#might have to change that tag again now that i don’t work night shifts anymore.

[gaudebo]

fellas….

#i start my internship today and i am so scared #please send me good vibes if you have any to offer #i am so nervous i feel ill #im literally not even doing anything today just going in and getting introduced etc #but still 😭😭😭 #been a while since i had anything to say here whoops #late mornings late nights #midmornings #might have to change that tag again now that i don’t work night shifts anymore. #i’ll keep you posted

[bluminex]

Can I req reader that used to be a heavy drinker and theyve already been clean for months but readers old drinking buddies are pushing them to drink again and Yae Miko, Ei, Kuki Shinobu (separately) got mad with your old friends (also gender neutral please!)

Drunkard turns into normal person(real)!!

I was supposed to post this yesterday, though, here's one of the works that I was able to finish today. I'll get to work on the others in a bit after I get some rest.

Anyhow, enjoy the work! I'll be back to posting and working on your requests now. My passion and dedication to writing has been rekindled again after a few weeks have passed. I apologize for the delay of these works.

Yae Miko

Before, you were once a heavy drinker. You’d head out every time and anytime your drinking buddies had invited you to another drinking session. It had started to become an addiction; it had started to be more dangerous for you and your health. Someone had to put a stop to it, and that was your girlfriend, the cunning, prestigious, captivating, and teasing Head of the Grand Narukami Shrine, none other than Yae Miko.

To her expectations, you eventually stopped drinking for the sake of your own health… and partly also for her. Which also meant that you had stopped seeing your drinking buddies more often due to the fact that you aren’t going to be drinking anymore anytime soon.

It had been months ever since you went out to drink with your buddies. If you had to be honest, not drinking alcoholic beverages anymore have definitely helped your mental health and you’ve never felt better than you did when you used to drink! You’re quite proud of being months clean, especially with how much of an addict you were!

And today, you just so happened to coincidentally meet some familiar faces that afternoon as you were visiting the Yae Publishing House to check up on how Miko is doing behind the counters. You heard one of them call out to you, making you shift your attention from your girlfriend to whoever had called out to you.

“S/O! It’s been a while since we drank, eh?” The man waved as he approached you with a smile.

You nodded, “Yeah. Uhm, what brings you guys here? You here to buy a light novel?” You questioned, raising a brow at your old friends.

They laughed and chuckled at your words,

“No, you silly goose! We came here to ask why you aren’t tagging along to our night-outs anymore!” The other man folded his arms as he eyed at you.

“It’s been months, you know… we’re kind of missing your chaotic behavior a bit! We still have as much as fun as we did back then. You should definitely come tag along on tonight’s night-out!” A female voice sighed as she placed her hands on her hips.

You gulped, “Apologies, I’m gonna have to pass, I decided to stop drinking a few months ago.” You rested your palm on the back of your neck.

Their eyes widened, broadened even… eh, same thing. They stared at you in pure shock and disbelief, what they heard just now… that was real, wasn’t it? But the person they knew wouldn’t say such things like that. Just what exactly happened to you in a span of these few months, what made you drastically change?

Yae Miko narrowed her purple eyes at these ‘friends’ of yours. She was clearly starting to get irritated by this whole situation, maybe even a little intrigued.

“Where’s the fun in that?! You know, I don’t really know what changed you, but still… you should definitely tag along!” A man exclaimed, nudging your shoulder lightly as they laughed light-heartedly.

“Have I not made myself clea-“

“Nope, zip it! Sorry S/O but we aren’t going to tolerate the nonsense that you’re blurting as of right now. He’s right, you might be busy and all but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a bit of fun every once in a while!“ Another sound of a guy spoke to you.

Growing annoyed by their hopeless and pitiful attempts, Yae Miko simply could not just stand-by and not do anything about this idiotic matter. The Chief Editor hated- no, despised the idea or thought of you returning back to your former self all because she had allowed you to run off with your old friends.

“Ah, ah, ah… I don’t believe there’ll be a chance for your dear friend over here to accompany you guys on this ‘hangout’ of yours. My beloved has better things to do than spend time with you drunkards, isn’t that right, dear?~” Yae Miko smiled at you, though, just by her expression alone… you could clearly make out what she was trying to get across to you; “Play along.”

“That’s right, I do in fact have to accomplish some of my projects. I’m only here at the Yae Publishing House to check up on how Miko is doing so far in the day.” You sighed, rubbing your forehead as if to say you were a bit stressed out by many of these, totally not made-up last minute ‘projects’ of yours.

Their faces dropped and they frowned at your words. They were going to reply to your words and open up their mouths until they were again interrupted by the Guuji.

“Now, now… how about all of you skedaddle from here and go to that bar you all drink at. However, my lover here won’t be joining you fortunately. Besides, they have clearly stated that they do not want to drink with your group again, hence… they won’t be drinking at all anytime soon as long as I’m around.”

A shiver went down their spines, they hesitantly apologized to both you and Yae before hurrying up and out of the place, running up the stairs. You shifted your attention back to Yae after your old pals have scurried off deeper into the city.

“Yae… there was definitely some anger in your words just now. Are you perhaps… mad at them?” You questioned Yae, eyeing at her.

Yae Miko sighed, “Why would I not be? They wouldn’t stop pestering you to come with to another night-out where you’d eventually be persuaded into drinking. For all of my hard work to go to waste in just one night is rather saddening, don’t you think? With how much effort I had put in just to convince you to stop drinking was quite tedious you know. Now, returning back to our conversation just a moment ago…”

Raiden Ei

Ei didn’t like the idea of you drinking once she saw how drunk you’d get after going to the tavern whenever there’s a chance. With how much of a heavy drinker you are; you’d always return home so drunk to the point where you can barely keep your balance and know who you’re talking to at the current moment. She made sure to scold you whenever you drank. Though, she always was passive-aggressive with her words when it came to scolding you.

Once Ei had decided that enough was enough, she had forbidden you from drinking. In fact, she commanded you to not lay a finger on one alcoholic beverage ever again. No matter how much you had opposed to this, in the end not even you, the lover of Inazuma’s deity could even stop her. So, you forfeited, finding it pointless in trying to argue with her any further… deciding it might have been for the better good of your health.

Nowadays, whenever you return home from work to rest and snuggle up with Ei… you no longer reek of alcohol, which pleases your lover because the stench of alcohol would get to her. Another reason as to why she had banned you from drinking.

However, until one night… where you received a letter from your old pals. You could sense Ei glaring at you and at the letter as well behind you. You turned to look at her,

“...D-do you want to read it with me?” You asked, hesitantly.

She stared into your eyes as you spoke, she shook her head, “I’d rather you read it out loud to me. By the way, do tell… who wrote this letter to you?” Ei asked, raising a brow at you as she folded her arms.

You sighed, “It was from my friends, the ones that I used to drink with. I’m not really sure why all of a sudden, they sent me a letter.”

Opening up the letter, you began to read it out loud for Ei. As you were reading, you could feel the atmosphere around you tense up… she must’ve disliked the contents of the letter. Once you finished reading, she took the letter from your hands.

“Hey what was that for-“

How rude it truly was for them to try and guilt trip you into drinking with them again? They should be punished for it. A nuisance really… why must you keep in contact with them still? A bad influence they are… if Ei were to let you go with them, she’s sure that you would’ve returned to your old habits with no hesitation. No doubt in that at all.

She scoffed, pulling you closer towards her. She glared at you, folding her arms. You chuckled light-heartedly, clearly understanding what she was trying to get across.

“Don’t worry… I won’t go with them. How about I whip something up for the both of us? Though, I’m not sure if you’ll be of much help in the kitchen…”

Ei deadpanned at you, “I’m a bit offended by that… though, just this once I’ll let it slide. I’ll be waiting to eat your food, in the meanwhile… I shall ask of some of the guards at front to fetch me some Dango Milk from that stall…”

“Alright, it sounds like a plan then! I’m gonna head straight to cooking now! See you in a few!” You grinned at her. She smiled at you softly, nodding her head before turning around to command the guards at front to order the sweets from that stall… specially to order all the Dango milk they could offer.

Kuki Shinobu

Before you and Shinobu started dating, you were a drunkard. You’d drink so much every single day that you’re now well-known as a regular customer or “that drunkard” among the restaurants and bars. You also drank a lot with some friends of yours, the only time you’ll ever see them is when you’re drinking or maybe you might run into them in the city.

Though you may be known as a heavy drinker and the well-known drunkard in Inazuma city… the citizens of the city acknowledged that although you may drink a ton, you are a good person at heart. You were popular among the kids, as you would hang out with them whenever you had the chance.

From time to time, you’d give the kids a sip of some of the alcoholic beverages, and now they refuse to drink any of it again in the present time and also in the future with how bad it tastes. The first time you lent them a sip, they began to question how you could drink something so disgusting and bad? The parents of these children are relieved to know that you aren’t trying to influence them into drinking after you expYlained why you gave them a sip of alcohol.

A drunkard that lectures kids to not drink any alcohol at such a young age, and if they ever do so wish to drink in the future… drink moderately at least where you won’t get drunk. Ironic, isn’t it?

Now that you’re dating Shinobu, you noticed that you haven’t been drinking at all these days. Perhaps… this is because she kept scolding and giving you an earful whenever you’d arrive home drunk, go to her drunk, or just be drunk in general.

This was no way for how you should be living your life right now at all. Thus, led to Shinobu negotiating with the bartenders to not serve you any alcoholic drinks anymore. Fortunate for her, they were very much understanding, as they could understand where she was coming from.

After a few months have passed, you’ve completely stopped drinking. Shinobu couldn’t help but feel like a proud mom with you overcoming your addiction to drinking. After all, it wasn’t an easy thing to achieve. The day today was going as smoothly as ever, until some familiar faces had bumped into you and Shinobu.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going- S/O?!”

“…” Shinobu recognized their faces the moment her eyes landed on them. Before they could even get another word out, she grabbed your hand and walked in the other direction. You were confused as to why she had pulled this stunt when your old friends were trying to strike up a conversation with you.

Once you were further away from where you were, you immediately asked her,

“Shinobu, what was that all about? Why’d you run off with me like that?” You asked, looking at her very puzzled.

Shinobu turned to look at you, sighing, “…They were going to try and pressure and persuade you into drinking again. I could sense it, my guts told me, and I just couldn’t ignore that feeling. I don’t want you to become an addict again like you were back then.”

You blinked at her.

She stared into your eyes for a few seconds before quickly averting them.

“Oh. Well, makes sense… you’re my girlfriend and all and you just want what’s best for my health!” You chuckled at your words as you grinned.

“I promise you that I won’t ever go back on my word. I promised you I’d stop drinking and I’d never think of breaking that promise that I swore to you.” You reassured her.

Shinobu sighed of relief, her cheeks slightly red, “Good. Now, how about we go and check in on the boss? I’m a bit worried he’s causing a ruckus again…”

“Yeah sure, let’s go and find Itto and the rest of your gang! Uhm… after we do that, can we perhaps go back to that street? I saw a stall and it was selling one of my favorite dishes.” You asked nervously.

Shinobu gave you a calm nod. Removing her mask and pulling it down, she kissed you on your cheek. (If you’re tall, then pretend she got on her tippy toes to kiss your cheek, if you’re short, then think of the opposite.)

You blushed, looking at her with widened eyes. You felt your face getting hotter and hotter by each passing second. Though, you were not complaining… you could get used to being kissed like that by your girlfriend in public more.

---------Author's Notes---------

If you ever so wish, go check out my Ao3 account. I've posted a new work over there, completely unrelated to Genshin, but it's about the show "Wednesday". Wenclair is canon, you cannot tell me otherwise. Let me believe in what I want.

My Archive of Our Own account, or otherwise known as Ao3, is Royy_Bluminex.

Please, ignore my first two works... It was a strange phase of mine hahaha. Well, enjoy reading those old works of mine if you wish. I can't say that I'm exactly proud of it... So, if you see something that you weren't expecting, just keep your mouth shut.

Oh wow. Uhm. I'm writing this (this very sentence) like 20-30 minutes after...

My mother just informed me that my dearest cat, Mio, has died. My father seemed to not notice him resting under the car and ran over him accidentally.

Death is unpredictable, which is why you must be prepared to face it.

R.I.P Mio, you were a great cat. I'm glad I took care of you while we still had time.

#yae miko x reader #ei x reader #raiden ei x reader #shinobu x reader #kuki shinobu x reader #gn reader #genshin impact #author is sleep deprived #im back bitches

[rotworld]

10: Motel Hell

(previous)

desperate to get out of nelton, you make a risky decision and find somewhere to stay along the road.

->contains gore, graphic description of corpses.

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.

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Home is west. Northwest now, so far away it feels like the edge of the world. 

You’ve tried to get there a few times. Every now and then, you’ll get lucky. The Drift will have mercy and you’ll end up so close you think you can taste it, the pull urgent but not so taut and uncomfortable. Somehow, it’s always eluded you. You get turned around, your inner compass spinning haywire. The road spits you out just east, too far north, not at all where you mean to go. Lost—that’s what you are. But you never feel that way until you try to find home.

And even if you ever reached it, would it be worth the trouble? Would anyone see you as kin, or would it be a town full of strangers? You don't try anymore. Home is best left abstract and distant.

Night is falling. The shadows grow. The sign seems to lunge through the fog, sudden and vicious. “DRIFT INN. NEXT EXIT.” It’s not close enough to spot off the highway, but you do see a spatter of streetlights and neon. Not enough for a town, just a small place between things for the unlucky and desperate. Anything is good enough for you now. The exit is an uphill zigzag, a silent intersection with a light that takes too long to change. 

You see two long gray slabs with red roofs. Nothing around but concrete and tufts of hardy grass growing in the cracks. The parking lot is sparsely occupied, a couple windows aglow behind drawn curtains. Still, you hesitate. Your recent misfortunes have left you somewhat wary. You consult your map. You’ll make the final push for the University tomorrow, get there by dusk. South, then east? Or start heading east now? For once, you find yourself hoping there’s no town in that vast distance, no unexpected detours. 

Something flits past the window as you’re planning your morning route. It’s gone when you look up but you were sure, for just a second—

And then you see it. Another, drifting silently into your windshield. Landing on the glass and melting to nothing. The sky is the color of a coming storm. Your heart starts to race. 

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: SATURDAY NIGHT BY THE MISFITS]

The automatic doors wheeze open. A single fluorescent tube buzzes overhead. The floor is grimy-looking tile and the walls are off-white. Nobody’s sitting behind the check-in desk. All you can hear is the whirr of an electric fan in the corner and a crackling radio on the counter.

A tiered shelf against the wall displays travel brochures coated in a fine layer of dust, advertising the orchards and public gardens of Green Valley. These must be old. There is no Green Valley anymore—it’s been called the Stillwoods since before you were born, although the occasional antique road sign marooned along the highway might still bear the old name.

The doors open again behind you. There’s a woman standing there, hands in the pockets of a gray peacoat. She’s wearing heels and her hair is meticulously pinned into a neat bun. 

She gives you a quick, appraising look. “Hey there,” she says. “Checking in?” You nod and she slips behind the check-in desk, noticeably keeping her distance and never turning her back towards you. She doesn’t give you a price or ask how you’ll pay, simply reaching for a room key off the back wall and setting it on the desk. You don’t think there was a courier sign on the door. Your visible apprehension makes her grin. “So…I don’t actually work here. But I saw you pull up and thought you might appreciate a hand. There’s four of us here tonight.”

You take the key, the plastic tag attached reading 108. “Is the place abandoned?” you ask. That wouldn’t surprise you. This motel was clearly attached to the Stillwoods once upon a time, but now it’s out here in the middle of nowhere. That happens sometimes, during a particularly violent shift or an anchorware malfunction. That’s how the University became its own city, too.

The woman makes a noncommittal sound. “Not exactly. At least, it wasn’t when I got here. It’s like this, see?” 

She leans back and turns the handle of the door behind the desk. As soon as it’s cracked open, the smell of blood comes rushing out. She opens it just far enough for you to glimpse the back room and the body inside: head so badly bludgeoned that you don’t realize it’s lying face-up for a while, jaw broken and wrenched open so wide the mouth is more like a gaping wound of teeth. There’s blood pooling on the floor and arterial sprays arcing on the walls. Fresh enough to drip. 

The woman yanks the door shut again. She looks unbothered, you think, unusually cheerful considering the situation. She adjusts her small, rectangular glasses on the bridge of her nose. “See what I mean? Kind of a mess. I’d have taken off by now if not for how the sky looks. Rather take my chances here than out in a Drift storm.” The snow is heavier already, a thin layer blanketing the pavement outside. “Anyway, wanna get settled in? 108’s right with the rest of us. Gotta keep an eye on each other, after all. Hard to say who’s a mimic and who’s not.” 

You frown. A mimic wouldn’t waste that much food.

The woman is friendly, at least, and endlessly talkative. She’s a University graduate. She’s been living in Splitrock Junction for the past few years, testing the water and soil for “intrusional particles,” but she’s looking for a career change. “Anchorware! That’s where the money’s at,” she tells you. “That’s the future of the Drift, you know. It’s caught on in all the major industries but it’ll get more affordable later. The lab where they build that stuff makes the University look Stone Age. God, if I could get my hands on some of that equipment…” 

You barely say a word as she leads you outside and across the parking lot to the adjacent building. Four rooms are occupied in a row, lights on, muffled voices coming through the doors. You walk up in time to catch part of a conversation—an argument, more accurately. They’re talking about mimics.

“So you’re telling me the one that’s see-through and foggy like frosted glass isn’t called a glass mimic?” 

“Glass mimics are literally made of glass, man. Or something kind of like it. It shatters if you hit it hard enough.” 

“Kind of like it? So they’re not actually made of glass. They don’t even resemble glass.” 

“I didn’t name them, okay?” 

The woman pauses to knock on 106. “We’ve got another,” she says. 

106 opens just slightly, the door halting on a chain lock. The face that peers out at you is obscured by a surgical mask and a pair of sunglasses. “Shit, Chatterbox made it back in one piece,” he mutters. “So either it left you alone or you’re the mimic.” The doors on either side of him creak open. A man pokes his head outside of 105, looking nonplussed. Nobody comes out of 107 but you hear a quiet huff, a quick exhale of laughter.

“Well, this is all of us,” the woman says. “We’re a little short on trust right now so you’ll have to settle for nicknames. That’s Newbie in 105. He’s from outside. Like, outside, you know?”

“Outside the Drift?” you ask, startled.

Newbie frowns. He’s blond and clean-shaven, wearing an open suit jacket and loosened tie. “Couldn’t we have picked our own nicknames? God, it’s freezing all of the sudden.” 

“This totally normal, not at all suspicious guy lurking in 106 is Glasses.” 

“Bite me,” Glasses snarls. “Half the mimics out here copy faces. You’re not getting mine.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Shrug is in 107. He’s kinda quiet. Second most likely to be a mimic, if we’re making accusations.” 

107’s door opens slightly wider. The man standing there doesn’t show his face, keeping his head down and his hood up, hands stuffed in the pockets of an oversized sweater. He’s on the shorter side. “Hm,” he says, and shrugs.

“And I guess I’m Chatterbox.” The woman laughs. “I’m in 104. The walls are really, really thin, we mostly just yell at each other. Nobody else around so it’s not like we’re bothering anyone.” 

You unlock 108 and find a small, musty-smelling room. There’s stiff, crusty carpet, a single bed with sheets that feel like packing paper, and a closet-sized bathroom. You put your backpack on the bedside table and add the Drift Inn to your map.

“So what are we calling you, stranger?” Chatterbox yells. She’s right, the walls are really thin. Four rooms down and you can still hear her fairly clearly. 

“Courier,” you say back. 

The wind picks up outside, growing from a whisper to a vicious howl. You peek through your curtains and find your footsteps in the snow have nearly been filled in already as more blows across the motel parking lot. You scan the row of cars parked out front apprehensively. The one you saw in the blizzard was an SUV, you think. Silver. Hard to make out in the haze and all the white. You don’t see it out there now. You’d like to tell yourself that those two things can’t possibly be related, but there’s a corpse behind the check-in desk, beaten so badly the face barely looked human.

You don’t want to think about it. You let the curtains fall back into place and sit on the edge of the bed. “Newbie, you’re from outside the Drift?” you ask. “What made you decide to come here?”

You hear him clear his throat nervously. “I’m doing market research, you could say. There’s a lot of interest in developing the Drift, getting it connected to the rest of the world. You guys are missing out on a lot of things. Phones are only local, right, so you can’t call Prismville from the University. And mail takes forever since you don’t really have a reliable delivery service. Uh. No offense, I mean.” 

“Didn’t some outsider company already try getting a foothold here a while back?” That sounds like Glasses. “Like a decade ago or something. Putting all those cables in the ground, then acting surprised when they got fucked up after a couple shifts.” 

“Ohhh, that’s right! They started growing skin and then they all slithered off,” Chatterbox says.

“Is that what those are?” you ask. “I’ve seen those before. They’re farm pests, mostly. They really like eggs.” 

“Mhm,” Shrug adds.

“Can I ask about that? What’s up with the eggs?” Newbie says. “Why are they everywhere? I keep seeing people eat them raw, shell and all.” 

Chatterbox laughs. “So those aren’t actually eggs.” 

“You’re pulling my leg.” 

“No, I mean, they look just like eggs, right? So we call them eggs.”

“Oh, so these get called by what they look like, huh?”

“Okay, look, there are different kinds of shifts, right? Depending on how things are intersecting, or if they’re intersecting at all, and sometimes—”

The wind shrieks and the windows shake in their frames. Snow drifts under your door, melting on the carpet. Through the space beneath the curtains, all you see is white. “It’s getting bad out there,” Glasses says quietly.

“I, ah, thought the Drift didn’t get snow?” Newbie asks.

“It doesn’t,” Chatterbox says. “Unless the Road Ripper’s around.” 

There’s a pause. You’re holding your breath. Glasses is the first one to speak up again, scoffing, “That shit’s an urban legend. Nobody could live out on the road that long.”

“Hm,” Shrug agrees. Or maybe disagrees. You’re not sure.

“What if he doesn’t, though? What if he does come into town sometimes, drifts in and out before anyone realizes who he is?” Chatterbox insists. “It’d be easy. He could slip out with some couriers and nobody’d know. Maybe he is a courier.”

There’s another, longer pause. “Wh—really?” you say, incredulous. “I’m not a serial killer.”

Chatterbox makes a thoughtful sound. “Well, a serial killer would probably say that.” 

“I was the last one here! How could I have killed somebody?” 

“Not saying you did it, just saying maybe you should leave first in the morning,” Glasses mutters. 

The idea of falling asleep here unnerves you, but your car won’t be warm enough. You consider shoving a chair under the door. It’s flimsy, certainly nothing that’ll deter somebody hellbent on killing on you—somebody with the kind of strength you saw—but you’ll hear it fall over at least. You take a quick shower and crawl into bed, too tired to care how stiff the mattress is. The others are loud but the wind drowns them out after a while and the conversation dies down.

Maybe you won’t sleep, you think. You’ll just lay here on your side, facing the door and the windows. Listening for footsteps in the snow, or a car pulling up.  Just a few hours, you think, checking the clock. A few hours until dawn, at least. Maybe the blizzard will have moved on by then. You try to keep yourself moving, shaking your foot or tapping your fingers. The room is frigid, the heat barely able to keep up with the cold air seeping under the door, but exhaustion is slowly gaining on you. It becomes a struggle to keep your eyes open.

“…I heard that’s a thing he does,” Chatterbox is saying, sounding muffled and far away. “He picks somebody and follows them around for a while, but he lets them go a few times before he actually kills them. And it’s not like he just leaves other people alone, but that’s kind of different. It’s like he’s whetting his appetite or something. Picks off other people so can hold himself back from whoever his main target is. Maybe it’s a mimic thing? Do you think he shapeshifts? I had a friend back at University who specialized in mimics, I think some of them do similar stuff…”

Your eyelids flutter. Just a few hours, you remind yourself. A few hours and then…

You can’t breathe. 

It’s dark, a deeper black than night in every direction, and you can’t breathe. There’s something—something around your neck. Squeezing too tight. Wanting to split you open, wanting to tear into the soft flesh of your throat. It wants to, yet it never does. But even when it lets you go, uncoiling slowly, slinking out of sight, your lungs are on fire. You heave and you choke and you try to scream but you can’t get any air, can’t breathe. You can’t remember how.

There’s something in this darkness with you. You can’t see it but you can hear it breathing in deep, echoing sighs. You can sense its vastness, the crushing weight of its attention. You’re trying to run but your legs are weak and sluggish, flailing, going nowhere. The air ripples and it’s here, above and all around you. Silent. Observing. Your neck throbs where it touched you, skin tender and throbbing with your heartbeat, and still you can’t breathe. 

There is a dark moon above you. It’s a misshapen pearl, a silvery stone with a hole punched through its center. It’s growing as it sinks from the sky. It’s bigger than you, bigger than your car, so close you think you could reach out and touch it.

It blinks.

You gasp and jolt awake. It must be morning. Weak light trickles under the curtains. You’re cold, but not as cold as you were last night. The stench of blood is thick and cloying. Your door is open, the chair you wedged under it knocked aside. 

You sit up slowly. The room is red. Every breath draws in the smell of rust and rot. There’s hardly a surface in the room that hasn’t been spattered in gore. The walls are glistening with it. There are dark red puddles hardening into the carpet. The bedspread is soaked through beside you because there is a body there, posed atop the sheets as though it climbed into bed with you. It doesn’t have a face, just a head so badly bludgeoned that it could be a split pomegranate, soft and gooey and oozing chunks of meat through cracks in its skull. 

It’s wearing a peacoat, gray wool spattered with blotchy red stains. 

You scramble out of bed, lunging for your shoes. The carpet is so saturated it squishes wetly under your steps. There’s another body curled up at the foot of the bed in the same unsightly condition, intact except for the gristly paste where a head should be. Blood and brain matter spill across the floor in a pinkish smear, bits of vertebrae poking through the taut, torn flesh of the neck. Newbie’s tie is half-submerged in the slurry, tightened into an uncomfortably small knot.

The third corpse is propped up against the door, seated with its back against it. You shove it aside. You try not to look. But you see red, you see a scalp split apart and a broken shell of skull fragments underneath, little white slivers floating in a soupy clot. A gush of thick, partially coagulated fluid spurts out when it thunks against the ground in your haste to leave, dislodging the sunglasses folded neatly in its lap. 

The morning air is crisp. It’s just cold enough that some of the snow has stayed, the shallow layer left revealing the spotted prints of snowboots, a trail of blood, and smooth drag marks. Every door is wide open, a mess of red slush inside. The gruesome trail wanders out of your room and then rounds the corner, vanishing into a section of the parking lot you never thought to check. Nothing is parked there now but you still feel nauseous with fear.

Strangely, 107’s snow is clean. You notice as you’re leaving, starting your car, headlights flashing into the open rooms. Everything else is slick and splattered, dark red puddles frozen to the bed, except 107—the room right next to yours. The footprints, you notice, come out of that room clean. They go only in one direction; only leaving. 

You try desperately to remember Shrug’s face but you never saw it. He was careful, keeping his head angled down and his gaze lowered. Maybe it’s just hindsight, fear coloring your memories, but thinking back, you thought he might’ve had a small smile on his face when you looked at him.

(next)

#rotpeach writes #goretober #the drift

[cabezadeperro]

hello! for prompts i would like to submit fox/cody and 'mantle'. thanks, hope u're having a good week!

here it is!!! just four months late!!!

G, established relationship, takes place during hte first year of the war. ~700w.

---

The thing about Cody is that half the time the experience of understanding him, of knowing what he means, feels counterintuitive. He’s too good at misdirecting, at embodying what everyone else expects of him. He’s been doing it since they were younger, and now and then Fox wonders if maybe that’s the main difference between them.

He paces the narrow space between the shelves like he owns the place, hands linked at his back and boots clicking loudly on the dirty linoleum of the floor. He’s out of place: his sharp dress greys clash with the rows upon rows of synthetic, second-hand clothing, and the way he navigates the close corners makes Fox think about empty hangars, about landing pads and Venators and troop inspections. He’s full of shit, and he knows Fox knows, and Fox has missed very much but now and then he wonders why.

He could simply ask for help—Cody doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking at, because he’s spent the last decade and change wearing the exact same clothes. But that would be too easy, and Cody wouldn’t know easy if it were the shape of a Lucrehulk.

Fox folds his arms and watches him. The owner of the shop knows him well—he owes Fox a couple favours, and he knows it, and that’s the only reason they don’t have the old man right there with them. Fox can sense him watching them from the holocam mounted up high on the ceiling, however. 

It’s late into the night. Fox just finished his shift, and Cody just left a very long meeting with RepInt and a few HIgh Generals that’s left him exhausted and pissier than usual. Fox watches him, and he sees the stiff way he holds his shoulders, the growing stubble on his jaw, and the barely-there shake in his hands, and a part of him wants to get it over with—he’s tired and starving, and so is Cody, and they’re both very busy.

But he doesn’t say anything at all, because handling Cody is a delicate art, and Fox is nothing if not patient.

Cody finally pauses. Fox blinks. After a beat he approaches Cody, his civvie work boots quiet. He stops at his side and leans his chin on Cody’s shoulder, the stiff fabric of his greys rough against the soft skin under his jaw. Cody smells of GAR shaving cream and bad caf and sweat.

He is the third brother Fox does this for. By now, Fox knows the dance well—he’s learned to stand back and let them take their time, to offer help when it’s needed. He watches the way Cody fingers the jacket, head tilted slightly and a thoughtful frown on his face, and Fox finds himself already mouthing the well-worn words.

