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#the ''if you get hurt--'' trope here was good enough for me!
quietwingsinthesky · 6 days
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thinks about child-but-growing-fast amara and lucifer in the same room and gets ill.
#im gonna get called a homestuck again im SORRY its a good trope#she’s not his mom but she is. older than him and older than god and a being he helped imprison.#and the effects of that. here and now. are that she is so weak she has to relearn how to exist.#that she has to eat souls. tear them out one by one. you have to imagine that lucifer once saw her devour whole galaxies on a whim.#back when everything was moving in constant flux between destruction and creation. you have to imagine.#what is it to see her like this. is it pitiable. awful. comforting because she can’t hurt him right now and if he struck first maybe she#never could?#would he think about this moment this experience later when he’s made human. when he experiences a similar powerlessness.#anyway. lucifer gets out of the cage and trashes crowley’s place to kidnap his aunt-who-is-baby-right-now#u know me i love when characters go on the run together. what a weird little bond they’d form.#how do you overcome the anger at someone who helped cage you for eternity? does it help to know he didn’t escape your fate just because he#helped seal it when it was you? do you think they trade cage stories.#do you think lucifer tells her about how michael is still trapped in there and when he goes quiet. it’s not him who says he’s glad michael#knows what it’s like. it’s amara who says it. with an anger older than time. bitter enough to sting.#arms curled around herself because she’s hungry now. always hungry. tries not to think about what lucifer would taste like. (powerful)#sitting on a bench together watching people (souls. meals.) walk by. talking about prisons. talking about justice. maybe. or revenge. same#thing. and amara is leaning against him coiled tight through every muscle in her body and so so hungry. and when she says she’s glad michael#is suffering she isn’t really talking about him. but when she says it. lucifer lets out a breath. and says. me too.#and then he goes to find her something(one) to eat.#u see my vision. u do.
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doggytail-duck · 2 years
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My desire to not have a Will/Mike/El love triangle that ends in heartbreak vs my desire to have Will be canonically gay and in love with Mike: fight
#do Not tell me what happens please i'm only halfway through the season#well. less than half i guess?#but i'm getting HUGE 'will confesses his love to mike eventually' vibes#i'm enjoying will being el's brother so much and i can't take it if something messes with that#seriously i can't take it#found family trope my fucking beloved and the byers' and el are such good family#but. that being said. canonically gay will in love with mike would be amazing#that's how it's been in my head and in my heart already#but also i'm a huge baby and don't wanna end up crying so like you can imagine my problem here#i'm like that dog comic the 'no take only throw'#except it's like. 'no sad only gay will byers'#but it's inevitable that someone gets at least a little hurt with how things are going#bc like!! i don't want el and mike to break up! i don't want el's heart to be broken! anything but that the girl has been through ENOUGH#no more sorrow no more heartbreak let el be HAPPY#but i also really do not want poor will's heart to be broken either because that kid has been through enough as well#let him be happy!! let everyone be happy.. please...#do you have to like the same fucking dude guys this is gonna kill me#there's no way SOMEONE won't be sad and if ANYONE is sad and has their heart broken so will i and i simply cannot#that being said. will confesses his love to mike 2k22 let's gooo#stranger things#stranger things spoilers#stranger things season 4 spoilers#although is it really Spoilers if i don't know if it actually happens and is just a theory i have?#anyways#liveblogging stranger things#liveblog tag
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reinainaric · 2 months
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I said "I love you."
you say nothing back
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Falling in love with Gojo Satoru was as easy as reading the pages of your favorite book, not until you reached the very end of the chapter and the author just loves to twist the story.
contents: it was all a bet trope, angst lol, fluff, hurt!gojo, groveling, satoru gojo x fem!reader, college AU, playboy!gojo, comfort
credits to @/toOOfu for the art above!! ^^
***
September 1, 2023
"She looks like an easy target," Satoru chuckled as he watched you walk over to your friend, Utahime Iori, in the school cafeteria. It was one of those days when he would joke with Suguru and Shoko, with Suguru always making sure Satoru gets riled up by his joke.
Suguru simply told Satoru that girls may swoon over him, but he's sure that they're some others who probably would find him annoying, someone like you. That statement made Satoru cocky, and as prideful as he was, he made it into a bet that he'll make sure to make you fall in love with him by the end of December, enough time to swoon you over.
"We'll see about that, Satoru." Suguru smirked. "The end of December, you say?"
The latter nodded his head, a wide and annoying grin on his face. "Watch and you'll see, Suguru."
The catch? Nothing, just plain fun and feeding his ego.
"Satoru!" Oh, and here comes one of his girls. His flings.
September 2, 2023
Satoru wastes no time. The next day after making their bet, he quickly made advances towards you. After seeing you in the lockers first thing in the morning, he walked over and leaned to the locker right next to yours. And when you turned, you found him there with a smirk on his face.
"Hey, darling..." He said, almost seductively, if not only for the furrowed eyebrows in your face.
"Excuse me, who are you?" Your soft voice echoed in his head.
Now that hurts his ego. Satoru Gojo. Gojo Satoru. The handsome Satoru. The greatest. The flirt. The smartest. The playboy. The Gojo Satoru. The damn Gojo Satoru who you didn't even know who.
His mind was floating elsewhere after hearing your question. As unbelievable as it may sound, you were, unfortunately, serious about not knowing him. And guessing by the look in your face, he definitely was not making a good first impression.
First attempt: Failed.
But he's not the Gojo Satoru for nothing. No, he won't give up just yet.
So he straightened his composure, faking a cough as he flashes his smile that makes all his girls go crazy, and lowers his head to show you his ocean blue eyes underneath his glasses.
He definitely made sure you won't forget his name as he asks forces you to walk you into class, blabbering nonsense by your side.
You were just too nice to tell him to go away.
September 16, 2023
Gojo Satoru was persistent. Walking you to class, even waiting for you outside the door when he was vacant, disturbing your quiet study session at the library, sitting with you at the cafeteria table when Shoko or Suguru was not there. You definitely didn't forget his name this time as he became the annoying Gojo Satoru who's becoming a nuisance to your somewhat quiet life turned into a roller coaster.
During those days, Gojo found out things about you. You were studying at the architecture department, you like arts and coffees as for what he noticed when you were at the library, you were at the top of your class, and you have a few admirers that you turned down in a nice way possible, just like how you were turning him down too.
He also took note of the fact that you were introverted, and a little shy with people so he might just go easy on you. You had a soft voice, however, you weren't as innocent as you came out to be. You are honest with your words, so when you say you're not interested in him, then you're truly not.
You weren't an easy target after all. But Gojo Satoru loved the thrill, you challenged him so much that he wasn't about to give up now that you intrigued him. He wanted to prove to himself that he can get anyone, he can have whatever he wants, and he definitely will.
"It's raining, it won't hurt to get in my car, princess." He said nearly in your ears. You pushed his face away with a look of disgust.
"No way, Gojo. You probably took so many girls in there already, and how can I be so sure you won't do anything bad?" You frowned at him, shoving his chest away as you stand outside the doors of your building, waiting for the rain to stop. You were angry, but damn you can't even raise your voice at him.
Soft. Too damn soft. Can he break you?
Through the days that he came by to woo you, it didn't matter anymore what words came out of your mouth. People may see you as the shy type of girl, but you're not afraid to voice out your opinion, and your somewhat intimidating face speaks a lot for you.
"Jealous?" He laughed when you glared at him. "Princess, I can assure you I haven't taken anyone inside my car. Plus, I can even buy a new one exclusively just for you if it bothers you too much." He grinned, annoyingly.
You gave him a moment of silence, and that sparked a new hope in Satoru's ego that you might be considering his offer now.
"Well... no."
Oh.
But he could only smirk, assuming you were only playing hard to get. Girls always liked when boys chase after them, no?
"I'll walk you home then."
You shot daggers at his back as he ran to his car, and came back with an umbrella. His shirt got a bit soaked, hair a little wet after running to the car, but damn, he still got that annoying smirk on his face.
You sighed, how annoying.
September 29, 2023
He never gave up despite how you rejected him multiple times. He stuck by your side even though you don't want him to, and he was somehow getting into your system. He carries your bag when he walks you to class, or just about anywhere, and you didn't even give your bag to him—he practically forced you. He'd buy you coffee in the morning, making sure he gets the right order, and when you give money to pay, he'd refuse and shove the money back in your wallet. Sometimes, he'd give you sweets even if you don't ask him to, giving you the flavors that he likes the most.
Funny how you can't even get him to stop whatever he's trying to do. No man has ever pursued you like he does.
"Gojo–"
"That's Satoru for you, love." He cut you off with a playful smile. "Haven't I told you already?"
"Gojo." You repeated seriously. His eyes glinted with interest as he waited for your words. "Get lost, please."
How nice of you to say please.
He laughs. He had the audacity to laugh. "You know, you're really cute."
"Look," you sighed tiredly. "Whatever this is you're trying to do, stop. I'm not interested. If you want to get into my pants like you did to those other girls, that's not going to happen."
With one look at him, you snatched your bag from him and walked away with your heart beating loudly. Your face was heating up after saying each word, and never in your life have you turned someone down so harshly.
Satoru watched as you walked away. Sure, that hurt his pride, but he can't let his ego step on so easily.
He left you alone during the day, just giving you the space since he seemed to have pushed your buttons a bit. Plus, he was busy with basketball practice since his coach was already nagging him for not attending their training.
However, your assumptions were only proved to be true when you caught him with a girl at the parking lot the same day. A cheerleader, stroking his chest as if she was comforting him as her other hands wiped his sweat with a towel. You looked at his physique, Satoru Gojo was in his basketball uniform, showing a lot of his biceps. You watched as his adam's apple protruding as he drank his water.
You felt annoyed. Your eyes turning red when you see just how he didn't mind the cheerleader. Of course, Gojo Satoru was a playboy.
Who cares? You definitely didn't.
That's what you thought.
You walked in the opposite direction, just so you wouldn't cross paths. But of course, Gojo Satoru will always see you. After all, he was at the parking lot waiting just for you, and only you.
"Wait up!" You heard his voice from behind, and you didn't even look back, thinking he wasn't calling out for you. You wished he was calling for you.
Satoru grabbed your wrist, and forced you to look at him. "Hey!"
Your brows furrowed, trying to yank your wrist away at his strong hold. "What do you want?"
"Woah... slow down." He said as he grasped your elbows with both hands. His eyes searched yours, his piercing blue eyes staring at the raging fire burning in your gaze. "What's wrong?"
You swear, your brows almost met each other at him. But you didn't want to burst. At least, not in front of him. "Go back to your cheerleader, Gojo." You frowned at him.
He observed you for a minute, then a small smile crept on his lips. Realizing just how much he's finally having an effect on you.
"Sorry," he chuckled.
"What?!" You almost shout at him in annoyance.
"I said, I'm sorry, princess." He repeated. "I didn't think of you as the jealous type. Plus, she was just helping me."
"Help you what? Wipe off your sweat? Since you don't have the hands to do it for yourself?" You glared at his annoying handsome face. "You playboy. I knew you were just trying to play with me." You said, pushing his chest with your pointer finger.
He pursed his lips as he caught your wrist, stopping you. "Now, now, don't think like that." He chuckled. "I'm sorry, I'll be sure to push those girls away so you won't be mad at me anymore."
And damn, he was true to his words. He didn't know what got into him, but he definitely started rejecting every girl that came his way. He didn't even feel sorry, and he even stopped calling those poor girls with sweet endearments as he rejected them.
Gojo Satoru was slowly starting to feel something for you. But he doesn't even know it just yet.
In a span of a month, he successfully got into your system.
October 6, 2023
"How's the deal going?" Suguru asked as they walked together to their class.
"Poor girl, I heard from people that she's nice." Shoko added, shaking her head at them. "Though people may see her as intimidating, they said she's really kind. A soft voice, and all that. Shouldn't you stop, Satoru?"
"Nah, I think I'm enjoying this." Satoru shrugged.
Of course, Satoru definitely felt something tugging at his heart. He definitely liked having you around, since you were giving just the right thrill to rile him up, he loved every rejection, and every attention you gave him. But somehow, he was feeling a little guilty. But he's too prideful to even admit that.
"Plus, she's friends with Utahime. That girl hates you a lot, Satoru." Shoko said. "You wouldn't want to hurt her best friend."
October 13, 2023
"Didn't I tell you to call me Satoru?" He raised his eyebrows at you as he accompanied you in the library, placing a coffee and a small cookie right next to your books.
"We're not friends, Gojo."
"Right, since you're going to be my girlfriend."
You shot him a look, sighing as you turned the pages of your book. "What do you want this time?"
"Nothing, I just wanted to spend time with my favorite person." He smiled, opening his books too. "I'll study with you. I promise, I'll be quiet."
You didn't respond to that, just expecting him to keep his words. And when he did stay silent like he promised, you were already thanking god for having to hear your prayers.
As the hours went by, you slowly fell asleep, your head resting in your arms as your books laid discarded. Satoru looked at you, a small smile crept on his face as he gently stroked your hair.
He stood up, organizing your books in a pile, taking your pencil case as he shoved your pens in them and putting it inside your bag, he got the empty cup of coffee that he got for you and threw it in the trash can, and he did it all so as to not wake you. He waited for a few hours, tenderly watching you doze off, before he tapped your shoulders to wake you up so he could take you home.
October 18, 2023
Maybe Satoru felt guilty now.
He twists and turns in his bed, thinking of you and how you put up with him everyday. And everything you do, never escape in his eyes as he finds himself memorizing you.
You'd smile at him nicely, despite how your eyes show how annoyed you were.
Your feet would tap the floor when you get too nervous.
You don't even know but you unconsciously hold a piece of fabric in his shirt when it gets too crowded, hiding behind him when there's a lot of people.
He notices how your hands move gracefully as you trace your art project, eyes furrowed and focus on getting your work done.
Truthfully, he adores your smiles. The way your eyes would squint every time your lips stretch in delight. He held your hands once at his attempt of flirting, and it was so soft that he couldn't even get himself to let go. He loved playing with your soft, silky hair whenever you fell asleep in the library, staying by your side until you woke up. He also loved your silence, the comforting atmosphere that you give off seems to calm something in his heart. When he manages to get a proper conversation with you, he just wants to melt every time he hears your sooting voice.
And nervously, he thinks he's starting to like you.
October 23, 2023
Slowly, Satoru became a part of your day. Somehow, he managed to finally be friends with you, and still, you refused to call him Satoru, indicating that you still cannot allow yourself to be casual with him.
That's fine. He can settle for whatever you can give him. For now.
"Baby, there's a basketball game coming up this Friday..." Satoru trailed off. You were almost going to point out his endearment, but then again, it's Satoru, and you were slowly getting used to him.
"What?" You asked. "So?"
"I bought you tickets so you can watch. It's two tickets, so you can bring your friend."
He didn't even ask if you wanted to, but then again, for a hundredth time, it's Satoru. He wanted you to watch his game, nonetheless.
And you did. Your seat being close to their benches so he can see you easily.
October 27, 2023
"Seriously? I'm about to watch our school's basketball game, because Gojo Satoru invited you?" Utahime said annoyed as you both sat at your assigned seats.
"Well... yes..." You said shyly, looking around at the amount of people in the stadium. "You know, we've been hanging out a lot–"
"I told you, he's bad news." Utahime cut you off. "How am I supposed to get that in your head?"
"I know, I know... But he's actually been nice. Haven't you notice?"
Utahime thought for a moment. Of course, she noticed some changes. Gojo Satoru seemed to be spending his time with you lately. He didn't even care about his ex flings, or his admirers, he was solely focused on you. Usually, Gojo would take a girl wrapped around his fingers in a day, and then disposing them just as quick after he got what he wanted. He looks like he's not like that to you, Utahime thought. Though, she hated his guts, Utahime knew you were enjoying having him around.
She sighed, "Just... don't get hurt, okay?"
You chuckled at her. "Why would I?"
After the game ended, with your school cheering loudly at winning, Utahime said she had to go home quickly, so you were left alone.
You didn't know what to do, or where to go. Satoru was busy with his teammates, talking and congratulating each other. Satoru wanted to go to you quickly, but his fans surrounded him, stopping him from going your way as they celebrated their victory.
Satoru knew too well that you didn't like the crowd, so he was trying hard to escape from it.
Your eyes watched as his fans congratulated him, asking for pictures, and even giving him gifts. You sighed, texting him that you'll be going home since he wasn't about to finish anytime soon.
You understood that he was famous, and all that. He's Satoru Gojo, after all. And it's another part of him that you're still not used to.
A part of you was proud of him. And you couldn't possibly be selfish about him, especially if you only recently got to know him.
Satoru hurriedly ran away from the crowd, excusing himself politely as he saw you walking through the exit doors. He got his bag, and ran to catch up to you.
Thanks to his long legs, and his intense basketball training, he was able to catch up to you quickly. "Hey!" He called.
You turned as you heard his voice, seeing his disheveled hair and sweaty forehead as he ran to you. "Gojo, hey, I texted you and–"
"Hey..." He greeted, panting heavily.
You pursed your lips, getting a handkerchief from your pocket so you can wipe the sweat off his face. "Why did you leave them? Everyone was celebrating with you."
"You weren't there." He frowned. "What's the point of it..."
Satoru was tired after the game, but he was regaining his strength once he saw you.
"Nonsense." You chuckled, in which he frowned even more.
"I'll take you home." He said as he holds your hand to his, leading you to his car. "I invited you anyway, it's my responsibility to take care of you."
You nodded, getting in his car since you had been tired from all the crowd.
When he reached your home, he quickly got off so he could open the door for you.
Oh, the little things that he does.
You both stand outside of your house awkwardly, both trying to find the right words to say. You looked away, tapping your feet nervously as Satoru watches you.
"Congratulations... Satoru."
