In the letter, I mean?” You asked, turning in Remus’ hold to face him.

“Of course I did. Have I ever lied to you about how I feel?” Remus questioned.

“No,” You smiled. “But you are awfully convincing.”

Remus grinned at that, catching you in a kiss that was tender, sweet, and said so much more than words ever could.

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nctsworld · 3 years

Text

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone off to one side.

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.”

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly.

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

7K notes · View notes

spicysoftsweet · 3 years

Text

summary: gojo’s tired of you resisting him

warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.

It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.

Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.

Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.

The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.

Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.

Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.

Why were you so anxious?

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.

It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.

Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.

You froze.

Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?

Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.

You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.

But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.

You were clearly still spooked.

But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.

He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.

“Ah! You’re back~”

Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.

He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.

“W-what are you doing here?” You choked out.

His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.

“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?��

“Gojo, please get out of my house.”

His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.

“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”

Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.

“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.

“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.

His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.

“Don’t you like my attention?”

“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.

As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.

Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.

“Stop shaking.”

It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.

You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”

“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.

“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”

“Please...”

Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.

Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.

You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.

His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.

Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.

At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.

“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.

He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”

To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.

“Fuck you.”

“I will.”

With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.

The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.

The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.

Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.

You almost thanked him.

His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.

You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”

He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.

Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.

As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.

“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”

He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.

His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.

You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.

As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.

The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.

“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.

You didn’t answer.

You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.

“You love me,” he repeated. “I know you do.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #tw noncon #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo sm #not sfw #gojo smut #mae.drabble #mae.writing

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drxwsyni · 3 years

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show me heaven, take me to hell︱okkotsu yuuta x f!reader

“Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore. He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.” a/n: this is my part for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab! i was really excited to write a fic with this prompt, and this collab was super fun so pls go check out the other writers involved!!! words: 3.7k warnings: ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+, noncon, somnophilia, virginity loss, rough-ish sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking for a quick moment, creampie, a little praise, heavy stalking & obsessive behaviour, gen. yandere themes

Yuuta liked to think he had control over his emotions—but peering down at you, he knew that was far from the truth. How those emotions manifested was what he could control, because if it weren’t for the steely expression cemented into his face, he’d be sure you’d know of all the debased things running rampant throughout his mind.

And yet, he doesn’t fear the falter in his masquerade right now.

You’re fast asleep, none the wiser to the looming figure of your boyfriend, locked onto the way your chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. How his eyes nearly gloss over as they travel down the curves of your body, half exposed as you’ve only pulled the sheets up to settle around your waist.

Yuuta reminds himself to breathe, exhaling a little too shakily, wondering to himself how he’s made it this far. He was a damn good actor, and he knows that fact currently stood as the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is today.

If he thinks back, it’s hard to even find one moment out of all the time he’s spent with you in which he’d shown you his genuine self. Hell, the very first time you spoke to him wasn’t even honest. He remembers asking you your name after introducing himself, lying through his teeth because he already knew what your name was. Yuuta knew what rank you were (well below his), your cursed technique (too weak to really protect yourself), how long you’d been working alongside Gojo (two weeks―starting the day after Yuuta had gone overseas). But he still asked, enamoured with the way you bashfully looked down at your feet when he praised you for being able to put up with the white haired sorcerer so far.

Another lie―how he claimed he’d love to team up with you and show you around, when it was just to keep you as far from any real danger as possible.

But you didn’t know that, going along with each and every falsehood that left his mouth. Lie after lie, he’d draw on the knowledge of you he’d spent months gathering, gradually molding his character into whichever form earned those soft little gifts of affection. Becoming the person you wanted, the person you needed, slowly until you recognized him as someone special. Yuuta did everything right—only to be completely overwhelmed now that he had you alone.