It’s a good jacket. Fox can see the price tag: not too expensive, and good quality for what it’s worth. Slightly out of fashion, but in an interesting way. It might be a bit too big on Cody, but maybe he won’t mind: Fox knows he would. It’s well within their admittedly tiny budget.

Cody sighs. He lets it go and leans back against Fox’s chest, closing his eyes. He brushes his cheek against Fox’s. It’s—sweet, and it’s familiar, and it blindsides Fox, because he thought they weren’t those people anymore. He swallows and leans in.

“It’s not a bad jacket,” he adventures. 

Cody snorts. He opens his eyes and steps away, still close enough to touch.

“But not a good one?” he asks, his voice even. Fox rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” he replies impatiently, and Cody snorts. He turns back to the jacket and reaches out to touch it again, and after a beat Fox does as well. It’s leatheris. He’s pretty sure it’s synthetic, but it’s a very good immitation, deep brown and soft. It’ll hold up well.

“I don’t know what’s the point of this, anyway,” Cody says after a while. He doesn’t sigh, but he doesn’t look at Fox, and Fox finds he doesn’t like the look in his eyes. “It’s not as if I can wear this when I’m at the front.”

“If you don’t buy it, I will,” Fox replies. 

Cody scowls.

He grabs the jacket and starts walking towards the front of the shop.

#codyfox #commander fox #commander cody #word prompts #cloneshipping #cody and fox's ongoing psychodrama

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

When something is off within a pack, all of the members feel it. When something is off between two alphas in a pack, well, then everything gets just a little bit messier, especially in a nontraditional pack like your own. Making up with Chan is important-he's your head alpha after all and you did promise Jisung-but you can't quite seem to find the time to do it. That is, until things just can't be ignored anymore. Because let's face it, unresolved tensions can only go on so long before someone explodes-and where alphas are involved, there's bound to be fire.

I may just have Head Alpha Chan brain rot ever since the Seoul Endingments okay? I can't help it. Everything about that man and those words ooze protective alpha mode and I'm here for it. All of it.

The lead in for this drabble can be found in "Special"-here.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, SKZ Drabble, OT8, OT8 x you, OT8 x reader, ABO, SKZ!ABO, SKZ!pack, alpha beta omega dynamics, skz fluff, skz angst, skz smut, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Bang Chan, Seo Changbin, Lee Minho, Han Jisung, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, Kim Seungmin, Yang Jeongin

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Light smut

Title: Stupid Dumb Alpha

You know the saying it always gets worse before it gets better? 

Well, change worse to ignored and better to disastrous and the quote just might fit. 

You don’t mean to avoid Chan after the ‘incident’, you really don’t, but things get busy-with work, with school, with life-and you find yourself on opposite schedules, barely seeing each other in passing, if at all. 

He’s always at the studio, working on music for upcoming deadlines, and you’re always at the library, struggling to right failing classes. He’s scarfing down cold dinner from the night before at 5 AM, talking to Minho in low tones, just as you’re leaving for a twelve hour shift at work. You’re agreeing to watch a movie with a whining Felix at 11 PM, dead on your feet, when he passes by the living room, gulping down an energy drink, out the door to god knows where. 

So no. You don’t purposefully avoid Chan. But life has a funny way of getting in the way of things that need to be said. 

And now you’re lying in the omegas’ bed, not really watching whatever movie Hyunjin has selected, staring up at the ceiling, and it has been two weeks since you or Chan said a single word to each other, let alone occupied the same room. 

It’s not bothering you. It’s not. 

But there’s a slight itch starting under your skin, and you can’t quite scratch it, and it’s not about Chan, or the ‘movie night argument’ as the omegas and betas have dubbed it, it’s not. 

But you find yourself blurting out anyway, startling the relaxed omega curled into your side- “Hyunjin, close your eyes and answer a hypothetical question for me.” 

Hyunjin sighs good naturedly and rolls onto his back, so you’re both lying side by side, staring at the ceiling, arms just brushing. 

“Okay. I’m closing my eyes.” 

You close your own, reveling in the way the darkness of the inside of your eyelids seems to help the headache that is always constantly throbbing behind your temples these days, and then you breathe out, nice and slow, before saying softly, “Say, hypothetically, that you got into an argument with someone-” Hyunjin is pushing himself up on his elbow before you have the chance to finish, staring down at you with openly exasperated amusement in his dark eyes. 

“Is this about Chan-hyung?” 

You glare at him and shove him back down. 

“Shut up. No. It’s hypothetical. Now lay back down and close your eyes.”

Hyunjin lets out a sort of chuckle beneath his breath, but does as he’s told. 

You take your place beside him once more and force yourself to relax into the mattress again before continuing. 

“Now. As I was saying, hypothetically, if you fought with someone, how would you go about making up?” 

“Okay, well, hypothetically-” Hyunjin teases, rolling his head to crack open an eye and look at you as you stick your tongue out at him, grinning now. “-I would talk to said person. Try to see our differences. And come to an understanding.” 

“Ugh.” You flop back on the bed, dejected, and your wolf is annoyed with his logical answer, as you whine out pitifully, “God, I hate that you’re right. Isn’t there anything easier I can do?” 

Hyunjin’s scent sweetens the air-glazing the breath you take in next with honey and lemon-and then he leans over you, removing your hand from your face, brow cocked. 

You know what he’s trying to do, and you hate it, but you can also feel your body relaxing of its own accord in the face of his cloying sweet smell. 

“I mean, I could lie and tell you that hate sex cures all if that’s what you want.” 

You groan and roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth is quirking unbidden in response to his sudden laughter. 

“I mean, it works for you and Jisung right?” 

Hyunjin grins even larger now and settles back down beside you, snuggling up against you once more.

 The air smells like freshly glazed lemon loaf and it’s comforting and relaxing, and you feel your body growing heavy, the weight and heat of Hyunjin pressed to your side a natural relaxant of the best kind. . 

“Yeah, well, Jisung is also a dumbass-one that I love immensely-but still a dumbass, and I hate to break it to you, noona, but hyung is gonna be way harder to win over. It’s gonna take a lot more than hate sex to soothe his bruised alpha ego.” 

You sigh and press your nose into Hyunjin’s soft, blonde hair, smelling so much like the citrus shampoo he always uses. 

“I know. And I hate that you’re right.” 

*****

The next time you see Chan, you’re helping Jeongin with an essay, sitting at the kitchen table, listening to the youngest complain that he’s never going to finish on time. 

“Noona, I can’t.” Jeongin whines for what feels like the hundredth time that hour, and you take in a long, calming breath, before pushing the laptop back toward the despairing omega. 

“C’mon Innie. You’re almost done. Just finish it. You can do it.” 

Jeongin lets out a groan that would rival that of Jisung’s on laundry day, and begins to aimlessly type away at the keys once more. 

God, you wish you had some caffeine right about now. 

And then the damp smell of petrichor is filling your nostrils, and Chan is walking into the kitchen, swinging his keys between his fingers, calling back over his shoulder, “Yeah, I’ll pick it up on the way back from the studio-no, I won’t stay as late tonight, I promise-”

Your wolf’s hackles are immediately up, and your fingers are clenching around the pen you have been aimlessly tapping against the table, and though you tell yourself that’s no way to act around Chan of all people, you can’t help yourself. 

Your scent is souring, and Jeongin looks up from his essay just as Chan catches sight of the two of you, stopping dead in his tracks, face instantly smoothing into something unreadably blank. 

It smells like a thundercloud is hovering, threatening, over the three of you. 

After a moment of silence, Chan simply says, “Hey.” It’s generic, but it’s a greeting, which is more than either of you have attempted over the last two weeks. 

You glance down at the pen and suddenly watch with interest the way the cap bounces between your fingers. 

“Hey.” 

You see the way his sneakers hesitate, as if he’s considering staying, saying something more, but then there is a sigh and you watch as his converse stride across the tile and out of sight, and then the sound of the door closing softly follows, and the jingling of keys disappears. 

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and Jeongin seems to physically wilt beside you. 

“Damn.” He breathes out, and you glance over at him, noting the way you can see his wolf whimpering behind the black of his irises. 

“Yeah.” You reply back, not really sure what else to say, because in the moment, there’s nothing else to say. 

****

Changbin corners you in the bathroom several days later-several days of brushed, hurried meetings, disconnected, flickering glances, alternating, avoiding schedules-appearing in the doorway as you brush your teeth, reflected in the mirror as he leans against the doorframe. 

You spit out the mouthful of toothpaste, and glance at his unwavering stare in the reflection, instantly defensive. 

“What?” 

He shrugs, expression easy, and the scent of campfire fills the small bathroom, almost stifling. 

“Nothing. I’ve just noticed you’ve been a little tense lately.” 

You roll your eyes and rinse your toothbrush before practically tossing it back into your drawer with a little more force than necessary, and you can’t keep the scathing out of your tone as you answer back with a snap, “Yeah, no shit sherlock.” 

Changbin appears entirely unruffled in the face of your angry wolf, and it’s always something you’ve envied about him, the ability to keep cool no matter the circumstances. 

He takes a step toward you, and you turn to face him, leaning back against the counter, watching him warily as he gives you another easy shrug. 

“Listen, just consider this as me offering you some stress relief, if you want it.” 

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, breathing through your mouth now, because the smell of you and him-mixing in the small bathroom-is almost too heady to handle. 

“What, are you gonna take me to the gym?” 

Changbin smirks-slow and easy-and his eyebrow cocks as he holds your gaze, staring you down, something shifting in the dark of his eyes as he regards you. 

“I mean, I guess you could consider it a sort of workout.” 

Your wolf pricks its ears in interest, and you do your best to keep your expression level, though you can tell he notices the way your scent fluctuates in response to his words, if the widening of his smirk is anything to go by. 

He takes another step toward you, and your wolf is pacing impatiently now. 

You raise your own brow in response and quip dryly, “You think a dicking down is really going to help my stress that much?” 

It’s not so much a question as a challenge. 

Changbin shrugs once again in response, watching you with slight amusement now. “I mean, a good dicking down has never hurt my mental health.” 

You consider his words for a moment, and you hate to admit, but the thought of physically working out some of the emotional tension from your body does sound good, and Changbin is offering-

You meet the other alpha’s gaze and raise a brow. 

“I get to top.” 

Chanbin inclines his head to you, and the easy smirk is back in place, a flash of something primal appearing in the swirling gold of his irises as he takes another step toward you, closing the distance, caging you back against the cool marble of the bathroom countertop with his arms. 

Large, beefy, muscular arms that you suddenly very much want to sink your teeth into. 

His gaze flickers down to your lips, parted as you swallow, and your wolf is suddenly begging you to use him, use your mate and relieve the stress, if just for a moment. 

You swallow and force yourself to speak. 

“I’m telling you now, I’m not going to be gentle.” 

I can’t. There’s too much pent up aggression and anger and heartbreak-

Changbin puts a single finger beneath your chin and raises your gaze to his, and your eyes follow the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips, revealing a flash of white canines that has your stomach clenching with sudden need. 

When he speaks, his voice is a low growl in the back of his throat. 

“I didn’t ask you to be, baby girl.” 

It’s all the permission you need, and without thinking, because thinking has done nothing but give you a headache up until this point, you crash your lips into his. 

It’s messy and sloppy-clacking teeth and tangling tongues-and it’s easy to let your arms slide around Changbin’s neck when his hands go beneath your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you from the bathroom to the bedroom, mouth never leaving your own. 

It’s always been easy with Changbin. 

He’s solid and level headed in all the ways where you’re unsteady and quick to anger, his thick, hazy scent of burning campfires on a long summer night a direct contrast to the icy, jarring perfume of pines covered in frost following a winter storm that makes up your own

So when Changbin drops you onto the bed and straddles you, fingers tangling into your hair, teeth slipping down the line of your jaw to nip wetly at your neck, you don’t have to think because with Changbin, everything is easy.

You’re panting now, and when his nipping sinks into something deeper, teeth burying in the sensitive skin that stretches over the scar of your mating mark, you let out a low whine from between the part of your lips, your wolf begging for more. 

Changbin pulls back instantly, pupils large and dark, mouth still slick and plump with your saliva, and you want to crash your mouth into his once more, but before you can, he’s asking breathlessly, “Too rough?” 

You shake your head, fingers already creeping beneath the material of his shirt, tracing the lines of his abs. 

“No. Rough is good.” 

Satisfied, he leans back in and slots his mouth with yours, licking into your mouth, tongue hot and wet and dextrous as it slides over the ridges of your teeth. 

You let him drag his mouth away from yours after another few moments, following the line of your jaw, nosing at your scent glands, before he sucks open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. 

It’s not enough. It’s never enough. 

“Bin.” 

He flicks his gaze up to you, tongue tracing the lines of your collarbone, a fiery brand on your skin, and quirks an eyebrow in silent question. 

You reach up and take his chin in your fingers, holding him in place so he can’t look away.

“I want you to mark me.” 

Changbin hesitates briefly, you see it in the way his gaze flickers momentarily, and then he’s pulling back from you, chin still in your hand, lips parted with uncertainty as he stares down at you. 

God, you want him so badly it aches. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, and his voice is quiet, a low hum in the back of his throat, as if he’s considering everything you’re asking. 

You nod. “Yes.” 

Changbin looks torn, and you’re tired of waiting. 

You reach out without hesitation and your fingers close around the shape of him through his sweatpants. 

The air hazes over with the tang of smoke. 

“God.” Changbin moans beneath his breath as you palm him, hands going on either side of your head, face sinking into your neck, exhale suddenly hot as it shudders across your scent gland. 

You curl and relax your fingers and Changbin is swearing, low and hoarse in the back of his throat, teeth grazing across your throat unwittingly. 

“Shit.” 

You angle your head so that you can press kisses along his jaw, and when your nose brushes across his neck, across the scent gland there, his body trembles, all flush and pressed against you. 

You want. 

“Changbin.”

The other alpha groans and with effort, he pulls back just enough to meet your pointed gaze, staring down at you with a half lidded stare, lips swollen and red and parted as he tries to catch his breath. 

It’s a pretty sight, and it does nothing to help the mounting need between your thighs. 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” You ask innocently, giving him a sweet smile, and he has his wits about him enough to muster up a halfhearted eye roll at your act. 

“Use your alpha voice on me. It won’t work, you know.” 

“Won’t it?” You question, voice saccharine, before you let your fingers close around him once more, his hips bucking up into your hand as he sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth to stifle the groan that slips past his lips at the action. “What about my ‘helpless female mate’ voice then?” 

You raise your voice into a high pitched whine, almost a keen, and as it leaves your throat, you don’t miss the way Changbin’s pupils blow at the sudden shift.  

“‘Oh please, alpha, please mark me. Alpha please. I’ll be such a good little girl for Alpha. Please alpha.” 

A low growl spills from between Changbin’s clenched teeth, and he’s pinning your hands down on either side of your head in a flash, looming over you, golden irises swirling dangerously. 

“What happened to wanting to top?” 

You smirk up at him, the smell of sweet wisteria twisting with the smoky haze in the air, an intoxicating cocktail that has your wolf begging, baring its throat for Changbin, regardless of the big game you had spoken earlier. 

“Mm.” You hum out a sound of pondering in your throat, admiring the way Changbin is tense with impatience as you play with him just a bit longer. “I’ll get to that. But right now.” 

You lean up, pressing against his hold, and bring your lips to his ear, mouth brushing across the sensitive skin there, relishing in the way he shudders slightly as you breath washes across his scent gland. 

“I’d really, really like to be marked as yours.” 

Changbin takes in a breath, and you know, can see by the way his nostrils flare, that he can smell your arousal, your willingness. 

Finally, he lets out a sigh and leans forward, and when he speaks, the plush skin of his lips brushes across your throat with every word. 

“Channie’s gonna be pissed.” 

You shrug and tangle your fingers into his hair, keeping him locked against you, nose brushing your throat.

 “He’s already pissed with me anyway. What’s another reason?” 

Changbin chuckles, the sound low and dark and dangerous, and presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat. 

“You’re a brave one, baby girl, I’ll give you that.” 

You grin and tug him up to kiss you once more-hot and messy and urgent-and take the opportunity to murmur into his mouth, “I think I’d use the word ‘stupid’ but regardless of what I am, I do know I want you, baby.” 

Changbin swallows your words, swallows your moans, as he sucks vibrant purple and red love marks up and down your throat, taking his time to lathe over each darkening bruise with his tongue, soothing the slight sting, before moving onto unmarked skin. 

He swallows up your pleas and later, he swallows your commands, letting you relieve the pent up emotions you’ve held in for weeks, mapping his body with your fingers, committing to memory the way he feels, the way he looks so pretty flushed and panting and willing for you. 

Much later, he swallows a sigh, as you collapse beside him on the bed, both of you sweaty and breathing hard, seeing stars, still coming down from the high. 

Your thighs stick together where they touch-sticky and hot-but you can’t seem to care, because the marks Changbin has littered across your throat are beginning to throb pleasantly, and his fingers within your own fill the spaces that have been aching, empty, for the past two weeks. 

Nothing is said, but the room is filled with the heady, comforting smell of a warm campfire on a frosty, winter morning, and maybe, just maybe, things really are starting to finally get better. 

*****

Things do not get better. 

In fact, they get a whole lot worse. 

Because the next morning, Chan catches sight of the purply green marks adorning the skin of your throat, and he’s suddenly paying more attention to you than he has in the last two weeks. 

So much so, in fact, that before you can think to react, he’s dragging you up from your chair and out of the kitchen, leaving your half eaten bowl of cereal, and a few wide eyed stares, behind. 

Your wolf is instantly snarling at being manhandled, and you manage to wrench your arm from his strong grip before he can so much as get you to the stairs. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“What am I doing?” Chan whirls on you, fire lit up in the recesses of his eyes, lips pulled down into a thin, angry line. “What am I doing?” 

You can feel it-the white hot anger starting to bubble-but you press it back down, staring him down coldly in the face of his sudden anger. 

“Yes, that’s what I asked.” 

Chan has never looked this furious before, never, and your wolf is suddenly cowed in the face of the head alpha, but you hold your ground as he steps toward you, voice suddenly low and threatening. 

“I’m not the one who needs to be answering that question.” 

You feel your hackles raise and you’re bristling at his demeaning tone. 

The scent of incoming rain is suffocating. 

“Oh, but I really think you are, alpha.” 

Chan snarls. “Don’t.” 

“No.” You stare him down, lifting your chin, and the smell of frost is suddenly icing over the rain. “No, I will, Chan, because this is bullshit, and you know it.” 

Chan’s pupils are so dark now they could swallow you whole, and his chest visibly rises and falls with a long breath before he steps back from you, physically forcing himself to retreat. 

“I’m not doing this. You’re trying to get a rise out of me and it’s obviously working-” 

“I’m trying to get a rise out of you?” You scoff in disbelief, and his gaze darkens. “Yeah, okay, I’m trying to get a rise out of you, Chan, like I'm the one that’s been avoiding you for the last two weeks.” 

“I haven’t been avoiding anything.” Chan replies, suddenly eerily calm, and you feel like you’re going crazy. 

“Okay.” You quip back, rolling your eyes, teeth bared, wolf snarling. “Because it’s normal for us to barely see each other, let alone not say a single word to one another.” 

You catch a whiff of amber beneath the roiling storm clouds, and Minho is suddenly appearing at your side, heavy hand going down on your shoulder, eyes cold and stern. 

“You’re upsetting the omegas. If you’re going to act like children, could you at least please take your shit elsewhere?” 

Chan’s eyes flick to the other alpha’s stern gaze, and then he’s heaving a sigh, stepping back again, already headed for the door. 

“We’re done here anyway.” 

You rip yourself from Minho’s grasp and stalk after the disappearing alpha, catching up to him as he crosses the front lawn, hands angry fists at your sides. 

“We’re not done here!” 

Chan doesn’t look back at you, his face expressionless as he gets his keys out to unlock his car. 

You know, if you let him leave, it’s over. 

He’ll hole up in the studio and things will go back to the way they were-avoidance and quiet and altogether wrong-and you can’t live like that anymore. You can’t. 

“Chan-” You reach out without thinking and your fingers connect with his arm, and suddenly he’s whirling on you, teeth bared, eyes flaring gold. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

You shrink back, your wolf whimpering, because Chan has never, ever raised his voice at you, and suddenly, you’re not sure what you’re hoping to accomplish, because if you’ve really made him this angry-

He takes in a deep, calming breath, but the gold in his irises remains. 

“Don’t, okay? I have nothing else to say.” 

You bite your bottom lip so hard it hurts. 

“I know I was upset, but I didn’t mean-” 

Chan is already shaking his head, reaching for the car door, and you know you’ve lost. 

“Just don’t, (Y/N) okay?” He climbs into the car without another backward glance. “Tell Min I won’t be home for dinner.” 

And as you watch him drive off, the heavy scent of rain in the air quickly dies into something akin to wilting petals laced with regret. 

*****

You lock yourself in your room and no amount of begging from the omegas, no amount of tempting food or rumbling stomach, no amount of threats from Minho, or jokes from the betas, can force you to come out. 

So when there’s a quiet knock at your door, sometime around midnight, you don’t even think, just call out from beneath your blankets, trying to quiet your sniffles, “I already told you, I’m not in the mood.” 

There is a brief moment of silence and then-

“(Y/N). Please let me in.” 

It’s Chan’s voice-weary and unsure and wavering-and your traitorous wolf leaps excitedly at the sound, but your human body is a little slower to respond, and when you finally drag yourself out of bed and unlock the door, you wonder if you’re actually doing either of you any favors. 

Chan steps into the room and you step back from him, arms crossed over your chest like some sort of weak defensive shield, protecting your heart from any more of his hurtful words, and when he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to the punch. 

“What do you want?” 

Chan lets a sigh slide past his lips and he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck with nervous fingers. 

“You have every right to be mad at me-” 

“Oh, I’m furious.” 

His lips tick upward minutely at your words, tiredly, as if he expected this from you, and he sighs again, gaze drifting upward to the ceiling, as if he’s collecting his thoughts. 

“I know. And you deserve to feel that way.” 

You wait, biting your lip, because you have nothing else to say, and interrupting him isn’t getting you anywhere, and honestly, suddenly you’re so tired, you feel like you’re dead on your feet. 

It’s exhausting fighting with someone you love. 

Chan’s eyes meet your own once more, drifting down across your face, across the vivid marks left by Changbin’s lips, and suddenly, the words are tumbling from his lips, all the things he hasn’t said to you in the two weeks since you fought. 

“I owe you an apology. I owe you a lot of apologies actually.” He laughs humorlessly at himself, and sits down on the edge of your bed, and you dare a step closer. “First, I owe you an apology for not listening. As a leader, sometimes I get a little bit too protective for my own good. But I also need to recognize that trait in you as well and accept it.” 

You feel the air leave your lungs, and your arms slowly drop back to your sides. 

Chan offers you the hint of an exhausted smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You were protecting Jisung. And I shouldn’t have doubted that. I absolutely know you’re capable of protecting our mates, (Y/N), and I want you to know that I’ve never questioned that in the slightest. I never worry about their safety when they’re with you. Ever.” 

You hate to admit it, but you’re inching closer, listening to his sincere words, the smell of petrichor sinking into your pajamas like damp rain on a soggy spring day. 

“Go on.” 

Chan grins now, and it’s not quite back to normal, but it looks a hell of a lot better on him than the other expression he’s been wearing around you for weeks now. 

“Would you like me to continue singing your praises or would you like to hear my other apology?” 

You cock your head, as if you’re considering. 

“Hmm. As much as I love to hear you worship me, I think I like to hear you grovel more.” 

Chan chuckles and pats the spot beside him on the bed, and after a brief moment of hesitation, you sit, arm barely brushing his. 

He stares at the floor for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then sighs again, which is quickly becoming a common staple for him in this conversation. 

“Look, (Y/N). This morning. I was out of line.” 

You don’t say anything, staring down at your hands in your lap, and there’s an apology bubbling up in your own throat now, because you know, he wasn’t the only one who did or said things out of anger. 

Chan glances at you sidelong, eyes soft and dark and warm caramel, a direct contrast to the swirling fury from that morning. 

“I got overly possessive and protective again. And I’m sorry.” 

You know he’s talking about the marks Changbin had left-the marks he had left at your bidding. 

You feel the apology make its way to the tip of your tongue, following the scent of wisteria as it blooms in the air between the two of you, curling vines around the other alpha sitting stiffly beside you. 

“Chan.” 

There has never been a hard rule on leaving marks in the pack-it’s always just been more of an unspoken thing-mating marks were left by everyone, on everyone, and any other mark was usually left to the head alpha, as a way to claim, to remind, to protect. 

You knew what you had been doing when you asked Changbin to mark you, and so had Chan. 

You had taken it away from him. 

“No, it’s fine.” Chan huffs out, and when he turns to you, he’s forcing a smile again, eyes still darkened with emotion. “It’s more of a selfish thing on my part anyway.” 

You stare at him for a moment, swallowing hard, trying to gather your jumbled thoughts, and then he reaches out without warning and runs a finger down the length of your neck, carefully tracing the yellowing bruises there, his fingertip finally lingering over the scent gland at the base of your throat. 

“Chan.” You breathe out again, because under the scent of hovering rain, you can’t seem to think of anything else coherent to say. 

“I guess I just really like to know what’s mine.” Chan murmurs beneath his breath, eyes not really focused on you, fingers still hovering over your throat, your scent gland aching now for him to touch, to feel, to caress. “Must be the stupid alpha in me or something.” 

You grin then, and tease him quietly, “You are kind of a stupid alpha.” 

Chan snaps out of whatever trance he’s fallen into and shoots you a glare with no bite. 

“Hey. Rude.” 

You lean over now and bump your nose against his cheek, nuzzling against him for a moment, a silent apology for everything. 

“I’m just kidding. You’re the best alpha.” 

Chan huffs a laugh, reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair, tilting your face back so he can meet your gaze. 

“Not the best apparently. But I’ll try harder.” 

You lean up to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, and everything feels warm, and fuzzy, and you’re not sure how much of that is your mixing scents, and how much of that is just your love for Chan. 

“You are a stupid, dumb alpha sometimes. But you’re my stupid, dumb alpha, and in the end, baby, that’s all that really matters.” 

#skz #skz drabble #stray kids #stay #skz x you #skz x reader #ot8 #skz!abo #skz!pack #abo #alpha beta omega dynamics #ot8 x you #ot8 x reader #bang chan #seo changbin #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #han jisung #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #skz fluff #skz angst #skz smut #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids reactions

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

#fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #harry potter imagine #fred Weasley imagine #fred Weasley x reader #reader insert #reader has acne #reader is an unreliable narrator #reader x fred Weasley #fred Weasley fanfic #fred Weasley fluff #hurt/comfort #Fred weasley x reader

[finelinevogue]

hiii ! could you write something about harry stalking y/n's Instagram but her account is private, so he sends a request and she accepts and she follows him back, and harry likes her pics (which aren't many) and tries to find out if she do you have a boyfriend or something?

this might be quite short but i hope this is alright for you;

“What’s the correct reaction I should use when Harry Styles requests to follow me?”

You asked your best friend, Heather, as you were both lounging on your bed. She was sat up against the headboard and you lay the opposite way around, holding you phone to the ceiling.

It was just another simple day for the two of you. You’d worked a long shift at the local supermarket and Heather had worker her long shift at the cat shelter, both of you now just having some down time to relax and regroup your thoughts before you even thought to start on dinner. Heather, your best friend and roommate, was an absolute tyrant in the kitchen which meant you were often the one to cook dinner. Tonight was shrimp risotto, if you could be bothered to get out of bed to actually make it. However you were no grounded to your bed more than ever, shocked with the current notification staring you square in the eyes.

“Why?” Heather laughed at you, not noticing your heavily serious face to your question, “you having your daily dreams over the man again?”

Okay, you didn’t have daily dreams… Nightly dreams, maybe. You had liked Harry for a while actually, perhaps since he had cut his hair for a movie he had done. You weren’t a huge fan of his and listened to his music occasionally - like when you were folding laundry or on a long train ride - but you weren’t dedicated to him. He was cute and his voice sounded really lovely. He was definitely the face you used in your nighttime scenarios, but you would never admit that out loud.

“No,” you briefly paused to find the right words to say, “because Harry Styles just requested to follow me.”

“You— What!” Heather sprung up from her position on the bed, but you stayed still and eyes fixed to your phone.

“Appropriate reaction?” You asked again, handing her your phone so she could see for herself.

“Um, ascending into heaven, I don’t know do I? The really question is why the fuck haven’t you accepted it?” She was quick to answer your question and even quicker to ask hers, looking at you as if you’d just told her you were born with only one tit.

“Maybe because it’s Harry Styles!” You exclaimed, sitting up and looking at her now the same way she had just done you.

“Babe, honey, that’s exactly why you need to accept him.” Tossing you back your phone you caught it as you looked to her. God, what was happening? You’d been stacking shelves at a supermarket 3 hours ago and now you were about to accept a follow request from Harry Styles - like the same man who you think about every night before bed and yet know barely anything about.

“Oh fuck it.” You clicked accept and then followed him back, switching your phone off and throwing it down onto the bed.

“Did you..”

“Yeah.”

“So…”

“Yeah.”

Then you started to freak.

It hit you that Harry Styles could see all of your instagram photos - even the ones you were tagged in. Then you questioned whether he would even bother to stalk you? Was he that kind of person? How did he even find you in the first place? You had 489 followers to his near 50 million, so it’s not exactly like he just saw you appear in his notifications - you didn’t even follow him until 30 seconds ago. Let’s say he did see your photos, what would he see? For starters there’s the photos of you and your parents dogs and then just your parents. There’s you on the beach and you in the snow. There’s you with friends and still some posted of people you didn’t like anymore. It was okay.