Satoru... Satoru... Satoru... His name never felt so good until you said it. It was like an achievement, a big prize that he won in his life. And his heart was almost about to explode when you finally called him by his name.
Satoru almost stuttered thanks to you. Slowly, he was approaching you until your back leaned in his car.
He closed his eyes, as his head fell on your shoulders. "Say that again... please?"
"Huh?" You were confused, your face blushing at the proximity. "Congratulations?"
"No... say my name... please, baby?"
His voice was so soft, desperately asking you to say the words he longed to hear from you. Satoru felt weak in his knees.
He looked up at you finally, his eyes searching your soul. Despite the darkness of the night, his eyes were glowing brighter than the moon.
"Satoru?"
"Fuck..."
Satoru Gojo knew he's in danger.
The moment he locked eyes with your eyes, looking at them until it darted on your lips. Before he knew it, he was leaning down for a kiss.
And fuck it, just how dangerous it was that you weren't even pulling away.
October 28, 2023
You were confused when you saw Satoru at your front door the next morning, his hands holding a bouquet of flowers. He looked absolutely handsome in his shirt, his sleeves tucked until his elbow.
You blush when you remember what happened last night. "Satoru, what are you doing here? It's a Saturday."
"I know," he said, handing you the bouquet of tulips. "I missed you."
"H-huh?"
"Will you allow me to take you out on a date?"
His heart was at bliss when you said yes to him. It was a simple coffee shop date, but you felt so happy as he made sure you were also comfortable and having fun. Having casual talks with you, but this time, there was a lying affection between you two.
And when he took you home, he slowly sealed your lips in a kiss. Exploring your mouth gently, smiling as he pulled away.
October 30, 2023
Satoru finally told Suguru he wants to stop whatever game they started with each other.
"Just about time you do."
Satoru swears he felt his ears heat up when Suguru said those words with a teasing grin. Shoko was laughing at his flushed state, clapping her hands in delight.
"Ah! I knew it!" She exclaimed. "Knew you were going to fall on your own trap. Well, that's actually good."
Satoru blushed even more. Finally, he can admit that he was starting to like you. Love you even.
In all honesty, he felt like he couldn't even live without you in his life. He felt like every moment with you was precious, and he was desperate to make you his, seriously this time.
All those times that he accompanied you to class, were influenced by his own choice. He could've just left you alone some days, but he didn't even know he was doing all those things unintentionally. Buying you snacks, and your coffee, he could've easily stopped that after every rejection, but he chose not to.
Gojo Satoru wanted to always be a part of your day. He was already a part of your present, and he wants to be there in your past, and still be in your future.
November 3, 2023
Satoru, as usual, was eating lunch with you in the cafeteria. Everyone in the school knew by now that he was not entertaining anyone anymore, just you. And he made it that obvious, looking at you so lovingly everyone who passed by would've looked at you in envy.
"Why aren't you with Shoko and Suguru?" You asked as you take a sip of your coffee. You looked over to the table where his friends sat, both busy at whatever conversation they had.
"They don't mind." Satoru replied, scooting closer in your seat. "You should get used to it by now."
"To what?"
"Sitting with you during lunch." He smiled when you looked away. "I like being with you."
Your mind wandered off somewhere when he said that. Does he like you or does he like the company that you give?
November 10, 2023
Satoru was frowning at you when he saw you sitting with another guy in the library. At your usual spot, in his seat, in front of you. He was annoyed that someone even had the guts to make a move to you.
Slowly, with heavy steps, he approached your table, sitting at the vacant chair next to you. His hands wrapped itself between your waist, as his jealousy pulled him to kiss your cheek in front of your innocent classmate.
"Baby..." He whispered closely in your ear. "I was looking for you."
He looked in front to shoot daggers at the guy you were with. The innocent stranger blushed as he looked away, "Uh... I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'll message you if I need help."
The guy hurried on his feet, stumbling as he exited the library. Satoru's arms tighten on your waist and you looked at his angry face.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Who is he and why is he going to message you?" A frown was evident in his face, and he was getting a little too close. You had never seen him this intimidated.
"That's my partner for a group project, idiot." You muttered the last word. "You scared him off."
Satoru pulled you close, nuzzling his nose against your temple. "It's annoying..."
"What's annoying?"
Satoru cursed under his breath, "Come on, I'll take you out to dinner."
But while he was driving, it was painfully silent. You're not used to this kind of mood, he was always playful and teasing, but now, he was glaring ahead at the car in front of him, as if the car did something wrong.
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and for some reason, you find yourself putting your hands above his, running circles on his tensed ones.
His hold loosened up a bit, and he sighed heavily.
"Tell me, what's wrong, Satoru."
Satoru pulled over to the side, facing you with a nervous face. "I'm sorry..."
"For what?"
"I was... jealous." He answered truthfully. He frowned, not liking the feeling twisting in his stomach. "I've never felt this before, baby. I want to keep you to myself, to always have you by my side and not anyone else, and it's so selfish that I hate myself for it. You're driving me crazy, and fuck it, I love you. I love you for making me like this. You don't understand... I'm head over heels–"
You interrupted him with a kiss. Satoru didn't even realize that he was already confessing, not until he felt your mouth against his.
It felt like there were fireworks exploding in your surroundings. Feels like he was finally breathing for the first time ever. Like the summer melting his winter.
"I love you too, Satoru."
He felt like dying right then and there, cupping your cheeks in a hungry kiss. Pulling you to his lap as you both make out in his car.
"Can I be your boyfriend?"
How can he be so cute, muttering those words weakly underneath you?
His question was not even a 'will you be my girlfriend' but a 'can i be your boyfriend?'
It was so cute. He was asking you your permission, he was asking to be yours.
He was... surrendering his heart to you.
And who were you to deny him?
November 20, 2023
You found out Gojo Satoru is a clingy man. It was obvious, the first time that he never left you alone, but this time, it only got worse, in a good way though.
He holds your hand when you're together, not even caring when girls would look at the two of you jealously. He doesn't care if a teacher sees him snuggling his face against your neck, he just wants to be that close to you. He will ask for a cuddle every time you two spend your time in your house. He would dart his tongue out teasingly at Shoko and Suguru when all of you sat at the same table, and he was hugging your waist and leaning his head on your shoulder. And when you two are in a private space, especially his car, he'd pull you in his lap for a long make out session.
You weren't even complaining, since you loved him just as much.
"Utahime!" You smiled when you saw your best friend in the cafeteria. "Haven't seen you in a while."
Utahime gave out a tired sigh. "I know, the professor is always giving out so many tasks, I might pass out anytime soon." She chuckled. "How are you? You and Gojo? He's like a lovesick puppy always sticking by your tail."
You chuckled. "That's so exaggerated, Utahime... But I'm really really happy."
Utahime was glad to hear her only best friend was this happy. She was thanking god that Gojo finally decided to be serious over a girl for once, and if he ever just breaks your heart, she'd be so sure to be the first to kick his ass.
December 4, 2023
"You're still with her?" Gojo's ex flings, Jia, asked him during his basketball training. Jia was the cheerleader girl that you saw him with in the parking lot, the fling that Satoru had for a month, longer than usual. He already rejected her, but she's still desperately trying to get with him.
"Of course, I am." He muttered, annoyingly. He snatched the towel that she was holding, her attempt to help him wipe his sweat. "Jia, I already told you–"
"Isn't she just a bet?"
Satoru froze, as if a bucket of ice was dropped all over his body. Her voice rang in his head, and he blinked furiously a few times.
"She's not–"
"But I heard you and Geto." Jia smirked, knowing she was just pushing the right buttons. "Come on, you were at the cafeteria, were you not expecting someone to hear you? I was pitying her when I saw the poor girl slowly starting to–"
"Whatever you heard, Jia, is none of your business." Satoru said in a cold-hearted tone. "I love her. Get that in that little brain of yours." He scoffed, walking away.
Jia was furious, her eyes turning black in anger. Oh, she wanted to hurt you. She was the last fling of Satoru, and just because of you, he was acting like this. She didn't like the fact that you easily stole him from her.
December 13, 2023
The fall. The breaking point.
Suguru was having a party in his house, a public year-end party with a few of his college friends and blockmates, everyone was invited to have fun. Satoru took you with him, making sure to just stay by your side so you won't get lost at the sea of people.
"How are you two holding up?" Suguru approached you two, handing a cup to Satoru. "You two having fun?"
You nodded your head quietly. "Yeah... there's a lot of people. Are they all from our university?"
"Some are outsiders," Suguru chuckled. "Satoru, we're about to play by the pool. We'll wait for you there."
Satoru nodded, pulling you by the waist as Suguru left. "You okay, baby? Do you want to go home?"
You shake your head, "No, no, it's fine. We can stay a bit more."
"Mhmm, just tell me if you get tired, okay?"
You two walked together to the backyard, where the swimming pool was at. It was a bit crowded, but definitely fewer than inside Suguru's house. Shoko was there, a few of Suguru's friends, and Satoru's basketball teammates. They were all passing out their drinks, mixing whatever liquor was there.
Everyone said hi to Satoru, even to you. You watched silently as a few of his friends talked to him.
"Satoru, I'll go to Shoko first." You whispered above the noise. He turned his head at you, stopping his conversation with his friends.
"What? I'll go with you then–"
"No, it's fine, Shoko's just there." You said, pointing at Shoko who was lighting a cigarette right next to Suguru. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
Satoru nodded reluctantly as he let you approach Shoko and Suguru, turning back to his friends, glancing at you once in a while.
But when he wasn't looking, Jia just had the perfect timing to enter the scene, stopping you midway.
"Oh, it's Satoru's little toy." Jia slurred her words. You looked at her confused as she looked at you judging. "He's still not breaking up with you? He wants to hurt you that bad, huh?" She chuckled.
You were trying to assess her words. You recognized her as the cheerleader Satoru was with last time, and her aura and words were making you nervous. What was she trying to say? What did she mean by that?
Satoru saw you, and his breath hitch when he saw who you are with. He looked over at Shoko and Suguru, who both stood up to approach you, but Jia was already taking advantage of you being alone.
"Poor girl," she frowned teasingly. "I'm pretty sure Satoru didn't want to go too far with the bet."
"Bet?" Your voice came out hoarse. You looked over at Jia's shoulder, where Shoko and Suguru stood frozen in their spot, their eyes widened in horror, and it gave you just enough explanation about what's happening.
"Oh, they were just betting about how Satoru can make you fall in love 'til December." She laughed wickedly. "I'm sorry, honey, you had to find out this way, but really, I was feeling sorry that I have to tell you–"
Her words were cut short when you felt a hand on your wrist. And you turned to see Satoru, his eyes red and shaking, "Baby..."
"Satoru? Was that true?" You looked into his eyes, hopeful. Your eyes welled up in tears, and his silence just made it worse. His hold on you was trembling, and he couldn't even say the right words out of his mouth.
You looked at Suguru and Shoko, your eyes pleading. "Shoko? Suguru?"
Another silence. It's like something was pulling the strings of your heart, threatening to cut your lifeline. And it hurt so much when they couldn't even say something.
You heaved a gasp, trying to stop a sob to escape your lips. But you failed miserably as Satoru tried to pull you in his embrace. "Let me explain–"
You pushed him away furiously, eyes angrily glaring at him. "Explain? Explain what?! That what she said was true?!"
Satoru's hands balled in a fist, and he felt his eyes burning as you pushed him away from his touch. His heart aches when you look at him full of hatred, and hurt. He felt his world slowly crumbling apart when you ran away in a hurry.
You quickly called Utahime, asking her to pick you up as soon as possible. While Satoru stood there helpless, his feet glued to the ground. He looked at Suguru, his eyes searching for help.
All of you were equally shocked, and nervous.
"Fucking go after her, Satoru!" Shoko shouted as she pulled Jia's hair. "Fucking bitch!"
The latter cried, but Satoru couldn't care less as Suguru pushed him to move. As fast as he could, he ran outside the door of Suguru's house, walking past every dancing body, he didn't even care if he crashed into someone, he just wanted to get to you.
And when he found you walking by the sidewalk, his heart started crying at your panicked state. He approached you, holding your wrist to stop you from walking any further.
"Satoru!"
"Let's talk, please–"
"Let go of me!"
"Let's talk, baby. Let's talk this out." He pleaded desperately, hands grasping your shoulders to stop you from moving.
Your body trembled against him, hands covering your face as you tried to stop your tears from falling continuously. "I hate you."
"I know you do–"
"Fucking jerk."
"I know, I know–"
"Don't touch me!" You burst, pushing him away harshly. His heart crashed into pieces, his breath coming out shallow and slow. Just like you, he was crying just as bad. "I knew! I knew from the very start you were up to no good! Utahime warned me, my friends warned me! But fuck you! I thought you actually cared! I thought you loved–"
"I love you, baby..." He said, weakly.
"You lying skim! I thought you changed!"
"Please, baby, let's talk about this when we're not angry? Please?" He tried to reach out for you, but his heart felt like it was losing its strength when you back away.
"I don't want to see you–"
"N-no, you don't mean that..." His voice came out as a whisper, a desperate plea for you to listen to him. "I'll take you home, we'll talk, okay? I'll explain and–"
"There's no use, Gojo."
Cruel. How cruel of you to say his last name so coldly. It was a sign that Satoru refused to look at. A sign that you were tired, that you want to let this go already.
His beautiful blue eyes seemed to lose its life, the same way that he was losing you. One moment, you were there by his side, and now... you looked at him as if you wanted to get him out of your life.
And it hurt so bad. It hurt so bad when he tried to touch you, but you still furiously backed away.
"I love you." His voice cracked, looking at you weakly. His hands shake by his side, fighting the urge to reach out for you.
You breathed heavily, shaking your head at him as you said nothing back. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to let him hear your sobs. You're starting to pity yourself, of how stupid you had become. You should've listened to Utahime the first time.
December 14, 2023
Satoru had never felt this lifeless before. Even Shoko and Suguru couldn't help him as he refused to talk to any of them.
His eyes were searching for you everywhere in the cafeteria, but to his dismay, you never showed up the whole day, not even in your classes. He wanted to ask Utahime when he saw her walking down the hallways, but the girl only glared at him as she walked passed. And Gojo was just as helpless as ever.
He messaged and called you a few times, but you didn't answer. He wanted to go to your house, but he can't even find the courage to do it.
December 15, 2023
Satoru finally saw you after a day of absence. You looked tired, and he was mentally cursing at himself for making you like this. He was starting to hate himself, and he's not going to forgive himself anytime soon.
Satoru tried to approach you, but you didn't even dare look him in the eye. He bit his lower lip, trying his hardest to stabilize his breathing. Just like he usually does, he walks you to class, only a few steps behind this time.
Fine, he'll settle for this. He'll give you the space you needed first before anything else.
At the cafeteria, he didn't see you once again. That worried him as he left Shoko and Suguru to look for you. The first place he thought of was the library, and he was glad to see you there.
You glanced up from your book, feeling someone staring at you. And you were right as your eyes met with Satoru, and your heart ached as your brows furrowed at him.
You looked away, trying not to be affected.
All throughout the day, Satoru thought of you and your last interaction. Every time the memory flashed in his mind, he wanted to punch himself. Hurt himself twice as much.
He fucked up so bad, and he wanted to make it up to you.
So he finally had the courage to wait outside your classroom's door after his class, waiting for the professor to dismiss everyone. He didn't waste anymore time as he got by your side quickly when you walked out the door.
Your name rolled out his tongue slowly, and you stopped dead on your track.
"I'll t-take you home..." He stuttered, his eyes searching yours for any emotion. But your eyes were dead, not even a single anger, or love for him in there.
"I'm fine, Gojo. You can go away–"
"I'm not going away."
You turned to him furiously. It was like you two are back to square one, to the first time you two met, and no one should ever forget that Gojo Satoru was persistent. But this time, two hearts were breaking and in a need to mend.
"P-please, let's talk–"
You didn't respond as you walked away fast, but damn his legs for always being able to keep up with you. Despite how Satoru took the hint that you don't want to talk to him, he still didn't care. It didn't matter to Satoru if he couldn't take you home with his car, he'll walk with you instead, like how he used to.
He'll be quiet. He just wants to be with you.
December 16, 2023
You hated Saturday classes. And you hate it even more that Satoru Gojo was tailing you behind. Trying his best to get you to talk to him.
"Baby–"
"Don't call me that."
He coughed awkwardly, blinking his tears away. "You didn't eat lunch today again, let me take you–"
"Cut the crap, Gojo."
He gulped when you looked at him, with hatred in your eyes.
Maybe, just maybe he can settle for this. Look at him. Just look at him. At least look at him, even if you don't want to love him anymore. It's fine. He understands. Just look at him.
"Stop with the act already. I'm so tired of it. I'm so tired of you."
"I'm sorry..." He muttered against his breath. "But I can't. Not until you listen to me." Not until you take him back.
"There's nothing for you to explain anymore, Gojo. I've had enough, and I get it. I understand as bright as day that it was just a game–"
"It's fucking not." He gritted his teeth. As much as he didn't want to be harsh, he was so desperate in wanting you to lend your ears to him. "It wasn't a game for me. And I did love you. I fucking love you still. Yes, it was a bet at first, but I told Suguru that I wanted to stop. He knows just how much I love you. Shoko knows. Fucking everyone knows at this point. Why can't you just listen to me?"
He catches his breath as he finishes voicing out his words. But no, you were a little hard in the head. You wouldn't believe him that fast. You didn't want to hurt your heart again.
"I don't love you."
You didn't know what gave you the urge to say that. It wasn't really true, but the wrong words seem to be the only right words to cut it out.
If Satoru's heart is already breaking, he was sure it is now turning into ashes. You're a liar, he tried to convince himself. You love him, and he's not about to give up just yet.
December 18, 2023
You can hurt Satoru how much you want, but that will never stop him from loving and chasing after you.