Because of course suppressing himself wouldn’t work out in the long run. Burying the desire that felt goddamn near insatiable, ignoring the feeling of it festering, growing into something ugly and uncontrollable—the kind of thing he saw in others, and exactly what he was trying to protect you from. But Yuuta wouldn’t let himself believe that what you really needed protecting from was him, even though standing over you now, proof of that reality was finally beginning to surface.

Just for a second, maybe not even that, it crossed his mind—just a taste couldn’t hurt, right?

The bound passion he could never let see the light of day unraveled in the dead of night. You were just so tempting, blissfully unaware of the danger towering over you, a vulnerability that tore away at the seams of his self control.

Yuuta felt the first thread snap, a barely there fracture to spur his irreversible descent into self-destruction.

Moving without really even thinking of any future consequences, long fingers that were calloused from battle and endless training reached to where the sheets atop you rested. White, silken and gleaming under the moonlight, he carefully, calculatedly pulled them down your body. Letting it pool at the foot of the bed, he slowly appraised your sleeping form.

An almost inaudible curse left him, whispered under his breath—he didn’t even notice the way your sleeping shorts were discarded onto the floor before peeling back the sheets, but he couldn’t miss it now. Maybe...you wanted him to find you like this?

No...he knew you weren’t that daring. The two of you might be dating, but all those past insistences of not wanting to move too fast, dancing around intimacy like it was the bane of all evil alone told him that this naivety was genuine.

There was that, and the fact that you were staying in his guest bedroom. Too shy to sleep in the same bed, how cute. He was all too understanding just a few hours ago, leaving you for the night and planning on retiring to his room. Only he was drawn right back to where you lay, realizing it was yet another subconscious lie to tell you he was fine with taking things slow, giving you your space.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room—there was absolutely no way you planned on Yuuta finding you like this.

A voice in the back of his head warns him, tugging at his subconscious to leave you be. Yuuta ignores it for the first time, crossing a new boundary, knowing that it won’t be the last.

You’re sprawled on your back with the hem of your oversized shirt riding up just a little.

A little too much, he thinks, eyes travelling lower and lower until they land on the lace trim of your panties. Thin, adorned with a small bow at the top. His fingers itch, wanting to feel the fabric for himself, likely soft in comparison to his rough hands.

Yuuta props one knee up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly with his weight. With one more glance, just to make completely sure you’re still fast asleep, he allows his fingers to trace up the inside of your leg. Gliding along your calf, then meeting the soft plush of your thigh. Your muscles don’t even twitch, unmoving as his hand gradually creeps higher, higher, higher.

All he needs is to be closer, something to tide him over until you’re willing to let him in. He wants to know just what it feels like to have you under him, little weaknesses you hold that nobody else knows of.

Just a taste, he reminds himself.

Yuuta peers down at you, relieved and on edge at the same time when the tips of his fingers brush against the cotton fabric of your panties. Ever so lightly, his ring finger dips lower, gently pressing against your clothed slit.

The heat between your thighs makes him shiver, warmth pulling him in impossibly closer. Your legs are spread just enough for Yuuta’s hand to fit perfectly in between them, almost invitingly so. He feels like all of his nerves are standing on end, vibrating as just the simplest touch has such a large effect on him.

It’s a familiar feeling, despite always looking at ease, he frequently had to mask these turbulent emotions inside him so that he didn’t scare you away, just as so many others did. This new sensation, not having to worry about constant control, it was unimaginably refreshing. He didn’t want it to end.

You don’t seem to be stirred in the slightest, which is good, because he’s not quite satisfied. The both of you did have a tiring day to be fair—now making you a heavy sleeper. Yuuta deems it a saving grace, curiosity unquelled in wanting to know how far he could push his luck.

That same singular finger travels along the dainty fabric, gently dragging up your folds until stopping at your clit. Experimentally pressing into it, Yuuta spots the way your brows just barely draw together for a moment. The sound of your breathing meets his ears, turned airy as your lips part when he begins rubbing back and forth, a light friction that makes your sensitive, untouched body react unconsciously as you continue to sleep.