“Do you think he’s wanking off to that picture of you in your lingerie?” Heather broke the silence.

“What?” You looked at her baffled by such a question.

“You know? The one you just posted like two days ago because it was body positivity week at the gym?”

Fuck.

You’d completely forgotten about that photo and you scrambled quick for your phone. God, you couldn’t let Harry see you like that. You’d felt really, really, good when you’d posted it, dressed in your black lingerie from Victorias Secret, but now you were insecure that Harry could’ve looked at the photo and… well, vomited maybe?

“Oh no, no, no.” You repeated as you went back onto Instagram, only to freeze. “Holy fuck balls.”

If your mother heard the tone of your tongue from the past 5 minutes, she would have you strung up on her washing line by your toes. Okay not literally, but something similar.

“What? What’s happened?” Heather pressed, nosy to the current situation.

“He liked the photo.”

“He what?” Heather shouted, a shit eating grin on her face.

“Oh my fuck he liked the photo.” You put the phone on the bed and got up off to stand up, pacing whilst your rubbed your hands over your stressed temples. “He liked the look.” You repeated to yourself, trying to convince yourself that this was actually happening.

Harry Styles had seen a photo of you in your lingerie. That is not something you’d ever thought you’d ever say, but there’s the fact. Like he’d seen you - your body. You paced the length of your bedroom, completely in your own head wondering where you’d go in your life past this moment. Crawling under a heavy rock to live forever sounded pretty good right now though.

“Have you done freaking out yet?” Heather asked sarcastically, watching you pace with your phone in her hands.

“No. Yes. Maybe. Is this an acceptable reaction?” You stressed your hands through your hair and cupped your hand over your mouth in shock that this was genuinely happening.

“So I shouldn’t tell you that he’s also sent a direct message?” She asked rhetorically, making you stop wearing a track into your carpet.

“He…”

“Yeah.”

“Saying?”

“Do you want to sit down first or…” Heather asked, clearly concerned you weren’t handling this all very well.

“No. I’d rather just collapse afterwards.” You nodded your head, egging her to continue.

“Okay…” She rolled her eyes and returned her eyes to the screen to start reading out the message. “Y/N—”

“Oh jesus.” You interrupted, clutching onto your desk chair as your legs went weak and you had to sit down. Heather laughed at you before continuing, her eyes lighting up as she skim read the message.

“I hope you’re having a lovely day. I hope you don’t find my follow request or liking of your photos too creepy or forward, it’s just I think you’re really beautiful and ever since I heard about you I just had to know who you were. If you don’t want to reply, that’s alright I understand, but if you would like to know me a bit more as I would like to get to know you then feel free to call me or just message back. If, however, you are already seeing someone I apologise for this message to both you and your partner. Wishing you all the best, H. x”

Breathe check. Yes, still breathing.

“Y/N?” Heather asked, noticing you were struck still.

“Okay…” You let out a shaky breathe, doing some internal meditation to try and calm the buzzing of nerves that were rushing throughout your entire body.

“Y/N?” Heather snapped you out of your attempt of peace. “What do you want to do now?”

“He called me beautiful.” You smiled at her she smiled back, happy that you were happy.

“He also said he had heard about you from somewhere?” Heather asked, having picked up on that important bit of information.

“And he wants to get to know me.”

“Yes, okay lover-woman, let’s focus here.”

“Right, yes. Focus.” You nodded your head, still in a dreamy daze.

“Should we call him?” Heather asked.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” You threw your hands up in the air, which shocked you both. “Woah, sorry. Do you seriously think he’s going to want to listen to me paralysed at the lips? No.”

“So, text?”

“Text, yes.” You sighed, coming to sit on the bed next to her and draft a message back to the man who was about to change your life.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #harry styles text #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #anon response #anon #finelinevogue blurbs #finelinevogue harry masterlist #finelinevogue masterlist #harry styles instagram #harry styles slide into the dms #harry styles fluff

[divine-mistake]

virtue and vice

Summary: What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Characters: Bucky Barnes/Plus-size (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut (vaginal fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, bit of a Dom Bucky Barnes), language, insecurity (weight issues, a little perceived fatphobia which is wiped out really soon after)

Word Count: 6120

A/N: This is a tumblr request for @buckybarnes101 who requested a Bucky/Plus-sized reader enemies to lovers who have to share one bed with smut. I loved this request and really hot to make something hot and rough and fast! Thank you so much for the request - enjoy!!

main masterlist | AO3

It finally happened, the one thing you prayed would never ever happen, the thing you’ve been dreading since you started joining James Buchanan Barnes on his stealth missions, the event that will inevitably spark your downward spiral into doom, destroying the crumbs of the relationship you’ve managed to build with him.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he says, barreling through the motel room like a ping pong ball with a little too much pent up energy.

You shrug your bag off your tired shoulder, letting it fall to the ground, not caring about how dirty the carpeting must be.

“At least it’s a queen,” you say, toeing off your boots. “I’ve had worse with Steve.”

Bucky turns to glare at you over his shoulder. “You’ve shared a bed with Steve?” he says, accusation rising in his tone. You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“I’m sorry—are you saying you haven’t? ‘Cause I call bullshit on that.”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to sift through his duffel bag instead. You shrug despite the fact that he can’t see you.

“I mean, it’s pretty routine, isn’t it? I’ve shared with Natasha, too. Sometimes you just have to make do.”

“Yeah but it’s Natasha,” he says like it matters. “I can’t believe you’ve slept with Steve.”

“God, Bucky, it’s only weird if you make it weird, and you’re making it weird.”

He straightens now, body stiff, one of his hidden holsters hanging from his vibranium hand. He doesn’t look at you and you’re too tired to start a fight—much less finish it—so you hope he just goes ahead and fucks off to the shower which you know he’s getting ready to do. He’s always been selfish like that. But it’s also not so selfish, you think, for someone like Bucky to want to wash the missions away as soon as possible.

But the bastard could ask sometimes, couldn’t he?

“I’m going first,” he says, just like always, and you bite your tongue.

“‘Kay.”

You turn and sigh, focusing your glare on the one bed filling the motel room. If there was one thing you always hoped for after a mission, it was not to end up in the same bed as James Barnes. The two of you notoriously don’t get along, for whatever reason that may be (although you’re pretty sure it has to do with the fact that he thinks you’re a useless addition to the team), but there is literally no denying the attraction you felt for him.

The man is hot, and he’s had a couple, or maybe most, of the screws in his head knocked loose.

You have it bad for him.

Oh, but James Barnes is not fond of you. Not that he would ever admit it, but the dude has some serious fatphobia going on. You’re ninety-nine-percent sure of that.

Alone in the bedroom, you start to strip out of your tac-suit, letting your gun belt and the rest of your holsters fall in a ring around your feet. As soon as the heaviness is off you, relieving some of the ache in your body, you think about just falling straight into the bed blood and dirt and grime and all. But you’re also sure Bucky would lose his mind if you did that.

Instead, you look to the floor length mirror just in front of the motel door, frowning.

Your skin-tight suit doesn’t do much to hide all the lumps and bumps and dips and hips all squished into it, and when you’re covered in tiny cuts and burns on every visible patch of skin, you can’t help but think about how Bucky sees you.

The useless fat Avenger! How fun.

You turn to the side a little, glancing at the fullness of your ass. Nice. A redeeming quality of the extra weight you carry atop the strong muscle you’ve built in your short time as part of the Superhero Menagerie. Not having a gimmick of any kind really forced you into working for the position—and now you’re not just the useless fat chick, you’re the super hacking, super gun toting, mega-badass fat Avenger instead.

The shower squeaks and the water stops, signaling the end of Bucky’s shower.

You look up to the ceiling, praying to some god to hear you that everything will work out just fine.

And then Bucky exits the bathroom, steam flooding from the room, wrapped only in a thinning motel towel secured by his metal hand at his waist. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen his chiseled figure, but there’s something that jumps up your throat at the thought that you have to shower in that same shower and then sleep in the same bed as the bed that body is sleeping in.

Oh, fuck.

“All yours,” he murmurs, not even looking at you.

“Great.” You grab your change of clothes and head for the bathroom, trying to think about anything except him.

When you smell less like blood and asbestos and more like strawberries and peaches, hair damp and a clean t-shirt and sleep shorts sticking to your heat-splotched body, you enter the bedroom once again. Bucky is sitting against the headboard, going through his phone now that you’re both safe and secure in France, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants.

Okay, act cool. Just get into bed and pretend like it’s not weird.

You pad over to the bed, grimacing at the feel of the gross carpet beneath your clean feet, hopping beneath the sheets as quick as possible. If Bucky looks at you, then you don’t see it, because you are focused solely on not looking at him. Petty? Perhaps. Keeping your sanity intact? Absolutely.

“You tired?” he asks and you snort.

“Extremely. You don’t have to turn off the light if you aren’t ready to sleep, though.” You situate yourself as far on the edge of the bed as possible—something you’ve never done with any of the other people you’ve been forced to share a bed with. You and Natasha aren’t new to sleeping together, especially after some of the nights out you’ve shared, but you and Steve definitely cuddled, though you wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Steve’s just kinda lonely, you think. And to be honest, you’re a little touch-starved yourself.

But you know you take up a lot of space and you’re sure Bucky hates that, so you bury yourself under the motel sheets and snuggle up to your pillow, trying to make yourself as small as humanly possible.

After a moment, Bucky asks, “Are you comfortable like that?”

You crack an eye open and twist to look at him. “What?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t you tell me not to make it weird? You’re making it weird now.”

“You already made it weird.”

“I’m trying not to make it weird anymore.”

“A little late for that—”

“God, just, c’mere.”

Bucky grabs you around your waist, your shirt riding up, and pulls you closer. You shriek in surprise, eyes wide, as he manhandles you until you’re away from the edge and your back is pressed against his bare chest.

“There—that’s better,” he says, nearly whispering in your ear he’s so close to you now. He unwinds his arm from your middle and reaches up to hit the light, the room going completely dark save for the little sliver of artificially light pouring in from underneath the shitty curtains.

You don’t even know what to say. Bucky’s rendered you completely speechless.

First of all, the man has never touched you for no reason like that before. Second of all, how the hell did he just move you like you weighed the same as the pillow beneath his head? Third of all, he hates you, so why is he so bothered about you and your comfort? Fourth, he just moved you around like you weighed literally nothing.

And boy, did it send a flood of pleasure straight to your core, almost as if your body just gave the green light to your libido. The perfect time too, y’know, when you’re sharing a bed with your co-worker who hates your guts.

Play it cool. Just play it fucking cool.

“Uh, are you okay?” you ask him in return, and Bucky shifts so his back is pressed up to yours.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go to sleep.”

“‘Kay. Good night.���

“Night.”

What they don’t tell you in bootcamp is that trying to fall asleep next to your co-worker, the one that you’re insanely attracted to and might have the tiniest crush on, who also hates your guts and kind of would rather turn himself over to HYDRA than hold a real conversation with you, while sharing the same bed, is impossible. There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to fall asleep next to Bucky.

Your brain turns and turns and turns, body straining to stay as still as possible to not upset the super soldier sleeping right beside you. What does he have against you? Why does he hate you so much? You really thought once you started going on more missions—proving you were worthy to be a part of the team—that he’d start coming around and seeing your value. But you feel like all it’s served is to make him hate you more, especially now that you tag along on his stealth operations as his techie.

Maybe he knows you’re into him, and maybe that’s why he never wants to be around you. But, god, it’s not like you think you have a chance with him in any capacity, and you’d pass up tens of thousands of chances to be with him if he’d just be your friend!

Because Bucky deserves another friend, doesn’t he?

As if he can read your mind—or maybe it’s just god playing tricks on you—Bucky shifts around in the bed again, turning toward you. You don’t know if he’s sleeping yet or not, but you curl in on yourself a little to give him more space to stretch out.

Bucky’s vibranium arm slides over your waist, cool metal grazing by the sliver of skin peeking out from underneath your shirt, and when you flinch from it, he pulls you flush against him. Behind you, the bare skin of his chest is warm, almost too hot. Super soldiers run warmer than normal humans, and you think he’d be nice to have in bed more often.

In your ear, Bucky groans in his sleep and it makes you shiver despite the heat radiating through your back. He must be like Steve, wanting to cuddle in his sleep. No one ever wants to admit it out loud, but you’re the best thing to cuddle in the Tower. Being squishy and soft atop hard, strong muscle means you’re more comfortable than all the rigid bodies of the Avengers. Maybe Bucky needs this.

But you wish you could fall asleep so you’ll stop thinking about how much you’ve wanted this since the day you saw him, the new Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, hair tied up in a messy bun and stubble thick and dark, vibranium arm hidden within the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Suddenly, everything is too hot. The room, the motel sheets, the pillow beneath your head. Bucky Barnes behind you, arm slung over your body, holding you to him. He’s sleeping, you know, the quiet rumble of his breathing a song in your ear, chest rising and falling against your back. You shift a little, trying to get more comfortable as the warmth starts to become unbearable. When that doesn’t help, you shift again, trying to pull your back away from Bucky, but it sends your bottom half straight into his.

A growl brushes by your ear all breathy and low and Bucky’s arm tightens around you, bringing you back to him.

Damn, who knew Bucky was such a cuddler when he’s sleeping?

You wait a few minutes, keeping still, until you’re sure he’s slipped back into unconsciousness. His nose is nearly pressed into your hair, his breaths upsetting the small wisps of hairs that curl at your ear. Sweat is starting to collect underneath your shirt where your bodies are connected and you know you’ll never be able to fall asleep like this.

Again, you shift toward the edge of the bed, trying to pull yourself out of Bucky’s grasp, but he drags you back into his embrace. The swell of your ass meets his thigh and in a panic, you move around to try and put space between the two of you again, but Bucky lets out a strangled-sounding groan, hissing through his teeth.

“You gotta stop moving, doll, or you’re not gonna like what happens next.”

He is not asleep.

“Bucky?” you squeak, eyes wide, frozen in place.

“Hm?” His metal hand sneaks underneath the hem of your shirt, fingers finding your soft skin and thumb starting to rub little circles just above your hip, a point of pleasure on your body. No one ever touches you here, and it takes everything you have not to press back into him, asking for more. Your breathing is heavier now as you try to control yourself.

“You aren’t—Why aren’t you sleeping?” you ask, sounding winded from the simplest act of him touching you.

“Hard to sleep when you’re next to me,” he murmurs in your ear, nose brushing up against the patch of skin behind it. Your eyes flutter closed. Every small touch feels like heaven. You never allow others to touch you more than necessary, but now Bucky is handling you so gently.

“I can’t sleep either,” you whisper. “Do you want me to go? I can take a walk.”

He makes a noise of disapproval. “Just stay still,” he says, almost begging. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s hot,” you whine. “You’re too hot.”

You can feel him smirk into the back of your neck. “You don’t gotta tell me, doll.”

“Shut up,” you say with a huff of frustration, wiggling in the bed to get your point across. Immediately, Bucky’s vibranium hand falls to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough for the flash of pain to turn to pleasure, holding you still.

“I said stop moving,” he says, and it's so close to a command that your teeth tear into your bottom lip as his voice sends shocks through your core. Now, hyperaware of how close your bodies are underneath the sheets, you realize your ass is pressed against his pelvis, not his thigh, and you’ve definitely been—

Bucky grinds into you, seething, breath ghosting over your ear, his cock hard and heavy in his sweatpants.

Wetness pools between your thighs, dampening the thin cotton panties you wear beneath your sleep shorts.

“Bucky,” you breathe his name. “What are you doing?”

“So tired of you teasin’ me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “I’ve put up with it for so long—too long—and I just knew you were gonna do it tonight, too. Only one fucking bed. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

Your voice sounds so small when you whisper, “What are you talking about?”

Then Bucky lays a kiss to the back of your neck, trailing upward until he reaches the lobe of your ear, and pulls it into his mouth and between his teeth. You shiver, violently, unable to stop the reaction. It must please him because he yanks your hips back into him again, forcing you to grind on his bulge.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, muffling whatever sounds threaten to fall from your lips.

“Doll, you’ve been teasin’ me from the beginning. From the moment I saw you in your gear on the Berlin mission, all your curves on display in that tight little cat-suit you’re always wearing, armed to the teeth, handling all those guns looking so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You swallow hard. The Berlin mission, your first stealth mission with Bucky, had gone sour and the two of you found yourselves in a gun fight that was never meant to happen. You’re pretty sure you walked back onto the quinjet covered in blood, bruised, and a gash in your thigh that made you wobble when you stood up, and Bucky didn’t even look at you as per usual. Bucky never looks at you on missions unless he absolutely has to.

Wait.

“Is that why you never look at me?” you ask him, and you wish you could see his face right now, but all you can feel is his lips as they pepper kisses along the column of your throat, coaxing shudders and little squeaks out of you.

“You expect me to look at you without wanting to jump your bones, doll?” His nose caresses the spot at the top of your spine, his fingers melting at your hip and soothing the bruises you’re sure he’s already left. “That’s just askin’ too much, baby. How am I supposed to look at you and stop myself from kissin’ you silly?”

Pleasure flutters through your stomach, surging through the apex of your thighs.

“Then do it,” you tell him. Bucky goes still, unmoving, and you wonder if you’ve pushed too hard.

But then his voice is low, dark, in your ear. “You don’t know what you’re saying, doll.”

The honey dripping from your center, pooling in your underwear, says very differently. Instead of answering, you press your ass back into him, gyrating your hips straight upon his pelvis, rubbing against his clothed cock. Bucky chokes.

And then he’s up and above you, rolling your body beneath him, caging you between his arms. You nearly gasp when you look up at him, his blue eyes intense in a way you’ve never seen them before, his lips pink and swollen from biting—you’re sure yours look the same and he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

Bucky leans closer, his mouth only inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. Your eyes threaten to flutter shut in anticipation but you force yourself to look at him, to take all of him in.

“If you want this, I won’t be able to hold myself back, doll. Wanted you too long. Need you.”

Then, he pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“But if you don’t,” he swallows, “then we’ll forget this ever happened, and everything will go back to normal.”

Fuck that.

“Kiss me, sergeant,” you command, hand shooting up to tangle in his thick hair.

Bucky curses and then he’s on you before you have a chance to reach up and meet him halfway. His lips are rough, chapped, but plush and perfect against yours. He wastes no time, tongue licking into your mouth and meeting yours, tasting you for the first time. You respond eagerly, hand fisting in his hair, pulling him into you until you can’t tell where his body ends and yours begins.

When he’s satisfied with how kiss-drunk you look, lips swollen and eyes hazy, he moves to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and sinks his teeth into your skin, causing you to cry out. The pain and the pleasure mingle, like lovers, like you and Bucky, as his fingers take hold of your shirt and in one tug, the fabric pulls apart at the seams.

You don’t care—you can buy a new shirt. You need him to touch you.

Until you realize you aren’t wearing a bra and that your top half is completely bare to Bucky, the man who, before a minute ago, you thought hated you because you were fat. Because it was the only explanation you had. Because you’re insecure.

Your hands fall upon his chest, bracing against him, stopping him in his tracks. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, brows drawn together in confusion, and all you can do is try and cover yourself with your arms before he gets a peek. It’s dark, but super soldiers can see in the dark. A blessing and a curse.

“I don’t want you to look at me,” you whisper so quietly you realize no normal person would have been able to hear it. “I’m—I shouldn’t have let you—I’m so fat, Bucky.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Baby, baby,” he soothes you, his flesh hand coming up to cradle your cheek, fingers brushing delicately over your skin. “You don’t believe me when I say I want to see you? Doll, your body drives me insane, and god, every time you get an attitude with me and you put your hands on your hips and you look at me all mad…”

Bucky groans and he rocks his pelvis into yours, hard cock hitting your center and making your breath hitch.

“You’re beautiful, baby. Gorgeous. Do you know how hard it is for me to be around you sometimes ‘cause you’re just so pretty? More than pretty, I don’t even know the words to tell you, baby. Please, please don’t hide yourself from me, let me look at you, let me touch you, baby. S’all I want to do is look at you for the rest of my life.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until Bucky’s thumb swipes a tear away and you blink, and he’s smiling at you so warmly, really looking at you, maybe for the first time ever since you’ve known him.

“You think so?” you ask, breathless. “Even though you’re so—so good, Bucky, so beautiful and so good.”

He rests his forehead against yours, inhaling your scent, your essence, your soul. You nuzzle into his palm, kissing the center of his skin where his lifeline sits among other small scars. Then, you pull your arms away from your body, moving to wrap them around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp as you tip your chin up to slant your mouth over his. Bucky returns your enthusiasm, tongue meeting yours sweetly, and then metal fingers are trailing up your side.

Bucky pulls away, searching your eyes for consent.

“Say you’re mine,” he begs. “Say you’re mine, baby, but if you do, I won’t be gentle.”

You look up at him from underneath your lashes, already heady with the feeling of Bucky wanting you, desiring every part of you.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, and the mood in the room shifts violently.

In an instant, Bucky pulls your arms away from where they’re wound around his neck and pins them over your head, metal fingers locked around both your wrists. It makes you arch into him and then his nose is tracing your sternum, a line down your center, cutting you in half until his flesh hand attaches to your breast and his lips find your nipple.

Just like he said, he’s not gentle, and it has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, lids fluttering, as his teeth nip and tug at the delicate bud. His tongue follows the performance, sucking and soothing the pain away with sweet licks until he’s bored and moves onto the other one.

He lifts his head up to say, “Don’t move your hands,” and then his vibranium fingers find the hardened, sensitive nub and begin to twist and pull at it as his lips play with the other. The pleasure is overwhelming, the pain is a shocking reminder of who is playing your body like a symphony. You arch your breasts toward him, you roll your hips up to meet his bulge, you do anything you can to relieve the pressure that’s building in your core, screaming at you that you need his touch.

“Bucky,” you call out, moaning, struggling to keep your hands near the headboard.

“Do you need more, sweet girl?”

“Please,” you beg and press your center up to rub his cock. “It aches,” you whine.

“You gonna be a good girl for me? Let me touch you? Let me make the pain go away, baby?”

His words send new waves of pleasure through you, every part of you flushing with heat, your thighs squeezing together as if you can hide your leaking core from him.

“Yes, yes, yes, Bucky.”

He lays kisses on the underside of your breasts, just below them, like he’s following the lines of your ribs as he moves down toward your stomach—the part of you that you hate the most. You struggle underneath him.

“Not there,” you say as he places open-mouthed kisses on your soft belly. It tickles and makes you tremble and writhe.

He chuckles darkly. “I thought you said you were gonna be a good girl?” Both hands fall upon your hips, trapping you, fingers digging into your soft, pliant flesh as he nuzzles and licks and nips and kisses your stomach. You throw your head back, dizzy at the thought of what your body will look like tomorrow, purpled bruises made of passion.

“I’m a good girl,” you pant, mouth falling open as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Then let me touch you, doll. All of you—I want all of you.”

You hear the sound of fabric ripping before you feel the cool air rush over where your sleep shorts are no longer, Bucky tosses the tatters of fabric over the edge of the bed. He inhales sharply at the sight of you, hands roaming over the wide breadth of your hips as if he can’t even draw himself away, smoothing over your stretch marks with loving strokes until he finds the thick expanse of your bare thighs.

Bucky’s thumb brushes over your clothed cunt, panties drenched, and a strangled moan flies from your mouth as you press toward him, begging for more.

“This all for me?” he asks, voice gravelly. “My pretty baby is all wet like this for me? Christ, doll, you’re dripping.”

“Yes!” you shout as metal fingers hook around your underwear to rip them off, parting your lips to watch your slick seep from your aching core. “It’s all for you, Bucky, all of it.”

He groans at this. “Good girl,” he praises you. “That’s my good girl.”

And then he sinks two fingers into you, your juices soaking his hand almost immediately, and pumps into you like his life depends on it. The pleasure is too much, and when his thumb finds your clit and begins to slide over it, your knees try to close out of instinct, hips canting away from the pleasure. Bucky growls and wraps an arm around your hips, keeping you close, baring your naked body to him and him alone.

“You like that?” His voice is low, teasing, so fucking hot you can’t do anything but gasp for breath. “You’re sucking my fingers in, baby. So tight. Gotta work you open or you’re never gonna be able to take my cock, honey.”

You whimper his name, hips twitching under his grasp, crying out as every stroke of his fingers brings you closer and closer to the edge. When he adds a third, you think you might die from the mix of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls.

“You’re such a good girl,” he coos. “You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you? Been teasin’ me too long, and now you’ve gotta take it all, baby.”

He drives his fingers inside and hits the soft, spongy spot inside of you and it breaks you apart, tears you asunder, you’re arching off the bed and Bucky holds his thumb on your clit as you undulate upon his fingers. You can feel the gush of come that trickles down his thick fingers, and then he pulls out and places them in his mouth, licking your honey from the digits as the aftershocks of your orgasm wrack through you.

And when you can finally open your eyes, vision hazy, Bucky is looking at you with a mix of adoration and lust, licking your juice from his lips, grinning.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises again and the fire of pleasure and want and need ignites.

“Need you,” you whine, “right now, please, please sergeant.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “You don’t know what you do to me when you say that, doll.”

You definitely know what you do to him, and you’re gonna keep saying it and saying it until he’s yours, forever, until the end, until he’s buried so deep inside of you that you could die happy.

Staring up at him, your face flushed, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead and spread among the motel pillows, you think you might be in love with Bucky Barnes.

“Need me to fuck you, baby? Fuck, you drive me so fuckin’ crazy. I’m crazy about you, baby. You’re so goddamn perfect, so soft, so beautiful.” Bucky’s hands touch every part of you, even the places you hate. He finds the soft rolls of fat you try to work off at the gym, finds the squishy parts of your upper arms you think look unsightly when you’re hacking into HYDRA’s systems, fingers flying over the keyboard. He passes over your stubbly legs, a little sharp from three days of not shaving while on the mission, he caresses the dimples of cellulite in the backs of your thighs you hate so much.

And then he pushes the waistband of his sweats down and kicks his pants off, his cock exposed and standing attention all red at the tip and thick and hard and hot, and his hands slide underneath your thighs and press you up until you’re angled to take him.

He hesitates though, you feel it. And god, you’d do anything for him.

“Fuck me, sergeant,” you beg so prettily, and Bucky growls.

His hips snap into yours, cock sliding through your walls, parting you for him, splaying you open, stretching you, burning you, he’s everything. Bucky gives you one second to adjust and then he’s moving within you, the pain blurring into pleasure, your head thrown back, keening, moaning, crying out, nails sinking into his shoulders.

“Yes,” he hisses, sweat dripping down his temple as he rams into you over and over and over. “Give it to me, baby. You feel so good.”

“Harder,” you manage in between your shrieks and moans and Bucky answers your call with a response. He drags you toward him until your hips are attached to his, connected, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you, the darkest parts of you, and you sob as the new angle makes you feel every single drag of his length. The head of his cock pierces you, smashing against the spot that makes you keen, and the pressure is building up within you again.

Bucky’s fingers find purchase in the plush flesh that sits on your hips, dragging down until he’s digging into your thick thighs, the sharp pain a beacon cutting through the haze of pleasure you’re locked in as he fucks you. It’s building, building, building, pressure, building.

“Come for me,” he snarls, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, like he can feel how close you are. And for the second time, your body is shattered and your orgasm breaks like a wave crashing against the shore, swallowing you whole until you’re lost in everything that is Bucky.

You scream his name, legs tightening around him like you’re trying to hold onto something, anything, and his words are lost on you.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s my good girl, coming so sweet around my cock, god you feel so good baby, so tight, such a good little girl.”

Bucky pulls out of you and you whine as your slick slips out of you, his cock coated in your essence, smearing it against your inner thighs. But it doesn’t last that long. With an immediacy that turns you on—he wants you, he wants you so bad—Bucky grabs you and flips you over, putting you on your hands and knees. His palm forces your head down, back bowing until you’re arched with your ass upturned, face smashed into the pillows.

“God,” he groans, “this fuckin’ ass of yours, baby. It gets me in so much trouble, d’ya know that? You don’t even know how many times I’ve caught myself watching the way your ass swings when you walk, like y’gotta purpose, like you don’t even know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

Bucky’s hands round over your ass, caressing them gently, then grabbing fistfuls of your flesh until you’re crying out once again. It makes you lean back into him, trying to seek out the pleasure of him, wiggling as if you can entice him to stuff you with his cock again.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathes, and then he gives your right cheek a slap that makes you shriek, laying a kiss on it just after to soothe the pain.

“Please sergeant,” you gasp. “Please, please, I need you to fuck me again.”

“You want me to fuck you again?” he asks, smug. “I just fucked you ‘till you came around me, baby. You need me to do it again?”

It’s humiliating, but your words are jumbled as you cry and beg and cry and beg for him to take you again. You need him. You need him to fuck you. You need Bucky Barnes to do anything and everything to you.

He leans over you, breath hot on the back of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, again and again and again.”

And then he slams back into you, the angle so much deeper this time, cock hitting the back of your cunt like he was made for you—like you were made for him.

You can’t speak, can’t think, can’t do anything but drool into the pillow as he takes you from behind like a wild animal. The sounds that pour from your open lips are heady and strung together, making no sense, but Bucky knows what you need. He fucks you raw, fucks you hard, fucks you until you know you’ll be covered in bruises in the morning. His metal arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you to him because you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up.

When his thrusts become sloppy, Bucky takes his vibranium hand and searches for your clit, making you cry out. It’s too much—the overstimulation. You’re too sensitive, too exhausted, too fucked out to take the pleasure anymore. But you clench around him, the sloppy sounds of your wet heat taking Bucky as he pounds into you making you flush, and the coil in your stomach is tightening.