Another frustrated sigh came out from you when he left a cookie on your table to your first class, with a note saying, 'I love you. Don't forget to eat.' with his name underneath and a heart. You didn't even know how he managed to put these on your table so early in the morning, and your heart just wants to surrender.
But no, you're not.
So, even if it comes out too heartless, you offered the cookie to the person next to you as you crumpled the note, throwing it away inside your bag so no one would see it.
During lunch, Satoru saw you at your usual table, and tried to sit with you. But you got up in a hurry, pulling Utahime who just got back from the bathroom with you.
Being angry at him is one thing, but avoiding him? No, he can't take that. He'd rather have you stay mad at him, scream and hurt him verbally, even slap him if you want, but giving him the cold shoulder was you telling him that he doesn't exist in your world anymore. Satoru's heart is barely living at this point.
Satoru cursed to himself, standing up and going back to Shoko and Suguru who looked at him with a sad smile.
"Give it time, Satoru."
But time doesn't seem to be on his side.
And fate doesn't get along with you on your most desperate days as you watched the rain poured down once again. It was like deja vu. Standing outside the building, waiting for the rain to stop so you can go home.
But the rain was falling a little too harsh, and you know it's not about to stop anytime soon. It was like the rain also had a turmoil within itself, crying heavily just the same way your heart did.
You hate yourself for always forgetting an umbrella as you take a step, lifting your bag to your head, as you let the rain soak your clothes. It's the last day of school today anyway, you're finally taking your Christmas vacation tomorrow, and it wouldn't hurt to get sick for a few days.
Unbeknownst to you, Satoru comes to the rescue at the right time.
He held an umbrella as he ran after you, being careful as he strides so he won't trip on his feet.
He called your name, stopping shortly when he finally got you under the umbrella and pulling you close by the waist.
"I'll take you home." He shouted above the rain.
Your body trembled in the cold, and Satoru was embracing you like he used to. He didn't even mind if you got his clothes wet. But you still have the guts to push him away. "No! I can go home by myself!"
"Stop being stubborn!" Despite holding you with one hand, his other hand holding the umbrella, he still managed to keep you on your feet, his hand squeezing your waist tightly.
"Gojo–"
"Stop it!"
"Let go of me!"
"You're going to get sick!"
"I don't fucking care!"
"No, I'll take you home–"
"Gojo Satoru!"
Satoru gave up as you writhed from his embrace. He dropped his umbrella, using both his hands to grab your waist, and kissing you in the rain.
His tongue was invading, seeking every corner of your mouth desperately. Fuck, he missed this. He missed you so much. And he didn't even care if the rain was slowly ruining his hair and clothes, as long as he had you right here in his arms.
It was a dangerous dance underneath the cold waters beneath the rain. Two lovers, hopelessly trying to heal their broken hearts. Their lips tangled together like it was their last chance to be like this again.
"Satoru..."
"I'll take you home..."
How did you let yourself become weak for him?
You handed him a towel as both of you entered your home. Despite how upset you are with him, you couldn't possibly just leave him wet by the rain and catch a cold. You were just being nice, you said to yourself. It's not because of your affection towards him, you're just being a helpful woman who still has a heart so you invited him into your house. Thats it, that's all there is, perhaps.
Before you can leave him, Satoru holds your hand, electrifying the two of you to stop you from your tracks. You tried to look at him in the eye, but it was impossible. Satoru doesn't even try to hide how much he's hurting in front of you, and that just doubles the pain that you're feeling right now.
"Let's talk..." He said weakly. "Please? I'm not leaving if we don't talk."
"Satoru, please, just let it go..."
"No," he shakes his head stubbornly. "You mean so much to me."
Your breath hitched as he pulled you close, cupping your cheeks with both hands as he leaned his forehead against yours.
"It's true, we did make a bet..." He closed his eyes, the words falling in his mouth felt like daggers shot straight to his heart. "And I hate myself for it. For being a prideful jerk who wanted to prove he can have whoever he wants, and hurting you in the process..."
Satoru breathed heavily, his hands rubbing circles on your cheek. "Before I knew it, I was down badly on my knees. I wanted you. I love you. I wanted to spend each and every waking moment with you. And I told Suguru, and Shoko, that I wanted to stop whatever game we agreed upon, so I can start loving you truthfully..."
"Satoru..."
"And I felt so alive, baby. When you told me you love me too, when you let me be your boyfriend, when you finally accepted my love for you. Fuck, I can die a happy man. I just... love you. I love being loved by you. I love it when you let me love you. I love it when you do nothing and it just drives me wild. I love it every time I see your eyes looking at me. I love hearing your voice, seeing you smile, and love it even more when you let me hold your hand! I love every single piece of your soul, and I want you. I want to always be with you. My heart aches for you, baby... please..."
He was crying. Oh, god, he was crying as he confessed everything to you. And you swear your heart wants to come out from your chest.
Your heart was swelling, he was mending your bruises, healing your scars in every word he uttered. Your tears were falling nonstop, and your hands quiver to place it above his.
"Satoru..." You sobbed, looking at his helpless blue eyes who'd been crying buckets as well. "I hate the fact that I love you so much."
Satoru heaved a gasp as he pulled you to his embrace, sealing you in a wet kiss. Somehow, it didn't even feel cold anymore now that you have your arms around him again.
His face settled on your neck, and he was catching his breath. He ran his hands in your hair, holding you tight as if he was afraid to let you go.
"Don't leave me again..."
"I won't. I promise." You let out a low chuckle. This time, you cupped his cheek so he could look at you. "I love you so much, Satoru. I'm so sorry for hurting you."
"I deserved it." He smiled. Finally, he was smiling at you. "And I love you more."
Satoru made sure he's not letting you escape this time. Everyday, he's going to make it up to you. He's going to tell you how much he loves you, and he's going to make sure you'll never even forget it until you fall asleep. He's going to love you like it's breathing, and he promised to himself he's going to love you until the next lifetime.
***
i know i said I'll do the part 2 of my Suguru fic, but im so sorry this was in my head for ages 😭 i promised ill start part 2 in a while... anyways, thanks for reading! its not proofread so im sorry for any typographical errors and spelling ^^
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noisynaia · 1 year
Text
𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮
summary: The good old 'oh no, there's only one bed' trope.
pairing: Joel Miller x afab!reader 
word count: 3.8k 
note: Explicit (18+). Vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V, creampie. No use of (y/n). Nightmares. This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.
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“Can you cut it out?” You sigh at the man who is currently and stubbornly laying on the hard floor next to the bed.    
It had been raining heavily for the entire day, the downpour so heavy that you couldn’t see more than a foot or two in front of you. All three of you were soaked to the bone and freezing. Spirit had been very low in your little travel group. Ellie had not come with her usual jokes and Joel had been even grumpier than usual so stumbling upon the little cabin had been a real stroke of luck. There had even been a dresser with enough dry clothes for all three of you to change into. 
You had given Ellie the couch in the living room since that was with the fireplace, leaving the single bedroom for you and Joel. 
“Just get up here. There’s plenty of space for the both of us.” You continue, cursing him and his damn stubbornness. The bed is not huge, but it will fit two people finely. 
“I’m fine down here. Trust me, I’ve had worse.” He just grumbles.  
You sigh, peeking your head over the edge of the mattress to look down at him. “I know you have a bad back and I need you to be well rested and alert, okay.” He tilts his head to look at you. “We both do…” You add, using Ellie to guilt trip him is maybe a little low, but you know it’s going to work and it is not like what you’re saying isn’t true. 
“Fine.” He finally sighs, as he gets up from the dusty floor, his knees creaking slightly before laying down next to you, but he doesn't get under the cover, instead laying straight on his back on top of the comforter with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes staring straight up at the ceiling.        
You want to tell him to just relax and get under the covers, but you don’t want to push your luck, so you just settle for the small victory of getting him into the bed, and who knows as sad as it makes you, maybe he really finds sleeping next to you more uncomfortable than the floor. 
You try not to dwell on that possibility too much, ashamed of how much that would affect you, so you just get comfortable under the covers instead. Turning to lay on your side, facing away from him as you close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come to you.    
“Can I ask you something?” You whisper into the silent room, somehow knowing that he hasn’t fallen asleep yet. 
“Sure.” 
“It will never get easier will it? Living in this world… I tell myself that it will, that it is going to hurt less with time but… I’m just kidding myself, aren’t I?”
He doesn’t answer for a long time and you start to think that he may have fallen asleep before he finally breaks the silence. “No, I don’t think it will ever get easier.” A short beat of silence before he continues. “But I guess we can hope.” 
You sigh at his words. You really do hope so. The two of you are quiet again and you think he might have fallen asleep when he finally speaks again.  
 “Thank you.” Joel whispers into the darkness.
“For what?” You turn your head slightly towards him.  
“For tolerating my bullshit I guess.” 
It is the last words exchanged between you before sleep finally creeps up on the both of you. 
You wake up only a few hours into the night by the feeling of Joel’s frantic movements. He is tossing and turning uneasily and uttering incomprehensible muttered words. You turn around to face him, barely capable of making him out in the darkness of the room.
“Joel” You whisper, propping yourself up on your elbow, making you hover over him slightly. 
You watch the distressed look on his face, his eyes shut tight and his brows furrowed. Whispers of some terror make it out of his mouth. Your hand is hovering over his arm, unsure if he would be okay with your touch. But his nightmare seemingly continues. You frown and gently place your hand over his arm, softly rubbing the spot with your thumb.
“Joel.” You speak softly. “Wake up.”
You can feel how his whole body is shaking. He finally opens his eyes, letting out a gasp. His eyes wide and unfocused, clearly terrified of whatever he’d dreamed about, before they lock with yours and his gaze relaxes a little. 
“I’m sorry.” He mutters, his rapid breathing is slowly coming under control. 
“Don’t apologize.” You frown at him, your eyes are now better accustomed to the darkness and you can see his face more clearly. “I get them too.” You confess dropping your head back on the pillow.
“Do you need anything?” You ask, feeling him move slightly on the mattress.
“No.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
Silence falls over you, the two of you just laying and listening to your own quiet heartbeats. 
“Why don’t you get under the covers?” You finally say, almost a little pleading.
And to your happy surprise he actually does. Joining you under the covers, even though he lays stiff as a board and way closer to the edge of the bed than he needs to. You can live with that, you are just happy that he at least can be a little more comfortable and warm. 
“Joel?”
“Yes?”
“You can talk to me, you know? If you ever need it”
A beat of silence. 
“Yeah… I know darling.” 
Darling. You think your heart skips a beat by the endearing name and you let out a sigh as you finally close your eyes again. “Goodnight Joel” 
“Goodnight.” 
You wake again in the early hours of the morning. It’s a slow ease into consciousness, a much gentler awakening than you normally get to have. Your eyes are still closed, and the only thing you currently perceive is the warm safe feeling of complete comfort, still half asleep, you haven’t registered what contributes to this feeling, how Joel is embracing you in his sleep. 
Comfortably wrapped in a blanket in a soft bed and feeling the heat of someone’s body against you is a luxury you haven't felt in a long time. The comforting feeling of soft human touch makes you melt into it, and crave it from the very marrow of your bones. You stir slightly, letting out a content sigh as you slowly get pulled out of your sleepy daze, and that is when you realize the position you are in.    
Your back is pressed up against Joel’s chest and his strong arm is wrapped around your waist. Your legs are entangled under the covers and his steady warm breath fans over the back of your neck. The two of you must have instinctively reached for each other in your sleep, the presence of a warm comforting body too irresistible, nuzzling you against himself in his sleep.
Your heart skips a beat at the gentle touch, feeling like you are going to cry from the overload of human touch. There is no way you’re gonna be able to part from his embrace without waking him, but maybe you should? Even though you really don’t want to. You feel slightly guilty as you lie and listen to his steady heartbeat
You want to be selfish for a little longer, savoring the warm comfort of Joel’s presence beside you, enjoying how it makes you feel. It feels too damn good after all the years of loneliness and fear. You can’t deny that you are feeling things for Joel. He is an attractive man, there is no doubt there, but there is more to it. The glimpses you have gotten of who he is behind the gruff facade, the man he must once have been, has made you yearn to get to know more of that side of him. The way he always makes sure you and Ellie are feeling safe. The way he over time has softened up a bit. How he sometimes will go along with Ellie’s shenanigans. How he will tell you that he will take the first night shift, but then never wake you so you get to sleep the whole night. You have scolded him for this numerous times, but he still does it whenever he senses that you are just a little more tired than usual. 
You try to ease out of his embrace without waking him, but it only results in him hugging you tighter, pressing you closer towards him as he lets out a dissatisfied grunt like his subconscious wants you close. And it is now, as you are being pressed tighter up against him that you feel it, the press of his hard cock against the curve of  your ass. You let out a little gasp, as a hot shiver travels from your abdomen down to your now throbbing cunt.
You know that it’s just a physical reaction to have a body this close, he didn’t even want to share the bed with you in the first place, but you had insisted on it. As much as you dread having to face him in this position, you really should wake him.   
“Joel.” You whisper, moving your hand over the arm he has around you, gently brushing your fingers over the warm skin, waiting for him to wake. He stirs a little against your touch, but he does not loosen his grip on you. You hold your breath, feeling your pulse throb in your ears as you wait for a reaction. You just hope this won’t make him go back to being as closed off with you as he was in the beginning. You take a deep breath to brace yourself before you turn around in his grip so the two of you are laying face to face. Your movement seems to finally have pulled him out of his sleep. His eyes start to blink slowly as he is pulled out of his slumber, he murmurs your name, voice rough and raspy from sleep and it makes your heart skip a beat. 
His eyes are finally opening to look into yours, the warm umber of his irises is so beautiful, you have never seen them this near. His face is so close. You can see every detail, every crease and he is so damn gorgeous. Your mouth is so close to his, it would be so easy to just lean in and connect your lips in a kiss. You feel Joel’s body stiffening as he realizes the position the two of you are in, and you are scared that he will bolt out of the bed and leave you cold and alone, but he doesn’t. The two of  you are simply laying in silence for a long moment, looking at each other in the dim room, both of you engulfed by the other, but you finally collect enough composure to break the silence between you.
“Good morning.” You whisper into the quiet bedroom. 
“Morning.” His voice is so deep and still rough from sleep. It makes your stomach do a flip. Maybe it is just wishful thinking but you swear that his eyes swift down to your lips for a second. Maybe it’s just time to be brave? You reach your hand up toward his cheek, letting your palm hover about half an inch from his skin. You want him to decide for himself if he is comfortable with your touch. Fortunately, after only a short moment of hesitation, he leans into your hand, exhaling as your palm cups his cheek. You kind of expect him to pull away any minute, but he doesn’t. 
“I haven’t slept this well in a long time.” You confess.  
“Me neither.” You have never heard his voice this soft before and that is when it dawns on you. This is Joel Miller. Not the man that has had to survive in a world with no hope, or the man that has lost everything that made him whole. Right now you are looking into the eyes of the man he once must have been. And maybe right now you’re the woman you were meant to be, the woman you would have been if your future hadn’t been torn away from you by the collapse of the world. There is something magnetic about it. Like the two of you are being pulled together by an invisible force, drawn together in the early morning bliss, both of you learning into earth other. Your lips brush, a ghost of a touch. He shivers but he is  still not pulling away. 
“Can I?” He whispers, his soft breath fanning over your lips. 
“Please.” You manage to croak out, your entire body buzzing with anticipation.  
It is all he needs to hear before he crashes into you, his chapped lips colliding with yours. It has been too long since you have felt the firm pressure of a man’s mouth on yours. You kiss until your lungs start to burn, and you have to pull away to catch your breath. His hand moves down to the hem of your shirt, his fingers ghosting over the warm skin beneath it.    
“Is this okay?” He asks, sounding a little unsure. 
“Yes, Joel.” You assure him. “Kiss me.” You add and he does, sliding his hand under the cotton of your shirt palming the soft skin of your side. You moan into his mouth as his tongue meets yours. You kiss until you no longer know where he starts and you end and you are almost convinced that the two of you have melded into one being.  
“You’re driving me crazy.” He pants out as he finally breaks the kiss. All you can manage is to whimper in response as he moves his lips to your throat, licking and kissing a trail to the side of your neck. His hand slowly slides down from your side to the hem of your pants. 
“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs into the skin just below your ear, before sitting up just slightly to look into your eyes. 
“No.” You shake your head slightly. “Please don’t stop, Joel.” 
You roll your hips a little, grinding against his strong thigh, needing him to understand how badly you want this. Something flickers in his eyes and he lets out a filthy guttural groan, flipping you over so you're laying under him.    
Your entire body is aflame by his touch, a feral urge for more. More skin, more contact. So you move onto his shirt. The material slightly withered and moth-eaten from the years of being tucked away in a drawer. You pull it off him, revealing his broad upper body. You pause, captivated by the look of him hovering over you. The scars across his skin, the sparse hairs trailing down from his navel to his pants.    
You wonder if he shaking because he’s cold or if he’s really just that eager for your touch. But it doesn’t really matter, either way, you’ll warm him up.
He slides his calloused fingers over the sensitive skin of your thighs, hooking them in the waistband of your panties, looking into your eyes. You nod at him, mouthing a ‘please’, spreading your legs a bit further. It is all he needs, an expression of filthy desire flickers over his face as he pulls your underwear down. Letting out a gasp as your soaked pussy gets exposed in front of him. His fingers slide along the insides of your wet lips. 
“Shit, you’re so wet. All this just for me?” He almost coo.
“Yeah. All for you, Joel.” 
“Wanna feel you come on my fingers.”   
“Fuck, want that too.” You whimper.                
He gives you a smile, dipping his head down to your shoulder, nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck before kissing the soft skin under your ear. He makes sure to coat his fingers in your wetness before he begins to tease your clit. You let out a little gasp as he starts to draw slow light circles, but it doesn’t take long for him to pick up his pace and add a bit of pressure.