Yuuta thinks for a second of how you touch yourself when you’re alone—if you do as he is now, teasing your clit, making you squirm at the light stimulation. You’re not waking up, but your body is still reactive even in this state. With how your panties hug the curves of your body, how he presses them into your heat, it’s not hard to see the small patch of your arousal already leaking through.

It’s cute, you’re so much more honest when you’re asleep.

An idea strikes him, coming more as an intrusive thought than anything helpful, but it’s dangerously enticing nonetheless—if he could make you cum without waking you up. Earn a glimpse of what he hoped you’d let him see eventually.

You look like you want it, chest rising and falling a little heavier, and when he pointedly nudges your clit with the smallest increase in force, your breath hitches.

It would be cruel to leave you like this—Yuuta isn’t a cruel man.

He’s doing this for you now, not himself. It’s repeated in his head, words reassuring as he slinks onto the bed. His grip is delicate, pushing your thighs apart a tad bit more, just enough to make room to lower himself between them.

Eye level with your heat, the scent of your arousal washes over him. He can’t help but place a few ghosted kisses on your inner thighs, a quick nip at the supple skin that leads to a trail of the same before his lips hover over the seat of your panties.

Through long lashes, he focuses on your face, almost shuddering with you as his tongue comes into contact with the patch of wetness, dampness growing as he licks a slow strip up over the cloth. Yuuta repeats the action—once, twice, three times, then loses count. His movements are slow, soft and steady, taking what he can get but soon becoming frustrated with the barrier in his way.

The hands placed on your thighs twitch, and it only seems logical that if he wants to finish what he started, he needs to make things a little easier for himself. An unnatural strength imbued with cursed energy flows through his palms. He’s eager, doing it without thinking, not realizing the force he puts behind his actions until the seams of your panties tear with almost no resistance.

Yuuta’s eyes widen slightly, because his plan was to merely push the fabric aside. But that problem can wait, especially when he can’t.

The offending fabric is casted aside, and Yuuta knows he wants to take his time. Testing the waters, his thumbs come up to spread apart your soaked folds, taking in the way your hole clenches around nothing as he gently blows cold air against it.

He’s not shocked to find your muscles twitching so easily now, reacting to every little thing he does. Not shocked, but it does make him greedy. It makes him want to abandon caution entirely. Taking his time turns out to be a lot easier said than done—when his tongue places a few kitten licks onto your clit, the near sinful whimper that escapes you has his lips latching on and sucking instead.

You’re always so quick to flee from him, Yuuta can barely get a lasting kiss in before you push him away. To hear that leave your mouth, intentional or not, it’s dangerous. He’s starved for intimacy, starting to lose sight on why he’s worked so hard to become close with you, drowning in the thoughts of why he instead wants to rip that safety he provides from you entirely just to see the things you keep hidden from him and everyone else.

There’s his own personal heat building, hips grinding into the mattress now and then to relieve the ache you don’t even know you’re causing in him so quickly. It doesn’t do much, if anything it only makes his resolve weaken, low groans making their way up his throat and sending soft vibrations onto your sensitive nub.

His tongue darts back out, flattening as your hips buck against his face, trying to gain more friction.

And all it tells him is that you want this—just as much as he does. You’ve never told him, but you don’t need to. Your body speaks for itself.

The wet muscle pushes past your entrance, Yuuta’s nose bumping your clit every time his head jerks when his tongue curls against your walls. From how your body tenses, the feeling unmistakable under his large hands, he can tell you’re getting close.

All the breathy sighs and whines leaving you, the overwhelming taste of you on his tongue and in his mouth, it clouds his judgment more and more as each second passes.

Yuuta forgets about the hard work he’s put in to keep you safe, to make sure you ended up choosing him over everyone else. You’re intoxicating, and he can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as just a taste, not when he’s stopped trying to hold back and instead starts trying to devour you.