“Give it to me,” Bucky commands, ramming into you impossibly harder, fingers sliding over your slick clit. “Give it to me, baby.”

You whine his name and Bucky’s free hand smacks your ass again, the sound of flesh on flesh mingling with the sound of him fucking you.

“You said you’d be good,” he grits through his teeth. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes,” you pant.

“You’re a good girl?”

“Yes.”

“You’re my good girl?”

“Yes, sergeant, yes!”

“Then give it to me. Come, baby, come for me, one more time.”

And like that, you come apart, knees collapsing beneath you. Bucky catches you in his arms, thrusting once, twice more, and then buries himself so far inside of you that you barely feel his hot seed spurt inside of you, coating your insides.

You fall to the bed and Bucky follows, pulling out of you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing your back to his chest in the very position that started this all. He peppers kisses over the expanse of your shoulders, behind your ear, and then turns you until he can connect his lips to yours. Bucky kisses you like he means it, like he wants it to last forever.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers against your mouth, then he’s off the bed and headed for the bathroom. You lay there in bliss, staring up at the ceiling with lidded eyes, unable to think of anything but the pleasure and exhaustion that make up your body right now. When Bucky returns, he has a ratty washcloth in hand and he uses it to clean between your legs. It’s warm and he’s gentle, leaving you shivering when he’s finished.

When he climbs back in bed, he tucks a piece of your matted hair behind your ear, smiling at you.

“Such a good girl,” he says, one last time, and it makes you smile. “My good girl,” he murmurs as he kisses you again.

“Yours?” You look up at him, blinking innocently.

“Mine.” Bucky lays your head upon his bare chest. “All mine.”

You fall asleep before him to the sound of his breathing, sharing the same bed with your co-worker Bucky Barnes, who you really think you might be in love with, especially as he strokes your hair so softly until your eyes fall, heavy.

Taglist: @melancholic-metanoia @kitkatd7 @mimiswitchywrites @tripleyeeet @allidoiswritewritewrite

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #one shot #drabble #fic requests #inbox me to request a fic! #smut fic #thanks for supporting me! #divine masterlist

[butterflyyeo]

drunk in love

pairing - yeosang x fem reader

genre - fluff, angst (?)

tw - lots of alcohol consumption, swearing

wc - 10k

side ships - seongjoong, yungi

a/n -- was meant to be angst but turned into fluff... im trying my best to get better at writing angst aaaah. but please enjoy this for now <3 thanks for letting me tag you @iminchaosnow !!

------------------------------------------- you had known kang yeosang for nearly two years now. two, dreadfully slow and exhausting years.it was your final year of high school when he transferred to your school, he was a close family friend of wooyoung's. his parents had spoken highly of the school, insisting that yeosang transfers in order to excel for his last year of schooling. as far as you were concerned, he had decent grades, but he preferred to spend his time hanging around the skatepark after dark, when everyone else had left.

and in all the two years you'd known him, you had never once had a full conversation with him, despite being in your group of friends. his side of the 'conversation' usually consisted of monotonous 'yeahs' and 'mhms'. wooyoung constantly assured you it was because he's shy and that he'd eventually open up. but you weren't convinced. you tried so hard for him to like you, but your efforts were fruitless. it was infuriating, feeling like you were constantly doing something wrong whenever you were around him.

you currently found yourself in the backseat of yeosang's car, wedged between a drunken yunho and mingi while a chaotic wooyoung was singing along to his chosen playlist. (though, it sounded more like wailing.)

you and the eight boys had all decided to take a gap year, spend every last cent you earned on adventure and alcohol to make lifelong memories, before your careers became a blockade in your friendship. but the year was coming to an end soon, it was already mid november. on the bright side, that meant your favourite holidays were just weeks away.

yeosang was always the designated driver. that was something you had noticed about him over the last few years. to be honest, you weren't sure just how he coped with a screeching wooyoung, because you sure as hell weren't dealing very well with yunho and mingi who were playing a very intense game of rock paper scissors to decide who would be crashing on the couch in your apartment.

"i win!" mingi cheered, waving his hands excitedly. "you're on the couch, man."

yunho frowned, "damn."

you laughed, "it's okay, yunho. you can share the bed with me if you'd like."

"hey! that's not fair y/n! you said i could this time." wooyoung whined from the front seat.

"sorry, woo. you know i keep my promises, but you're going back to your apartment. remember?" you tried to reason.

wooyoung looked as though someone had switched a lightbulb on behind his eyes, "oh yeah! i forgot."

the four of you burst into laughter, mainly caused by the alcohol and partially because of wooyoung's realisation. and still, yeosang didn't crack a smile, hands just gripping the steering wheel tighter as his knuckles turned white.

soon, you arrived outside your apartment block, quickly stepping out the car after yunho. wooyoung wound his window down and you poked your head in, attempting to hug him goodbye.

"bye woo!" you said, giggling at your faltered farewell.

"good night y/n, thanks for the drinks!" he shouted, exclaiming a bit too loudly next to your ear.

"thanks for the lift as always, yeosang!" you yelled, pulling away from wooyoung's tight hug.

he nodded, "no problem." before putting the window up and driving away.

you pouted, turning around to face the two boys. "i just don't understand what i'm doing wrong." you buried your face into your hands, "why doesn't he like me?" you groaned.

"y/n." mingi began, "its nearly 1am, its way too late for this 'why does yeosang hate me?' crap." he shook your shoulders, literally trying to shake some sense into you.

"yeah, mingi's right. we've had this discussion a thousand times." yunho said grasping your wrist and pulling you up the stairs, stumbling along the way. (because lets be real, stairs are difficult enough as it is, let alone when drunk.) "now, let us into your apartment so we can eat your food and crash on your couch!" he joked, nudging mingi in a playful manner.

you reached into your pocket and fumbled around with they key for a moment before unlocking the door. the boys practically pushed you inside and made a beeline for the fridge.

"help yourselves! i'm going to shower." you called, dragging yourself to your bedroom.

once you'd finished showering you went back to the living room to check on yunho and mingi. not so much to your surprise, they had fallen asleep on your couch already, cuddled up into each other. it was cute, even picture worthy to show their sober selves. you reached for your phone which typically lived in your pocket, though you began to panic when it wasn't there. hurrying around the apartment, you searched every possible nook and cranny for your phone, but it was nowhere to be found. you collapsed onto your bed, snuggling into the soft sheets, too tired to worry about your phone anymore and content with the assumption that you'd left it in yeosang's car.

shortly, your heavy eyes fell shut and you began to sleep away the tequila.

————————

the next morning you awoke to mingi and yunho's deep, hungover voices, discussing their plans for the next week.

you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed and dawdled down the hallway.

"ah! there's our favourite karaoke partner!" yunho greeted, jokingly.

you laughed, "shh, don't let wooyoung hear you say that."

"she's right, man. he'd be so offended." mingi said, stretching out his sore limbs. "how are you feeling today, y/n?" he asked.

"not the worst hangover i've had. what about you guys? you're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like, until you feel better." you replied, knowing them well enough to know that they'd need at least a few painkillers and a good meal before they went home.

yunho chuckled, "i feel like crap, but nothing a sandwich and glass of water can't solve."

"i second that." mingi said, raising a hand.

"okay, well in that case, i'll go to the store and get something for breakfast. sound good?" you reasoned, running a hand through your hair. you loved these boys, and making them breakfast was just a nice way of showing you cared. drunk or not, they knew how to make you smile and laugh, which they loved to see.

"sounds amazing!" yunho said, breaking into a sincere smile.

you quickly changed out of your pyjamas and slipped some shoes on.

"i might be a bit longer, i need to stop by yeosang's. i think i left my phone in his car." you explained, picking your keys up from the kitchen counter. "see you guys soon! feel free to take a shower if you want." you said, waving goodbye and heading out the door.

"okay, bye y/n!" the boys called from behind you.

the first stop was yeosang's apartment, he only lived about ten minutes away with wooyoung and san, in the same building as jongho. both yunho and mingi lived on the other side of town, which is why they so often crashed at your place after parties. seonghwa and hongjoong were fortunate enough to live in a house, just outside town, they had actually been the hosts of last night's party.

it didn't take long to get there. you pushed open the lobby door and made your way over to the elevator, disappointed to see that it was out of order for maintenance. instead, you took the stairs and began spiralling upwards. less than a minute later you looked up, only to bump into the man you came looking for.

"oh, yeosang! i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to." you quickly apologised, worried about creating another reason for him to dislike you.

"it's fine." he shrugged.

you both began to talk again at the same time, "ah, sorry, you go."

"i was just gonna say, you left your phone in my car. actually, i was about to bring it back." he pulled your phone from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to you. as he did, your fingers brushed against his. he spun around suddenly and began to walk away, "i'll see you around."

he had left before you even had a chance to thank him. slightly confused and frustrated, you turned back around and traipsed down the stairs.

you gathered what you needed for a hearty breakfast at the local convenience store before heading home and spending the rest of the day in the enjoyable company of yunho and mingi.

yeosang had entered back into his apartment and sat down on the couch.

"back already?" wooyoung asked, rummaging through the fridge.

"she was coming to get her phone and i ran into her on the staircase."

wooyoung sighed, "when are you gonna stop hating her?"

"i don't hate her." yeosang said, not looking up from his phone.

"then why do you act like you do?"

yeosang pretended to not hear that question and continued to scroll through his phone. see, he'd rather not dwell on things that he couldn't understand.

————————

to fill up your weekdays during your gap year, you had picked up a job at a hotel in town as a receptionist. to your dismay, your boss had asked you to work night shift all week, which is how you found yourself here on thursday night, sitting alert and waiting for the slight chance that someone might check in at this time of night. it was a pretty fancy hotel, and the job payed well enough, so really, you had nothing to complain about.

the nights seemed to drag on for an eternity. to keep yourself busy, you often wasted time counting the cars that drove past, or tried to count the number of crystals that hung from the chandelier. so far, only a few people had checked in during your shift, having come from overseas and recently arriving at the airport. honestly, whenever someone walked through the front door, lugging a suitcase behind them, you got excited as it gave you something to do.

the clock was creeping up to 4am and you let out a quiet yawn, feeling drowsy as your body clock hadn't yet adjusted to the change of sleeping patterns on such short notice. taking a sip of water, you shook your head, trying to stay awake. your head suddenly jolted up at the sound of the front door opening.

a man stumbled forward, and you'd seen enough zombie movies to become instantly paranoid. you quickly pushed the thought out of your head, feeling ridiculous for even considering it. but as the man got closer, you could smell the cheap, potent alcohol lingering on his body.

he leant against the desk, peering down at you. "i need a room for the night."  he grumbled. "my stupid wife kicked me out." he said under his breath.

you forced a friendly smile, despite feeling uneasy, "of course! i just need you to fill in this form with some simple details." you said, sliding across a clipboard and a pen.

he huffed, picking up the pen and scribbling onto the sheet of paper before pushing it back to you. "can i go now?"

"just a moment, sir." you replied, eyes skimming over the form as you copied the information into the computer in front of you.

the man was growing impatient, stepping from foot to foot with his arms crossed.

"uh, sir, you missed a part of the form. could you please provide your phone number here." you pointed to the empty space on the sheet.

"for fucks sake." he muttered, "i don't have my phone on me and i don't know my phone number." he said, annoyedly tapping on the desk.

"i'm really sorry, sir, but—"

"can't you just find me a fucking room?" he snapped, hands balled into fists and slamming against the desk, making you jump in fright.

before you had time to try and reason with him, he continued to shout.

"you're as stupid as my wife! i'll just find a different fucking hotel." he yelled, swiping the clipboard and pen off the desk. "useless bitch." he mumbled as he kicked over a chair on his way out.

you chewed your bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears. with shaky hands, you picked up your phone and dialled the first place that came to mind. after a few rings, the phone answered.

"woo?" you croaked, trying hard to not cry.

"he's asleep. this is yeosang." he replied, evidently having just woken up by the sound of his voice.

"oh." you began, instantly feeling guilty for waking him up, "i'm sorry i didn't mean to disturb you."

"did you need something?" he asked.

"i just, i was..." you let out a sob, wiping at a tear falling from your eye.

this didn't go unnoticed by yeosang, "are you crying? what are you doing awake right now anyway?"

"i'm at work." you managed to choke out.

"at 4am?"

"i'm on night shift."

"why are you crying then?" he asked, feeling something slightly tug at his heart, but choosing to ignore it.

you began to ramble, "a man came in and he was really drunk and complaining about his wife and then he yelled at me because i asked him to give his phone number and—"

"i'm on my way." yeosang cut you off.

"what?"

"i'll be there in ten." with that, he hung up the phone.

exactly ten minutes later, you were sat in the passenger seat of yeosang's car. he was dressed in sweats, clearly having come straight from bed. you'd left a note on the desk, explaining to your coworker why you wouldn't be there when she arrived to take over your shift. a silence filled the car, and you felt the need to talk, but chose not to, worried about giving yeosang another reason to hate you.

once you arrived outside your apartment building, you were surprised that yeosang got out the car too and trailed closely behind you up the stairs to your apartment. when you reached the door you spun around to face him.

"thank you for bringing me home." you said, voice quiet and still rather shaken up.

"it's no problem. good night, y/n." he replied, sensing that you were still upset. he suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you tightly and not let go until you stopped crying. he wanted to protect you from every drunk idiot on the planet. he wanted to make you feel safe.

but instead, he watched as you closed the door behind you and locked it from inside.

————————

you arrived at work the next morning, instantly feeling more comfortable with cleaners, employees and people coming and going. immediately, you headed for your boss's office.

"good morning, sir. i just wanted to come and apologise for leaving my shift early last night. i can assure you it won't happen again." you said, feeling nervous as to what your boss might say.

he shook his head, "i should be the one apologising, a man came in this morning and spoke very sternly about the safety problems here. i realise now how stupid it was of me to make you work night shift, alone, at such a young age. we've hired security guards and have also made sure that two people will be on desk at all times. i'm sorry that you had to deal with that."

you were at a loss for words, you didn't think that there would be such drastic changes just from the once incident. "thank you so much." you replied.

"for now, take the rest of the day off. you'll only be working day shifts for next week and can return to doing night shifts whenever you feel ready to do so." your boss said, motioning for the door.

the rest of the day you spent in deep sleep, catching up on some much overdue rest.

———————

weeks passed and you found that work was much more enjoyable. you still hadn't returned to working night shifts, but at least now you had someone to run the front desk with you and keep you company.

this weekend, you were going to visit hongjoong and seonghwa. hongjoong was sick and so you decided to go help out since seonghwa couldn't always be there to look after him.

you knocked on their front door and was surprised to be greeted by san.

"good afternoon! come in." he gave you a hug before ushering you inside.

"what are you doing here?" you said, following him down the hall.

in the living room, you saw all eight of the boys gathered around a couch-ridden hongjoong.

"jongho was already here when me, yeosang and woo arrived." san explained.

"yeah, and then mingi and yunho turned up." wooyoung continued.

"y/n! i have never been more glad to see you! you gotta save me from them." hongjoong laughed, arms open, signalling for a hug.

you went over and embraced him in a hug, "good thing i brought an excessive amount of cookies." you said, placing the box of cookies on the coffee table next to the couch. the table was covered in empty mugs and bowls, you could tell seonghwa had been busy and hadn't had the chance to clean up. you opened up the box and handed him a cookie before offering them around to the rest of the boys.

"you're the best cook ever." mingi said, taking a big bite.

"i made you spaghetti last night!" yunho countered, feeling offended that his roommate didn't think he was the better cook. mingi just laughed and took another bite.

"jongho get off the counter, please." seonghwa said, coming through the front door. "don't be so comfortable, you were throwing up in my toilet like a month ago." he joked.

yeosang glanced your way, his eyebrows furrowed like he was contemplating something.

"lets head off and give these two some space." yunho said, dragging mingi behind him.

wooyoung stood up, "yeah, lets get going."

yeosang pulled his keys from his pocket, "okay, bye guys." he said, heading down the hallway.

"can we get some food on the way home?" you heard san call as they left.

"bye hongjoong! i hope you're feeling better soon." jongho said, "bye seonghwa, i promise i won't throw up in your toilet any time soon." he joked, leaving through the front door.

"seonghwa, how are you? don't forget to take some time for yourself as well." you frowned.

"i'm tired, but i'll be okay. i just gotta clean up and—"

"why don't you go rest a while? i can keep hongjoong company for a few hours." you reasoned, wanting to help as much as possible. there was nothing you hated more than seeing you friends in distress and upset.

he looked between hongjoong and yourself, "i couldn't."

hongjoong let out an audible huff, "hwa! will you just let her help please, she clearly wants to."

you grinned, "exactly, now go read or sleep or watch some tv or something." you said, gently pushing him towards their shared bedroom.

you spent the afternoon tidying up and talking with hongjoong. you managed to do all the dishes and put them away before scouring their kitchen, deciding on what you could use for dinner. you found everything you needed for a decent meal and began cooking it up. hongjoong had dozed off mid conversation, surrounded in a pile of tissues, you chose to let him sleep so he would recover quicker.

about an hour later, you placed two steamy hot meals onto their dining table next to two full glasses of water. you quietly knocked on their bedroom door, finding seonghwa asleep amongst the covers.

you gently shook him awake, "hwa, i made dinner for you guys. you can wake joong up, i'll head off now." you said with a smile.

leaving the two of them to enjoy their dinner, you headed home and cooked yourself something to eat. it was nice having some time to yourself, but saturday nights were becoming more and more empty as winter grew closer. december was only days away and the year would soon come to an end. you reached for the phone, suddenly desperately missing your friends despite only seeing them hours ago.

"hey woo, are you free next weekend?" you asked.

he paused a moment, "i think so, why?"

"you wanna go out with the others? it's been a while since we have all caught up for drinks."

"count me in!" wooyoung cheered.

you called everyone else up and they all agreed, even hongjoong promised to come if he was feeling better.

————————

you found yourself surrounded by wooyoung, san, yunho and mingi as the music blared. it was a less popular club on the far side of town but it was a comfortable place for you all. you often came here for drinks and the staff members knew you, quite well, a little too well. san grabbed your hand and spun you around a few times with the music.

you laughed, leaning against him, "maybe spinning around isn't the best idea right after two shots of vodka."

"what?" san yelled into your ear, struggling to hear you over the music.

you laughed louder, pulling him closer to you, "i said, spinning is not a good idea after drinking vodka!"

"oh!" he joined you in laughing before trying to twirl you around once more.

hongjoong and seonghwa sat at the bar, holding hands and being intimate as always. yeosang was sat next to jongho at a booth, quietly talking with him, but from the corner of your eye, you saw jongho stand up and walk away. your eyes watched him worriedly and you couldn't help but run after him. you followed him as best you could, stumbling every now and then. he'd gone to the bathroom so you patiently waited outside until he came back, looking slightly pale.

you practically leapt at him, doing a quick scan to make sure he was okay, "jongho? are you alright?"

he smiled at your overwhelming concern, "yeah, i just drank too much as usual. i'll be alright, you can go back to dancing."

"let me just get you some water first. i'll be right back okay?" you patted his shoulder. "don't go anywhere i'll be back in a second."

you made your way back to where jongho had been sitting with yeosang. as you approached, yeosang eyed you up and down, taking in your drunken state, though, it wasn't the first time he'd seen you this way. you nearly tripped as you reached the table, struggling to walk in heels.

"i need a glass of water, do you have a glass of water? jongho needs a glass of water." you mumbled to yourself, reaching for the jug in the center of the table.

"are you okay?" yeosang asked, quickly pushing your hand away from the jug.

"i'm okay, but jongho needs water. can i take this cup? he's waiting for me, i told him not to go anywhere, i need to get back to jongho—" you tried to pick up a glass but yeosang pressed your hand back down once more.

"i'll take it to him, you stay here." he said, filling the cup full with water and heading towards the bathrooms.

your brain suddenly felt fuzzy and your eyes became blurry, it was like the alcohol hit your system all at once. your head spun round and round and you leaned forward, resting your hands on your head. you'd never felt this sick from drinking, maybe you'd had too much too quickly, maybe it was the spinning. there was no way to tell, all you knew was that you felt like you were about to fall from the top of a very high roller coaster.

your eyes felt increasingly heavy, you allowed them to slip shut, head falling to the table with a not so gentle thud.

"y/n?" someone shook you, "y/n wake up!" it was wooyoung.

"shit, is she okay? should we call an ambulance?" jongho said, reaching for his phone.

"is she breathing? has anyone checked?" seonghwa gently lifted your shoulders and sat you upright, relieved to see the rise and fall of your chest. "we should call a taxi and get her home."

"are you crazy? she's unconscious, she won't be able to get up the stairs to her apartment! what if the driver is dodgy? she's already had to deal with shitty men while working night shift, imagine if something happened while she's drunk!" yeosang blurted out. the boys were shocked over his sudden concern for you. yeosang had never once shown any interest or care for you in the presence of them.

"well, what should we do then?" mingi asked, worriedly running a hand through his hair.

"i'll take her, you've all been drinking." yeosang concluded. "she'll be fine, don't worry. enjoy the rest of your night, okay? i've dealt with woo passing out before remember?"

"that's true." san said, throwing a light hearted glare in wooyoung's direction, who showed a rather sheepish expression.

the boys went back to their drinks, taking it a little slower now and yeosang carried you to his car. it wasn't easy, but he managed to sit you upright in the back seat of his car with his rear view mirror aimed directly at you so he could make sure you were okay.

he was able to lift you up the stairs and get your house key from the pocket of your jacket, which would've looked questionable to anyone else, but he had the best intentions. he sat you down in a dining chair, watching as your head lolled forward and your body slumped. he quickly filled a glass of water and came back to you.

"y/n." he whispered, resting a hand on your shoulder. "y/n." he said again, louder this time.

the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but you weren't waking up and that was becoming concerning. he shook your shoulder, as gently as he possible could in a moment like this, and to his relief, your eyes hesitantly opened.

your head felt like a bowling ball and you groaned quietly. "yeosang?"

"here." he said holding the cup to your lips, allowing you to take a small sip.

"how did we get here?" you mumbled, head rolling to the side.

he caught your head and carefully pushed you back upright, "i drove you, this is your apartment."

"oh." you said, eyes drooping shut again. "oh." you repeated.

"y/n, i really need you to stay awake right now." he said, bringing the cup to your mouth again. "lets talk."

"we never talk!" you exclaimed. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had!"

"i know." he said, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of you. yeosang felt that slight tug at his heart again tonight, the way you sounded so excited just to talk with him.

"no, no, no." you whined, "this is so bad!"

"what is it?"

you pouted before nervously biting your lip, "i'm really sorry."

"for what?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair.

"for ruining your night and making you stay here with me! now you just have another reason to hate me." you sighed, letting your head fall into your hands.

"i could never hate you." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but you had fallen back asleep, so yeosang sat you upright once more and monitored you closely all night. with every minute that passed, he wished more and more that it was easier for him to show his emotions, to you especially. he wondered if maybe he wasn't so closed off that things would be different between the two of you. but it was hard for him, to let people in, he was afraid. afraid of people judging the real him, afraid of what might happen if he lets himself become vulnerable, afraid of facing his feelings about you.

you awoke hours later with a raging headache and extreme nausea. you headed straight for the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, feeling the sickest you'd ever felt. yeosang waited patiently outside the bathroom door with a glass of water and painkillers.

when you came out, he held his hand out, "take this."

you looked down at his hand and then up at him, slightly confused, "what are you doing here?"

"you passed out last night, and i drove you home because everyone else had been drinking." he said, passing the glass of water.

"oh my god." you ran a hand through your hair, "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to be any trouble! you must of been here all night, i promise it won't happen again, that was so stupid of me—"

"it's fine, don't worry about it." he said, shrugging, "i'll get going now, but make sure you take it easy and drink enough water." his eyes carefully scanned your body one last time, making sure you were really okay. he headed for the door and you followed.

"i'm really sorry." you frowned, feeling as though no amount of apologies would make it up to him.

he let out a slight chuckle, "it's okay, seriously y/n." he said before leaving. you heard the all too familiar jingle of his keys as the door closed behind him.

he'd stayed with you all night, eyes watching over you closely. ready at your side whenever you stirred in your sleep. he'd been there in the morning prepared with water and painkillers. this was never how it was, usually this was your job, taking care of the boys. it was your way of showing you cared, helping out wherever possible.

this wasn't like yeosang. at all.

————————

as soon as yeosang got home he was greeted by a very concerned san and wooyoung.

"is she okay?"

"are you tired?"

"did she wake up?"

he was bombarded by questions.

"she's okay, she fell asleep after a while and i made her take some painkillers when she woke up." yeosang said, collapsing onto the couch.

"so you really don't hate her then." wooyoung thought aloud.

"he can't, he spent the whole night looking after her!" san said, hitting wooyoung like it was obvious.

"owww," wooyoung rubbed his arm, "even she thinks you don't like her!"

"i know, she said last night. but she probably won't remember saying that." yeosang said, feeling increasingly drowsy from his lack of sleep.

"maybe you guys should like, talk things out?" san suggested, taking a seat next to him.

"maybe." yeosang said, drifting off into sleep.

you had spent the day curled up in bed, wondering how you could make it up to yeosang, and there was nothing more you wanted than to get to know him better, but what would he want? you called up san on that thought.

"hey sannie," you said, "i need your help, actually, is woo there as well?"

"oh my god she's alive!" you heard wooyoung call from beside san.

"what do you need help with?" san asked.

you paused a moment, "is yeosang there?"

"well yes, but he's asleep."

you groaned, "i feel so bad that he stayed up all night looking after me. i really wanna make it up to him but i don't know how. plus, it's not like he's that fond of me. maybe i should just thank him by staying out of his space."

"i don't think he'd like that." wooyoung interjected. "i still think he just needs time before opening up to you."

"i think its just me." you sighed, worriedly chewing on your bottom lip.

"hey! don't be like that! there's no reason to not like you." san scolded you for down talking yourself as he always does.

"agreed." wooyoung said, chiming in.

"i'm sure i'll work something out. thanks guys! enjoy the rest of your day!" you said.

"good luck!"

"bye y/n!"

————————

you had been staring at your phone for at least an hour, typing and retyping the message to yeosang. wooyoung gave you his number so that you could contact him when you'd finally worked out how to make it up to him. in the end, you decided that you would let him decide.

you drew in a sharp breath and squeezed your eyes tightly shut as you pressed send.

you: hey yeosang, i still feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you !!

yeosang: did wooyoung give you my number? T~T

you: yes he did.. i hope thats okay !

yeosang: of course yeosang: how about you make it up to me over a cup of coffee? >.<

you: that sounds great !! you: when are you free ?

yeosang: does tomorrow morning work for you ? i can pick you up ^_^

you: of course ! i'll see you tomorrow :)

yeosang sat in his room, facepalming. why was it so easy to be more open over text?

you on the other hand, felt your heart swell in a bizarre way. maybe it was the way you hadn't expected him to use such cute little emoticons. maybe it was the way that you'd be able to have a full conversation with him. whatever it was, excitement had taken over you.

————————

a knock pounded at your door and you rushed to open it.

"ready to go?" he asked, leaning against the door frame coolly.

"yes, lets go!" you said, sounding a little too excited.

the two of you made your way down the stairs and into yeosang's car. you found yourself smiling as you looked out the window.

your excitement hadn't gone unnoticed, "you seem awfully excited."

"i really wanted to make it up to you," you beamed. "it must've been boring to watch over me all night."

"i didn't mind so much." he said, shrugging.

you frowned, "you shouldn't of done it."

"and leave you passed out in the club?" he quirked an eyebrow up at you.

"well..."

"exactly." he said, parking the car outside a small cafe nearby his apartment. "come on, lets go inside."

you followed him in and took a seat across from him at a table close to the window. you both ordered coffees and resumed conversation.

"so, where were we?" you smiled, taking a sip of coffee.

"talking about how you wanted me to leave you passed out in the club." he said. you were almost convinced you saw a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

"right. i'm so sorry about that."

this time he actually chuckled, and you were taken aback. it was like the wall yeosang had surrounding himself was crumbling before your eyes.

"you need to apologise less." he laughed, bringing his coffee cup to his mouth for a sip. "half of the time we talk its just you saying sorry to me."

"i'm so—"

"hey!" the two of you broke into laughter.

his laugh was loud but warm and you couldn't help but notice the way his nose scrunched up cutely, the way his eyes looked full of stars and the way he brushed his hair out of his eyes after, revealing his beautiful birthmark. from that point on, you wanted to be the one to make him laugh every day.

he felt that familiar tug at his heart, the one he'd been feeling every moment he spent alone with you. the one he felt when he first met you. the one he couldn't make any sense of. it was as though his heart was a violin and you were the one playing it. (which would explain the tugging feeling.) but you were playing the sweetest song and he never wanted it to end.

the two of you laughed the morning away, gradually making up for what you'd missed over two years in a matter of two hours.

you'd discovered that even after getting him to open up more, he wasn't one for words. you found yourself talking his ear off while he listened intently, occasionally sharing his opinions and stories. in all his honesty, he didn't mind listening to you talk. he could've sat there all day, drinking countless cups of coffee, watching the way you bit your bottom lip whenever you paused to think or the way your eyes filled with sparkles when you talked about something that made you happy.

you insisted on paying for the infinite cups of coffee, as it was your way of making it up to him. he reluctantly agreed, but promised that he would pay if there ever was a next time, which he secretly hoped there would be. he'd finally had the chance to let his walls down. (it was actually more like you'd climbed the walls and torn them down with your bare hands.) but he was thankful for it.

he drove you back to your apartment, even after you persisted on walking home, seeing as it wasn't that far. he refused, insisting that he drive you. he even followed you up the stairs to the door of your apartment.

you turned around to face him, "you know, you're not so bad when you actually wanna talk to me."