He teases your entrance, making sure to coat his fingers in your slickless before he slips one of his thick fingers into you. Another is soon added and you sigh at the sensation. He slowly pumps into you at first, giving you time to adjust to his digits, but he is soon picking up the pace.  
“That’s right darling.” He mutters against your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”
He is going fast now, using his middle and index finger to fuck you while the ruff pad of his thumb is pressing on your clit and you can’t help but let out a few pathetic whines. He is hitting a perfect spot, so deep inside of you, and you feel your orgasm approaching, finally falling over the edge when he curls his fingers. 
“That’s right, just like that.” Joel groans as you clench around his fingers, slowing his pace slightly but still  pumping you through your orgasm in a steady rhythm. “Just like that, darling, doing so well.”
He lets you ride out your climax on his fingers until he finally pulls out of you, popping them into his mouth, sucking off your juices with a pleasant moan.    
“Fuck, Joel.” You pant out as you finally come down from your amazing high. 
“Good?” He asks, a sly smile on his lips. 
“Really good.” You ensure him, cupping his cheek with a gentle hand. “Want to make you feel good too.” You whisper, looking deeply into his eyes.
“Fuck, darling. I want to feel you so bad.” He confesses.  
“Want that too. Fuck, want that so bad” You pant, letting your thumb slide over his cheek as you admire his handsome face. And you do want him, but more than that, you need him.
He lifts himself from you to strip off his pants and underwear. Your eyes widen at the view of him. His hard cock springs free, throbbing and thick, laying heavy in his palm as he takes himself in his hand. It still looks huge, even in his big hand, so you can’t even imagine how enormous it will look in your smaller one. He pumps himself a few times before leaning down over you again. He guides his cock to your entrance, looking at you for permission, which you give with an eager nod, before slowly pushing inside you, stretching your pussy to its limits the deeper he goes. You feel so full, like he is splitting you open with his thick girth. You whimper as you take more and more of his cock until he is all the way in. 
“Fuck darling, you’re so warm, so fucking tight around me.” He groans before leaving a firm kiss on your lips. The two of you are laying like this for a little while, letting you adjust to his size until you can’t take it anymore. 
“Move.” Your voice is low and rasped. “Please.”   
With that, he lifts your legs, making you cross them around his lower torso as he pulls out of you, achingly slow until only the head of his cock is still inside of you before inserting all of it again in one fluid motion. You let out a gasp of pleasure. 
He starts out with a slow rhythmical pace. He is giving you sweet praise at first, then progressively dirtier, more lustful comments as he loses himself more and more, his thrusts getting faster and more desperate. He lets out a throaty groan as your hands grab his hair. The way he is now pounding his cock into you, deep and purposefully, makes you cry out in pleasure, your ears filling with his growls and moans. 
“Feeling so so good…” He says his eyes clenched tightly shut as he keeps thrusting into you with a savage speed. “I knew you would feel good, but damn.” He groans through gritted teeth. Joel is now moving with an urgency that has you seeing stars and you let out a cry of pleasure. 
“Shhh.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips to quiet you.  Ellie is, unlike you and Joel, a deep sleeper, but you would both be mortified if she heard the two of you, not wanting to traumatize the poor girl. 
“You are taking me so well.” He encourages. “So fucking good.” 
Your arms are desperately clinging to his back. His balls are hitting your skin and his cock is pounding into your soaked pussy, making a filthy squelching noise hit your ears. 
The pressure is beginning to build up in your lower stomach, the feeling is making your head go dizzy. He is bringing you closer and closer with every strong thrust of his cock.
“I-fuck… I'm close.” You babble. 
The knot in your stomach tightens and tightens until it all explodes inside you. Your walls clench down around him, sucking him in. You desperately cling to him as your climax washes over you, hands on his neck as you guide his mouth down to yours, you need him to kiss you through this. Your breasts are being squeezed against his chest, the feeling of his skin against your sensitive nipples makes you moan into his mouth.  
You whine out as you feel the warmth of his release filling you up. 
“Shit, shit, shit.” He detaches from your mouth. The panic from cumming inside you is clear on his face. He pulls out, some of his load landing on your stomach, but most of it still inside of you, the sudden empty feeling makes you let out a little whine. 
“Shit, I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have—” 
You know that he is right, he really shouldn’t have done it, but you can’t get mad at him you had been just as caught up in the feeling of him as he had been in you. You finished your cycle only a couple of days ago so you should hopefully be okay. 
You cup his cheek, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “I think we should be okay, just don’t make a habit of it.” You grin at him. 
He visibly relaxes at your words “I’ll make sure to pull out next time.” He assures you and your stomach flutters. Next time. You smile at his words.   
“How do you feel?” He asks. 
“Good.” You laugh lightly, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I liked seeing this side of you.”
He sighs as he pulls you close. His chest vibrates against you as he speaks. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” 
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owliellder · 6 months
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Two's A Crowd
College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader
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MDNI 18+
(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)
Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.
Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing
Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added
Author's Note: Yay!! New multi-chapter fic in honor of 800 followers!!
I'm a sucker for tropes and mean Leon is one I can't keep out of my head. If you're not good at math then this is the fic for you! (also don't mind me slipping some Sky lore in here...)
Cross-posted onto AO3
Chapter 1
Growing up, college had always been a big dream of yours, leaving you fantasizing day in and out about all the possibilities that would open up, along with actually getting to live through the renowned “college experience”.
In reality, college was a lot harder than you were expecting. Your parents had told you to jump right into it after high school, fearing taking a gap year would ruin your good streak. The stress was starting to get to you and it was only a semester into your freshman year. All the tests, projects, and general studying really wore down on your mental health, not to mention you were failing the one math class you had.
You couldn’t tell your parents, no, they’d probably have a heart attack, especially since that math class was a prerequisite to another class that you needed to take. They were already worried enough that you hadn’t picked a major yet, so who knows how they’d take the news that you were failing right off the bat.
It was hard enough that you were feeling homesick. This was the first time you’d ever been this far away from home, studying at a university when you would’ve been perfectly content going to a community college closer to home. Your roommate was nice, but the two of you weren’t growing any closer than mere acquaintances, so it always felt awkward to just exist in your own dorm room.
Your eating habits worsened with the lack of any real food within five miles of campus. Sure there were a couple fast food chains on the campus itself, but they closed incredibly early. By the time you finished studying, which was around six in the evening, it had already closed. Not to mention that when they were open, the lines were comically long. University food was out of the question after you got violently ill from their “chicken nuggets”, so you were left with the little money your parents provided once a week to order takeout or make quick trips to the store to buy a frozen meal. Only one, since the mini fridge in your dorm was almost always occupied by your roommates stuff.
Everything was so exhausting and you were way out of your comfort zone having to use the community bathrooms for all your hygienic routines. Walking in always made you feel like you were interrupting a meeting in the president’s oval office with how many nasty looks you were given when all you were trying to do was brush your teeth.
The first thing you saw whenever you opened up Canvas was a massive F staring you down from the little box that comprised the majority of your math assignments and tests, making you feel less than worthless. This one semester alone helped you understand why so many people dropped out, this was hard.
By now you’d already gone to your math professor multiple times asking for redos or extra credit work. He was probably sick of seeing you since you showed up after almost every single assignment’s grades were submitted.
“Heeeyyy, Mr. Lebovic..” You said after knocking your knuckle against his open door to grab his attention. “Listen, about that last quiz, I-”
He cut you off with a wave of his hand before gesturing towards one of the chairs sitting in front of his desk. You hurried to sit down, watching nervously as he slowly pulled his eyes off his computer and onto you. “I get it, you don’t need to explain yourself.” His relaxed tone and faint smile was enough to ease your nerves a bit, letting your shoulders slump with a sigh. “You’ve been trying really hard, I can easily recognize that.”
You nodded eagerly, licking your dry lips as you opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off again. “I’ve been looking into studying options that might help you. Resources are scarce for this material, but I think I finally have a tutor to help you out.” 
A wave of relief washed over you at the mention of tutor. Maybe you wouldn’t have to face the wrath of your parent’s disappointment after all! “Oh.. o-okay…” you stuttered, eyebrows furrowing as you silently beckoned him to continue.
“I teach another math class, it’s higher level, but I have a student in there that’s just taken up tutoring the material you’re learning.” Your professor seemed just as happy as you were about the opportunity. “His name is Leon Kennedy, he’s got one of the study rooms in the library from three to five in the afternoon on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”
It took you a second to process everything Mr. Lebovic was telling you before you scrambled to pull out a sticky note and a pen to write all the information down on. You heard the older man chuckle softly, looking over at him when he held out a small piece of paper to you. “I wrote it down already for you, don’t worry.” You wished you could’ve thanked him tenfold, but his office hours were closed for the day now, so you said a quick goodbye and hurried back to your dorm, holding onto the piece of paper like a lifeline.
Contrary to what your math professor thinks, you knew the name “Leon Kennedy”. You had a couple friends that you hung out with occasionally out in the grass in front of the science building and they’d brought him up before. The few vague bits of info that you’d heard weren’t flattering, painting this Leon in quite a bad light; the stereotypical jock in a frat flying by on a full-ride scholarship. However, he was your saving grace now and you needed to develop more of an unbiased opinion of him if he was going to help you raise your grade from an F.
“Yeesh, sorry I’m not better at math or I would’ve helped you.” One of your friends, Sky, spoke up as they read the piece of paper your professor gave you yesterday from over your shoulder. “Even if you were better at math, I still wouldn’t trust you.” Ella, your other friend, laughed out.
“Ha ha, yeah, Sky failed math four times. Big whoop.” Sky waved their hands dramatically before walking over to sit down next to Ella in the dead grass. “Seriously though, you’re better off taking a failing grade and dealing with your parents. Kennedy is the devil incarnate.”
“The devil incarnate sounds easier to put up with than my parents, so I’ll take my chances..” You grumbled, taking a seat on a medium-sized rock close to the pair. “Maybe he’s turning a new leaf? Deciding to tutor?” 
Sky crossed her arms and rolled her eyes which made Ella elbow them in the side before giving you a sympathetic smile. “Maybe so, but please just be careful. I don’t want you having to put up with some jackass that has an ego bigger than Texas.” 
You nodded with a slight frown, moving your foot side to side lazily to push the grass blades around. You didn’t even think to consider the repercussions of studying with some random junior. “I’m sure it’ll be alright. Besides, just tell Sky and I if he’s giving you any trouble. I know damn well no man likes to put up with two women yelling in his face.” Sky nodded and pointed to Ella for added dramatics. “Yeah, and I bite. My top six teeth are porcelain so that shit hurts. Trust me.”
Your friends never failed to make you laugh, a slight resolve in a pool full of worries, you suppose. “Don’t worry, you guys’ll be the first to know if Leon is mean.”
“Good. Now, when’re you gonna go see the guy?” Sky rested their arms on their knees before looking up at you. “Uh.. in a couple hours I guess. I already made the appointment.” Your response seemed to surprise both of your friends, giving them a confused look in response to their shocked ones. “Is that.. Is that not a good time?”
“No no, just.. I thought you would’ve maybe taken a little longer to go and see him.” Ella shrugged, reaching a hand up to scratch behind their neck. “Proud of you, taking the initiative like that.” She then looked at her phone before pulling herself off the ground with a small groan. “I got class in a couple minutes. Good luck with the frat boy.” 
She patted your shoulder as she walked off towards the larger building on campus, leaving you and Sky alone for the rest of the time. Part of you wished both of your friends could walk you to the library when the time came, but having Sky was enough. “So.. Leon’s bad bad?” You needed a bit more clarification on the guy you were going to spend one-on-one time with, something to calm you down after running through countless scenarios in your head.
“He’s not all bad, 'least I don't think. I’ve exchanged a few ‘hello’s’ and ‘excuse me’s’ with him here and there since we apparently frequent the same building.” Sky scooted over to the rock you were sitting on, placing the back of their head on your legs. A couple brown leaves blew over from a nearby tree which they grabbed and crunched with their hand. “I haven’t personally experienced any bad happenings around him, but he is part of a pretty notoriously rowdy frat, so you have to promise me that you’ll only study with him on campus and never go to that frat house or any frat house in general, alright?”
Sky pointed up at you, poking the underside of your chin which made you laugh again and swat their hand away. “As much as I rave about wanting to have the stereotypical college experience, going to a frat house was never part of my daydreaming.”
“Good. Keep it that way.” They switched their fingers to give you a quick thumbs up before letting their arm flop down into their lap, eyes closing with a sigh. “Anyways, besides all that, wanna go get some food? I don’t have another class today and you’ve got about an hour and a half to spare, so actually you have no choice. Get up.”
You stood up with a shake of your head once Sky pushed off of your legs who stood up as well with a small stretch. “Don’t burn me at the stake, but I kinda want grocery store sushi. I’m feeling lucky.”
“Please don’t.” You sighed, pocketing the piece of paper before beginning to follow behind Sky as they started to walk across the grass. 
After the two of you shared a sandwich from some random shop not too far off campus, Sky walked with you up to the library, stopping just before the front desk. They agreed to not wander in with you under the condition that you’ll go to their dorm straight after to discuss details.
To say you were nervous was an understatement. Most of what you heard about this guy meant he was bad news, though you really didn’t have much of a choice when it came to seeing him. Like your math professor said, there weren’t a lot of options when it came to studying the material you were learning. Sure you had the internet and other students in the class, but you preferred the idea of a tutor since you’d already exhausted yourself trying to follow along with various youtube videos. You needed the in-person teaching, it just stuck better in your head that way.
Slowly starting to walk, you made your way over to the study rooms lining the back of the library. The rooms seemed pretty private with the only window being on the door, which had glass nearly top to bottom. Thankfully the rooms were numbered and Leon had texted you which room to go to when you made the appointment with him, you had no idea what he looked like and you didn’t want to look like a creep eyeballing people through the door until you hopefully found the right person.
Standing off to the side, you could see the number you were looking for sitting above the door, taking a brief moment to collect yourself and hype yourself up to talk to someone who didn’t have the greatest reputation. Set aside everything you’ve heard and just hope for the best..
You took in a deep breath as you strode over to the door, glancing inside through the window before knocking to let him know you were there. The table was angled off more to the left so you didn’t immediately see him until he leaned over the table to see who had knocked. Confidence left you as soon as you made eye contact with Leon due to the groan you could hear through the door. It took you a couple seconds, but you eventually managed to get your body to work with you, hand turning the handle to let yourself in.
“-the last thing I need..” You caught the end of his little rant to himself as you opened the door. The saying “fake it ‘till you make it” is harder than it sounds since your entire body decided to betray you, deciding that shrinking in was the best move. Quietly, you shuffled over to sit across from him at the table, placing your backpack in your lap in some weird way to provide comfort in this situation.
“You weren’t supposed to show up.” Leon grumbled, sitting far back in the tilted chair as his feet lifted the front end of the chair slightly. His arms were crossed and he was giving you probably the nastiest look you’ve ever seen, next to your parents, of course. All you did was sit there giving him a blank stare. It was obvious what he’d said, yet the sheer forwardness of that snide comment had you more than confused. “What?-”
“You weren’t supposed to show up.” Apparently he felt the need to repeat himself with some added bite, barely letting you get a word in. “No one ever shows up to these shitty tutor- whatever the fucks.”
Wow. Okay. “Uh..” You didn’t even know what to say to that. It completely caught you off guard. You’d run through countless ways this interaction would go in your head, but this wasn’t one of those ways. The two of you sat in a very tense silence with Leon just glaring at you from across the table, continuing to rock back and forth in the chair.
Without uncrossing his arms, Leon lifted a hand and waved it around slightly while shaking his head. “Are you actually still gonna sit here orrr…?” The sound of his voice finally snapped you out of shock, causing you to shoot your gaze down to your backpack, fumbling with its partially broken zipper. “I-.. Mr. Lebovic recommended you..?”
You pulled out a few of your failed assignments from your bag before setting them down on the table with shaky hands, keeping your eyes glued to the papers to avoid that burning stare the man in front of you has. “I need-.. I need help..?”
“Do you?” Leon let the chair fall forward, his sarcastic tone starting to make your whole body tremble. “You don’t sound like you do.” He snatched one of your assignments from the table and held it up, pursing his lips as he studied the various red marks made on it closely. You chose to not respond to that, letting your hands rest on top of your backpack so you had something to squeeze.
He turned the page around, the sound of the paper wobbling the only thing you could hear right after the sound of the central heat blowing through the vent in the room. Suddenly, Leon started chuckling to himself, shaking his head incredulously as he flipped the paper back and forth a couple times before letting it fall back to the table. “This is terrible!” His laugh grew louder as he tilted his body to the side to pull out his phone, taking a picture of the assignments you’d put on the table. 
How on earth were you supposed to react to that other than just sitting quietly? He was actually making fun of you right to your face. Hell, he might as well point and laugh if he’s going to be this brasen. 
The most you could muster up was a quiet yet high-pitched “... huh?” in response to him. This whole ordeal was spiraling a little too fast for you to keep up with. You were expecting to put up with some grown man with a bratty attitude or even just a very uninterested, not all there jock with how Leon’s been described to you, not blatant bullying.
“Huh?” He mocked, taking one last look at his phone while loudly sucking on his teeth before pocketing it again. “Anyways, this is actually sad. How are you managing to fuck simple math up like this?” He roughly grabbed all the papers on the table and stacked them before partially tossing them back at you, some slipping onto the floor. “You’re too far gone, even I can’t fix that.”
You let out a gasp when the papers were tossed at your face, scrambling to catch some of them. Pushing the chair back, you leaned over to grab the few that fell on the floor, desperately holding back tears. “Please, you don’t understand.” You pleaded, voice cracking as you tried your best not to start crying in front of him. “I-I need to pass this class. I’m passing everything else, I just can’t keep up with this one!” You were speed-talking to try and argue your case, sitting back up with the small pile of papers that you struggled to stack properly.