You deserve more, he thinks, coating his ring finger with your slick, teasingly swirling it around your entrance before letting it sink into your heated pussy. It reaches far deeper than his tongue, and with a few thrusts, curling his finger inside you, Yuuta finds what he’s searching for as you tense hard around the slender digit. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Yet no matter what he does, it’s still not enough. He wants to watch you finally fall apart, wants you to stop pushing him away.

And he realizes, it’s not a want, but a need. One that can’t be satisfied as easily as he thought when he first removed the sheets from your unsuspecting body. Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore.

He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.

Yuuta can’t think straight to save his life, he’s hooked on the way your body shakes beneath him, adding another finger pumping in and out of you, groaning against your clit as he desperately ruts against the bed.

You’re responding so well, it only confuses him more as to why you haven’t let him take care of you sooner, as clearly you needed him like this. He can practically hear his name fall from your lips, airy and begging him for more.

His eyes are screwed shut, and yours are open.

“Ahh—Yuuta...wh—ngh”

Those calloused fingers know just how to make you shake in pleasure, not relenting as you suddenly cum around them. He feels your swollen clit throb, over and over against his tongue.

When you start to convulse, near pained whimpers leaving you, he finally stops.

He’s frozen for a moment, your full awareness dawning on him.

A sheen of sweat clings to you, chest heaving, heartbeat going a mile a minute and hammering against your ribcage. You were falling back down from the high that made you see stars, the closer to reality you got, the more you understood what had happened.

The fear would hit you first, and it’d be fast—you’d scream, fight, try to leave him.

Yuuta knew this, he knew you, and so he moved faster.

Before you could make another sound, panic rising in your throat, a firm hand clamps over your mouth.

And god, you look fucking terrified. Both hands flying up to push him away, nails biting into his wrist while tears begin to well in your eyes. Irises swirling with fear, confusion, betrayal.

It should make him feel guilty, it does—but it’s not enough to stop him from wanting to make it worse.

His palm stays cemented over your mouth, muffling your cries. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, all your squirming does is grind against his aching cock. And he’s so far gone that he might as well go further—he doesn’t even try to stop you. The hand over your mouth pins you down well enough, your body so much weaker compared to his.

“M’sorry, just—fuck…”

You’re not calming down, struggling harder with each second that goes by while Yuuta fights to hold you still.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re okay.” With everything running through his mind, the only thing consistent and true is that he has to be inside you.

His free hand grips the waistband of his sweats and boxers, hastily pulling them both down at the same time. He hisses when the cold air of the room meets his cock, slapping against his abdomen. He’s already in between your legs, and you’re still trying to get away, hips lifting off the sheets as your legs helplessly kick. Your movements are uncalculated, frantic—it’s an accident when his cock brushes against your heat.

You squeal at the contact, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him from rutting against you, length sliding between your folds and coating him in your slick. A slight shudder runs through you as the tip of his cock catches on your puffy clit, repeatedly nudging it with each thrust.

It’s not enough. Not before, not now, he can’t seem to satisfy whatever want inside him has broken loose, and you’re forced to deal with it all because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

“Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good...promise you—”

Yuuta practically chokes on his words, lining himself up with your entrance, unable to stop his hips from pushing himself inside you all in one go. Blood rushing behind his ears drowns out the sound of your whimpers, lost in the way you keep sucking him back in when he goes to pull out. So goddamn tight—Yuuta’s glad he’s made sure he was the first to get to you, despite the circumstances.

He’s a mess, you’re a mess, it’s sloppy and it’s perfect, because the quick back and forth of his hips goes so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with each thrust. Your whines are in tandem with his movements, pain mixing with the building warmth spreading throughout you.

The body draped over yours is so much larger, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight as Yuuta keeps himself propped up above you with a hand beside your head. The one over your mouth disappears, lightly wrapping around your throat for better purchase instead.