"you know, you're not so bad when you're not drunk." he countered, his lips breaking into a playful grin.

you glared jokingly, "hey! don't make me apologise again."

"okay, okay. i won't." he said, raising his hands in defence.

you smiled, resting against the door, "alright, well, i've really enjoyed hanging out with you today. maybe we should catch up more often."

"maybe we should." he said, bearing a coy smile, "bye, y/n. i'll see you around."

————————

it was only about a week later he showed up at your work, at the end of your shift. you were pleasantly surprised to see him, and at first thought he was just someone coming to book a room.

"hello, are you looking for a r— yeosang?"

"when do you get off work?" he asked, glancing over to the clock.

"five minutes."

"i'll be waiting in the car, okay?" he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

on his way out, you saw as he ran into your boss, the two of them beginning conversation.

"it's good to see you've made those security changes." yeosang said as he nodded, extending his arm for a friendly handshake. "i'm very thankful."

your boss shook his hand, "and i'm thankful that you suggested them."

just over five minutes later you got into the passenger seat of yeosang's car.

"it was you who told my boss about the safety problems." you said, in near disbelief.

"hello, to you too." he joked sarcastically. "well, i would hate to think that the situation could happen again, so i just suggested some possible improvements. thats all." he shrugged like it was nothing.

"suddenly, i feel the need to make it up to you again." you smiled shyly.

"you can do that by accompanying me to the skate park." he said, motioning to his skateboard on the back seat.

"ah, so thats why you came."

"well yeah, i wanted to bring you to the skate park."

your heart swelled once again, feeling joyed that he wanted to share one of his favourite places with you. (despite him never telling you directly, you knew he loved the skate park as he spent majority of his high school time there when he wasn't studying.)

when you arrived, the sun was beginning to slip behind the horizon, causing the sky to glow a rosy pink. there were still a few kids, probably high schoolers, hanging around the park. you took a seat at a bench and waited for yeosang to come over, who was getting his skateboard out the car. you felt oddly out of place since you were still in your neat work uniform and didn't know the first thing about skateboarding.

yeosang rolled over with a grin plastered onto his face, you'd never seen him so happy, and it made you happy to see him this way. it was strange how all it took was a few cups of coffee for him to become a completely different person around you.

he didn't need to ask you to watch as your eyes were already glued to him as he dropped into the bowl, showing countless tricks and flips.

the truth was in fact that yeosang was grateful for you 'making it up to him'. he'd never been able to comprehend his feelings for you, if they were even feelings at all. he hated the confusion and decided it was easier to ignore it, and to an extent, ignore you, to make it go away. it had been working for the most part, until every time the two of you were alone together, he couldn't ignore the slight tug at his heart, that was becoming more of a pull over the last few weeks.

"you're amazing!" you cheered as he sat down next to you, out of breath.

"thanks." he smiled shyly, running a hand through his hair and out of his face. he leaned back, looking up at the sky. "do you sometimes wish you could see the stars from within the city? hongjoong and seonghwa are so lucky they can see them from their house."

you pondered a moment, thinking about the last time you actually saw stars in the sky. "i see stars in your eyes sometimes." you said, absent minded.

he felt warmth burning in his cheeks, "you do?"

"do what?" you turned to him, "did i say that out loud?" you gasped, covering your face in embarrassment. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that it was just a thought and—"

"what did i say about apologising?" he laughed. "it's getting cold, right? you ready to head home?" he asked.

you smiled, "if you are."

he drove you home and said goodbye, feeling happy about spending time alone with you once again. he couldn't stop thinking about what you said and you couldn't stop feeling like a fool for saying it.

————————

the weather got colder and colder and soon it began to snow as the days of december passed. you had spent the day helping jongho move some new furniture into his apartment. it was a difficult job, but easier with the two of you, even san and wooyoung came to help. you couldn't resist wondering where yeosang was and why he didn't come, seeing as they lived in the same building. maybe he was busy, you thought.

"hey, where's yeosang?" you asked, lifting a box and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"at home, i think he's been feeling sick or something, he hardly comes out of his room lately." wooyoung shrugged, assuming it was all good.

"if he's sick i'll bring him over some food and painkillers, maybe keep him some company." you explained, not wanting yeosang to be unwell.

"i think he'd rather be left alone, to be honest." san said, giving wooyoung a side glance that you couldn't miss.

you pulled out your phone and sent yeosang a quick message.

you: are you feeling okay? san and woo said you were sick :((

he didn't respond right away and you just figured he was asleep. but as you finished helping out at jongho's house a few hours later, he still hadn't responded. when you were sitting down to eat dinner at home, he still hadn't respond. just before you were going to turn the lights out and go to bed, he still hadn't responded.

something was up. this wasn't like yeosang, not anymore. not since the two of you had been spending so much time together. maybe it was like the boys said, and he was truly very sick, but in that case, why wouldn't they let you help?

————————

days passed and you went to work as usual, repeating the same few lines, asking people if they want a room, asking them to fill in a form, then directing them to the right room. days passed and you still hadn't heard back from yeosang, you wondered if he was still sick. days passed and you began to think maybe you should go over there to see if he's okay.

but if there was one thing you'd learnt about yeosang recently, it was that he was the quieter type, and probably wouldn't appreciate you going over there to keep him company and would rather be alone. so that evening when you got off work, you didn't go visit him like you so desperately wanted to, instead, you went straight home.

you cooked and ate dinner for yourself, before picking up your phone, only to see still no messages from yeosang.

you: hey woo you: is yeosang feeling better ?

wooyoung: yeah he is

you: well then can i come visit tomorrow ?

wooyoung: i think he's busy wooyoung: sorry

you: its okay woo you: its not your fault !!

you switched your phone off and headed for the shower, trying to wash away the stress and worry for yeosang that had built up over the last few weeks. you had really grown to like him and there was still so much about him you wanted to learn, like when he learned to skateboard or how he got the small scar on the back of his hand, that you'd noticed when ever he brushes his hair out of his eyes.

two years he'd spent, not interested in holding conversation with you and two years you'd spent, wondering what you'd did so wrong. but lately, you felt like you were doing something right around him, getting him to smile and laugh, share his own stories.

you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he still didn't like you, and had just been trying for wooyoung's sake.

or maybe he was genuinely starting to like you, but you went and fucked it up by weirding him out and telling him about his starry eyes.

or maybe he'd just had enough of you already. decided that a few weeks was enough time spent trying to change things between the two of you.

as you finished showering and changed into comfortable clothes, you glanced at the clock which read 10:56pm. you switched on the television to watch some youtube before going to bed. as you felt yourself dozing off, a faint knock sounded at your door, so quiet you almost missed it.

when you opened the door, you were shocked to see yeosang standing there, leaning against the door frame for support. he looked up at you, his normally starry eyes were dulled with tears.

you rushed forward to him, smelling the alcohol as you got closer, "yeosang are you okay? what are you doing here? i thought you were sick. are you drunk? you never drink, come inside." you gently pulled him inside, closing the door behind you. when you turned to face him, he was staring at you, tears about to spill over the brim of his eyes.

"i hate you." he breathed out, voice barely louder than a whisper. he didn't seem angry though, he looked fragile, like a glass vase balancing on the edge of a table.

you felt the urge to cry, finally hearing those three words that confirmed your biggest concern, yeosang disliking you. "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i never meant to—"

"i hate you." he said, louder this time before running a hand through his hair hastily. he let out a frustrated groan, dragging his hands down his face. "i hate the tugging feeling in my heart whenever we're alone. i hate the way you put yourself before others. i hate the way you ramble on when you're nervous. i hate the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. i hate the way i don't drink around you because i feel the need to protect you and make sure you're safe. i hate the way i tried to ignore you for two years because i was scared and confused about my own feelings. i hate how it only took one cup of coffee with you for my walls to come crashing down!" he paced from side to side, waving his hands around crazily.

yeosang looked scared and lost, like he'd never felt this way about anyone before, and that was the truth. he didn't know how to comprehend these feelings and it terrified him.

you watched as he spiralled, seeming as though it would never stop. you weren't sure what to do, so you just listened to that swelling feeling in your heart once again, the one that had led you to develop feelings for yeosang, and you pulled him close into your arms. he clung onto you tightly, scared to let go, like if he did then he'd lose you forever. you ran your fingers through his hair briefly, trying your best to comfort him.

"i'm sorry." you repeatedly whispered to him. you'd never meant to upset him or confuse him.

yeosang let out a quiet sob into your chest, "i hate the way i've fallen in love with you." he croaked out.

he didn't hate you. never did. never will. your heart swelled completely in your chest, feeling as though it would burst through. but it couldn't be true. he's totally drunk out of his mind.

"you're not in your right mind, yeosang, you need to get home. you're drunk and talking nonsense." you embraced him tightly one more time, and you could've sworn you felt the beat of his heart through the hug. "come on," you urged, steering him towards the door, "wooyoung and san are probably worried and waiting up for you."

with much effort, you led him down the stairs of your apartment block and walked him home. the street lamps led you in the freezing city night air. you held his wrist lightly, guiding him up the stairs to his own apartment. he didn't speak a single word the whole time, instead, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. it hurt you so much to see him this broken, but you knew he wasn't saying the truth under control of the alcohol in his veins.

you knocked at his apartment door, hoping that one of the boys were still awake. luckily, they both were and quickly they flung the door open.

"y/n? yeosang?" san questioned, his eyes wide open with disbelief.

"we've been so worried about you!" wooyoung said, pulling yeosang away from you. "hang on, are you drunk?"

san had noticed his tired, tear stained eyes, "you look like you've been crying! are you okay?"

you let out a quiet sigh, knowing you didn't need to be here anymore. you gave a small wave goodbye and headed home, utterly exhausted.

and though you were so drained, you couldn't seem to fall asleep. those words yeosang said to you kept running through your mind busily.

did he mean any of it?

————————

yeosang felt bad. he felt terrible. like he wanted to vanish into thin air and float away with the breeze. though he couldn't, no, he desperately wanted to apologise to you. but he didn't know how, he wasn't good with words or expressing his feelings, and you wished he knew that was something you loved about him.

wooyoung and san tried to ask him what happened the night he drunkenly confessed to you, but he couldn't have them know that he'd been harbouring feelings for you for all this time, they'd never let him live it down. he could imagine the continuous teasing they'd give him, nudging him whenever you were together or giving him side glances after talking to you.

yeosang gave it lots of thought. he mulled it over in his head repeatedly. it was only after hours spent hidden away in his room that he decided to go back to where it all started, a text. a text that said how much he wanted to make it up to you for having to deal with him drunk, just like the one you'd sent initially.

yeosang: hey y/n, i feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you! T^T

your heart leapt a mile seeing his name appear on your phone. you grinned upon reading his message, realising it was scarily similar to the message you had first sent him.

you: hmmm you: that sounds familiar

yeosang: >.< yeosang: seriously though, how does dinner at my place tomorrow night sound? i'll cook

you: you can cook?

yeosang: there's a lot you don't know about me x_x

you: okay, i'll be there !!

————————

yeosang wasn't lying when he said he can cook. as you traipsed up the stairs of his apartment block you could smell something delicious laced in the air.

the usual swelling in your heart had instead fell to the pit of your stomach, you were feeling slightly nervous as to what would happen when you entered yeosang's apartment. you inhaled deeply before knocking at the door of his apartment.

"hey y/n, come in." yeosang greeted, holding an arm out, signalling for you to come inside.

"you must've been working hard cooking! it smells delicious." you said, feeling a sense of comfort just from the smell of food.

"yeah, lucky i sent wooyoung and san over to jongho's place, otherwise i doubt there would be any pasta to serve." he joked. "you can take a seat, i've just gotta serve up."

you sat down in front of a neatly laid table, it had somewhat surprised you how much effort yeosang had put into this dinner tonight. he placed a steamy hot plate of pasta in front of you and one where he would sit.

"so." he began.

"so." you copied, teasingly.

"i guess, i really just wanted to say i'm sorry for how i behaved the other night when i was drunk. you shouldn't of had to deal with that." he frowned, poking at his dinner.

you furrowed your brows, "it's seriously fine yeosang." you took a bite of pasta, "i was just surprised to see you drunk, since you never drink."

he chuckled, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, "actually, i do. i just never drink when you're there."

"really? why?" you questioned, eating another mouthful of pasta.

"because..." he paused. "no, it sounds dumb out loud."

"it's okay, you don't have to explain yourself." you smiled warmly, "but that does remind me to ask... do you remember anything you said to me while you were drunk?" you leant forward, genuinely curious.

he sighed, "i remember.. enough."

"you don't really hate me, right?" you asked, playing with the food on your plate.

"of course not! that's why i invited you here tonight. to show you that i don't, and to make it up to you." he had to refrain from reaching across to hold your hand, just to show how much he cared that little bit more.

you nodded, "well, thats good. i was kinda worried that we'd gone back to square one."

comfort settled within you. it was relieving to know you weren't hated by the one person whose love you wanted most. a tiny thought crept into your mind, maybe, just maybe, now would be the right time to tell him about your blossoming feelings for him. or would that confuse him more? now you were the one feeling conflicted.

"are you finished eating?" he asked, reaching for your empty plate.

"yes, thank you! it was delicious. you're a good cook, y'know."

"ah, thanks y/n." he turned away to hide the blush appearing on his cheeks.

"would you like me to do the dishes? since you cooked." you offered, standing up. but he quickly opposed.

"don't be ridiculous." he shooed you back to your seat. "can i get you a coffee? water? wine?"

"a coffee sounds good, i think you and i have had too many drunken situations lately." you laughed.

yeosang pulled out two mugs and put the kettle on. he felt your eyes carefully watching him. once again, he hated the feeling that was pulling at his heart. the way you could say nothing, yet he felt everything.

"can i tell you something?" you asked, voice now quieter and more hesitant.

"sure, what is it?" he said, placing a warm cup of coffee in front of you.

you took a sip, humming in delight. it was exactly the way you liked it. when the two of you went out for coffee, he had unintentionally remembered just the way you like it.

"well," you began cautiously, in case you brought this situation into flames again. "i just... i always wondered why you didn't like me. if i was doing something wrong, if i said something once that really upset you. and then after we started spending time together, i finally felt like i was doing the right thing." you groaned, frustrated with yourself for not getting to the point quicker. "what i'm trying to say is that i have feelings for you. it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i wouldn't expect you to, i just thought you should know—"

yeosang basically choked on his coffee, eyes widening in shock. "it's okay, y/n! in case you hadn't noticed, i'm crazy about you."

you had continued to ramble nervously before hearing what he said.

"wait. you are?"

"basically ever since you said that thing about stars in my eyes, yes."

you cringed, remembering how you had said that so absent minded. "yeah, sorry about that."

"it's okay, it was cute. and what did i say about apologising?"

you shook your head and smiled, "i know."

————————

ever since the two of you confessed to each other, you had been almost inseparable, except of course when you had work. but he dropped you home most nights, even though you insisted it was okay and that you could walk. he came over every weekend just to spend time with you, even if the two of you just sat and talked, enjoying each other's company. you'd been dating for a few weeks now, but kept it undercover, not wanting to suffer the incessant questioning that would come if you told your friends.

it didn't go unnoticed either, wooyoung and san were constantly nagging yeosang about why the two of you spent so much time together, and each time he just shrugged it off.

christmas was just around the corner, so you were spending the evening at seonghwa's and hongjoong's house, who of course, were throwing an unnecessarily large house party to celebrate.

you were sat between a very drunk yunho and mingi, who were trying to talk to an also very drunk jongho. you eyed your boyfriend from across the room, as if asking for a way out and he just laughed at the situation you were stuck in.

after at least ten minutes more of having your ear talked off, yeosang came to pull you away to the dance floor.

"care to dance?" he asked, extending his hand to you.

you immediately jumped up, latching onto his hand, "i would love to!"

he chuckled, pulling you close to his side and leading you to the makeshift dance floor that seonghwa and hongjoong created.

the two of you laughed at the boys' reaction. they were completely shocked to see the two of you so close together and yeosang being friendly.

he twirled you around a few times with the music, before settling his arms around your waist. he brought you near to him as you placed your arms behind his neck. you swayed back and forth, engulfed in your own little bubble of comfort in each other's arms, completely out of time with the loud thumping music that blared around you.

you felt content, and yeosang no longer felt confused. he found his home in your arms and his happiness.

you reached up to place your lips on his, capturing the moment surrounding you. yeosang melted into the kiss, discovering that your lips were soft and sweet against his, just as he had imagined, which caused his knees to feel weak and his heart to skip more than just one beat. he never wanted to let you go, he wanted to compensate for every second that he didn't spend with you since the two of you met.

he leaned forward and whispered softly, just so you could hear above all the music and singing, "lets stay like this forever."

#ateez #ateez yeosang #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez angst #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #kang yeosang #yeosang scenarios #yeosang imagines #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez mingi #ateez jongho #ateez wooyoung #ateez x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez san #ateez yunho #ateez seongjoong #ateez yungi

[yslkook]

TiO (8)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook is a man of mystery and you take him on a date.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, a shitty relationship, unprotected sex (pls use protection, these two are being foolish) , some choking, grinding, making out, oral

word count: ~6.3k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. a big thank you to @cutechim for creating the texts for me lmao<33

***

Jungkook remains tight-lipped about what it was he had done over the weekend, when he had gone with Jin and Mina to a tattoo convention a few hours away. They had ended up staying the night there, and while Jungkook wanted to ask you to come with him, he wondered if it was too soon to ask. After all, you were both still enjoying each other’s company at your own sweet pace.

Eventually his little secret gets put on the back burner for the rest of the week. You were supposed to get bubble tea with him on Tuesday, but unfortunately a last minute work issue with your client and your application came up. You’d ended up working late, your eyes screaming in fatigue and went straight to bed that evening. He had understood, of course he did.

On Thursday, he was supposed to grab lunch with you at a cafe that he thought you might like, but this time it was him who had a conflict. His older sister had showed up to the tattoo parlor without any prior notice. She does this every so often, when things aren’t going well with her on again, off again shitty “boyfriend”.

Jungkook had sighed, cancelling on lunch with you to spend time with Jooyeon and comfort her with fried chicken and ice cream. You had sent an understanding thumbs up and a promise to call him later and end up having lunch with your work wife, Kira instead.

Kira who doesn’t fail to point out the glow in your cheeks and your general aura, even though it’s been nearly a week and a half since you saw Jungkook last. You roll your eyes and ignore the flames in your cheeks (and her laughter), and change the subject to your work projects. She tells you about some of the coding issues and compliance issues she’s been having with her software, and you tell her about the hours you’ve been pouring into your application for your client.

It doesn’t bother you that Jungkook hadn’t asked if you wanted to meet his sister. After all, he’d told you bits and pieces about her and her relationship. And in the last few weeks, your relationship has blossomed so beautifully. There was no reason to rush, you think. You’ll meet her hopefully under better circumstances for her.

Jungkook spends most of the evening with Jooyeon, letting her cry herself to sleep in his bed. His sister hardly ever cries like this, with sobs full of pain and hurt because of another man. But it’s been happening too much lately, too many fights and too much of Joo losing herself. It makes Jungkook see red more often than not. He knows what you’d say- that she needs him more than anything else and to not be so impulsive.

He makes sure Joo eats a warm meal before she falls asleep and he shoots you a text:

Jungkook: baby

You: hi

You: everything ok?

Jungkook: no, joo’s bf is a fkin asshole

Jungkook: she’s sleeping

Jungkook: miss u

You: im sorry baby :( can i call you?

He jumps at the chance, the sound of your voice and sight of your pretty face on video call instantly calming him. Jungkook is sure to wear a beanie to hide his surprise for you (but you don’t question it. After all, you’ve seen him in beanies plenty of times before and it’s dim in the apartment.) He moves to the couch, asking softly for you to tell him about your day. You recount every single detail from memory, shifting under your covers to tell him about how you had nearly stumbled down the stairs in front of your manager’s manager because you had missed a step.

It pulls a soft laugh from him.

“Jungkook,” You say quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Jungkook sighs, “She’s just… Byung-woo and her have had this on and off thing for years now. He won’t commit to her and she just refuses to see him for what he is. Like, when it’s good, it’s really good. But when it’s bad, it’s awful. I wish she’d fucking see it for herself. I don’t know what to do anymore, baby.”

“Oh, baby,” You murmur, wishing you could hug him, “All you can do is be there for her but be honest with her. She’ll come around soon, hopefully. It’s hard to see past a shitty person sometimes, when all you want is for them to love you.”

“I hope so, too,” Jungkook says, “She’d love you, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Don’t get a big head,” Jungkook chuckles, “Maybe you can meet her someday. Under better circumstances, I mean.”

“Really? You want me to meet your older sister?” You ask softly, feeling a little flustered, “That’s serious.”

“I told you, baby,” Jungkook soothes, “I’m serious about you.”

“Yeah. Seriously crazy about me,” You giggle to yourself. You know if Jungkook was with you, he’d flick your forehead.

“It’s true,” He murmurs, “Maybe I can see you this weekend?”

“Yeah, you still have to show me what you did over the weekend! Take care of Jooyeon first,” You reply, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll drop stuff off, just tell me.”

“I will,” Jungkook promises, “Sleep well, I miss you.”

“Sleep well. I miss you.”

***

Jooyeon ends up leaving on Saturday morning after a lecture from Jungkook and with determined resolve in her eyes. You jump at the chance to take him out tonight, knowing how stressed he’s been the last few days.

You: be ready at 6:30 tn, im taking u out. and dress slutty

Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret your text when he reads it. He considers asking Mina and Mei what this means, but ultimately leaves it alone. Replying to your message with a quick thumbs up, he busies himself with getting ready to see you (and surprising you, finally after a full week of wanting to show you what he had done.)

Once you parallel park your car (which takes far too long than you’d like to admit), you grab the small bouquet of purple roses that you had gotten for Jungkook and text him saying that you’ll be up in a few minutes.

Taehyung had caught you struggling to parallel park, and had told Jungkook with a snicker. Which earned him a punch to the arm.

There wasn’t a particular reason that you had chosen to get purple roses for him, other than the fact that they reminded you of him. You hope he likes them.

Jungkook hears a soft knock at the door, and can already envision you behind it. He hopes you like his surprise, the one he’s been teasing you for a week about. You had given no hints of what you would be wearing- you had only sent him one selfie that didn’t give much of a hint into your outfit. He has no doubt that you’ll look gorgeous, but still.

Maybe Jungkook’s nerves shouldn’t be this intense, but he can’t help it. He swings the front door open, only to be greeted by you swaying on your feet with your hands held behind your back. His heart throbs when you pull your hands apart and present him with a beautiful bouquet of purple roses.

How ironic.

“Hello,” You say with a small smile, suddenly feeling a little shy and gasping when your eyes land on his hair, “Wow. You weren’t kidding…”

His hair is tied back into a ponytail, but it’s unmistakably elegant and so violet. Two neat pieces of his newly dyed hair fall into his face effortlessly, but then your gaze reaches the piercing on his left eyebrow. Your lips remain parted in surprise and without thinking, you reach up to touch his hair. It’s still soft, as it always is.

“Come in, baby,” Jungkook says, taking the roses from you, “You must really like me, huh? Got me flowers and everything?”

“Shut up,” You mutter, cheeks heating up, “Don’t get a big head.”

Jungkook only grins wolfishly at you and winks at you, eyes unashamedly glued to your ass. You roll your eyes, and swat his shoulder as you watch him put the rose in a vase and place it in the center of the dining table.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been in his shared apartment (that he lives with Taehyung and Jimin in) but you somehow feel shy in his presence again, as if it was the first time. The first time you had been here with him had been the first time you had spent the night at his apartment several weeks ago, after a night out with your friends.

You let your gaze wander, curious eyes settling on the subtle matching of the furniture and the cleanliness of the apartment. There’s not a stray speck of dust in sight, but maybe you’re distracting yourself from addressing the pretty purple of his hair. Your mouth is dry, and you’re probably drooling a little. You wonder if Jungkook prepared for this, the same way you did (in that you had washed your car, cleaned every inch of it and gotten a new car freshener).

A faint scent of fresh laundry and lavender sits in the spaces of his home. It calms you and gives you the boost to turn your eyes to him.

“Thanks for the roses, baby,” Jungkook says, giving you a smile and starry eyes. He pulls you into his arms, your back against the counter. “Surprise. Do you like it?”

“Uh,” You mumble, brain deciding to short-circuit with the way he looks at you. His smile turns into a smirk, deciding to further render you speechless by pressing himself closer to you and cradling your neck. He’s careful not to touch your face. He doesn’t want to mess your makeup up terribly, at least not yet.

“I know you like my hair. Your face says it all, baby,” Jungkook continues and ducks his head for a quick kiss, “You’re pretty.” He does quite like this dress, light blue and dotted in small flowers with thin straps. His eyes are instantly drawn to the drawstring at the center of your chest and he quells the urge to pull at it.

Jungkook’s mouth waters when he sees the side split of the dress but you want more from him immediately, but he pulls away to your chagrin. Even with the simple kiss, the burgundy color of your lipstick stains his plump bottom lip.

You shiver. It appears that he tried to take your words via text to heart- to dress slutty. He’s wearing a loose animal print button up, with the top three buttons undone. It gives you a delectable view of his pecs, his collarbones and a hint of the tattoo on his right side. As if you weren’t already weak in the knees for him as it was, he wears a black coat and tight, leather pants.

Jungkook pulls it off, like he pulls everything off and the purple hair blends seamlessly with his look. Tonight, he’d opted for two silver hoops in each ear and a thin silver necklace to match.

Your knees are weak, they’ve been weak since you had seen him in this offensive outfit and his hair, his new piercing that was clearly an attack on your entire existence.

The purple hair. The piercing. He’ll be the death of you tonight, you know it. Your legs are wobbly, panties already probably a little wet just from seeing him and from a few of his kisses. But you can’t help it. Without thinking, you press your lips to his, drawing your tongue into his mouth eagerly. You are so hungry, so eager to devour him and drink up anything that he offers you. Jungkook tugs you closer to him lightly by your waist but-

“Seriously? Right in front of my dinner?” Comes an amused voice from behind Jungkook and you nearly screech at the familiar sound of Jimin’s voice.

“I- I didn’t-You-” You stammer, feeling your face heat up to a degree that it’s definitely never heated up to before. You hide behind Jungkook to fix your surely wrecked lipstick. You’re certain his own lips are probably comically smudged with your lipstick as well. “Sorry Jimin, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know, we’ll leave-”

Jungkook only rolls his eyes at Jimin’s wide smirk and knowing eyes. He hears you scolding Jungkook for not telling him that anyone was home, to which he promptly responds “well, you didn’t ask!”

Despite the very natural and easy flow of conversation between you and Jungkook in your car, you still feel overheated and jumpy, your fingers incessantly tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not Jungkook, it’s you and your own nerves. It’s not the first time you’ve gone out to dinner with him and it’s certainly not the first time you’ve had him in your car. If Jungkook notices, he says nothing.

“Where are we going, baby?” Jungkook asks, looking at you. You don’t meet his eyes, choosing instead to focus on the road despite being at a red light.

“Umm, that place you mentioned the other day. The one we talked about trying together,” You say softly. Jungkook can only wonder why you’re a little quiet, but he thinks he knows. You slip into your head so easily and he doesn’t mind gently tugging you out of your thought cloud and into reality with him.

“Can you help me park,” You mumble sheepishly, “I get nervous parking in such tight spaces.”

“Yeah, pull over here before it’s impossible to,” Jungkook murmurs. You nod and do so, hopping out of the driver’s seat to switch places with him. But before you can get in the passenger’s seat, Jungkook grips your wrist loosely. You look at him curiously, with wide eyes and he drops a kiss to your lips, swallowing your surprise.

“You’re so pretty,” Jungkook murmurs, “So fucking pretty, baby. I love this dress on you.” You preen at his praise, leaning forward for another kiss with a shy smile. He subtly squeezes your left tit before letting his hand travel downward.

“You look really good, Jungkook,” You murmur before he kisses you, “I-I really, really like it. A lot.”

He gently caresses your thigh from under your dress, the heat of his hand shooting straight up your core. Jungkook slips his tongue into your mouth quickly, coaxing your endearing nervousness away. As if you both aren’t pulled over to the side of the street where cars are passing you by (and surely wondering why you both were making out like this in public).

“Are we gonna be those people who have a roadside quickie,” You laugh, gently pushing his shoulder when you pull away.

“Roadside quickie? Get your mind out of the gutter,” Jungkook says but his lips twist into a wicked smirk, “But hey, if you wanna give me road head, I’m not going to complain about it-”

“Ha, you would be so lucky,” You scoff, feeling your nerves beginning to ease out of you, “C’mon, our reservation is soon. And then we can talk about road head.”

Dinner goes perfectly and after a glass of wine you feel those inexplicable nerves wash away. What did you have to be nervous for anyway? It was Jungkook- Jungkook who you’ve known for years. Your friend before any of this. He asks you about work, how your application is going-

“Your client sounds pretty demanding,” Jungkook muses, “You keeping up with it okay?”

“Yeah, but I’m not even an application engineer so I’m just learning as I go. My true roots are data and data science but I get to see all of it. Which is cool. But also time consuming, like the other evening, I had to read up on the compliance regulations. But my favorite thing is creating modeling and programs for this app, it’s really cool because it’s healthcare specific. So I’m learning about that sector as well, it’s mostly python but we’ve been doing testing with different healthcare providers in the area and they’re all responding really well to it-” You’re rambling, you know it, but your passion for your career knows no bounds and Jungkook makes no move to stop you. He only smiles at you, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching, gesturing for you to continue.