Leon started rocking back in his chair again, arms back across his chest as he watched you with squinted eyes. The corners of his lips soon turned up into a smirk, taking in your sorry state before rolling his eyes with a dramatic groan. “Alright, alright, stop whining, jesus..” He cleared his throat, letting his head fall over the back of the chair. “I’ll help you only because I feel bad for you.” It’s not like he was going to admit that he was being forced to be a tutor, no one needs leverage over him like that
You couldn’t help but give a small smile despite his implication. It was a start. “And I’m not gonna do it today, either.” Well, the sooner the better, but still, it’s a start.
He then stood up from the chair, fixing his jacket with a sigh. “If you show up even a minute late on Friday, I’m not helping” and before you even had a chance to reply, he walked out of the room, the door shutting with a slam which made you flinch. Luckily, you were a very punctual person when it came to this kind of stuff. This was important, so if you had to show up early, so be it. You hurriedly shoved your assignments back into your backpack, not even fully zipping it up before rushing out of the study room, back through the library, and to the dorms.
“He said that?!” Sky yelled, quickly wiping their hand over their mouth to quiet themself once you shushed them. “I don’t really feel comfortable with you going to another ‘study session’ with that guy if he’s just gonna bully you.”
“I wouldn’t call it bullying-”
“He was bullying you.”
“OKAY! So what if he was?!” You fell back onto Sky’s bed with a sigh, arms splayed out with your legs dangling off the side. “I can handle it. As long as I get my grade up, who cares?”
Sky sat down next to you on their bed, giving you a sad look as you sat yourself up with your elbows. “I care. So does Ella. You shouldn’t put up with that just for a grade. I’m sure if you explain to your professor and-”
“And what? Tell him that I’m a grown woman getting bullied over something I should know by now?” You sat yourself up fully now, leaning forward to place your elbows on your thighs as your head rested in your hands. “It’s only until finals are over and we’re already halfway through October. Maybe I won’t even need that much time, maybe I’m just missing one simple… math move and it’ll get the gears in my brain moving again.”
You tilted your head to the side to look at Sky, head now resting only in your right hand as you took in their annoyed look. “Trust me. I can handle this.”
“If you say so.” They ran their fingers through her hair before looking away from you, directing their attention forward to stare off at nothing. “Just remember that I bite and I’m not afraid to use my fake chompers on that no good-”
“I don’t wanna think about escalations right now, but thank you.” You chuckled, playfully nudging Sky with your free hand before moving it back to hold your head up with the other. Though you were trying to convince Sky on this, you were mostly just trying to convince yourself that you could handle this. Handle Leon and his.. alluring charm..
Only until finals, maybe even sooner.
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kaadaaan · 2 months
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since I’ve been wildly dead and inactive and this thought came to me I decided to put it here.
I can’t decide who I like best when it comes to a ‘secret baby’ trope (we’re ignoring the fact most of my posts are about baby and parenting tropes btw).
CW for stalking, unplanned pregnancy, kind of implied dubcon since Price messes with birth control and also sort of kidnapping lol.
It’s hard to imagine Simon with a secret baby trope because he’s just a bastard and he is absolutely 100% stalking you the moment you leave him and move out. He won’t catch on until you start showing, but the moment you do he’s muscling his way into your house and packing up your stuff and moving you back in with him. It’s impossible to keep a secret baby a secret with Simon, because he never had any intentions of letting you go in the first place.
In a slightly similar vein, Johnny is so clingy. If you leave him he’s at your door every day on his knees begging you take him back. He cries and brings flowers and gifts and insists on driving you places. If you refuse to take him back he pleads to still be friends, that he can’t imagine life without you. Frankly I think he’d go through your rubbish. 100% how he finds out. A few pregnancy sticks in the outdoor bin that all read positive and he knows you haven’t been seeing anyone else. You’re not getting rid of him lol.
There is no secret baby with John Price. You think it’s a secret; John has been replacing your pills with placebo’s and poking holes in condoms the moment your relationship showed signs of being on the rocks. And then, when it all comes to a head, he lets you go. He even helps you pack, is perfectly understanding and wishes you well. Tells you he’s always there for you. But he makes sure to hide some of your stuff before you go, so he has an excuse to show up a few months later to ‘give it back’. And when you answer the door all nice and pregnant, he can’t just leave you can he?
It’s probably the most secret with Kyle. You definitely get away with it for a while, and he’s away long enough that you don’t really run into each other or either of your mutual friends. But Kyle does find out; a text message from one of his hometown friends who sees you buying a crib and puts two and two together. Kyle’s torn. If you wanted him around, you would have told him but at the same time that’s his baby too. He can’t think of a good way to approach you, so he does something else. Shows up at your door in a ‘panic’ and tells you that he got info that people were after you to get back at him because of the work he does. He feels bad when you start crying, stressing and pacing. So he shushes you and tells you it’s alright, just come with him; he has a safe house set up he can take you to until it all blows over (it’s literally just a different house in some other city that he’s renting). The catch is that he has to stay there with you, just to make sure you aren’t hurt :).
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jellyfishsthings · 16 days
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Nerves and Stolen Kisses
I have been toying with the idea of writing a fic about him for quite sometime and after last weekend I just had to. Estelle ( Ollie's rumoured gf is mentioned here but it is a fake relationship for PR reasons.) Also Paul Aron has a gf... friends to lovers trope.
Shoutout to @httpiastri for the inspiration
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The Saudi Arabian Grand Prix was fast approaching. And Ollie was a jumble of nerves and excitement as usual. Since the early hour of the day, he opened the curtains letting the sun into the room and you groaned into the pillow.
“Wakey wakey, sleepyhead. Come on, we have a whole day ahead of us.”
“No, you do. I don't know why I came.”
“Because I am your bestest friend and I paid for your ticket and let you stay with me.”
“Both of which are for your benefit.”
“Come on….”
“Fine.” You say with a dejected sigh as you get up and you both get ready for the day. David, Ollie's dad was already waiting for you and you headed towards the paddock.
Everything was a frenzy and was passing by so quickly. As Ollie got into the garage and got ready for the quali you headed towards the stands trying to find Cassie, Paul's long-term girlfriend. Throughout the years you have formed a unique friendship. She was the only one who knew about your crush on Ollie and she teased you endlessly about it. Ollie and you had been best friends for the better part of your life, joint to the hip, having endless sleepovers, even if Dad didn't approve.
It was an endless nightmare being close enough to get a taste of all the what ifs, but never experiencing them.
“Do you and your lover boy share a room, huh?”
“It's not like that and you know it, Cassandra.”
“Yeah, it hurts, doesn't it?”
“So much. You have no idea. Yesterday I couldn't sleep and as the hours passed, he came closer and closer. He ended up holding me in his sleep. And I felt so bad because of Estelle. I know that they aren't really together and it's for PR, but still, I feel awful because technically I am the other woman… and she is just so nice and sweet. Never overstepping, I think she knows.”
We both stay quiet after that as the session continues.
“You know… whatever the case. You both love each other, platonically or not.”
“Yeah, I know.” I say as I watch the times set by all the drivers, Ollie having the fastest one yet.
“Looks like your man is on pole.”
We both make our way through the paddock, trying to pass the roaring sea of fans and we hand out already-signed autographs to anyone who asks for them. When we finally arrive, we part ways, before making promises about having dinner together at a restaurant Cassie wanted to try. And I head towards the Prema garage finding two beaming Bearmans, hugging.
“Hey Bear. Did you drive fast enough?” You call at him. And he grins like an idiot before swooping you into a tight hug spinning you. His laughter echoes in your ears as he sets you down.
“Yeah I drove fast enough, you minx.”
“Good. Now let's go. We are having dinner with Paul and Cassie in four hours and I want to see the city.”
“Give me five minutes to change and we are good to go.”
The afternoon is spent visiting local stores, trying to communicate in scrappy English and making terrible puns with products or street names. When they finally head to the restaurant their sides hurt from laughing. Dinner passed by as quickly as it came. As everyone says, time flies by when you are with the people you love.
Just as they open the door for their hotel room, Ollie flops in the bed as you head towards your computer and open it as hoards of emails and messages appear on the screen. Great more deadlines and essays to write until the end of the week.
“Leave it. We can pretend that we have nothing to do and watch a movie or local TV and try to understand what the hell is going on.”
“Thanks Bear. But I can't, as tempting as your offer is. Go to sleep, I will join you soon.”
And so you sit in front of your computer, ending essay after essay, sending them on time, until your eyes hurt from the pale blue light. The bed seems more welcoming than ever before as Ollie starfishes the entire length of it and his soft snores fill the empty space. Yeah, maybe it's time to call it a day.
An awful sound echoes in the room and eventually wakes you.
“I swear if it's one more ad I will jump from the window.” You grumble into your pillow as you steal the blankets and turn yourself into a burrito.
Ollie hisses as he opens his phone only to find a ton of messages and many missed calls from Ferrari. He dials Fred back as he moves towards the bathroom, trying to let you steal a few more minutes of much needed sleep.
When he emerges back in the room he sits down in front of you, his back supported on the bed.
“Ols, what's going on?”
“Carlos has an appendix”
“Oh no. Is he having surgery?”
“Yeah.” He says softly. “They want me to replace him.”
“What?” At that you are fully awake. Your hair is a netted nest and you look at him in shock. He looks at you, you his best friend who would look like a mess to anyone else but to him you look like the most beautiful and amazing creature in the world. Your mere presence has a more calming effect on him than anything else. If it weren't for you, he would have already lost his mind. “How? When? I…”
“We need to get to the paddock, if I don't want to miss FP3. I will wake up Dad and break the news to him.”
Soon after you enter the paddock and thousands of reporters try to get a better look at Ollie, flashing their cameras at you and bombarding you with questions as you make your way to the Ferrari garage and mechanics steal Ollie from you and David as they set to work quickly. David looks pale and sick as he paces into the garage trying to control his nerves through the FP3 and the Quali. When Ollie finally got off the car when he scored the 11th place, missing Q2 only by 3 hundreds of a second, you knew that this was it. He was finally shining like the bright star he was. He had done more than enough, his raw talent showing with barely one hour to get used to the car. And as mechanics and reporters closed around him. You couldn't help but feel like you didn't belong here. Where did you fit in? The reality hit you and it hit you hard. You hid in the back corners of the garage, eyes glued to the screen as everyone passed by without acknowledging you. You would happily hide in the shadows where he shined but this world wasn't meant for you. The anxiety was picking up at you, eating you alive from the inside.
And when Ollie got too close to the wall, your heart stopped beating. He was driving a car that was twice as fast and twice as dangerous than his normal F2 car. It was too much. The sound, the danger, everything really. Breathing suddenly seemed so hard and you needed a way out. As you hide behind the garage you call the one person who could understand. Terri picks up in the second ring her soft voice already calming you.
“Hey love. Is everything alright?”
“How do you do it? How can you stand back and do nothing?”
“You love him, don't you sweetheart?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“Well … no I always hoped but… whatever the case, to answer your question you simply do it, you just have to. A driver needs his support system and you are it for him. You are his forever person, whether that is romantically or not. He needs to be near you and as much nervous as you are, so is he. Without you he would be lost, believe me I know my son. And I can bet you that as much as your heart breaks right now, you are also immensely proud.”
“Of course I am. But where do I fit in, in this world.”
“Right beside him, love.”
“Thanks Terri. Please call David. I think he is losing his mind and he is sick with worry.” You say chuckling before saying your goodbyes and head back towards the garage. The session is already over and Ollie is nowhere in sight.
Ollie plays with the power button of his phone trying to calm down but to no avail. The lock screen is a photo of the two of you. It was last summer both your skins flushed and hair slightly wet and tangled. You both smile at the camera and your eyes look bright with happiness. He feels slightly lighter but he knows that there is an impending panic attack and so he turns to the one person who could help him in this situation.
"I got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "How are you doing?”
Ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. His eyes are stuck on the floor, his silence is defeaning. When he still doesn't answer, your heart rate picks up. Is something really wrong?
You make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before. Not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year, not when he was cheated out from the Formula 3 championship. Once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight.
"Ollie, talk to me," you plead, holding back the tears that starts to form on your eyes and threatento spill. It's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. Not now, not when he needs you this much.
"I'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "I'm so nervous, I don't know what to do."
It's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. Ollie, your usually so calm and collected best friend is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. He is a messy jumble of nerves.
"I get that. One hundred per cent. But.." your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "This is your dream. It's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance.”
"And it's not just any car, it's a Ferrari. Do you realize how cool that is? Do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" You smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. Even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous, not that you would ever tell him that. "You would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."
"But what if I ruin it?" His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "What if I go out there and I'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've made by even putting me in the academy? What if-"
"It won't happen." His eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "You're too good to do that. You'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."
Finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. It's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "I'll try my best to make you proud."
“I'm always proud of you, you mufflehead.”
A laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. His heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second now. But his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter. And soon enough his heartbeat slows to normal.
“I bet that in twenty four hours not only will you finish the race, you will score points and beat Max Verstappen.”
“Let's not get ahead of ourselves” he says chuckling. “God, my neck is killing me.”
“Sit down. I've got you.” And so you start massaging his neck. It's stiff and hard under your hands and he lets a small groan as you untangle one of the knots that were quite painful. After a few minutes he is putty in your hands, his eyes closed, trusting you completely and feeling at ease for the first time in the past two days.
True to your world, Ollie crosses the finish line in seventh place, having gained points in his debut. But the one thing that kept him calm through the process was the thought that she was waiting for him in the cool down room. When the race finishes and drives the car back home he jumps from his seat and he can't get fast enough to her. People around him are praising him and congratulating him but they all fall to deaf eyes.
When he finally gets into the room to change into new fireproofs, she is patiently waiting for him. Her eyes are a little misty and her face flushed.
“I told you.”
“I didn't beat Max.”
“Still.”
She closes in on him and her hands are thrown around his neck, he reciprocates the hug immediately as his heart beat finally slows down. They doth draw away after a while only for him to dive back into her and kiss her firmly on the lips. Shock petrifies her and when he stops, he places his forehead on top of hers. He is a flustered mess and he is mumbling apologies, before she reconnects their lips.
For the following hours Ollie sports a shit-eating grin on his face. Everyone thinks that it is because of his amazing performance and not for kissing the girl that held his heart captive since they were five years old.
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entwined-fxte · 17 days
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never let go.
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a/n: listen i know i just wrote nightmare trope on my other blog but this is for my fragmented dreams fans (it's me i'm the fan). also BIG shoutout to that anon a few days ago cause i wasn't feeling motivated until i saw that in my inbox anon u are my whole world
content: soothing a certain doctor after a hard night.
WARNINGS: brief depictions of a nightmare (zayne's pov)
zayne × gen!reader (you/your).
fluff + comfort.
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it was hard to see zayne like this. already exhausted from long nights of risky procedures, he could barely get any rest from his nightmare plagued mind. day after day, you saw the fatigue building up, his eyes dull no matter what he did. you decided you'd seen enough, and if anything, you were sure that he'd had enough as well.
luckily, it wasn't hard to get zayne to accept an invitation to stay overnight at your place. perhaps it was the tiredness that made his mind bleary, having him say yes before he even realised. or perhaps it was the idea of having you around him; sleep wasn't easy whether he was alone or with someone else, but zayne couldn't deny that you being close soothed his mind ever so slightly.
“ready to go home?” you poked your head through his office door, catching a glimpse of a the tail end of a yawn.
zayne turned his head to look at you, gaze foggy as he tried to process it all. he gave a low hum in return, pushing his chair back to give him room to stand up. “you're earlier than i thought you'd be.”
you slipped through the doorway, shutting it behind you with your foot as you made your way in. “i cleared the wanderer zone pretty quickly. after all, i'm a really good hunter,” you laughed, setting your backpack down on the ground to stretch.
“really now?” the corners of zayne's mouth curled up in amusement. you wondered when the last time he really smiled was. he stifled another yawn as he hung his lab coat up, exchanging it for a grey cardigan. “let's get going.”
you ordered delivery to your apartment while zayne drove back to your place. the silence was comforting, and yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on in zayne's mind that he let on. as you stepped out of the car, you shot the doctor a worried look. “i know you're usually not talkative, but is there something that's bothering you?”
zayne said nothing, instead shrugging his bag onto his shoulder and nodding towards your building. although quiet, you were certain you heard him whisper a low “later,” as he locked the car doors and headed off.
the delivery man caught you just before you closed your front door, handing the bag off to you before scuttling away. the sight made you laugh, and to your delight, zayne was also chuckling under his breath. after a moment, you shuffled him inside, setting the food down on the counter and your bag next to the couch. “you shower first, zayne. i'm gonna make some tea first.”
“sure.” with muffled steps, zayne disappeared into the washroom, leaving you to your own devices. it wasn't long before there were two cups of tea on the counter, and you carefully sipped yours while waiting for zayne to finish. he was silent when he came out; you didn't realise he had finished until you felt his arms wrap around your waist and his nose bury into your hair. you placed a hand on top of his, ghosting over the backs of his knuckles as he spoke. “you’re warm.”
“mmhmm. and as per usual, you're freezing.” you craned your neck up to look at him, reaching up with your other hand to trace his jawline. “here’s your tea. you can go ahead and start eating if you're hungry, too. i should freshen up.” zayne made a quiet sound of affirmation, slowly releasing you from his grasp while you shifted off your chair. a part of you hurt to leave him like that, but you figured that the sooner you could finish your night routine, the better.
you came out of the shower not long after, padding back into the living room to find zayne sitting comfortably on your couch with a book open. “zayne,” you called softly, waiting for him to turn his head up at you. when he did, you grabbed at the spine of the book, folding it closed before taking it away from him. “i invited you over to take it easy, not to read the medical journals you snuck back with you. did you even eat anything?”
zayne hummed in response, as he always did. “yes. i set aside your favourites already.”