It’s too easy to lose himself now, letting his guard down—and you jump at the chance.

There’s a shove to his chest, and then he’s being kicked down the bed. The door is on the adjacent side of the room and so to make quick time you scramble across the bed sheets. Of course, a hand too cold clamps around your ankle, and it feels like he’s about to crush the bone beneath when Yuuta drags you back.

All your pleas go ignored, and he’s suffocating as your body is pinned against the bed by his own.

A lanky yet toned arm snakes around your waist, lifting your hips to meet his. “Just a bit—” there’s a pause, groaning as he drives his cock right back into your pussy, “—bit longer…”

Yuuta hasn’t completely forgotten why he decided to take things this far, his free hand reaching down to toy with your clit. With the new angle, his cockhead hits that soft, spongy patch that has your walls fluttering around his length.

Your fighting spirit diminishes more and more, not much strength to begin with in how you were woken up, only worsened by the way the coil in your stomach keeps tightening. When you go to shove the arm wrapped around your body, it’s not genuine, not completely at least. You’re overwhelmed just as much as him, and letting it happen doesn’t seem all that bad.

Slick is dripping down your thighs, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room alongside his grunts and your airy moans.

There’s a shake in your body, legs unable to keep themselves up as your voice breaks through the noise. “Yuuta...p-please…”

It doesn’t matter what it is you’re begging for exactly, but he tries to console you anyways. “I’m right here, baby. Just let go for me…”

The pads of his fingers press harder circles around your clit as the cant of his hips picks up.

You’re reaching your end, unmistakable in the way you tighten around his length, your muscles contracting and releasing. Yuuta is right behind you, thrusts growing erratic, barely pulling halfway out before sinking in again.

“Ah—that’s it, cum for me, good girl—”

There’s a moment where you go quiet, body locking up and mouth opening into a silent scream. It’s enough to have Yuuta’s body reacting much the same, a harsh ‘fuck’ leaving his lips before painting your walls white. There’s no thought to pull out, just that he wants to relax with you in his arms.

You’re trembling, aftershocks washing over you in waves, especially when he slowly drags his cock out and past your g-spot before leaving you empty.

Yuuta finally releases you from his hold, watching as you slump pitifully into the mattress. There’s a trail of his cum leaking down your slit, a little pool of it forming on the sheets. You look absolutely ruined, face turned and smushed against the bed—he can see the tears heavily wetting your cheeks, mouth agape as your chest heaves.

And he just...stares. Somewhat out of breath himself, hunched over, unmoving otherwise while realization crashes down on him.

You’d never forgive him, you’ll leave the second you get the chance. What Yuuta’s done to you is irreversible.

...As far as you know.

It’s always been like this, he thinks. Yuuta keeps you endlessly in the dark, meticulous pre-planning to make sure you’re protected always. And so he steps away, tucks himself back into his boxers, pulling up his sweats and grabs his phone. It looks like you’ve pretty much fallen asleep, which makes his job easier.

Plan A through Z, Yuuta has something to fall back on no matter what.

The screen illuminates his face, fingers swiping until Inumaki’s contact shines back at him. The cursed speech user owes him a favour, and there’s no time more perfect in Yuuta’s mind than now to cash it in.

A deep sigh from him sounds throughout the room—you won’t remember this happened, none of it. Yuuta will clean you up before Inumaki arrives, use reverse cursed technique to handle any wounds you may have, and then he’ll have his friend make you forget anything past going to bed.

While he still wants to keep you safe, keep you pure—it’s no longer for the same reasons.

Darkened eyes land on your weakened form, and Yuuta knows this won’t be enough for him. You’ll push him away, he’ll get impatient...the rest is predictable, to say the least.

His message sends, phone turning black.

Somehow, he’ll need to find a way to earn more favours.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere yuuta #yandere yuta #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw noncon #tw somnophilia #tw choking #tw stalking #tw virginity loss

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