It’s funny. Not even a few months ago, you would have cut yourself off from your own rambling. In an attempt to convince yourself that the other person didn’t need to hear about it. Maybe that was Sora’s subconscious influence on you. Today, you don’t think twice about it, glowing and shimmering under the dim, blue lights of the restaurant as you tell Jungkook more about your job.

He makes your heart race and he’s sitting right in front of you. Your chin is in your hands as you listen to the pretty words slipping out of his lips. He’s so dreamy, and you struggle to not let your gaze stray from his eyes and linger on his exposed tattoos and chest. You don’t even know where to look, deciding to settle on the way his newly purple locks fall to his forehead just perfectly.

“What do you wanna eat for dessert?” You murmur, looking at the menu and cautiously allowing your foot to brush against his.

In hindsight, you should’ve seen it coming-

“You,” Jungkook says easily, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“Corny,” You roll your eyes, but nudge his foot again. You end up deciding on sharing a slice of decadent, chocolate mousse cake. Which Jungkook ends up finishing off when you satisfy your sweet tooth after a few big bites.

He leans over without a second thought, thumbing away stray cream from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick the tip of his thumb and he looks at you with wide eyes before grinning roguishly.

“Wanna get outta here, baby?”

“Should I take you home, Jungkook?” You ask, finding the courage somewhere in the remnants of the glass of wine currently evaporating from your system to take his hand in your lap once you’re both settled in your car.

“Do you want to take me home?” Jungkook asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“I have some wine I think you’d like at my place. I just got it,” You say a little breathlessly, “And I have to inspect something, I might need your help.” Jungkook laughs, a little derisively and you pout.

“You don’t have to bribe me with wine, baby. You know I would’ve been down regardless,” Jungkook says, squeezing your hand, “What do you need to inspect? Do you have a leak or something?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a leak alright,” You say under your breath, thinking about the growing wetness in your panties, “My man just showed up here with purple hair and an eyebrow piercing, looking like a damn model after one whole week. I have to inspect him.”

“Oh, is that so? In that case, I would love to be your lab rat. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen the inside of your bedroom before-”

“Who said you’d get that far?”

“I already did, baby. Did you forget?” Jungkook’s smirk widens, eyes sparkling with mischief. He gently cups your face, thumb on your chin and hovers just over your lips. You think he’s about to kiss you, so you close your eyes in anticipation of his lips on yours.

But it never comes. Instead, his breath fans over your cheeks and he lets out a low laugh. “I sure didn’t forget, and I know you didn’t either.”

You roll your eyes and swat his hand away, ignoring (but letting out a smile) when he chuckles. You decide to hold his hand for as much of the drive back home you can.

Jungkook’s hands are on your hips even as you’re fumbling with the keys to your front door. He’s a distraction, his warm heat plastered against your back and the simple act of opening your damn door feels like too much of a chore. When Jungkook’s lips glaze over the back of your neck, his fingers roaming your waist, it’s difficult for you to focus.

So Jungkook scoffs and turns the key for you. “Can’t open the door, baby?” Jungkook taunts and you level him with a glare.

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself in front of my door!”

“You like it,” Jungkook says, shutting the door behind him and hugging you as you try to walk away from him to wash up. You escape his grip with a giggle and lock yourself in your bathroom, while Jungkook waits with a disgruntled pout.

When you come out, you head into the kitchen to pour out two glasses of wine and bring some snacks out. You’re not particularly hungry, though you wouldn’t mind eating and you’re sure Jungkook wouldn’t mind either.

Your train of thought is of course interrupted by the man himself and he wraps his arms around you from behind, pushing you into the counter. One might say that Jungkook is being clingy, but you know this is how he shows his affections. Through physical touch more than anything else. And you quite like it, you like the reassurance of his body close to yours. It’s what you’ve always wanted and never known that you needed.

“Missed you,” He breathes into your hair. Even if he’s been with you for the last few hours… You understand him. It feels like you’re both making up for lost time. For time that you could’ve spent together, rather than apart.

“Me too,” You murmur, “Can you take this to the couch, honey? I’ll bring the glasses and the wine.”

Jungkook hums and kisses your temple, squeezing your ass before heeding your soft demand. You sit next to him, thighs touching, and pour out a glass for both of you to enjoy. You lean against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his bicep and turn the television on. But neither of you are really paying attention.

“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs, “I had a good time tonight, baby.”

“Don’t I know it,” You say smugly, “It’s not everyday a pretty girl takes you out for din-” He cuts your words off by pulling you into his lap, somehow not spilling even a single drop of wine in the movement. You would’ve killed him if even a hint of a wine stain appeared on your velvet couch.

You press your hand into his shoulder, the hint of his tattoo and the glint of his piercing catching your eye. You swirl your glass of wine with your other hand. “What a precarious position to be in,” You say dryly, even grinding your hips into his playfully. He gives you a look, and stills your movements with one hand on your waist. Jungkook sets his glass on the coffee table behind you and cradles your neck, pulling you down for a sharp kiss. It’s almost desperate and needy, nothing like his kisses from before.

You slip your tongue into his honeyed mouth, tasting seeds of his desperation with your tongue. But then, you remember your wine glass and pull away from his lips with a lewd smack to reach behind you and place it on the coffee table as well.

“So pretty,” Jungkook moans, pushing the straps of your dress to the side and dotting your shoulders in wine-stained kisses, “Pretty girl, my pretty baby-”

You tilt his cheek towards you for a kiss, whining into his mouth at his praise. It shoots down your spine in a delicious hum and his hands roaming the expanse of your back makes you feel warm and powerful.

The way your hips move in time with his, the way you fit into the crevices of his thighs and his chest- he just wants to give you everything. He wants to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Jungkook will give you everything, if you let him.

“And what about you?” You rasp with swollen lips and wild eyes when you finally pull away. You press your fingers into the exposed, inky part of his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned for your eyes. “You look so fucking good all the time, but-but I told you to dress slutty and you did this for me, huh? You did this for me, bunny?”

Jungkook’s cock jumps in his tight pants and his throat goes dry. Your eyes are devious, filled with mischief and sin and he gives himself to you fully and wholly.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods eagerly, “Yeah, I wanted to look nice for you, baby.”

“A-and your hair,” You mumble, feeling a little lovesick, “I love it, I love it, I love it-I just wanna- wanna make you feel good. Can I do that, bunny? Make you feel good?”

Jungkook nods with wide, doe eyes, wondering how the tables were turned so quickly.

“Take me to my bedroom,” You demand softly. The glasses of wine and snacks on the tray are left forgotten as Jungkook easily scoops you up in his arms. Even with your lips soft and slow against his neck, he somehow makes it to your bed.

It’s definitely not the first time you’ve had Jungkook in your bed (or that you’ve been in his bed). It’s not the first time you’ve peeled his shirt off meticulously and licked your way down his chest, to unbutton his tight pants. It’s not the first time he’s seen you on your knees on your bed (to alleviate the strain on your knees if you were on the floor).

By now, the shock of your impatience has worn off. Jungkook frequently reminds you to slow down, that you both have nowhere to be except with each other.

It looks like his pants are glued to his legs, and while you can appreciate the visual, you want to appreciate the real thing. You groan in frustration and Jungkook does the work for you, pushing the offending fabric away and breathing a sigh of relief. You crawl closer to him, nails featherlight against his taut thighs.

He’s golden, his body taut and spilling with swirls of color in the divots of his muscles. Your mouth waters.

But Jungkook moves your hands away when you start inching closer, wanting to palm his cock. He joins you on the bed, pushing your back to the bed and hiking the skirt of your dress up to your hips. His hands are tight and warm and welcome on your hips, a flare of desire shooting down your spine and straight to your pussy. You buck your hips up towards him with a pout but he only squeezes.

“What did I tell you,” Jungkook murmurs, swatting your thigh lightly.

“You’ll have to remind me,” You breathe.

“Told you to slow down, baby,” Jungkook says, letting his fingers trail up your thighs and slip under your panties. His hand is warm in contrast to the rings on his fingers. They do little to cool your skin, though. “Impatient girl.”

“You say that like a bad thing-”

“And you talk so fucking much,” Jungkook drawls, hovering over you and dropping his weight on top of you, nudging your cheek to kiss you. You reach upwards to thread your hands through his hair but he’s quick, so much quicker than you. Jungkook pins your wrists with just one hand, and the mere action, the mere display of strength has you sighing and your pussy fluttering.

“Lift your hips,” Jungkook says thickly, and you do so immediately. It’s easy for him to pull your black lace panties off to the side. But before he does so he gives you a small smile of approval, knowing that you wore them specifically for him to see.

“I really do love this dress, baby,” He says, “Makes your tits and your ass look amazing.”

“Take it off, then. And see the goods up close,” You say, wiggling against his grip.

“I will,” Jungkook says lazily, “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” Without a single warning, he lifts you up easily into his lap. Your bare pussy brushes against his bare cock deliciously, your hips moving of their own accord. He stills you again, and carefully unzips your dress and pulls it off of you. His fingers on you are soft but firm, leaving your head spinning and hazy.

You haven’t even had his cock yet, and you’re about ready to combust. Jungkook pushes you on the bed, your tits bouncing with the force of your back hitting the mattress and hovers over you. You pull at his hair a little impatiently and he groans, the sound reverberating across the walls only to ring in your head. You want to hear it again, and again and again.

“Jungkook,” You whine, “Please, bunny, do something. Look at me, look at my pussy, come clean me up-”

“So needy,” Jungkook murmurs and ignores you in favor of kissing your tits, rubbing your nipples with his fingers, “‘M needy for you too, baby.”

“You’re so hard, so big,” You babble, “Please, want your cock, baby.”

Impatient. Jungkook kisses your chest, your belly, your hips and makes you cum on his tongue twice (while you tear up and cry a little bit, gripping his purple locks fiercely and holding onto his shoulder) before letting you stroke his cock. You’re about to push him on his back to blow him with determined eyes, but he stops you.

It appears he’s impatient too, and he wants to see you cream his cock before cumming all over your tits (which has become his favorite place to).

“Jungkook,” You breathe sharply, “There, baby, right there-” You cut yourself off with a groan, stilling your hips and pushing his face into your chest. Jungkook’s groans are muffled against your tits, but you feel the wetness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue over your nipples.

“Shit,” You mumble, “Feels so good-”

“So pretty, baby,” Jungkook coos, pulling away from your tits to look up at you with lust in his eyes, “I’m yours, all yours-”

You groan, bouncing on his cock even harder as a flare of possessiveness flashes across your belly. “Move back,” You say softly, “Lay down. I’m gonna ride you so good, baby.”

Jungkook barely has a chance to catch his breath before your nails are on his chest, trying to hold yourself steady as you push yourself down onto his cock, pulling a deep moan of your name from his lips. His hands are tight on your hips, watching with wide eyes- he doesn’t know where to look, what to do.

He squeezes when one of your hands drifts over his and rests on top of his hand.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Jungkook mumbles, “Whatever you want baby, I’m yours-”

“You talk so much,” You say hoarsely, with a wicked smile, “It’s cute.” Your free hand floats upward, resting loosely at the base of his neck. His chain is cold against his heated skin but all he can focus on is the glide of your hand over his neck.

His cock twitches inside you and your smile widens. “Is this okay?” You whisper, “This okay, bunny?”

“Harder,” Jungkook groans, “Fuck, harder, baby.”

“Like this?” You ask innocently, closing your hand around the sensitive spots of his neck. His pretty eyes flutter as he nods, a quiet moan slipping out into the air.

“You’re pretty like this,” You say softly, “Shit, you’re pretty like this…”

He lets out a choked laugh at that. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his hastily. Jungkook thrusts upward, hips meeting your ass but your hand doesn’t leave his neck. Not just yet. You breathe into his mouth, allowing him to swallow your soft whimpers.

You wet your lips with a loud smack and cradle his cheek gently. Jungkook is mesmerized by the heat in your eyes, smoldering and burning through his skin. You let your fingers glide over your clit, gathering wetness and before Jungkook can ask what you're doing-

“Open,” You mumble hoarsely, “Open, bunny.”

Pushing a finger past his chapped lips, you gasp at the sight of him below you with your fingers in his mouth.

You could cum just from watching him. His tongue swirls over your finger before sucking lightly with a pretty flush covering his cheeks. Your eyes widen, another gasp brushing over his cheeks.

“Fuck,” You mumble dreamily, “You’re so good, bunny.”

Your body is burning, jaw slack and the feeling of Jungkook’s bare cock inside of you almost too much to handle. It was wildly irresponsible- he wasn’t wearing a condom and you weren’t on birth control, and it was a conversation for later. But you can’t think, not when it feels this good, not when you’ve had a taste of his cock in this way. Besides, he always pulls out just in time. But still, you both should know better.

“Oh, Jungkook,” You whine, “‘m close, I’m so fucking close, make me cum, bunny-”

“Baby,” Jungkook rasps, “My pretty baby looks so good on my cock like this. My smart, kind, b-beautiful girl, my angel-”

Tears prick your eyes- it’s easy for you to become overwhelmed like this. You tug your hands away and thread your fingers through his, dipping your head for a kiss.

“You like that, angel? You like being mine?” Jungkook murmurs, slowing your hips so he can take over. But he knows you’re close.

“Only yours,” You mumble. Jungkook pulls you into his chest swiftly and flips you so that you’re on your back. He places your legs over his shoulders and brackets your head with his forearms, his necklace just above your nose and his hair tickling your face. But you're mesmerized by the determination and adoration in his eyes.

“Jungkook,” You murmur brokenly, “O-oh, y-yeah, baby, there, mmmf-” You squeeze his biceps with a gasp, watching his face closely. Pushing his hair behind his ears, you cradle his cheek and pull him down for a sweet, long kiss.

His fingers dance across your thighs and rub your clit in slow circles and murmuring soft words of praise in your ear. You’re vaguely aware that your body erupts in a tidal wave of flames, warming you from inside out. You don’t hear anything except for your cries of his name, you don’t see anything but him through your blurry eyes.

“Baby,” Jungkook says through clenched teeth, “O-open your mouth, baby. Fuck, baby, this pussy- I’m gonna cum, baby, fuck-”

You open your mouth with hooded eyes and your tongue lolling out and Jungkook pulls out of you abruptly with a series of curses. He’s not fast enough to get all of his cum in your mouth, some of it landing on your cheek. You swallow his cum with a dopey smile and open your arms for him to bury his face in your tits.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook says breathlessly, rolling off of you and pulling you into his side, “This pussy’s gonna be the death of me. Where’d you learn to ride dick like that, huh?”

“I’ll never tell,” You mumble, “Gimme a kiss.”

And so he does, tasting himself on your lips. He kisses you nice and slow, just how you both like after a night like this. Eventually he cleans you up and you do the same for him.

Under the covers with only the shared warmth between your sheets to keep you company, you rest your head on Jungkook’s bicep and look up at him. Your fingers continue tracing patterns on his chest, tracing the swirls and curves of ink as they appear.

Jungkook dips his head to nudge your nose and you softly laugh as his hair falls into your face. “What are you thinking about, baby?” He murmurs, lazily draping an arm over you. By now, you’ve realized that Jungkook is possibly the most vulnerable with you in moments like this. When you’re both bare and basking in a post-sex haze.

That’s not to say that he’s not vulnerable at other times. But it’s just different like this.

You take his hand and thread your fingers through his. His fingers are bare, as you had taken his rings off and they’re currently sitting in your jewelry dish on your dresser.

“We just,” You murmur, “We spent so long being apart. When we should’ve been together. All because I…”

“Stop,” Jungkook says firmly but gently, “Don’t do that. You’re where you’re supposed to be. We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

“But we wasted so much time not being together because of me,” You mumble forlornly, feeling your throat getting a little dry, “Because I listened to Sora and didn’t-”

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook says, pulling you in for a hug and a forehead kiss, “That’s not true at all. We’re together now, and we both had some growing to do. That’s what matters.”

“Okay,” You reply in a strained voice. You don’t quite sound like you believe him, and Jungkook makes a mental note of that. “Do you feel like… we have lost time to make up for?”

“Do you feel like that?” Jungkook counters, making your heart skip a beat, “Because I don’t. I know it’s hard, baby, but you can’t beat yourself up for that. It’s in the past, baby. Forgive yourself. There’s nothing to race against, it’s just me and you.”

“I’ll try,” You say a little meekly. Jungkook nods and pulls you in for a soft kiss, one that has your toes curling and your belly flipping. He shifts so that you’re tucked into his side, surrounded by him and his hands on your skin. He kisses you until your previous thoughts don’t feel so loud in your head, he whispers to you and pulls sweet laughs from your throat until you can detach from the strange cloud that had suddenly appeared.

He’s your safe place.

*********

MoM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ULTRAANONYMOUSEY @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

#Jungkook x reader #Jungkook smut #Jeon jungkook x reader #Jeon jungkook smut #Jungkook x you #Jeon jungkook x you #Jungkook fluff

[some-kindofgnome]

meet me in the afterglow

After college graduation, you took an all-summer backpacking trip around Europe with your best friend. Now you've got one last night together before coming home as lovers.

characters: eijirou kirishima x f!reader

wc: 2.4k

tags: smut (18+ please!), aged-up characters, quirkless au, implied friends-to-lovers, fluff, mentions of drinking/the sliiiiightest bit of tipsiness, swedish condoms, no beta we die like that bottle of wine

notes: @the-moons-raes and I discussed travelling with BNHA boys at some length a lil while ago, so I wrote this sweet lil scene for her! Consider it a (very) belated birthday present my dear. 💖 xoxoo

MASTERLIST

The sky’s faded from powder-blue to apricot by the time you stumble together into the bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you giggle. You’ve been grinning all night, so hard it’s starting to hurt your wine-warmed cheeks. But this is the happiest you’ve been in a very long time.

“That was,” Eijirou starts, “one of the- no, the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“We should’ve ordered another bottle of that wine,” you muse. He’s got his hands on your hips and you twist in his grip, curling your fingers around his palms. His face has gone pink, but his eyes are sparkling and you’ve already decided you want to preserve this feeling for the rest of your life.

“I don’t think you need anything else to drink tonight,” he teases smoothly, pulling you close with his fingertips digging into the gauzy fabric of your dress. He leans down and pushes his lips against yours, the last tartness of the strawberry gelato you finished on the boardwalk still lingering in the tender flick of his tongue.

Tonight falls at the tail end of a long backpacking trip across Europe that you’ve been wanting to take for as long as you can remember. You’d never planned to take anybody with you at all, let alone the man you’d wind up falling for.

But Eiji’s always been pretty good at defying your expectations.

The rest of the summer hasn’t been this glamorous. You’d spent most nights shacked up in rickety little hostel beds, bunking together in rooms of six or camping out in the backseat of a tiny rental car. But the sleepless nights and sore backs and restricted luggage hadn’t changed a thing. You’ve been in heaven all summer long.

To celebrate your last couple of nights in this hemisphere, you checked into one of Naples’ top-rated hotels. It’s still not the most luxurious room on the market, but compared to the military-issue bunk beds you’ve been sleeping on for the past eight weeks, it might as well be paradise.

Especially now, given the changed nature of your relationship.

You got on the plane together two months ago nursing a deep, intense crush on your best friend. You’ve been close with Eijirou since your first year in college together, when he was assigned to the dorm room beside yours. And for as long as you’d known him, you assumed you’d be loving him from a distance.

But somewhere between Brussels and Berlin, the line between friend and lover started to blur. Since then, it’s been completely erased.

“Come on,” you protest, flinging your arms around his neck and clasping them together behind his head. “I can hardly feel a thing.”

He ran out of hair gel two weeks ago and he’s been wearing his hair down ever since, tied into a loose little ponytail at the nape of his neck. The dark roots of his natural colour are starting to show at his crown after going nearly two months without so much as a haircut.

To you, he’s never looked sweeter.

“That’s my point,” he insists, descending into tipsy, cheerful laughter. “You’re so drunk y’can’t feel a thing. C’mere, it’s time to get you to bed.”

His euphoric grin twists around the edges with mischief as he stoops, sweeping you off your feet with a quiet little grunt of effort. You burst out laughing, letting one arm drop around his neck as your head falls back in deepening mirth.

“Take me to bed,” you swoon, dropping purposely limp in his arms. You haven’t been able to do any of this since that night in Athens a couple of weeks ago where you miraculously had an entire hostel bunkroom to yourselves.

Even then, those cots didn’t make it easy.

Tonight you’ve got a king bed all to yourselves, which Kirishima plants you on before crossing to the window and throwing it open. The night air is velvety and sweet, rolling in like heady steam and waking your senses as you watch him ditch his shoes and crawl across the plush bedspread to settle down beside you.

“You are insanely beautiful,” he croons, propping one head on his arm and smoothing his fingers affectionately down your temple. “I can’t believe I get to tell you that.”

He leans in to kiss you after that, tasting you carefully as his hand drifts from your cheek to your neck to your side. He’s a careful kisser, tasting of the last hints of that sweet summer wine that’s filled both your heads.

Picking up on your eagerness, he breaks from your lips to push attentive little kisses down the side of your neck. But as he reaches the hem of the floaty little dress you wear, he pauses and finds your eye.

“Can I?”

He’s already sliding one palm down over the curve of your hip, but it pauses at your thigh, and the earnest little quirk in his brow is so cute you can’t help but giggle.

“Do you really need to ask?” you quip.

He hums thoughtfully against your skin, already mouthing at your collarbone. “Just making sure.”

There are oversized buttons lining the center front of your dress, and he takes his time popping open every single one. He opens the dress far enough that he could have easily pulled it down over your hips, but he doesn’t stop there. Instead, you get to watch as he works open the last button with quiet, deep concentration, and when he finally does, he pushes the folds open around your body with a loving little triumphant smile.

“There’s my girl,” he croons as he crawls atop you once more, shedding his sweaty t-shirt in the process. You’re chest-to-chest when he catches your lips again, and his skin is still a little warm from the afternoon you’d spent at the beach before dinner.

He kisses you long and low and slow, giving you plenty of time to let your thighs fall open around the slope of his hips. Eiji presses naturally forward, pushing the ridge of his pelvis and the stiff denim of his shorts against your flimsy underwear. He huffs quietly into your mouth, and as you shift and squirm beneath him you can feel his cock stirring against you.

“Eiji,” you whimper, turning your face sharply to one side. “Don’t make me wait.”

In the absence of your mouth, he noses attentively down the column of your throat. His eyelashes flutter at your jaw and you feel it when he purses his lips and swallows hard.

“Okay,” he rasps. “Okay, I gotcha.” He rears back, sitting up on his haunches to unbutton his shorts. Before he gets up to shed them, he rests a hand on the plane of your belly, smiling so innocently down at you it shouldn’t make you throb.

But it does.

“Ready for me already, pretty girl?” Eiji muses, and you have to bite your lip hard to keep from rolling over and screaming into your pillow as loudly as possible.

“Been ready for you since the beach,” you tease back, and it works, since his ears are turning red as he slips out of bed. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his undershorts and shucks both garments in one smooth motion, hunching over to let them drop to the floor while he steps unceremoniously out of them.

His cock’s half-hard already, sitting full and heavy between his thighs and swelling self-consciously under your gaze. He’s exactly as big as you always sort of knew he was. He’s not shy about it, either. He can’t afford to be.

But he doesn’t know how beautiful he is, sunburned and sweating in the fading golden-hour light of your last sunset in Italy. You want to pet the soft little bristle of dark hair that dusts his chest, follow the taper of it all the way down to that perfect trail that always used to disappear under his shorts.

Not anymore. You get to see him at his most vulnerable now.

And you will not misuse that trust.

“Come here,” you purr, pushing yourself onto your elbows so he can see the desire burning in your gaze for him.

He leans instinctively toward you, hands twitching by his sides. He snaps out of a little reverie with a hard blink, stooping in front of his shorts and fishing out his slim little travel wallet.

“Hang on.”

He flips through the creased euros and museum tickets, carding out a wrapped condom. He climbs back onto the bed and passes it to you with a shy little grin.

“I know you like to do the honours.”

The condom comes from a packet you bought in the wee hours at some twenty-four hour roadside convenience store before bedding down in a rented car together. The instructions are in Swedish, but you know what you’re doing.

By the time you get the condom unwrapped, Eiji’s on his knees in front of you and his cock is fully hard out of sheer anticipation. You reach between his thighs and wrap your fingers around his warm flesh, making him shudder. And you drop one sweet, warm kiss to his mouth before you focus.

He rolls his hips quietly into your touch as you handle the job with delicate precision, unrolling the condom all the way to his base.

“Ready?” He asks you, but you’re already laying back against the pillows and thumbing off your underwear, slick and aching for him.

“Get over here before I start without you,” you tease, and he is powerless to resist you. He anchors himself on his knees, hooking each of your legs over one of his powerful thighs. He reaches for you and his cock sweeps the inside of your thigh as it bobs between you. You’ve been wanting this from the moment you saw this room, the perfect ending to a life-changing trip.

Eiji sinks lower, letting the barrel of his chest rise and fall with a deep, steadying breath. He reaches between you to line himself up with you, casting his eyes up to yours when he feels you.

“Ready?” He repeats himself, and this time the humor’s gone. You nod quietly against the pillow and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together tightly.

You squeeze hard as he starts to slot himself inside you. He stretches you deeply, especially without any preparation. But he knows how to keep you comfortable, moving slowly and smoothly. He braces a hand on your belly as he bottoms out, but he does not pause there. Instead, he starts to ease into a lazy rhythm, sweeping his thumb between your folds to find the swelling nub of your clit.

“Fuck,” you whine, and he flinches a little inside you.

“God,” he gasps, bending over to press his forehead- sticky with sweat- into yours. “Tell me I’m not dreaming, yeah?”

You reach up and lightly pinch his chest with your free hand, and he grins above you.

“You’re good,” you confirm, hearing the breathlessness echo in your own voice.

“I’m not gonna last long like this,” he brushes. You shake your head.

“Don’t care. Just fuck me.”

His brow lifts against yours. After a chuckle of disbelief, he sits up.

“Aye aye, captain.”

He squeezes your fingers tightly and begins to thrust.

He does not hold back with you, keeping the pad of his thumb winding tight circles into your clit as he fucks you with eager diligence. You revel in the slap of your bodies, the fact that you can spread out and make noise, moan for him like you’ve always wanted to. Finally alone together for real. No stolen moments of privacy here. You can take as much as you want.

“Eiji,” you beg, beginning to clench around him as you feel the first twinges of your climax approaching.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he huffs, borderline incoherent as the flush spreads down his neck and chest. “Let go for me, I gotcha.”

In a dozen thrusts he’s got you falling, letting high whimpers escape your throat as your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick shaft. He rubs you diligently through your climax, fucking you steadily until you whine and paw his hand away, overstimulated and sensitive.

“I’m there,” he promises. “I’m there, I’m there, I’m….. f-fuck!” His jaw falls slack as he throws his head back, thrusting headlong into a tight climax that has him trembling against you. His hips go still, but you can feel the way his cock twitches inside your spent walls as he fills the condom.

When he’s finished he stays there for a moment, shoulders dropping while the rest of his body goes slack. He reaches up, scraping sweaty strands of hair off his forehead before he grins sleepily down at you.

“Did you…” He starts, eyes turning inquisitive. Someday he’ll be able to tell, but for now you’re just glad he’s asking.

“Yeah,” you hum, eyes bright despite the weight setting quickly into your limbs. It’s worth it for the pride that surges visibly through him, and he pulls out of you with a triumphant grin spreading his lips.

“Good,” he gushes, slipping quietly away to dispose of the condom. He’s hardly gone for a handful of seconds, and when he comes back he crawls eagerly up to your side and pulls you into his arms, curling his body attentively around yours.

“This is nice,” you confess, drifting pleasantly in the wine-and-sex-induced fog that rests heavy in your brain.

“Hmm?” Eiji’s already half-asleep above you, eyelids drooping as the light fades from the window beside the bed.

“This,” you prompt again. “Not having to get dressed again right away. We should do this more often.”

“I sure hope we do,” he enthuses. “When we get back, I’m not letting you unpack until we consummate our relationship on the right hemisphere.”

That was the longest you’d gone around him without laughing in a while. Even half-asleep, though, his wisecracks are enough to make you snort.

“Deal,” you hum, letting your eyes fall shut as the world bleeds out of focus around you. It’s not even eight o’clock and you’re sure you’ll have him again before nightfall. But for now, you’re more than happy to bask in the afterglow with the one person in the world you never thought you’d make it there with.

#bnha x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima smut #tw drinking #reader insert

[cazimagines]

ok ok ok hear me out virgin Laszlo getting deflowered by you after you notice how much he blushed and how dumb he seemed to get when you called him your good boy, and how his eyes hadn't left your chest all evening

Warnings: Smut, these two past days is just me supplying you guys with lots of Laszlo smut huh

If you would like to read a Laszlo smut one-shot, click the link here!

- Unlike Laszlo, you were a very extroverted being. Being a people pleaser came easy to you. Laszlo admired you in the way you were able to create a compelling conversation with anyone you met. Often after a few minutes of talking to someone, he was bored or irritated by them but you seemed to find a fascination with even the most dulling people.

- You came to know Laszlo through your mutual friend John. At first, Laszlo didn't think much of you but that changed when you managed to hold an hour-long conversation with him about the way either nature or nurture of childhood can largely affect the life of an adult.

- After that, he invited you out often. Sometimes when he wanted to keep an interesting company and other times he wanted you to distract people by talking to them so he didn't have to.