“that wasn’t exactly necessary,” you mumbled. “anyways, it’s getting late. aren’t you tired?”
he placed the book down on the coffee table, shoulders slouching as he leaned forward. “it’s nothing more than usual.”
“liar.” with your lips pressed into a thin line, you leaned down towards the raven haired man, poking at his forehead accusingly. “you actually look even worse than usual.”
“how kind of you.” you tapped at his forehead a few more times, only stopping when zayne took your hand in his and pulled it down. you could hardly feel the way his fingers tightened around yours, but his expression gave him away.
with a sigh, you took your free hand and ran it through his hair. “come on. if i can protect linkon city from wanderers, i think i can protect you while you’re asleep.”
in a rare moment of vulnerability, zayne pressed further into your palm, exhaling softly as he did. “then i suppose we can give it a shot.”
cheering internally, you couldn't help the smile that creeped onto your face. the hand that zayne had trapped in his began to pull him up from the couch, waiting until he was steady on his feet before leading him to your bedroom. once inside, you crawled on top of the mattress, never once letting go of him as he followed suit. the last remaining traces of the sunset glow slowly disappeared from sight, leaving your bedroom under the gentle cascade of moonlight. you let go of zayne for a second to hop off the bed again, switching off the ceiling light and then returning to lay down next to him.
a low chuckle sounded from his chest as you bounced in your spot. “well? what's your great plan this time?”
“the plan is to wait until you fall asleep.”
“and do you expect that to happen soon?”
“i do.” you adjusted yourself onto your side. with some effort, you threw the blanket over yourself and zayne, burrowing your body in for a brief second before stretching out and beckoning to him. “come here.” zayne didn’t bother with a response, only giving you an unreadable look. but after a few seconds, zayne resigned, bringing himself towards you. you couldn’t help but give him an exasperated look when he stopped further from you than you wanted. “closer,” you murmured, sliding an arm around his waist and tugging him in. “i can’t hold you if you’re so far away.”
a sigh slipped past his lips. yet despite the way he sounded annoyed, zayne accepted the invitation, tucking his head down into the dip of your shoulder as he wound his arms around you. legs became tangled in seconds, and you could’ve sworn you felt him sigh in relief when you started carding your hand through his hair. “so your plan is to make sure i can’t run away,” zayne hummed against your skin. you laughed at the accusation, and for a fleeting second, zayne felt like the sound could heal him from anything.
“i might as well try to keep you from working.” were it possible, you would have pulled him closer. instead, you settled by pressing your lips to the crown of his head. “sleep, zayne. i won’t let go.”
the words echoed in his mind, resonated in his heart; but the next time he opened his eyes, there was only an empty space next to him. “y/n?” panic rooted in his chest, sitting upright to find nothing but silence. zayne climbed off the bed, fear driving him to look through the windows. outside, wanderers flooded the streets, turning it into a sea of black. for a moment, zayne caught a familiar face; and he could do nothing but watch as you were drowned in the abyss.
you kept stroking up and down his back rhythmically, attempting to soothe zayne’s restless movement. eventually, his eyes flew open, gaze misty as he suddenly gripped onto you. you waited until his breathing steadied, continuing to draw circles into his skin even after he had calmed. “another nightmare?”
zayne exhaled deeply, turning his face down so he could press his forehead against your collarbone. “you didn’t let go.”
your other hand returned to his head, playing with the hair at the base of his neck. “i told you i wouldn’t.” the way zayne shivered didn’t go unnoticed. unsure if it was the cold or his fear, you tightened the blanket around the both of you as best you could. “go back to sleep. it hasn’t even been two hours.”
zayne spoke again, barely audible. “will you let go?” and then he felt your chin, gently moving side to side across his head.
“not in a million lifetimes.”
silence fell like snow, with only the sound of your intertwined breathing filling the room. with a final sigh, zayne closed his eyes and pressed himself into you, searing your warmth into his soul as if it were the last time he could.
and this time, when zayne dreams, he dreams of a certain hunter, and of a field of jasmines.
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a/n: happy actual first post!! the urge to write "rei" instead of zayne and "MC" instead of "y/n" was ridiculously high. also his new card?!?#?@?@: i'm on the ground ......
reblogs are really appreciated (´ω`) ♡
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d10nyx · 2 months
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addicted to hurting
ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader
cw: 18+ content, hate sex, one bed trope(love it idc), p in v, mean leon, huddle for warmth n that, fingering, p in v, creampie, degradation ig, one use of good girl
a/n: request for @princesspalac :) sorry it took so long, um... my brain didn't want to work for this. guys don't question the title i hate naming fics... this one especially but it's from drugs by eden
word count: 1.6k words
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It was an undisputed fact that you and Leon did not get on well. Everyone knew it - the both of you made it very clear with your constant bickering.
But you were also both very competent agents, and that often meant you got assigned to missions together. It was usually fine, you both had enough professionalism to suck it up and get on with it, but he really seemed to want to wear your patience thin this time around.
It had been snowing heavily, and the chopper wouldn't be able to get to the extraction point. You'd been told that you should try and find shelter for the night, and when the snowstorm cleared up tomorrow, you'd both get evacuated. You had secured all the mission objectives and found an abandoned cabin to hole up in for the night, but the cold air nipped at your skin and made it impossible for you to relax.
You complain a little about having to stay here, shivering slightly as you settle on a worn down chair, the wood looking like it's halfway to rotting. You're surprised it hasn't given up under your weight at this point.
Eventually, Leon snaps.
“Jesus Christ. Do you ever shut the hell up?” He grumbles, running a hand through his hair, his brows pulled together in frustration. You scoff at him, your arms wrapped around your waist to keep you warm.
“It's fucking cold, and your attitude has been pissing me off all day. Apologies if I'm not a ray of sunshine.” You bite back, trying to ignore the chill settling deep in your bones.
He just glares at you before moving away, checking the perimeter and securing any entrances to the cabin. You take the opportunity to explore the other rooms, your heart sinking when you realise one very important detail.
There's only one bed.
Great. Fucking amazing. As if this day couldn't get any worse. You hear footsteps approaching, and you can sense the moment Leon realises the same thing by his sharp intake of breath.
“No. Absolutely not.” He says quickly, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway of the bedroom.
You dislike this just as much as he does, but it's probably a blessing in disguise. The both of you were too proud to admit it, but you'd likely freeze to death if you didn't huddle for warmth. The sun had only just set, and it was already this cold. You didn't want to imagine what it'd be like later.
“We're going to need to share it.” You say simply, approaching the bed and lying down facing away from Leon, staring at the wall as you wait for him to do the same.
“Well?” You say after a moment, noticing he hadn't come any closer. He hadn't moved from his spot, just staring distasteful at the empty spot in the bed. “Are you going to join me? Or did you drag your ass through herds of infected just to freeze to death?”
That gets a scowl from him. He kicks off his boots before approaching, settling on the edge of the bed and doing his best to keep his distance from you.
“You're going to need to come closer, or we're both going to be out of commission.” You say through gritted teeth, already frustrated with his attitude.
He lets out a soft grunt, but he shifts closer. He's practically spooning you, now, but you can feel the cold radiating from him. Neither of you had the chance to warm up yet, and you can't help but shift slightly in the bed, trying to get your blood circulating so you can warm up.
“Can you stop your squirming?” He hisses, his hand clamping down on your hip to still your movements. He seems so much closer now, his warm breath brushing the skin on the back of your neck and giving you goosebumps.
“I was just trying to get warm.”
“Then come here.” With that, he tugs you into his body, wrapping his arms tight around you. His nose presses against the crook of your neck, and you feel your heart racing. You feel warmer, sure, but you can't ignore the feeling of his muscles tensing as he holds you.
You don't mean to keep moving, but there's something uncomfortable about Leon of all people holding you so close. You try to put some distance between the two of you while staying close enough to feel his body heat.
“For fuck-” He lets out a deep breath from his nose, and then he's gripping you tighter, pulling you back against him. “Didn't I tell you to stop moving?”
You open your mouth to speak, but it's quickly stopped by a palm pressing firmly against the lower half of your face. “No. I'm so sick of your shit. All you've done is bitch the entire mission about being cold, and now I'm trying to help, you're being a fucking brat about it.”
His fingers push past your lips. He frowns slightly as you keep your jaw clenched, so he reaches his other hand around to squeeze the sides of your cheeks, prying your teeth apart so he can shove his fingers into your mouth.
“Ah, that's better. Get them nice ‘n wet for me. You gonna let me fuck that attitude out of you, huh?” You whine around his fingers, but you're already soaking your panties, nodding before you even realise what you're agreeing to.
He reaches down to free you from your pants, tugging them as far down as he can be bothered before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and shoving two of them inside of you without any warning. He likes the way your face twists up at the burn, a grin spreading across his face.
The way he fingers you is almost clinical. He's not doing this for your pleasure - he just lazily scissors his fingers open until he deems that you're stretched enough for his cock. He doesn't bother undressing, just pulls his dick out after he unzips his cargos, pulling your hips up so you're face down, ass up.
“Fuck… surprised you're this tight… thought everyone in the office would've stuck their dicks in you by now.” He grunts as he bottoms out, immediately setting a brutal pace, his hips smacking your ass with every thrust.
“Fuck you, Kennedy.” You hiss, glaring at him over your shoulder. That look is hardly intimidating when he's pounding you into the mattress, and his hips stutter slightly as he barks out a laugh.
“I think you're mistaken, princess. See, I'm fucking you.” With that, he grabs the back of your head, pressing your face into the pillow to shut you up.
“God, that's better. Just take it, that's it. Good fucking slut.” He groans, his balls smacking your clit as he fucks into you with more vigour, low moans spilling from his lips as he uses you to chase his own pleasure.
He growls as he feels your pussy flutter around his cock, pulling out suddenly before yanking your head up by your hair. Your eyes water as your scalp stings, making you whimper softly.
“Ah-ah.” He tuts softly, his cock kicking against his stomach. He hates to admit it, but your cunt is one of the best he's had, and he's already close to cumming. “Not so fast. You gonna say please? I'll let you cum if you ask nicely.”
“You're such an… an asshole.” You say through gritted teeth, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as you press your palms on the mattress, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on your scalp from him tugging at your hair.
“That's not very nice, is it? Wanna try that again?” He asks you, his tone mockingly sweet. Makes you want to smack that stupid grin of his face. You don't get the chance, ‘cause he pulls even harder on your hair, your neck craning back painfully.
“Fuck… fuck, okay. Please, let me cum.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut. He presses your face back into the pillow, pushing down on it as he lines himself back up with your drippy hole, resuming his rough pace from before.
“Good girl. Look at you, capable of following orders. All it took was a little dick.” He coos, angling his hips so he's bumping against your sweet spot every time he pushes his hips forward, groaning at the way it makes you tighten around him.
You cum around his cock, your moans muffled as he keeps fucking into you. He clenches his jaw as your walls spasm with your orgasm, drawing his own out of him seconds later. He buries himself as deep as he can get, his tip knocking your cervix and he cums, heat filling you up and coating your insides.
He pulls out once his dick stops twitching, tucking himself back in his pants and zipping them up. He can hear the rustling of sheets as you pull your pants up, but he's staring at the ceiling. He's sweating, hair sticking to his forehead. At least it helped warm him up.
He can feel your gaze on him, and he frowns, tilting his head to the side to look at you. He raises a brow, his gaze flicking over your face. You really are too hot to be as annoying as you are.
“What? I'm not gonna cuddle you. It's warm now. Go to bed.” He glances at you one last time before turning his back to you, lying on his side and closing his eyes.
He's out like a light in a minute flat.
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fanficsformyfaves · 2 months
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Mami Owns You
Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader
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WARNING: SMUT 18+, ANGST, Possessive!Rhea, Friends With Benefits Trope, Confessions, Hickeys (R Receiving), Choking (R Receiving), Degradation and Praise Kink(R Receiving), Oral Sex (Both Receiving), Orgasm Denial (R Receiving), Strap On Sex (R Receiving), Spanking (R Receiving), Mommy Kink
PREFACE: After catching Reader flirting with a backstage staff member, Rhea takes it upon herself to remind Reader who she belongs to
A/N: It's about time I started writing about my wife
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After effortlessly pinning Raquel Rodriguez to the ground and finally winning the brutal match, the bells ring and the crowd goes wild.
Rhea and I have been hooking up on and off for a few months now and to say I was tired of the 'just friends' title would've been an understatement.
It was frustrating. She'd treat me like a girlfriend in every regard, besides actually calling me that. She would go on and on about how much she wanted me all to herself, then turn around and sleep with someone else.
In private, I was treated like a princess, but once we weren't, I was a complete stranger.
Was it fair? No, but...I couldn't really complain. After all, she is amazing in bed. Don't get me wrong, she's an incredible athlete, but she was just as skilled in the bedroom.
It also didn't hurt that she was also the hottest woman I've ever seen. From her beautiful porcelain skin to her brilliantly blue eyes and strong figure, I was foolish for thinking I wouldn't come running back for more.
So to see the champion herself walk out of the arena drenched in sweat and smiling from ear to ear, I was soaked.
She finally makes it backstage and Dom rushes into her ready arms.
"You crushed it!"
"Thank you, darling", she joked,
Before looking over and catching me eyeing her up from the snack table.
"I'll be back", she says,
Letting go off him and making her way over to where I was. She pretended to browse through the snacks, when in reality, she was side-eyeing the little skirt I threw on just for her.
"(Y/N)", she nonchalantly greeted,
"Rhea, didn't anyone ever tell you that staring was rude?", I teased,
"Well, when you look this good", she mumbled,
Staring right into my eyes.
It was just loud enough for me to hear and cause my cheeks to heat up. I hated how easily flustered me.
"Good enough to come over later?"
"Sorry, plans", she dismissed,
Before walking back over to Dom and getting her things packed. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.
Just as all hope was lost, one of the new backstage assistants walked in. That's when a delicious little plan presented itself on a silver platter.
"Hi", I greeted with a beaming smile.
I could tell he was shocked by the way his eyes widened.
"Hello, miss (Y/L/N)"
"Oh, please, there's no need for formalities, call me (Y/N)"
"Alright", chuckled nervously.
Poor guy. I knew it was wrong, but I had to do what I had to do.
"Are you one of the new assistants?"
"Yes"
"Oh, darn. Never mind", I baited,
About to walk off, when he stops me.
"Wait"
Before turning around, I notice Rhea occasionally glancing over at us, obviously tuning into the conversation.
"Why do you ask?", he questioned,
"Oh, well...I just thought you were really cute and wanted to ask if you were free tonight"
In that moment, Rhea's head whipped in our direction.
"Oh", he blushed,
"But, I understand it's unprofessional, so-"
"Well, technically, I'm just a temp, so, I don't really work here", he reassures,
"Really?", I faked my enthusiasm.
By this time, Rhea was already marching towards us.
"Well, then, would you like to get drinks with me?"
"I would love to-"
"She's busy", Rhea cuts the conversation short,
Grabbing my arm and hauling me out of the room.
"Not gonna happen", I hear Dom tell the assistant.
I couldn't help but bite back a smile, as she lead me all the way to the parking lot.
"I thought you had plans?"
"They're cancelled. Get in the car", she ordered,
Opening the passenger door for me. Even whilst livid, she was still a courteous. I take the seat and she slams the door shut. I was really in for a long night.
The car ride was silent and tense. Her hands gripped the wheel so hard, her knuckles turned paler than they already were.
Once we arrived at the house she was renting, I unbuckled my seatbelt and she opens my car door, dragging my by my wrist this time. As harsh as the grasp she had on my wrist was, it only added to the excitement.
The moment we reached inside, she pins me to the door by my throat.
"You think you're cute with the little stunt you pulled?"
"I don't know-" I struggled when she cuts me off,
"Do not...bullshit me", she warned,
Leaning in closer. Her breath ghosting against my bottom lip.
"You really think there's a person on earth that can make you feel as good as I do? Make you scream their name the way only I can?"
"No", I mumbled,
"No, what? Don't tell me you've forgotten your manners"
"No...Mami"
A wicked grin tugs her lips, before they crash against mine.
This kiss felt different. Like she had something to prove. It was filled with passion, fire and a desperation I'd never seen before.
Her free hand pulls me in closer, as she shoved a knee between my legs and pressed against my already pulsing core. I let out a soft gasp that causes her to pull away.
"Needy slut, aren't you? I just fucked you stupid earlier this morning and you still want more? You're as greedy as you are pathetic", she teased,
"Please, Mami, I need more!", I whined.
She lets go of my neck and grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head backwards.
"You'll get more when I think you've earned it"
Her words muffled against the skin of my throat.
She then takes me upstairs to her room and throws me against the edge of the bed. She's man-handled me before, but this was something else entirely.
"Stay", she ordered.
I sit myself on the foot of the bed, watching her tower over me.
"Clothes. Off"
I complied and began to strip. Unbeknownst to her, I'd forgone my underwear long before her match even started.
"Good girl, I see you are capable of following instructions"
I couldn't help but blush at her praise.
She then grabs me by the chin, forcing me to look back up at her.
"Keep your eyes on me. I want you take in every second of me destroying you"
I swallowed hard. It was only in that moment when the realization of what I'd done truly hit me. I was in real trouble this time.
She gets down on her knees and spreads my legs apart, just staring at my slick mess. I swore I heard her growl at the sight.
"I haven't even touched you yet and you're already this wet?"
"Y-Yes, Mami. Only for you", I stumbled over my words,
"Now, that's what I like to hear"
Not wanting to waste anymore time torturing me, she dives right in, licking up my wetness and making me cry out at the contact.
"You've always been so sweet"
Her voice vibrates against me.
My hand go to grab at the roots of her raven hair and she immediately pulls away to pin my hands on either side of me.
"Did I give you permission to touch me, whore?"