- As time progressed you started spending even more time with him till the point where if people wanted to find one of you, they would usually find the other one with them. You stayed with Laszlo hours into the night at times, you even had your own guest room at his house.

- Most people would have looked at this relationship in disgust. It was unseemly how close of a time you two were spending when you weren't courting. It was improper. And the truth was that was why you were spending so much time with him, in the hope that he might ask to court you. But he never did.

- You chalked it up to his introverts. You knew he liked you at least, you could see it in the way he would become flustered when you came too close, the way his eyes would linger on you when he thought you weren't looking. Especially the times when you caught him completely disassociating his eyes were glued to your chest. It amused you. You weren't afraid to take the lead in this and ask him to court you instead, but you didn't want to rush him if he wasn't ready so instead, you left it.

- But that all changed the night you broke out the whiskey for a celebration of one year of friendship. It was a jolly evening for the two of you. John and Sara stayed for a bit but eventually, night fell and they left. You really should have left as well but Laszlo insisted it was too dark and dangerous outside, that you should stay at his home. You were only too happy to accept.

- So instead of leaving you to break open another bottle and the merrier, you both got. You two weren't drunk but you were both a lot more loose and carefree than what you might have been, Laszlo certainly was. He wasn't hiding the stares he gave you now, particularly the ones where he was gazing right at your chest. It was like he couldn't draw his eyes away.

- "You're so beautiful" he finally mutters as you both relax in your chairs, "Not even Michelangdo could capture the true beauty of you, and I am a better man for being able to experience it," he told you earnestly, the liquor clearly loosening his lips. "I need to drink with you more often if you are going to shower me in compliments like that"

- "If I had you I would shower you with compliments every day" Laszlo murmurs, more to himself rather than to you. "Oh, you'd be a good boy like that?" you say joking back smiling, but as your eyes turn to him instead of amusement there was a serious and slightly lustful look deep within his eyes.

- "Say that again... please," he says sharply, sitting up in his chair to look at you, "Good boy?" you question confused but the realisation dawned on you when you saw his cheeks become redder and how he shifted his legs to attempt to hide a bludge that was appearing.

- "Is that what you like Laszlo?" you tease, a wide smile appearing on your lips, "To be called a good boy?" He turns his head away in embarrassment at how easily his own body gave him away, "It appears so"

- With ease, you pick yourself off the chair and saunter over to him. He looks at you shocked and more so when you choose to position yourself onto his leg, your legs resting beside his as you sit on his thigh, only inches away from his face. "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at my chest, Laszlo. I know you are just aching to touch them, aren't you? Oh, you poor boy. I should be nice and let you"

- Looking up to your face, he nodded quickly, the desire pooling in him to feeling them, kiss them, suck them. Slowly you start moving your hips along his thigh, riding him as your hands move to the back of your corset. You tug at the strings till you finally are able to pull it off.

- While a little hesitant at first Laslzo finally gives in to his desire and places a gentle kiss onto your chest, they become harder as he continues to kiss, suck, and make hickeys all over your chest while you ride his leg.

- This continues for a little while till you couldn't cope anymore, you had to feel him inside of you. You raise yourself off his leg and on holding his hand he leads you to his bedroom. Gently you pushed him onto the bed, climbing on top of him again but still time straddling his waist.

- There you work of undoing his slacks and getting in out, as soon as you pulled them down you saw him rise out, showing his clear eagerness. You were able to position yourself onto him and ride out on him as you bent over to let him have easy access to your chest again.

- In between his chest he finally mummers to you about how this was his first time, and how thankful he is that he got to spend it with a goddess like you. The feeling of being inside of you was as close as he ever believed he would get to utopia. His words of passion were soon replaced with his own moans as you sped up letting him reach his climax.

- With a cry, he clung onto you tightly while burying his face into your chest as he felt himself release inside of you. Quickly you followed squeezing him extra tightly as you did.

- Afterwards, you clung to each other as you whispered about how much of a good boy he had been and how proud you were of him while he continuously thanked you for letting him experience such euphoria.

TAGS: @shrekboobies @arianalilyblack @wonderwoman292 @justreadingficsdontmindme @thehuiabird @lieutenantn @neoarchipelago @cable-kenobi @edencherries @faustlyaccused @julyvegan @prestigious-tea @hannahbal-the-fannibal @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @competitivepomegranate @welcometothemxdhouse @flutterskies @rumblelibrary @mywinterivy @xxlumos @cathana2264 @ajokeformur-ray @nev3rfound

#laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler headcanon #laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kreizler x you #dr laszlo kreizler #the alienist #daniel brühl

[buckysgoldenheart]

Angel in the Dark

Demon!August Walker x Reader

Summary: After a one-night stand, or what you thought would be one, a demon drags you to his world and forces you to grow wings like he has so you would have to stay with him, unable to permanently return to Earth.

Notes: (So this is like a one-shot that is little snippets/summary of something I might turn into a multi-chaptered fic. I’m not sure if I’m going to do that yet or if anyone would even like this idea, but if it seems a bit choppy, this is why.) I know its been an age and a half since i posted anything, but college, ya know? Also to those who have made requests, I have started all of them and they are to be posted next. I just started this fic a long time ago. I havent written anything for a while so it might actually kinda suck. 

Warnings: Implied smut, kinda. Unhealthy attachment on August’s end. If I make this chaptered then there would be actual smut. I think cursing. Eventual Stockholm syndrome if continued.

Words: 1713

 Angel in the Dark

You didn’t believe in fate, not really. You didn’t believe your life was predestined or anyone else’s to play with. It was yours alone, to make choices, good or bad. Only you decided when you did things and where you did them. And no one would have ever been able to convince you otherwise, until you met him.

Seeing him in that club, kissing him before you knew his name, now you couldn’t help but feel was in some way a trick, manipulated in his favor. That maybe bumping into him, quite literally, was his orchestration. Maybe whether you spoke to him or not, he had his sights set on you, and a one-night stand was never going to just get to be a one-night stand.

It was all too simple. Meeting you and not taking advantage, kissing you but following your lead, sleeping with you like you meant something to him. It didn’t add up. You could sense the kind of man he was; dominating and possessive. Too dominating and possessive to be as gentle with you as he had been. And all of it fell into a perfect line for what you now realized he wanted from you: not just sex, but more; nothing less than your life. But admitting all of that to yourself was entertaining the possibility that you were stalked like prey and any training at staying away from bad men had been a useless waste of time.

-------------------------------------------------

It was the third day, third of eight. August promised the pain would subside as the days passed, but so far he was proving to be a liar, not to your surprise. Every few hours, the wings ripped your skin wider to accommodate their size as they grew from the inside of your body pushing out. At three days, they were now the span of a couple feet, shining an opalescent white in the glare of the sun.

As you laid on your stomach, frozen in place against the mattress, wings bloodied and draped across your back with your eyes closed tight, you tried to understand the depth of the pain; how it was able to hurt the way it did. The feeling couldn’t compare to anything Earth may dare to offer. So different, so unnatural in its entirety, and indescribably excruciating. It was merciless, not letting you escape, not letting you find the will to walk without your bones threatening to crack. You could barely speak for fear fire would thrust itself up from your lungs and incinerate your throat. It was all-consuming, swallowing your body whole instead of localizing where the skin of your back had shredded open.

“Just a few more days,” August said, and you flinched at his voice. Every time he spoke it was a shock he was still there beside you, with his massive, black wings hanging over the back of the chair he sat in. Those monstrosities weren’t attached to his muscled back when you met him; nowhere in sight when he was in your bed.

August dabbed at your broken and bleeding skin with a cool cloth, eliciting little whimpers passed your chapped lips. “I know it hurts, Angel.”

“Don’t—" You forced out despite the heat in your throat, acid on your tongue, waves of nausea you knew would follow. “…C-Call me that.”

He sighed and continued to wipe the blood from your naked body. “I wish you wouldn’t say that. When the time is up, you’ll feel so much better about this, about me, and you’ll see how beautiful they are. You’re already so gorgeous, the wings will only add to your beauty.”

“I di-didn’t want--

“Don’t talk, Angel,” he said. “I know how you’re feeling about this right now, but humans are not allowed to live in this world. I had to do this so you can stay.”

You screamed as the wings tore your skin open a few more centimeters, and August quickly scooted his chair closer to brush the hair from your face.

He softly shushed you the way one might soothe a kitten, before leaning down and placing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “It’s ok. I’m not going to leave your side.”

You would have slapped at him, pushed him away with all your might if you had the strength, but your lungs were tightening, body burning as if it had been licked by the sun. You were dying, slowly morphing into a horrid creature from fantasies, leaving behind any trace of humanity. In your veins you could feel something coursing and altering your DNA. You knew you still looked like you, for the most part, but you weren’t you, not anymore. All because you met a man who got attached and wouldn’t let you go. All because he couldn’t remain in your world and decided with certainty that if he couldn’t be in yours, he would drag you to his. A place some believed in and some didn’t, a place no one could prove the existence of, now your iron cage.

 ------------------------------------------------

It was five more nights of torture before you felt like you could really breathe again, and even then, the oxygen was just as foreign as the pain you had trudged through, and you found little comfort in it fully filling your lungs.

“You’re awake.”

His smooth voice drew your eyes away from the scenery out the bedroom window; the first glimpse of true, heavenly beauty you’d seen since he brought you here. But you weren’t convinced it wasn’t an illusion crafted by his devilish fingers for your comfort. Much like his own beauty, a trick tempting you to call off your desire to leave this world and go home. You tried your best to ignore how perfect he looked; the curls of his hair, the scruff of his jaw, the black wings you first saw the night you met him when they had suddenly appeared only after you’d slept together.

“And you’re standing already. I hoped to come help you, but you’re clearly much stronger than I was after I had to grow my own wings.”

Your eyes flashed in anger before your tore them away from his, back to the rolling hills overlapping one another outside your window. The breeze rustling your hair, the chirp of the birds, the glisten of the sun off the small lake dotted in the landscape, distracted you from August’s approach. You stilled at his breath hitting the back of your neck, but when he slipped his rough fingers through the layers of your shimmering feathers you couldn’t contain the shiver that shot through your body. His own black ones ruffled when his skin touched his creation.

“So beautiful,” he whispered.

“I’m glad you’re proud of your work.”

August let out a puff of air, a weak laugh. “My work? Angel, this was all you. I knew they would be beautiful if they were going to be a part of you, but you really outdid yourself.”

Twisting your body fast, you met him chest to chest, your eyes burning with a heat to match the devil. “I outdid myself? You forced this on me. You injected me with that—that poison without my permission.”

“And you survived. Not many can say the same. You’ve come out stronger.” Fingers trailed through your feathers again and you ignored the heat it sent to your core.

“I’ve come out of this wanting to kill you more than I did before,” You said, shifting the wing back and away from his reach.

Without a moment to pass, August gently grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger as his gaze landed on your lips. “That will fade with time,” he whispered, then inched his face closer. You shoved him away just before his lips could meet yours, and August stumbled back with a chuckle. “Certainly stronger.”

“I’m not going to let you kiss me,” you snapped.

“Not today, it would seem.”

“Not ever again!” Somehow the words felt wrong, each one more sour than the last. Wrong, as if your lips called to his and a portion of your mind was so disappointed at the fight you were going to force it through by trying to keep yourself away from him. But it was a small portion, and the rest of you was much stronger.

“We will see, Angel,” He crossed his arms. “You and I have eternity. One day you will wake up and realize I am all you have, I am all you want, and this memory will be lost. All you will know is me and my touch and our world.”

As he spoke, his eyes held a gentle sincerity that you wished wasn’t there. You wished the blue of them wasn’t so calm and casual and certain of the way he was feeling. Shaking your head, you matched his stance. “You’re a monster,” you said. “You really are, and here I thought I’d seen the worst of monsters, but clearly not.”

August slowly stepped back into your space again, catching you off guard with a flush to your cheeks as he loomed over you. But you kept his stare, even with your back against the wall, wings spread against the stone. “You may breathe your sweet words all you’d like, Angel, but it changes nothing,” He said, running a knuckle down your cheek. “If I am a monster, I am your monster, and I’m not going anywhere.” Smiling, his eyes glanced at your lips again. “Luckily for me…neither are you.”

Tags:

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#august walker #demon!august #demon!august walker #demon august walker #august walker x reader #august walker fanfiction #august walker fluff #august walker fanfic #august walker angst #august walker imagine #august walker x you #august walker fic #august walker x y/n #august walker fanfics #henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #august walker smut #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill angst #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Be Here | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! You ever just take a year to write a part two? Well, thanks to @hellotvshowtrash 's writing challenge I have finally written the second part to Come Back. I straight up just sat down and wrote this in less then two hours. The muses have blessed me and said Elijah Mikaelson reunion fic or nothing. I am not stupid-- I will not deny them. Shoutout to Lottie (@imdreamingwiththestars) for making me miss these boys <3

Description: Elijah was dead and now he's not, stand-alone sequel to Come Back

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, Mainly Elijah

Prompt: "What was it like to die?"

Warnings: rushed writing, mentions of depression

Word count: 2k

Tags: Soft Angst and then Fluff

It’s been two years— well, almost two years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. But who’s counting, right? Certainly not you. Certainly you wouldn’t be stupid enough to honestly believe that he’s coming back. Even after the promises. His promises and their promises— it doesn’t matter. Both mean nothing. You don’t blame them but you would be naive to believe them.

Still, you keep count— just in case. There’s no harm in that, right? Two years— one year, eight months, and seventeen days— without Elijah Mikaelson. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, your throat closing like it’s been only a few hours. Maybe there’s a little bit of harm.

You press your face harder into the sweater curled under your head. It doesn’t smell like him anymore— there’s no cinnamon left, none of his at least. None of the sugary vanilla that used to encase her like a NOLA bakery. Only traces of Kol’s nutty cinnamon blend— he must’ve snuck in here last night at some point. Both him and Klaus occasionally do. You don’t blame them for that either— you don’t have a monopoly on missing Elijah Mikaelson.

Slipping out of his sheets is harder than you would admit if either of the brothers were to ask you. It’s not like they’re warm or anything— they’re just as ice cold as the rest of the room— but they’re his and the thought of going the rest of the day without them just doesn’t appeal to you the way it should. Voices flit up the stairs but you don’t strain hard enough to make out the words. You could if you wanted to but there’s no point— you don’t care anymore. Not about trivial things— not about talking. You only do it when you have to these days.

The trek across the room to the door takes what feels like an hour. In reality you’re sure it’s only seconds but, well, this time you aren’t counting so who knows— maybe it did take you an hour. Sun is filtering past the curtains now, painting a stripe through the dim room and across the oak floor. An hour. You pause beside his dresser, debating going in to dig out a new hoodie. You haven’t taken a new one in about three months but your stash is running sparse. It’s not a hard decision, pushing past the dresser and leaving it untouched— you’ll need it more later.

In the hallway things feel different. You can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. There’s a slight shift in the atmosphere and a little more of a kick to the energy in the compound. It feels alive— like everything is humming. The hair on the back of your neck raises instinctively, the answer on your tongue but not quite forming. It’s probably nothing— you haven’t slept in two weeks. It’s probably exhaustion. You’re a vampire but you’re not impervious to sleep deprivation. Time marches on whether or not you acknowledge it— whether or not you reject it. You’ve learned that the hard way.

It’s why you keep padding towards your room, feet soft on the hardwood, trying desperately not to draw the attention of whoever’s in the kitchen. The electric charge in the air follows you to your bedroom, increasing ten-fold when you cross the threshold and halting your advance. You haven’t been in here in weeks but for some reason it feels like everything’s been disturbed. Not in a noticeable way— there’s still a thin layer of dust over everything— but something’s off. Your stomach rolls as you glance around at your things, the pressure building as your neck tingles. You could honestly just fucking scream.

Still, you push further, braving the sudden unknown of your room with a burst of stamina you haven’t felt in months. Breaching the doorway feels like being sucked into a new planet, one unrecognizable and dangerous. Thankfully you don’t need oxygen because you’re pretty sure there’s none in your room. Your chest is tight— heavy— and you make quick work of changing into a new pair of shorts and a Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s been hanging untouched in your closet for at least a year. You haven’t been afraid of it, per say, but you certainly weren’t ready to wear it. Today feels like the day though.

It isn’t until you go to sit on the bed, not bothering to even try to balance as you put your socks on, that you’re finally rewarded with a clue that you may not be as crazy as you feel. It’s warm— the bed is warm. Not the whole bed— because yes, you do reach out to check— only the part you happen to sit on. It’s warm like someone was just sitting here minutes ago and you spring up as quickly as you went down, closing your eyes and pulling in as much air from the room as possible. You’re getting to the bottom of this now. When the air reaches your nose some of the pieces begin to click together—

Cinnamon.

Only a faint trace of it but still your chest jumps— is it— no don’t be stupid it couldn’t be. You thump a hand against your chest to clear the feeling as you force your legs to carry you out the door. You realize too late that you only have one sock, your bare foot pressing against the cold wood of the staircase, but you’re too far and too determined to go back now. You’ve got to find Kol and you have a pretty good idea you know where he is.

Sugar wafts to your nose as you press towards the kitchen, mixed with a touch of citrus— Klaus must’ve picked up your favourite pastries. As you reach the door voices flit stronger to your ears. You can make out Klaus’ hushed tone but not his words, followed by a comment from Kol that you can’t decipher. Good, they’re both here.

The kitchen is by far the brightest room you’ve ventured into in months, the countertops gleaming so bright you have to squint, throwing a hand over your brows. When you blink, clearing the glare however, you notice something peculiar— no pastries. You could have sworn you just smelled them—

“Love, you’re awake.” There’s a whoosh of air followed by two hands on your face and the lingering scent of honey shampoo.

You smile weakly up at Klaus, shrugging. “Was never really asleep.”

Another pair of hands wrap around your stomach, pulling you into a nutmeg chest, lips finding your head. “That’s not healthy, darling. How long’s it been now?”

Shrugging again— this time at Kol— you let your eyes wander the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the heady sugar scent. “Two weeks, give or take.”

You can’t locate the source— but, then again, you can’t see past Klaus’s worried eyes. You watch as he tosses a look behind your head, presumably at Kol. When you roll your head back though you find that his brother’s brown eyes aren’t meeting his stare but are also tilted behind him. You chest jumps again, the air thickening, energy coursing through you— what the hell is going on?

You push away from the boys, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to the source of whatever’s got the compound disrupted this morning. Opening your mouth, you go to make a snarky remark— or to scream, you aren’t sure— but when you finally see it all that comes out is a soundless gush of air. All words are lost as your eyes drag over the back of a familiar brunette head, passing down a muscled back and over sweatpants you haven’t seen worn in years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. It’s all you can do to poke your tongue out of your mouth, sweeping it over your dry mouth and tasting sugar.

There’s just no way.

You take a step backwards, back slamming into one of the brothers but unable to tear your eyes away from the figure long enough to see who. “What— what’s happening?”

Always the noble one, Elijah Mikaelson doesn’t keep you waiting, whirling on his feet, a box of pancake mix in his hands. “Couldn’t have waited ten more minutes, baby?”

You’re not alive but for a moment it feels like your heart stops as you drink in the man in front of you. Brown hair, brown eyes, stubble on his jaw the same as the day he died. Your vision clouds over, tears tugging at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to blink them away. You’re not risking clearing a vision this clear.

You take a tentative step forward, afraid that if you move too quickly the mirage might evaporate. “Elijah?”

“Hey baby.”

If your dead heart stopped upon seeing his silhouette then it restarts when he passes you the familiar, crooked smile that you fell in love with all those decades ago— the same one you’ve been longing for since the day he left you.

Fuck tiptoeing.

You’re across the room in record time, your hair flying behind you as you launch yourself into his arms, praying to whoever will listen that your body hits something solid. There’s a muted thud followed by his arms wrapping around you— his physical, cinnamon sugar scented arms. At his reciprocated touch you finally let yourself sob. You can’t remember the last time you actually let yourself cry but you are now and it’s finally out of relief.

Your hands attack his face, palms deranged and fingers haphazardly dragging across his neck and jaw and scalp. Your shoulders are shaking, tears hot against your face and pooling over your lips but you refuse to look away from his gaze. He looks just as wild as you feel, brown eyes ticking rapidly over your features. It’s all you can do to smash your mouth against his, crying through the kiss before laughing because he still tastes like your Elijah. Like cinnamon buns and sweetness.

“This can’t be real— you’re dead. I saw you die!” You sob against his lips.

He presses his mouth back just as hard, hands digging against your skin and clawing at his band t-shirt. You reciprocate by squeezing your thighs harder around his hips, pressing your body as close to his as you can get. It’s not enough but you feel like you can finally breathe again when you crush your arms around his shoulders.

“I know—” he finally murmurs into your mouth— “but I’m here. Right here.”

You pull away, hands still carding through his soft hair, pulling at the damp strands. “‘Lijah you were dead— I— I thought you weren’t coming—”

Your chest feels heavy again but he’s quick to move, cutting your destructive train of thought with his cinnamon and honey lips. You don’t mind— he could do anything right now and you would still cling to him like your life depends on it. Kissing him has been at the top of your list for two years now— you’re not going to refuse. One of his hands lowers, hooking around your thigh and tugging you higher up his body. You’re not the only one whose life depends on staying as connected as possible.

“It’s real— I’m real. I promised you, baby. I’m back— I promise I’m back.”

Just like that you’re back to giggling against his mouth, arms anchored behind his neck. Soon your head is falling back, the euphoria rolling through your body like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You would never wish for him— for any of them— to leave you again but this feeling makes every gruelling day worth it. He’s back. As if to prove it his lips find your neck, kissing over your skin feverishly.

After a few moments of soaking in the attention of the resurrected man you finally pull yourself together enough to attempt a true conversation like a respectable woman.

“What was it like to die?”

He chuckles against your skin, shaking his head, his lips never leaving you. “I’ll tell you later— there are a few matters we need to sort out first baby, starting with getting you out of that fucking t-shirt. It’s been too long.”

Who are you kidding— he’s right and you hum your agreement, lips searching for his, desperate once more—

“One year, eight months, and seventeen days too long.”

#May2021promptchallenge #Elijah Mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson x reader #Elijah Mikaelson x you #Elijah Mikaelson x y/n #The Mikaelson Boys x Reader #The Mikaelson Boys #The Mikaelson Boys x You #The Mikaelson Brothers #The Mikaelson Brothers x reader #the mikaelson brothers x you #Kol Mikaelson #Klaus mikealson #Elijah Mikaelson Fluff

[ming-yu-hao]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder | Chapter 4

Pairing: fratboy!mingyu x female reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Synopsis: When you transferred to a different university, you and Wonwoo promised that you would make long distance work. But distance proves to be more difficult than you both originally thought.

This Chapter’s Tags: cheating obviously, some angst and fluff, public teasing, unprotected sex (oops), light degradation/impact play/begging, use of restraints, brief face sitting, shit just goes down in general just wait

Warning: THIS SERIES IS ABOUT CHEATING. DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

A/N: hey... how y’all doing... yeah I disappeared... but I’m back! The past two months were a mess but I’m ready to come back now and I’m v excited. Pls accept this chapter as a token of my forgiveness </3 Feedback is appreciated as always :) AND THANK U FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!!! :D

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The ride home was quiet.

Jisoo had drank a little too much, and it was evident by the way she laid her head upon your shoulder and mumbled slurred gibberish against your skin.

You opted to ignore her drunken antics, and instead just wrapped your arm around her shoulder while training your eyes on the darkness outside the front window.

Only when Jisoo trudged over to her bed after taking off her makeup and changing her clothes did she seem to have sobered up. She sprawled across her mattress, her face pressed into the blankets, before she turned and gazed at you. You were laying on your own bed, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you stared up at the ceiling.

Finally, Jisoo spoke a coherent sentence.

"Where did you go?" She asked. "At the party," she added a moment later.

You hesitated for a second.

"Wonwoo called me so I went to the bathroom. And then we fought because he was pissed that I went to a party without telling him." You explained. It wasn't a lie; that was what happened, before Mingyu showed up of course.

Jisoo sat up quickly in her bed, crossing her legs like a child listening intently to a teacher. She placed a hand under her chin and narrowed her eyes at you.

"You fought..." She started but trailed off. "Is that why you went off with Mingyu?" She questioned.

You stopped toying with the fabric of your shirt, completely frozen in place at the accusation.

"What?" You responded, your mouth suddenly dry. You sat up in your own bed now, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Come on, I'm not stupid." Jisoo rolled her eyes. "I saw you and Mingyu going upstairs. And then a minute later some guy comes in screaming about how he found Mingyu and some girl fucking in the bathroom. It wasn't hard to put two and two together."

You were horrified. It felt as if a hard punch had been delivered to your gut and a million wasps stung your skin at once. You could barely catch your breath.

"Wha- Does everyone know?" You cried, not even attempting to cover up that you had sex with Mingyu; Jisoo had already figured it out, and there was no way you could ever convince her otherwise.

Jisoo shook her head. "No, I only knew cause I saw you with him. And I didn't say anything to anyone." She reassured you.

You didn't say anything else. Hell, you couldn't even think of anything to say. You threw yourself back against the bed, covering your face with your hands. Embarrassment ate away at you.

Jisoo watched you in your distressed state, and she almost felt inclined to apologize. She shook away the thought and asked: "What are you gonna do?"

You peeled your hands off your face and sighed. You felt like crying again. You hated it; you were so sick of crying.

"What am I supposed to do?" You responded. "I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

Jisoo chewed on her bottom lip as she thought for a moment. "Well... do you still wanna be with Wonwoo?"

"Yes," you said quickly. "I still love him. And I miss him a lot. But I just... things have been really bad lately."

Jisoo finally laid back down, mimicking you by staring at the ceiling. "You're gonna have to talk things out with him then. Be honest. Stop seeing Mingyu." She sighed. "That's what I would do."

You knew that Jisoo was right. But the thought of cutting off Mingyu left a sour taste in your mouth. You liked him a lot, as a person, and it felt unfair to just ditch him after the times he was there to comfort you.

But this was all so much more unfair to Wonwoo.

"Are you sure... that you wanna stay with Wonwoo?" Jisoo added in response to your silence.

Were you sure?

You said that you loved him: You loved the Wonwoo that took you to the cafe near campus and bought you your favorite latte; the Wonwoo that spent hours in bed with you binge-watching dumb cartoons; the Wonwoo that stayed up late with you on weekends to help you study for your exams.

He was still that same person. Things were just different now that you were far apart and couldn't be in each other's presence anymore.

Right?

Would the Wonwoo from a year ago have ignored your texts and angrily hung up on you?

How could this all possibly be to blame on some distance?

Jisoo took your silence as an answer and cleared her throat to regain your attention. She shifted onto her side to look at you, and you turned your head to meet her eyes.

"Look, I don't think you're a bad person, okay? I think you just made some mistakes." She said. "I know you care a lot about him, but long distance doesn't work for everyone."

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop them from watering.

"Just think about it, okay? I don't want you or other people getting hurt." Jisoo said. She rolled onto her other side, her back now facing you. "Goodnight. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight," you finally responded. Your voice was hoarse and weak.

You swallowed, and then reached for your phone.

You: that guy from the bathroom told everyone about you Sent at 12:48 AM

To your surprise, Mingyu responded quickly.

Mingyu: oh I know Sent at 12:48 AM

Mingyu: don't worry I already put him in his place Sent at 12:48 AM

You giggled quietly to yourself as you typed a response.

You: should I be scared for him? Sent at 12:49 AM

Mingyu: nah he'll live Sent at 12:49 AM

Mingyu: goodnight Y/N Sent at 12:49 AM

Mingyu: sweet dreams :) Sent at 12:50 AM

Just as you finished typing a reply, quiet vibrating sounded from Jisoo's side of the room.

She stirred in her light state of sleep, feeling around her bed and eventually pulling her phone out from under her pillow. "Hello?" She said, hints of tiredness evident in her voice.

You wondered who could possibly be calling her right now. You guessed it was Seungcheol, but once Jisoo shot up in her bed alarmingly fast you began to doubt yourself.

"What?" She cried. "Is he okay?"

You sat up yourself now, watching her with concern as she turned on the light and began rummaging through her closet.

"I'm leaving right now. No, I'll be fine. I'll text you." She said as she pulled a backpack out and began wildly shoving items into it.

"What? Where are you going? What's going on?" You questioned once she hung up.

"My dad's in the hospital. Had a stroke or a heart attack or something, I don't know." Jisoo rambled without looking at you. She ran over to the bathroom with her bag in hand. "I'm going home for a few days." She explained from the other room.

When she walked back into the room, her backpack was slung over her shoulders and her eyes were shiny with tears.

"I hope he's okay. Please be safe." You responded, though it just made you feel useless.

"Thank you," she said, looking at you with saddened eyes before turning towards the door. "I'll see you soon." She called over her shoulder before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

Then you were left alone, with nothing but the dark room and the thoughts that weighed on your conscience.

You found it difficult to fall asleep that night.

When you walked into class on Tuesday, Mingyu looked different.

His hair was pushed back in his signature style and he wore his usual plain shirt and jeans, but something about him was changed. His chest seemed to be lifted with a newfound confidence.

He gave you a small smile when you approached him, and you swore you noticed his eyes graze over your figure, but you sat down without saying anything. You adjusted your skirt as you settled into your seat and pulled out your phone.

You anxiously checked your notifications, waiting for Wonwoo's name to appear, but there was still no answer.

You finally had sent him a text this morning saying that you needed to talk to him. You had spent the past few days thinking about what Jisoo said, and it was difficult to admit, but she was right.

Now it was just a waiting game until Wonwoo was ready to talk.