"I'm sorry-"
"You will be if you keep disobeying me, princess"
That god damn nickname and the things it does to me.
"Are you going to be good for me or not?"
"I will, Mami", I whined.
She smiles once more, before continuing her efforts on my bundle of nerves. Her skilled tongue rubbing firm circles over and over again.
I feel her fingers trace up and down my entrance, making my own grip the sheets beneath me. I was already growing restless and weaker.
Eventually, two digits slip into me with ease and I cry out in relief. As they pumped themselves in and out of me, she made sure to focus pressing on my sweet spot.
I could feel my walls begin to clench around her and she laughs.
"So soon? Pitiful. Good thing you won't cum till I say so"
I whimpered amidst my moans. She was reveling in my misery and I knew it. She began to pick up momentum and her strokes grew faster and harder.
My climax was just mere moments ahead and just as I was about to tumble over the edge, she pulls away, leaving me empty and breathless.
"Mami, please-"
"You're in no position to make any demands, darling. I'm in charge", she reminded,
Getting back on her feet.
She grabs my chin and shoved her fingers into my gapping mouth.
"Suck"
I do as she says, looking up into her mischievous eyes.
"Do you taste yourself?"
I nod.
She replaces her fingers and leans down to press her lips against mine. Her teeth tugging at my bottom lip and releasing it with a pop.
"Stay here"
She walks over to the closet and rummages through the clothes, till she takes out a black velvet box and makes her way back over to me.
"I think my brat's earned a treat"
She pulls the lid back and reveals a strap on. She's used one on me before, but this one was...much bigger.
"T-This won't fit"
"Aw, darling don't worry...I'll make it fit"
A chill ran up my spine in anticipation.
She reaches for the bottom of her shirt and yanks it off the top of her head, revealing her ample breasts. I let out a breathless sigh, desperately trying to hold on to the little bit of my sanity I had left.
"Like what you see?", she questions,
Grabbing my hands and making them squeeze her mounds. Her head falls back, as my thumbs worked on her hardening buds.
She releases my wrists and gets to unbuttoning her jeans, before pulling them down along with her underwear. It was now made apparent to me that she was enjoying this just as much as I was.
"Can I please taste you, Mami?", I pleaded,
"Well, since you asked so nicely"
I chewed at my bottom lip and licked all the way done her chiseled abdomen. My hands finding the small of her waist and holding onto each side, as her fingers intertwined themselves in my locks.
The moment I smelled her sweet scent, I could no longer hold myself back. I wanted to be good for her and I wanted to do it now.
I dip my head down and immediately wrap my lips around her sensitive clit, watching the woman before me slightly buckle at the sensation.
With each passing groan that fought its way out of her, I sped up my ministrations and just savored how good she looked. So lost in pleasure that she was already starting to sweat.
"Fuck!", she moaned out.
Once I notice her legs begin to shake, I slip my fingers into her warm cavern and press down on the spot that had her gripping onto my head for dear life, whilst cursing my name.
Within a few minutes of ramming my digits into her, she came undone, squeezing around them. Crying out like a wolf in heat, she pulls my head back to look down at my moist chin.
"So fucking good for me", she wiped off the glisten and sucked her thumb clean.
"On your hands and knees, love", she sighed,
Watching me get into her favorite position. All I could focus on was the sound of her stepping completely out of her pants and into the harness, before fastening it tight around her hips.
She then shuffles onto the bed, taking a hold of my waist with one hand and using the free one to rub the tip of the toy up and down my ready slit.
"Who owns this cunt?"
"You, Mami"
"That's right. Mami owns you"
And in one swift movement, she finally impales me, ripping a scream from the back of my throat.
The toy filling me to the hilt, as she wrapped the ends of my hair around her tight fist.
"There she is. My cute little fuck toy", she grunted between each hard thrust.
I was already seeing stars from how rough she was being with me. She wasn't exactly the gentle type, but this night was just primal. Pure carnal lust and nothing short of it.
The relentless pace of her hips slamming into me was brutal and quick, like she was chasing a high of her own.
I could only imagine just how much I pissed her off this time.
As her tip repeatedly pounded into my sweet spot, I found myself attempting to pull away, as it was all getting far too much far too soon.
But alas, my efforts fall in vain when she pulled me back up against her damp chest.
"Where do you think you're going, hm? Isn't this what you wanted? For me to fuck your brains out?", she taunted,
"T-Too much, Mami!"
"I don't care. Till I hear that safe word, I'll have my way with you and you're gonna like it", she licks at the shell of my ear,
Biting down on the lobe.
She gripped the flesh of my waist so hard, I was sure to wake with bruises in the shape of crescent moons.
This new angle allowed her to fuck herself up into me and hit new places I never knew existed. I was a wreck and she was enjoying every moment of it.
My orgasm was mere moments away and at the risk of getting denied once more, I begged like my life depended on it.
"M-Mami, please let me cum! Please!"
"Why should I? You've been such a brat today", she challenged,
"Mami, please! I'm sorry, I won't do it again!" I moaned out,
Barely able to speak. I could hear her chuckling at how pathetic I sounded.
"You're all mine, darling. Mami owns you"
She reaches down for my clit and began rubbing vigorously on it.
"Cum for me"
I unraveled with one last scream, as my vision fades to pure white and I fall limp in her arms.
"Oh, don't get too comfortable, sweetness. I'm not done with you yet", she warned,
Flipping me onto my back.
Six rounds and multiple different positions later, we were now well into the early hours of the morning.
She finally pulls out and I whine at the aching emptiness.
"Shhh, baby, it's alright", she soothed,
Pulling me into her arms and laying me down on her chest.
For the first time in the while we've known each other, she didn't rush me out of bed. She simply held me, as I came down from the seemingly never ending euphoria.
"Was it too much?"
"Yes, but, nothing I couldn't handle", I reassured.
The room was now quiet, though it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward.
As a matter of fact, her racing heartbeat being the only thing I could hear, whilst she caressed the expanse of my back was actually quite...comforting.
Though as nice as it was, she eventually did break the silence.
"I love you"
I look up at her wide-eyed.
"What?"
"I love you, (Y/N). I know I should've said it sooner, but I couldn't bring myself to do it"
"Why not?"
She was hesitant, but I needed to hear the reason.
"Rhea", I urged,
Cupping her cheek.
"I was scared you didn't feel the same way"
All this time...
She's loved me all this time. I honestly couldn't tell if I was hallucinating this whole moment and I was almost too scared to find out.
"What made you think I didn't?"
"You're perfect, (Y/N). In every sense of the word and that scared me. I might come off as callous and unafraid, but the thought of ever having to tell you how I truly felt was terrifying"
I was on the verge of tears. I'd never seen her so vulnerable and surrendered.
"Please say something"
I happily sigh through my nose, resting me head against her broad shoulder.
"I love you too, Rhea"
I kissed her again, before laying back down.
"I always have"
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happy74827 · 2 months
Text
Let Me In
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[Steve Rogers x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: Steve is persistent in a lot of things. But when he catches fear in your eyes, he wants nothing more than to help you heal.
WC: 2230
Category: Hurt/Comfort {TW — Implications of SA}
The “who did this to you” trope has my whole heart.
『••✎••』
Seeing the pain in Steve’s eyes was more than enough to make your own heartache. The confusion on his face turned into a deep-set frown as his hands hovered over your body, too afraid to touch. Too afraid that if he touched you, the rest of you would crumble to the ground.
The silence between you was deafening, yet Steve said nothing. He just stared at you. You felt his gaze move from the top of your head and down the length of your body. His jaw clenched tightly when your expression faltered, and you tried your hardest not to show the pain you were feeling.
He wasn’t even reaching toward you in the first place; he was reaching for the water that was sitting by his punching bag, but the damage was done the second his hand came into your view.
Out of all the things that could’ve happened, flinching from Steve… of all people was the worst thing possible. The look of hurt on his face was enough to make your own heart drop to your stomach.
You knew he would never hurt you; he would never cause you pain. It was Steve, for goodness sake; he was a big teddy bear who wouldn't cause harm unless absolutely necessary. He had the biggest heart you'd ever seen. And yet, here you were, cowering away from him.
When his hand came into your peripheral, you jumped back, almost tripping over yourself as you stared up at him. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.
It was so loud. So, so loud.
Steve, ever the hero, immediately pulled back. The water was forgotten and all of his focus was on you now. He even tried to reach out to you again, but seeing the flinch on your face was enough to stop him in his tracks.
He didn’t know what to do.
Steve was the guy who knew exactly what to do in every situation. He was Captain America.
Captain America.
But seeing you cower away from him made him feel helpless.
His hands were still hovering, his brow was still furrowed, and his lips were set in a firm line. He wanted to touch you, to hold you, but he was so scared that you would push him away and run.
It broke his heart.
The last time he saw you, you were happy and laughing and smiling. But now, it was like someone had taken all the happiness from your face. The smile was gone. Your laughter was gone. The light was gone. And Steve hated it.
He hated it with every fiber of his being.
He was the first to speak. A small whisper. A whisper that would've been missed if you weren't hanging onto every single one of his movements.
"What happened?"
He took a small step forward and watched as you tensed up, your fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. You swallowed thickly and shook your head.
He deserved the truth, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him.
You didn’t want to tell him. Not after you had flinched away from him.
"I’m fine, Steve."
He gave a low hum and looked you over, trying to gauge the situation and find the best way to approach this. He needed to get you talking, but he had to be careful. He couldn’t make the same mistake twice.
"You don't look fine."
The way his voice came out, it was like a breath. His words were soft and comforting. His eyes never once left yours, not even to see where he was stepping.
You wanted to scoff. You wanted to tell him that you were perfectly fine and that he had nothing to worry about. You wanted to lie and say that the flinch was an accident, a momentary lapse in judgment.
You wanted to lie.
But you couldn't. Not to Steve.
Never to Steve.
"Who did this to you?"
It was the way he said it. The tone he used. It wasn't accusatory; it wasn't harsh. It was gentle. It was caring. It was full of concern. Full of love.
But the question brought you up short.
You could feel his eyes on you. You could feel his gaze burning through you, his worry evident. You could feel him staring right into your soul.
You knew he didn't mean to ask it, but the question slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Before he could pull it back.
You swallowed thickly and looked down at the floor, not being able to bring yourself to meet his eye. You could see his boots; you could see his toes.
But not his face. You didn’t want to see his face. You couldn’t handle the concern.
You could hear him shuffling closer, his hand reaching out slowly and hesitantly. When his finger brushed against your arm, you jerked back, but he didn't let you get too far.
His grip was gentle. So gentle, but it was enough to hold you. Just enough.
It was just your name, just a whisper, but the way he said it made you weak. The way he breathed it out had your knees shaking. You could feel the tears burning the back of your throat; you could feel them gathering in your eyes. They were going to spill over soon, and Steve was the only one who was going to be there to see it. No one else.
"Tell me"
There was a moment where you wanted to fight it. To shove him off and run to your room. To lock yourself away and never come out. But when his thumb rubbed over your cheek, it was the moment that you broke.
Tears spilled over. They flowed freely down your cheeks, dripping from your chin.
Your breath came in harsh pants.
Steve's hands moved to your shoulders. He held you firmly yet gently. His thumbs rub slow circles on the top of your arms.
“Damn it.” You breathed out. “Damn it! Of all the people I slip in front of, why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it have been Tony? Or Nat? Or Sam? Or hell, even Bruce? It had to be you, didn't it, Rogers? It had to be the guy I was trying to avoid. The one person I didn't want to know.”
Your rant was cut off when you felt Steve's fingers under your chin. He tipped your head back and forced you to look at him. He looked down at you with those soft blue eyes, the ones you had been trying to avoid since the start.
They were the only thing that could ever get through to you. They were the only thing that could make your walls come down.
His hand was gentle. It was like he was trying to hold a piece of glass. If he pressed too hard, you would break. And god, did you want to break. You wanted to feel the release, the freedom.
You wanted to feel something, anything other than this pain.
"I'm sorry." You breathed out. "I didn't mean to."
"Don't apologize," He murmured. "Just talk to me."
"Steve-"
"Please." The word was a broken plea. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.
You bit your bottom lip and looked down at the ground, unable to hold his gaze.
"Please." He repeated. "Let me help."
"It's not that easy." You whispered. You couldn't believe that you were even considering telling him.
"Yes, it is. I'm right here."
You were going to regret this. You didn't want to, but you were going to.
"I can't." You shook your head, a sob rising in your chest. "I can't, Steve. Please don't make me."
“Then tell me how I can help you."
You didn’t know how to respond. How could you possibly tell him how to help?
"I- I don't know."
He sighed and stepped back. For a second, you thought he was going to leave, that he was done with you, but with the way his gaze never left yours, you knew that wasn’t the case.
He reached down and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, tugging you behind him.
You let him. You were too tired to fight back.
Too tired.
Too weak.
He led you out of the gym and through the tower, his pace never once slowing. Not until the both of you were in front of your bedroom door. Then he released his hold on you and stood back, looking at you. His jaw was still clenched, and his hands were balled into fists. You didn't know if it was because of the fact that someone had hurt you or the fact that you were hiding the truth from him.
"Let me in." He said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If not today, then some other time. Let me in."
"Why?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Because I care."
"Why?" You repeated, your eyes narrowing. "Why do you care so much?"
"I know what it’s like," He murmured. "To feel the need to hide from the world. To feel the need to bottle everything up inside. You don’t need to do this alone. I don’t know what happened to you, but whatever it is, you can talk to me. Let me in. Tell me the truth."
You shook your head and turned, reaching for the handle, but Steve was faster. His hand shot out and curled around your wrist. He kept you in place.
"Please." He murmured.
The desperation was evident in his voice. The sincerity was, too.
“You want the name that much?” You questioned, keeping your gaze trained on the door.
It was better than facing him.
It was better than seeing the disappointment in his eyes.
It was better than seeing the pity.
It was easier to hide the emotions behind the door, not having to see his reaction.
"I want you to be honest with me. I want you to talk to me. If you’re comfortable giving me the name, then that's your choice. It's always your choice. I won't force you to do anything, but I want to help."
"It's a little late for that," You scoffed, yanking your hand out of his grasp.
He stepped forward, crowding you against the door. You could feel his warmth against your back.
"I didn't know." He murmured, his hand reaching out to brush his fingers against the back of your neck. "Had I known, I would've put a stop to it."
"There's nothing you could've done."
"I could've killed him." He murmured. "That's what I could've done.”
“You don’t kill people, Rogers. It’s not who you are. You know that.”
“Still doesn’t change the fact that I would stop at nothing to keep you safe. Whoever this is, they aren’t going to lay another hand on you. I promise. They aren’t going to hurt you again, not if I can help it. You have my word."
You could feel the tears pricking the back of your eyes. God, did he have to say such sweet things?
You weren’t sure if it was because he was being a good friend or because he wanted something more, but whatever it was, it had you melting.
"I didn't mean to push you away." You whispered, resting your forehead against the cool metal of the door.
"I know."
"It was instinct. I couldn't-"
"I know."
"How do I fix this?"
"You don't. It takes time. Healing isn't an instant process. It took me a long time to get back to normal… somewhat normal.”
“But—” You began, but the look on Steve's face told you that arguing wasn't going to do you any good.
So you stopped.
"It takes time." He repeated. "But I'm not going anywhere. You can take all the time in the world, and I'll be here waiting. Whenever you're ready."
"I want it to go away."
"I know. Believe me, I know." He murmured.
You felt him shift behind you. His hand pressed flat against your back and rubbed slow circles, the heat seeping through the thin material of your shirt.
You had never felt so safe, not even when you were a child.
Steve's presence alone was enough to calm the anxiety running rampant through your body. You weren't sure what had caused this particular attack, but now that Steve was here, you were hoping it would pass soon.
"What do you need?" He asked softly, his hand running up and down the length of your back.
"You." You croaked out, the words almost getting lost in the fabric of his shirt.
"You have me."
"Promise?"
"Promise," He replied without missing a beat.
You took a deep breath and leaned further into his touch.
"It'll go away soon," He assured. "We can sit down and talk about it when you're ready."
"What if I never want to talk about it?"
"Then we won't. You set the pace, okay? Just… please, don't shut anyone out. Don't shut me out. We— I care about you."
You nodded your head, unable to form the words you wanted to say.
The feeling was mutual. You cared about him too. And maybe, just maybe, you would be willing to open up about this. Maybe even share the name.
Steve does throw a good punch, after all.
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deadsetobsessions · 2 months
Text
Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).
I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.
Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!
Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1
[Pt.2]
——
Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.
He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.
His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.
He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.
“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”
Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.
“Stay still, you motherfucker!”
“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.
“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”
“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.
Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?
Huh. His options for dinner was limited.
“Take this!”
Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.
“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.
“Get him!”
God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.
Great.
Oh, speak of the devil!
“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.
He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.
“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.
The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.
“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”
“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”
“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”
“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”
The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.
“You have a lawyer?”
“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”
“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”
“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.
“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”
This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.
“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”
“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.
“Like, Dare Devil good.”
“You know Matt Murdock??”
“Sure do.”
“He… he’ll take on our cases?”
“Dang, all of you?”
“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”
“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”
“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”
“Got it. Sorry.”
Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.
And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.
“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.
And Spider-Man
F
E
L
L.
——
Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.
He twisted.
“Boss, what the fuck?!”
“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.
“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”
“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”
Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”
“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”
Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”
“I know!”
Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.
——
Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.
“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.
“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.
First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.
That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.
He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.
He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.
He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.
The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.
With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?
Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”
Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?
Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.
He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…
Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.
“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”
His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]
Peter stared at the words, gut churning.
Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.
Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.
“Fuck.”
He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.
——
Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.
“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”
Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.
He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.
“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.
“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”
Five things.
1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!
2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.
3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.
4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.
5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.
Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.
Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.
Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.
Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.
3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.
Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.
Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.
“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.
Now… People of Interest.
This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.
Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”
He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”
“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.
And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.
He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.