A notification caused your phone to buzz, and you perked up as you thought it might be Wonwoo, but instead it was a text from Mingyu.

You glanced over at him with your brows furrowed, and he just stared ahead, biting his lip to suppress a smirk. You opened the message.

Mingyu: you look good Sent at 10:05 AM

Your skin flushed at the compliment, and you quickly typed a reply.

You: you couldn't have said that to me in person? Sent at 10:06 AM

His own phone vibrated against the desk with your response. He picked it up nonchalantly, huffing out a quiet laugh.

Mingyu: well the reason I didn't say it out loud Sent at 10:06 AM

Mingyu: is cause I also wanted to say that I keep thinking about last weekend Sent at 10:06 AM

Mingyu: when your thighs were shaking Sent at 10:06 AM

Mingyu: seeing you in that skirt reminded me of it Sent at 10:07 AM

You impulsively pressed your thighs together, your eyes widening and your lips flattening into a line as each message showed up on your screen.

You: you really think this is the time and place to be saying that? Sent at 10:07 AM

You: calm down you're acting like a douchey frat boy Sent at 10:07 AM

You smiled to yourself at your teasing reply, and you heard Mingyu quietly chuckle.

Mingyu: wowwwww Sent at 10:07 AM

Mingyu: don't act like you don't like it Sent at 10:08 AM

Mingyu: I see you rubbing your thighs together over there Sent at 10:08 AM

You felt your face burn up as you realized he could see the effect he had on you. You didn't respond, letting him continue on.

Mingyu: I know you're a bad girl Y/N Sent at 10:08 AM

Mingyu: you liked it when I spanked you Sent at 10:08 AM

Mingyu: bet you'd like it if I touched you here right now Sent at 10:09 AM

You clicked your phone off quickly, setting it down against the desk. Your face was red, and you cleared your throat, trying to focus as the professor finally entered the room.

You kept your gaze locked on the front of the room, but you could still see Mingyu shifting closer to you out of the corner of your eye.

Just as the professor began talking, fingers brushed against your thigh and began toying with the hem of your skirt. You swallowed thickly, cursing yourself for the growing arousal between your legs.

Mingyu turned his head slightly towards you. "Don't react," he whispered. He turned his attention back to the front of the room, but his hand remained on your thigh, now softly squeezing the flesh between his fingers.

You inhaled a shaky breath, nervously glancing around the room. Luckily, you and Mingyu sat at the edge of the back row; the only other people in your row sat further down and to the left of Mingyu. His body and the desk most likely concealed everything that he was doing to you, but you were still fearful of getting caught.

His hand trailed upwards, slipping underneath your skirt. His fingers pressed into your inner thigh and you bit your lip. He stared forward, his face blank, as if nothing was happening.

His hand brushed against your core, and you inhaled sharply. The corner of his lip quirked up at the sound. Then he pressed his fingers against your clit through the fabric of your underwear.

Your thighs squeezed shut around his hand instinctively, and Mingyu tsked quietly before pushing your legs apart again. He began rubbing slow circles through the fabric, your arousal soaking through. Your stomach was twisting into a tighter knot with each moment that passed.

Then Mingyu suddenly slipped his fingers beneath your underwear, pressing into your bare folds. You gasped quietly and quickly grabbed hold of his wrist.

"Stop," you muttered, your voice full of alarm. Mingyu pulled his hand away, and you clenched as you were left with nothing, but you let out a relieved sigh. You were panting quietly, and he glanced at you with worry in his eyes as he wiped his hand on his pants.

You pulled out your phone and quickly texted him.

You: we can't do that here Sent at 10:14 AM

Mingyu: I'm sorry Sent at 10:14 AM

You glanced at him, and he looked back at you. You nodded as if to say "it's okay" and chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated sending your next message.

You: come over tonight Sent at 10:15 AM

Mingyu's tongue darted out to lick his lips and he turned his head towards you. His lips were upturned into a smirk as he gave you an affirming nod.

Time seemed to crawl during the rest of your classes for the day; you were anticipating Wonwoo's response and running over in your mind what you were planning on doing with Mingyu later.

As evening approached, a large hole formed in the pit in your stomach. Wonwoo still had yet to respond, which left a bitter taste in your mouth; you guessed he still wasn't done giving you the silent treatment.

You almost texted Mingyu a few times to tell him not to come over, but each time, you thought about his hand slipping beneath your skirt in class and erased your message.

You were only okay with this because Jisoo was still gone, but also, the thought of inviting a guy over to have sex while your roommate was visiting her dad in the hospital made you feel guilty. And gross. When did you become so desperate for some dick?

It was around 10 PM now, and you were pacing around your room while waiting for Mingyu to show up. You had changed out of your skirt, now wearing shorts and a crewneck instead.

A knock at the door startled you, and then your stomach dropped. You were really doing this again. You twisted the knob with hands that trembled softly and opened the door.

Mingyu stood on the other side, and you quickly observed his appearance as he stepped into the room. He also had changed his clothes from earlier. Now he was wearing sweatpants and a zip-up over a t-shirt that hugged his chest nicely. His hair was a bit messier, too.

"Hi," you exhaled.

Mingyu stood tall over you, making you feel small and nervous. You fidgeted with your hands as you stared up at him.

"Hey," he replied, licking his lips as he scanned your face.

You hesitated. "Um... do you wanna watch a movie or something?" Internally, you cursed yourself for being so stiff and awkward. But Mingyu's lips turned up into a small smirk and he agreed.

A moment later, his body laid next to yours on the bed while you picked out some random movie on Netflix. Once it started, the rapid beating of your heart didn't allow you to pay attention to the laptop screen; it was so intense you were afraid that Mingyu could feel it.

You were also hyperaware of the sensation of his body lying next to yours. The warmth of his body radiated onto you and the soft fabric of his clothing felt like a blanket against your bare skin.

"Are you even paying attention?" He asked suddenly, causing you jump slightly.

You cleared your throat. "Y-yeah."

"You seem so tense," he teased. He placed his hand on your thigh and lightly squeezed. You inhaled shakily, keeping your eyes on the screen. "Is something on your mind?"

"No," you gulped.

"Don't lie to me, Y/N." He said with a hushed voice into your ear. "I know what you invited me here for."

His face was so close that his nose was brushing against the side of your face while he spoke. Your stomach was in a tight knot now, and somehow your heart was beating even faster than before.

"You were so wet when I was touching you today." He continued to tease, lightly biting your ear. The hand that rested on your thigh moved up, his fingers brushing against your clit. "I knew you'd like that. You're dirty, aren't you?"

He pressed his fingers to your clit through your shorts as he asked the question. You whined softly, your hips jerking up at the stimulation. Finally, you turned your head towards him, pressing your lips to his in a rough kiss.

Mingyu bit at your bottom lip while he kissed you, and then pulled away after a moment to glance at the laptop that was still playing the movie. "You're not watching this, right?" He joked before shutting it and placing it on the floor.

He hovered over you now, his body caged between your legs, and went back to kissing you, this time with his tongue slipping past your lips. You moaned against his mouth softly as he pressed his warm body against yours.

He pulled away for a moment, making eye contact with you as he asked: "You sure you wanna do this?" He ran his hand down your side reassuringly as he awaited your reply. "We don't have to." He added before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

The sudden shift in his demeanor left you stunned for a moment; you quickly nodded before you could hesitate. "Yes, Mingyu." The hands that rested on the back of his neck pulled him closer to you, connecting your lips once again.

His hands began to tug the bottom of your shirt up, and the feeling of his fingers brushing against your stomach left small goosebumps across your skin.

Soon, clothes were discarded about the room, leaving you in only your bra and underwear and Mingyu in his sweats. His bare chest pressed against yours as he sucked and nibbled on the skin of your neck. You let out a soft moan, not even caring about the bruises that would later appear.

Mingyu lifted his face from your neck suddenly, mumbling against your cheek with a small smile on his face: "Can I try something with you?"

You stared at him, eyes wide with curiosity, and he grinned. His eyes seemed to flash with something that resembled insecurity before he finally admitted: "I wanna tie your hands."

You felt a gush of arousal between your legs at the thought—the thought of being teased with the inability to touch his skin. You nodded in approval. The corner of his lip twitched up at your receptiveness, and he glanced over his shoulder before grabbing one of your belts off the floor.

He secured it around your wrists before pushing them above your head, and just as he was about to continue leaving kisses across your body, you spoke. "Mingyu?"

His eyes widened as they rapidly scanned your face for signs of discomfort. "Do you not like it? Should I take it off?"

You snickered at how worried he was before asking: "Can you make it tighter?"

Relief flooded over Mingyu, and then he chuckled softly in disbelief. "Anything for you, sweets," he joked while adjusting the restraints around your wrists. You laughed, and the previous anxiety left your body.

Your wrists were bound tighter now, giving Mingyu full control, and his hands squeezed your waist as he placed a kiss on your chest. "I can't believe you," he said. "Acting so innocent when you're really a little whore for me."

His vulgar words shocked you, but you couldn't deny the other effects they had. You whined quietly, desperately raising your hips to meet his. Mingyu pushed your hips back down against the bed, and then one of his hands reached up to grope your chest.

He left wet kisses and bites across your body as he made his way from your neck to your hips, discarding the last of your clothing and leaving you bare beneath him. His jaw dropped a bit as he pulled your underwear down your legs, revealing the arousal that had built up. "So fucking wet," he observed in awe.

He began to kiss and suck on the skin of your inner thighs, avoiding the place where you needed him most. You wanted to reach down and tug at his hair, but the belt around your wrists prevented the action.

You groaned as you tried pushing your body closer to Mingyu's. "Please, Gyu." You begged. Mingyu glanced up at you from between your thighs with a smirk plastered on his face once he saw how desperate you looked.

"Is this what you want?" He asked as he dragged his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal. He rubbed your clit in tight circles and your legs twitched in response.

"More," you said in between moans. You were already sweating and red in the face out of desperation; you could feel your hair sticking to your forehead.

Mingyu stopped his movements, but his hand remained pressed to your clit, and it throbbed beneath his touch. "What else do you want?" He teased. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could clearly imagine the cocky, satisfied expression on his face right now. "Tell me," he pleaded.

He suddenly resumed his ministrations, this time at a faster pace, which made your stomach twist. You cried out, unable to form any words. "Come on, Y/N. Use your words."

He brought his hand down to your pussy in a rough slap. The sensation caused your entire body to jolt and you let out a whimper in surprise. Mingyu buried his face in your neck before whispering into your ear: "Beg for it."

Finally, you caved, and you arched your back as you moaned, "Please, Gyu. Please fuck me."

A devilish yet satisfied grin settled across his face as he pulled away from you. "Good girl." He quickly said as his hands found their way to the waistband of his sweatpants. You glanced down, seeing the way his cock strained against the fabric. You wanted to reach out and feel him, but all you could do was lie there helplessly as he undressed himself. He lowered his pants further down his hips until he suddenly stopped.

"Do you have condoms?" He questioned, his lips pursing in thought.

You shook your head. "No. Why would I have them?" Realization slowly began to dawn on you. "You didn't for-"

"Fuck," Mingyu groaned while running his palms over his face. "I forgot."

Disappointment settled over you, but the lust you were feeling for him remained. You ran over various thoughts in your mind as you observed his conflicted expression.

Mingyu's arms dropped to his sides. "It's okay," he reassured. "We can do something else." He looked up at you, his previous lust-filled expression returning as he caressed your thighs. "Have you ever sat on anyone's face before?" He suggested.

The thought enticed you—the image of Mingyu between your thighs always made your stomach twist—but ultimately you knew you needed to feel him inside you.

"Just fuck me anyways." You blurted out. Mingyu's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

"What?" He cried.

"I'm on the pill," you quickly explained. "You can just... pull out or whatever." Heat rushed to your cheeks; you had become so desperate for him.

You weren't sure what you were doing. Deep down, you knew it was a terrible idea, but you were being controlled by lust—the same lust and desire that made you tell him you wanted to kiss him a few nights ago.

Mingyu's lips were still parted in shock as he scanned your face. "Really?" He didn't see a single hint of hesitation on your visage.

"If that's what you want..." he trailed off. You saw a look of desire return to his eyes as he observed your bare body. Finally, he pushed his pants down his hips and leaned over you again.

His forearms rested on either side of your head, trapping you beneath him as he slipped his tongue into your mouth once again.

He reached down and grabbed hold of his hardened cock, guiding it through the folds of your pussy. Your jaw hung open and a deep moan escaped your throat at the pleasure. "You're gonna be the death of me, I swear." Mingyu mumbled into your ear in response to your moans.

He coated himself in your arousal as he continued to rub his cock against you, his tip nudging your clit and teasing you with the smallest bit of relief. He buried his face in your neck as he finally pushed himself into you.

A loud moan fell from his lips at the feeling. This was so much different from last time. It felt warm and soft and bare. Every sensation felt amplified; the stimulation was so intense.

"Holy shit," you gasped. You felt it too.

Mingyu's hips stuttered as he bottomed out inside you. "You feel so fucking good," he groaned. His words mixed with his hot breath against your throat made your entire body burn up. Mingyu slowly pulled himself out of you, and your back arched as his cock rubbed against your walls before he pushed into you again roughly.

Your chest rose and fell quickly with each short breath you took while Mingyu set his pace of his hips slapping against yours. Your back was still arched, and your hips lifted up uncontrollably to meet his.

"F-fuck," you whined. Your arms tried to spread apart, but they were restricted by the belt again. There was a dull ache in your wrists, but it only added to the pleasurable mix of sensations you were feeling right now.

His hands were squeezing your waist tight, to the point where you thought there might be marks there later. He thrusted into you quickly, desperately trying to reach his high. You opened your eyes to watch his euphoric expression: his head was tilted back, his lips parted, and eyes fluttered shut.

He let out a particularly loud moan and his eyes met yours. A small smile found its way to his lips before his eyes grazed down until they reached your chest. He watched the way your breasts bounced with each movement, and the sight nearly made his eyes roll back into his head.

"You gonna come?" He choked out as he saw the pleasure on your face. You moaned in response, unable to speak. He leaned over you and wrapped his hand around your throat. He stopped for a moment, before roughly pushing into you, his hips slapping against yours.

Finally, he brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he continued to thrust into you. The knot in your stomach burned and tightened. You clenched around him, which caused him to choke out a moan.

The pressure in your stomach reached its breaking point. Your body was washed over with a feeling of euphoria as your thighs shook uncontrollably. You could barely hear yourself when you let out a loud cry.

Your moans, the euphoric look on your face, and the feeling of you clenching around him all led to the snap of pleasure in Mingyu's core. He gasped as he struggled to pull himself out of you. "Fuck, I'm coming."

Hot ropes of cum painted across your stomach. Mingyu's chest rose and fell with his pants and moans as he watched the substance cover your body.

"Fuck," he whispered in awe once his orgasm faded away and he admired the mess he left on you.

Just as you were trying to catch your breath and relax your arms, they were stopped by the belt again. "Are you gonna take this off me now?" You asked.

Mingyu chuckled. "I guess so." He finally undid the loop and threw the belt to the floor. You sighed in relief. Mingyu quickly noticed the red marks on your wrists and caressed the irritated skin. "Oh, no. You could've told me it was hurting you." He frowned.

"No, it's fine. I-I liked it." You admitted sheepishly. Luckily, your cheeks were still red from before, so it hid the embarrassed flush of your skin. It was true, though. You never did these types of things before, and you certainly never thought pleasure and pain could go together, but you now that you had experienced it, you were enjoying it all too much.

Mingyu shook his head in disbelief, a smile spreading across his lips as he stared at you. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his softly.

After a moment, Mingyu pushed you back slightly. "You, uh, probably don't wanna get that on your bed." He pointed to the cum on your stomach. You glanced down. You had almost forgotten it was there.

"Yeah, you're probably right." You laughed. Mingyu reached over for a tissue to wipe it off. The two of you cleaned up, and soon you were lying next to him on the bed again, with him back in his sweats and you with an oversized shirt on.

You faced each other, but your head was curled up against his chest, listening to the quiet sound of his heart beating beneath his ribs.

"You don't seem sad this time." He said. His chest vibrated beneath you as he spoke. You pulled away to look at him with your brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. All the other times we've done this you just seem sad after. But this time you don't." He noted.

You shrugged. "You seem different too. More cocky, I guess."

Mingyu pushed you playfully. "Shut up," he snickered.

"No, seriously!" You exclaimed with a laugh. "You were so awkward like a week ago and then today you pulled that stupid stunt in class!" You playfully smacked him back in the chest.

"Okay, yeah. You're right." Mingyu smiled, and then he sighed. "I guess I'm just... getting used to this."

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, both thinking of the same thing.

Mingyu rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "Which I really shouldn't be," he continued. You chewed on your lip as you pondered what to say.

"I'm breaking up with him."

Saying it out loud made realization hit you like a ton of bricks. But you weren't upset anymore. You would miss all those trips to the coffee shop and weekends in bed from over the past two years, but they had already come to an end the moment you packed up and moved away. At this point, he had become someone you used to know—someone you were holding on to when maybe you should have let go a long time ago.

Mingyu was quiet for a moment. "Wow," he finally spoke. "That's probably for the best. You didn't seem happy."

"Yeah..." you trailed off. An awkward silence started to settle, so you cleared your throat and quickly changed subjects. "So, I haven't heard much about this frat you're in."

Mingyu chuckled softly, turning towards you again. "What do you wanna know?" His hands idly reached for yours, fidgeting with and rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

You thought for a second. "Hmm, I guess... who are the other guys besides you, Cheol, Seungkwan, Seokmin, and bathroom guy?"

Mingyu let out a loud laugh. "Oh, God. Bathroom guy is Soonyoung. I swear, he's the smartest yet stupidest person you'll ever meet." He paused, his face contorted in thought. "Then there's Josh..."

You slowly stirred awake, scrunching your face once you realized the light was still on and about to blind you the second you opened your eyes. You peeked open an eye, glancing around your room for the clock. It was almost 4 AM. You sighed, groggily trying to sit up and recollect what you were doing before you fell asleep, but an arm was weighing you down.

You glanced over your shoulder, and were taken back in surprise for a second when you saw Mingyu lying next to you. The two of you must have dozed off at some point without realizing, and now he was pressed up against you from behind with his arm draped over your waist. He was sleeping deeply, with his lips slightly parted and cheeks puffed out.

You peeled his arm off you slowly, careful not to wake him as you slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. You observed yourself in the fluorescent lighting. Thankfully, your hair wasn't too messy, but your makeup was still on and smudged around your eyes. Something about it almost made you feel hungover.

You spent a few minutes cleaning yourself up before staring at your reflection. If it wasn't already awkward enough that you and Mingyu accidentally fell asleep together, now he would see you bare-faced and groggy with sleep when he woke up. Sure, you two had sex a couple times, but somehow sleeping together was a thousand times more intimate.

You tiptoed out of the bathroom, slowly shutting the door so it didn't make any noise. You lay back down in bed stiffly, pressing yourself right against the edge to avoid Mingyu's grasp.

Just as you finished turning off the light and settling back into bed, Mingyu's arm reached forward and rested across your waist again.

"What time is it?" He muttered, his voice raspy with sleep. You jumped at the sudden noise.

"Oh, um, it's 4:02." You answered.

Mingyu pushed himself up onto his forearm and rubbed his eyes. "Like, in the morning?" He asked. You told him yes and his eyes widened. "Woah, sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep." He yawned.

He fully sat up now, running his hands through his messy hair. He turned to you, just barely able to see you in the dark. "I can go, if you want."

Oh, God. Even though this situation was an awkward mess, there was no way you could make him go home now.

"I'm not kicking you out in the middle of the night. What kind of terrible person do you think I am?" You responded, to which Mingyu laughed under his breath. "It's only a few more hours."

"Okay," Mingyu said as he lay on his back again. He rolled onto his side, his back towards you. You sat in silence before Mingyu added, "Thanks for not kicking me out."

You chuckled quietly, allowing your eyes to flutter shut and waiting for sleep to overtake you again.

The next time you woke up, sunlight shone in your eyes. With your eyes squinted shut, you rolled over, expecting to bump into Mingyu, but were greeted with empty sheets instead.

Your eyes shot open as you felt around the bed and realized that Mingyu was nowhere to be found. You couldn't help feeling disappointed. Even though you were dreading having to face him in the morning, the fact that he left without saying a word stung.

Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open. "Oh, you're awake," a low voice called. Mingyu stood in the doorway, still shirtless and his hair a little tousled.

You smiled. "I thought you left."

"Nope, still here," he replied. He sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at you. His dark eyes looked like they held a certain warmth in them. "I've never seen someone look so nice after waking up," he said.

Your face burned up instantly. "Stop," you cried sheepishly, burying your face in your hands. You didn't even want to imagine what you looked like right now.

Mingyu grabbed your wrists and pulled them away from your face. "No, really!" He exclaimed while you wrestled back with him. "Your hair isn't even messy and your skin looks so clear," he said in between laughs.

"What are you trying to do, Mingyu?" You cried.

"Just take the compliment and say thanks!" He responded.

You stopped fighting back, letting him hold your wrists while you stared at him with a pout. "Fine," you grumbled. "Thank you."

A satisfied grin settled across his lips, and suddenly you noticed how close he was to you. "You're welcome," he said, his face only a few inches from yours.

You watched as his eyes dragged down to your lips and your breath nearly caught in your throat. He inched forward until his lips met yours. The kiss was soft and slow, until he pushed you back against the bed and pinned your wrists by the side of your head. He slipped his tongue past your lips and you moaned quietly against his mouth.

"You know what I said last night about you sitting on my face?" Mingyu pulled away to say, staring down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You felt arousal growing between your legs as you nodded rapidly. Mingyu let go of your wrists to lie on his back instead. Your hands trembled a bit as you reached to pull your underwear down your thighs.

"Your phone keeps going off," Mingyu said.

"Huh?" You didn't even hear it because you were too focused on the knot you felt in your stomach. You recollected yourself and shook your head. "Just ignore it. It's probably Jisoo or something."

"Hurry up," he teased, lightly smacking your thigh. You were straddling his waist.

"I am! I'm just nervous." You replied, trying to ignore the heat that was rushing to your cheeks. "I don't wanna accidentally kill you."

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "Oh, shush. I wouldn't wanna die any other way." You hovered above his face, hesitating each time you tried to lower yourself. Finally, Mingyu grabbed onto your thighs and pulled you down. You instantly moaned at the feeling of his warm tongue flicking against your clit.

"H-holy shit," you moaned breathlessly. He held onto your thighs tightly, not allowing you to move. Your legs began to twitch at the stimulation and your hips rocked involuntarily.

Mingyu pulled away, and you thought for a second that he was trying to tease you before he groaned: "Oh, my god. Who keeps calling you?" He shoved his hand under your pillow and pulled out your phone, squinting at the screen as he read.

"Who's Wonwoo?"

Your heart dropped right into the pit of your stomach. It felt like someone had punched you in the gut and you were unable to catch your breath.

"Are you kidding?" You cried. Mingyu had never seen your eyes so wide before. He turned the phone around to show you. Sure enough, Wonwoo's name was on the screen.

"Is that your boyfrie-" he started, but you interrupted by jerking the phone out of his hand.

"Don't say anything," you ordered. You hit answer and brought the phone up to your ear with a shaky hand.

"Hey," you said, trying to conceal the quiver in your voice.

"Hey," Wonwoo replied. Hearing his voice again made your throat tighten.

"I'm on campus. Can we please talk?"

#kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #seventeen smut #mingyu imagines

[shades-of-stony]

ABO Stony AUs! (Part 2)

As promised, here is part 2! [link to Part 1] I’m not sure if I’m gonna make part 3 but there are still a bit ABO fics left. 

A King For Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

What, Like It’s Hard? by JehBeeEh

Summary: Omega Tony Stark has it all, until his alpha boyfriend breaks his heart. In an effort to win him back, he follows the alpha of his dreams to Harvard Law School, where he discovers there might be more to being the first omega at the prestigious school. He also meets another alpha that might just make him forget the one he drove across the country for.

Two-Point Perspective by FestiveFerret for sabrecmc

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

I Love You (From the Bottom to the Top) by RomancebyFaye for Reioka

Summary: Steve and Tony have a great relationship. They may have only been dating for a few months, but the truth is, they had been in love for years before that. Their relationship is only getting better from adding this new intimacy and Steve is very satisfied with how open Tony is in the bedroom. He’s giving and generous, sometimes to a fault, just as he is with everything.

And then Steve comes home early and catches sight of something he wasn’t meant to see. The shock he gets from the sight of watching his alpha ride a toy might not have been meant for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Now, if he can just figure out how to tell Tony how much he wants what he witnessed without putting his foot in his mouth…

Or Tony offers Steve something in the bedroom and Steve misunderstands the offer.

Until he doesn’t.

A Prime, Divided by avengersasssemble

Summary: Facing his and his infant son's possible death sentence, young prince Tony runs away to the only place where his father would dare not follow: the Northern Territories, known to house the most savage and brutal Alphas--including their bloodthirsty leader, the Prime Alpha. Forced to navigate fatherhood and diplomacy while being unable to speak the Northern language, Tony has to make decisions to save his son, even at his own expense.

Oversight by ShyOwl

Summary: It really wasn’t Steve’s fault that no one knew he was an omega.

I Love You 3000 by NazakiSama166

Summary: After the death of his husband, the only thing Steven Rogers could think of was going on and dying in one of his missions, and Steven was happy to get his wish.... that was until he woke up in a strange universe when people can shift into wolves and men can get pregnant... Oh, and did he mention that Tony was there too and was in love with his younger jackass self? And let's not forget about Peggy...

Life just loves to mess with him...

Dear Enemy by AvengersNewB

Summary: Alpha Steve and omega Tony are SHIELD agents who don't always see eye to eye, but some benefits on the side help them work things out in the most non-traditional way. Steve's jealousy after an unfortunate encounter with Ty Stone, however, makes things complicated.

Love Match by FestiveFerret

Summary: Tony had but one goal for the season: secure a marriage proposal from an alpha with the position and means enough to remove him from his father's house. Love was wholly irrelevant to the matter. 

Stuck in a... by  Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve gets into a serum-enhanced rut. Tony figures that there’d be a long list of people who’d volunteer to help Steve out, but there’s only one person Steve wants.

A Late-Night Snacks, and Other Good Ideas by  Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

citrus and lavender by JehBeeEh  

Summary: Steve laid Tony on his bed as delicately as he could manage. Which was ridiculous because he knew, logically, that Tony was absolutely fine. JARVIS himself had told him. And that’s 100% why he had fought Natasha so hard on Tony not needing to go to medical when they came back, even though he probably could use the check up. Yup. That was definitely the only reason he had insisted on bringing Tony back to the penthouse. No other reason at all. If you keep this up, you just might start believing it, he thought to himself ruefully. Tony wasn’t his. He had made it very clear that he didn’t need some alpha in his life to mess with everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Especially not Steve Rogers.

Found Love in a Hopeless Place by crispybacon

Summary: Steve really, really did not want to tag along with his brother to the bar, no matter how many times the jerk nagged him that he needed to get laid. Just because Bucky’s known his Omega since kindergarten, and the pair have loud obnoxious sex in their shared small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean Steve needed to stick his knot in any Omega that looks his way.

That’s not the kind of Alpha Steve was.

Or, Steve goes to a bar and meets an Omega with a complicated past that changes his life forever.

This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

Summary: “Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Everybody's got a hungry heart. by Perlmutt for ShadowsintheClouds

Summary: Tony Stark has never experienced a true heat due to the suppressants he's taking on a daily basis. Society accepts him as a beta, together with his friends and teammates and the alpha he's secretly in love with. But some things are just too big to be kept hidden forever. An unfortunate turn of events forces Tony to reveal his biggest secret to the world...

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame for starksnack

Summary: In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye.

Apple Pie and Sunshine by betheflame, starksnack

Summary: Even though they've loved each other for years, Steve and Tony have each convinced themselves that their one-night-stand was a fluke. Thing is, it also resulted in Tony getting pregnant and as the birth approaches, perhaps it's time to use their words.

blue since the day we parted by funkyspacegirlfriend

Summary: When he's twenty, the man Tony thinks will be his alpha and mate walks away, leaving Tony with a gift he'll never regret.

The same alpha reappears fifteen years later in the form of SI's new military liaison.

In my Favorite Dreams (I feel your heat) by Corsets_and_Cardigans for wingheads

Summary: Steve is on his morning run in DC when a ghost from his past comes back into his life. And he's not alone. *** “Steve?” Sam’s voice cut through the veil of the past, the crushing weight of memory that stole his breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

His staring must have finally alerted another parent, a woman eyeing him warily while tugging on Tony’s sleeve until he turned around. His eyes were just as expressive and wide as they were ten years ago, piercing the cold morning air straight to Steve’s own.

“Tony.”

“Wait. Tony Tony? The Tony? The Tony that Bucky busts your chops over Tony?”

His voice cracked, wrent into pieces at seeing his omega who wasn’t his anymore, body flaring in pain. Years worth of aching denial like a hot fireplace poker to his soul. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, who’s the kid?”

The Couch by Perlmutt

Summary: Steve overstepped a mark, when he accidentally called Tony, his mate, tiny. Because his omega was very self-conscious when it came to his height. So he needed to show him that he thought Tony's perfect just the way he was, if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for the next week. Luckily Steve was the man with a plan...

be the summer in my heart by billyscissors

Summary: After Obadiah betrays the Southern Isles, he offers Omega Prince Anthony Stark as tribute to appease the Warlord of the North

#stony #stony fics #stony fanfic #steve and tony #stevetony #stevetony fanfic #stevetony fic rec #stevetony fic #stony fic #SUPERHUSBANDS #fic rec