Subcategory B: Local celebrities.
“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.
“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”
“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.
“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”
Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.
Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.
Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.
Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.
So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.
Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”
And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.
And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.
Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.
He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.
For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.
He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!
Oh my god.
Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.
Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.
Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-
“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.
“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”
“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”
The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”
Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”
“Food, duh.”
“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”
The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”
“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”
“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”
Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.
“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”
Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.
“I’m Peter!”
“… Frank.”
He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.
“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”
Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.
“Uh. Hey.”
Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.
“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”
Peter chewed faster.
Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”
Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”
Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!
“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”
Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!
“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”
“That was easy.”
Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.
“Ow!”
“Whatever, shrimp.”
Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.
Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.
“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”
“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.
“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.
“You’re looking for a place?”
“Yeah? Why?”
Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”
Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.
“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”
“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.
“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”
“Dunno? Probably not.”
“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.
Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.
“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”
Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”
“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”
“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”
“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.
——
They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.
“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”
“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”
And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.
Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.
“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”
“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.
They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.
“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.
“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”
“No-” Frank had started.
“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.
“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”
Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.
“Uh.”
“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”
“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”
Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”
Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.
“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”
Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.
“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.
“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”
“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”
“I can use a cart.”
And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.
“Can you even reach the handle?”
“I’m not that short!”
Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.
“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.
“Okay!”
Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.
“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.
——
As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”
Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.
He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…
He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.
Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.
He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and
He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.
All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for
So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.
“Hey.”
Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”
Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.
“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”
“Rude. No, of course not.”
Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.
“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…
“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”
The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”
“Nice! We can eat on this!”
——
When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.
“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.
“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.
——
When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.
So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.
An hour later, he met his first vigilante.
“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”
“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.
“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.
Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”
“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?
“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”
Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”
“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.
“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”
“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.
“Photography buddy!” He cheered.
They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.
“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”
“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.
——
Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.
“Red Robin to Nightwing.”
“What’s up, Red?”
“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.
“… What?”
“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”
“Copy. Oh, that kid…”
“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”
“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”
“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”
“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.
“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.
“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.
“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.
——
Peter: lay low and get home
Also Peter: talks to a vigilante
None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.
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catcze · 4 months
Note
oh btw i know that a werewolf is a pretty obvious pick for your newest man but he does look like he'd make for a great vampire who has to actively resist the urge to feed on you because "your blood is... so sweet... and you're so... enticing... just a taste, please..."
or not! who knows ehe <3
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Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!
「 CWS : 」 A little suggestive due to the intimate nature of blood drinking, but nothing sexual or even leading up to any sexual activity happens. That being said, if ur bothered by Wrio finding the reader tasting delicious + Reader enjoying being drank from a lot, maybe dont read;;; this is 2k words of non-sexual intimacy and love and trust !!
I have a confession;;;; I really really really love the vampire x human trope,,,,,, even just a teeny tiny bit more than I do the werewolf x human trope,,,, so,,,,, SO,,,,,,,,,, vamp! Wrio is setting all kinds of good signals off in my brain rn;;;;;;; i have;;;;;; many;;;;; many thoughts;;;; ON MY HANDS AND KNEES DONT LET THIS FLOP PLS 💔💔💔
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You're on his lap. Wriothesley's on his chair, hands practically clawing into the armrests. You wouldn't be surprised if he'd rip it. His eyes don't know where to look— they flit around every inch of his office, avoiding your own. But they always end up glancing back at your neck no matter how much he tries to pry them away.
He gulps.
"You're hungry."
"I'm not," he immediately denies, ignoring the way his fangs ache at just being able to smell your blood so close.
You frown. "You haven't eaten in a week, Wrio."
"I have—"
"Animal blood doesn't count. That shit can only work for so long, and you know it."
He swallows, hands clenching even tighter, nails digging into leather armrests. He looks away from you, rendered silent.
You watch him as how he tries to ignore you. Delicately, you place a hand on his cheek, urging his eyes back to meet yours.
"Why don't you just ask me?" You murmur. "You know I'd say yes. You know I'd do anything for you."
His face twists. "That's the problem," Wriothesley says bitterly, teeth clenched. Even from here, from the limited view you have past the curl of his lip, you see how his sharp fangs gleam. "I— if I drink from you, I won't want anything else. Ever. I already have a hard enough time just being around you, but if i get even just a taste..." he trails off, swallowing. "You're all I'm going to crave, sweetheart."
Wriothesley expects you to pause or hesitate. Maybe even extract yourself from him. He wouldn't blame you. Ever since the first time his thoughts betrayed him and he wondered what you'd taste like on his tongue (honey and nectar and heaven and ambrosia, all in one) he's been so careful to hide how he hungers for you, lest you think he's a monster who'd hurt you for his own gain.
In an ideal world, you never would have had to see him like this— starving, thirsting. Every single cell in his body urging him to get on his knees and beg you for just a taste. He'd get the fear and the apprehension, even though it'd crack a little piece of his cold, unbeating heart.
But you just roll your eyes and unbutton the collar of your shirt. leaning down so the side of your neck is right within his sight. His mouth dries as the thump of your pulse comes ever closer, freezing him in place.
"You're not going to hurt me," you say, conviction in your voice. You inch closer.
Wriothesley feels another part of his self restraint collapse.
Against his better judgement, he's actually thinking about it now. He crumbled so fast that it might be a little pathetic, he knows. Maybe his mind is addled from the hunger, maybe he's addled by his hunger for you, but he knows that he's fraying with every millisecond that you spend so close.
"No, not— not there," He protests quietly, even though he's itching to reach out and sink his teeth into your pulse. Fuck, you smell delicious up close. He's damn near losing his mind here, the object of his love and the greatest temptation to his gluttony practically sitting on his lap, offering up something that he's craved for so long. Still, he gathers what bits and pieces of his restraint that he can and manages to gently nudge you back, just enough that he can think without being driven mad by the idea of his mouth on your neck.
The protest is already ready on your tongue, but he takes a gentle hold of your wrist instead, pressing a kiss to the tips of each finger. His thumb rubs gentle circles into the skin, and the pulse under his fingers makes the emptiness in his stomach increases tenfold.
"Here," he tells you. "It'll be easier to push me away if you need to."
You say nod, pushing your wrist closer to his mouth. "Drink up," you tell him. He pushes away his hesitation, and with one last lingering kiss, he presses his mouth to your wrist and bites.
And fuck, he was right.
Heaven and sunlight and euphoria bursts on his tongue, making his brain practically short circuit. Wriothesley concludes then and there that compared to you, anything and everything else he's ever tasted was bland in comparison. He can barely even attempt to describe it— with each drop you willingly give, his hunger is both sated and amplified. A sound escapes him, a mix between a groan and a whimper muffled into your skin.
When you hum, warm fingers carding through his hair and urging him to take more, he feels like he ascends. Acting on instinct, his arm snakes around your middle to hold you in place— to keep you close. His grip on you is firm, but he's careful not to dig his fingers too hard into your skin.
And as much as this is affecting him, it's affecting you too. Your head grows light in the best way possible, like you're experiencing a euphoric high. You scratch a bit harder at his scalp, pulling a desperate noise from his lips that makes you tremble in his hold. You'll sit here for as long as he needs to feel better, for as long as he needs you.
Quicker than you would have wanted, Wriothesley reluctantly pulls away. By then the color's only just started to come back to his face and he's panting like he's been on a brisk jog. He looks much less sickly, yes, but you observe with a frown that he's still not quite yet at tip-top shape.
Hesitantly, almost reverently, he presses a kiss to the wound on your wrist, then gives the smallest of licks. it tingles, but after a moment the sting of it fades to a dull throb, and then nothing. But before he can push you off, you're leaning down again, same position as before, with your neck in his line of view. An open invitation.
"You need to drink more," you murmur. You try to ignore the rush of blood in your face, the tingle in your core. For as much as he was scared of getting addicted to you, you fear now you're getting addicted to him, too.
"I shouldn't," Wriothesley says, barely above a whisper.
He should push you off— should let you rest. Should wrap you in his coat and get you some water and a snack after you've already let him drink so much of you.
It had been hard enough to resist earlier, but now? Your blood is pumping so hard he can practically hear it. And you taste so sweet. You had made the slightest of noises when he fed on you— he doubts you even realized it, what with the haze you were in. Just the smallest of whines when he drank from your wrist, but each breathy sigh and whisper of his name was enough to make him crave more.
A small, traitorous corner of his mind wonders if you'd be even more vocal with his teeth on your neck.
He swallows, knowing he's already fighting a losing battle. He's so, so weak for you. His one arm doesn't budge from around your waist, but his hand moves up to cup your cheek. He drags your eyes to meet his, and you can see the seriousness amidst the hunger.
"You tell me if anything hurts." Wriothesley's arm around you tightens almost imperceptibly. "Anything. Please."
You hum, happy, nuzzling closer into the cradle of his grip. "Okay. I know you'll stop if I ask." And oh the faith you have in him has heat pooling in his gut and a foreign pressure grow behind his eyes.
His voice is hoarse he says, "Yeah sweetheart. Of course I will."
He comes close and you shift your head, giving him more space to work. First thing he does isn't even bite— he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, decorating your skin with kisses and licks and nips, delighting in the small protest of 'that tickles!' that he elicits from you.
You let him shower you in affection a little bit more, but eventually your hand works into his hair, tugging. "Okay, no more stalling," you say, breathless. "C'mon, time to eat."
And he's still nervous of taking too much— can feel his stomach roil at just the thought of hurting you, but he trusts you. Trusts you as much as you trust him, too. So he takes another deep breath, presses one last tender kiss to your skin, and sinks his teeth into your neck.
A small whisper of him name escapes our throat just as a groan leaves him because fuck— you taste even better. Flavor multiplied times what feels like a hundred, making his cold cold heart do flips and tricks in his chest. The hand you bury in his hair tugs, pulls, but brings him closer instead of away. You push him further into you, begging him to take more, and he happily obliges.
Wriothesley presses kisses and licks to your neck between drinking down mouthfuls, making sure not to waste a single drop. He's pulling you against his chest so tightly— hand bunched in the back of your top that you fear he might rip the fabric, but you decide that you don't really care if he does.
With each drink he takes, each satisfied, muffled noise that leaves him, you feel yourself melt more and more against him until you're boneless in his hold. Despite how he drinks as if it's his last, he still has the good mind to shift you a bit higher in his lap, to make sure he's holding you comfortably. His hand rubs soothing circles into your hip, and he tries to recline back into his seat as much as he can so you can lean into him.
Your heart pounds even harder, the blood rushing to your ears, and you think he feels it with the way his hunger seems to double.
Your eyes are half-lidded, gaze hazy and growing sleepy with each progressive second. But it doesn't hurt in the slightest. You feel warm, if anything— warm and happy that you were able to help him, and make sure he's well.
He's slowing a little. His hunger finally abating and making way for something more tender and soft. You scratch his scalp lovingly and lean your head against his. A sweet, sleepy kiss pressed to his temple makes his pace falter.
Wriothesley soon separates himself from your neck, pressing a kiss and a kitten lick to your newest wound. Like the one on your wrist, it tingles for just a bit before any stinging or pain vanishes entirely.
"Hey baby," he murmurs, pulling away slightly to look at your face, but making sure his arm is still wrapped around you. To keep you steady, to remind you that he's here. He smiles a little at your happy, dazed expression, but even now you can see the lingering worry. "You with me?"
You respond with a hum, nodding as best as you can. "Yeah. 'm okay."
Wriothesley laughs a little, watching you stumble over your words. He lets you fall flat against his chest with you head hanging on his shoulder and cradles you against him. One hand goes to twine your fingers with his, desperate to hold you as much as he can, and the other snugly tucks your head under his chin. In his embrace, you feel the beat of your heart gradually slow back to a calm. It leaves you boneless and tired, the crash of it all finally hitting you and making your eyelids flutter.
"That's good." You can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. "Did anything hurt at all, honey?"
You shake your head. Too tired to look up at him, so you squeeze his hand instead. A kiss is pressed to the apple of his throat. "Nothing. I'm just tired, 's all. I'm fine."
He holds you closer, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "Yeah. Yeah, that's good. Thank you, my love. Let's get you something to eat and drink, then we sleep— how does that sound?"
You just hum your agreement, limbs feeling heavier and heavier with each passing second. Wriothesley places a kiss to the crown of your head. With utmost gentleness, he cradles you in his arms as he stands, trying not to jostle you as he makes his way out of the room.
"I love you, sweetheart," he murmurs, heart growing three sizes in his chest, arms full of the most precious thing in his world.
You bury yourself further into him. "Love you more, Wrio."
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seo--changbin · 3 months
Text
Fuck Around and Find Out
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agreeing to your best friend's idea of being friends with benefits sounded like a good idea at first, that is until the line between being just friends and something more is starting to blur. So what do you do in this situation? Fuck around and find out.
PAIRINGS: Lee Know x fem!Reader
GENRE: Mature (multiple smut scenes[just 2 actually]), Angst (Hurt and Comfort)
TROPES: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, non-idol au
GENERAL WARNINGS: mentions and depictions of alcohol, use of foul language, angst but its not too major actually it won't make you cry i promise, minho being confusing af, portrayals of jealousy in both parties
CONTAINS: changbin special cameo, some funny bits and playful banter
WORD COUNT: 11,309k and 20 google docs pages later
AUTHOR'S NOTE: thank you so much to my dear snail anonnie for commissioning me this fic! I apologize that it took too long to post it but here it is!
smut warnings beneath the cut!
SMUT WARNINGS: piv, implied d/s dynamics, oral (f. rec), fingering, overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), bunch of dirty talking, o creampies, piss
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Familiar calloused hands roam across the expanse of your back, the one you’ve felt and held so many times over the past 8 years, his fingertips dragging against your supple skin underneath the fabric of your shirt just so he can feel you, before slinging an arm around your shoulder just so he can pull you against him. He swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, pressing against the muscle until his digit slips in and against your wet tongue. 
“Fuck— always so good for me, angel.” 
Moans fill the four corners of your room, a mixture of yours and Minho’s as he takes you from behind. He pushes against you until you’re face down and ass up against him, chest still pressed against your back but your shirt that’s haphazardly bunched around your chest, the sole proof how much Minho was in a rush to get his dick inside your cunt, was the only barrier that’s keeping you from feeling his skin entirely. 
“Minho, shit— please. I-I’m gonna cum,” you gasped out before your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he suddenly slammed into you harshly before breathlessly muttering “I know, I know. I’m close too. Just a bit more, okay? You can hold it in for me, right?” 
Just thirty minutes ago, all Minho did was send you a quick ‘I’m coming over’ for you to know that you’ll end up how you are right now— half-naked, sweaty, and with the majority of your discarded clothes making a trail that leads toward your bedroom just because Minho was too impatient to even wait until you’ve properly close the front door to your apartment before he started kissing you. 
But that’s definitely something that’s not far from the norm. You’ve grown used to his… antics, well enough to know that the urgency and roughness he’s fucking you with right now tells you that he’s had a rough day and needed to release some steam.
You feel Minho’s ragged breaths against the skin of your neck before he starts to trail kisses up and down your shoulder, his right hand moving to lace it on top of yours while the other stays planted beside you, fully caging you in before his thrusts start to falter— the sudden intimate gesture making your heart beat even more rapidly against your ribcage and the familiar coil in your stomach to even tighten.
“Cum with me, angel. Come on, I need to feel you— fuck that’s it, good fucking girl.” 
You unravel around him easily and quickly, just like that, just like how it has always been, your fingers squeezing his own as you find your release with a silent scream, back arching against him as your thighs start to quiver from the intensity of your orgasm. 
Minho follows suit, pulling out just in time before he spills all over your ass and back, jerking himself off to completion with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He practically collapses on top of you soon after with heavy labored breaths, no longer caring if he smears himself with his own release because of how hard he came. 
The sudden heavy weight on your back caused you to squeal in surprise, the air practically getting knocked out of your lungs. “Minho, get off me! You’re fucking heavy!” you grunt out, using your wobbly arms to lift your own body in hopes that you could shake him off but Minho being the menace he is, made himself heavier by putting all of his body weight on top of you, making your arms give in so you land back on the mattress face first with an ‘oof’. 
“Give me just a few more minutes,” he simply sighs, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he finds the audacity to get himself comfortable on top of you and close his eyes. “Minho, get off now! I can feel your sweat dripping on me, it’s disgusting!” You protest, swatting him as best as you can from your position until he groans in annoyance as if you’re the one who’s bothering him and not the other way around. 
“Okay, okay! Jesus,” he says, finally pushing himself off you with a chuckle, and you practically groan in relief, pushing yourself up so you can properly turn your whole body just to give him a glare. “Don’t look at me like that. You think fucking is easy? It’s tiring as fuck,” he says, moving to get the towel that’s conveniently placed on your bedside table. “Try being in my shoes for once, maybe then you’d understand.” 
“If you want me to peg you, you can just ask,” you snarkily reply as you snatch the towel from his hands, wiping yourself clean before throwing it back right at his face. 
“Oh, come on! My cum is on this towel!” you merely snicker at his complaint as you stood up, already imagining the way he’s probably glaring at you like an angry cut with disgust all over his face. “It literally came out of you, stop acting so disgusted,” you reply, turning around to face him with your arms folded across your chest, leaning against the wall for support as you watch him (begrudgingly) wipe himself clean before he stands up to toss the soiled towel into the hamper. 
The two of you fall into a familiar routine soon after, Minho leading you toward your bathroom to shower together under the guise of saving more water when in reality, contrary to popular belief, it’s his own simple way of giving you aftercare. 
You and Minho have known each other for God knows how long. He used to sport a bowl cut back in high school and these thickly framed glasses that made him look more like a loser if anything, which was also the reason why he’s always being made fun of. That’s where you come in, an equally weird young girl who just moved into town, saving his ass from a group of bullies who broke his glasses and dumped toilet water on him. Needless to say, those boys who hurt Minho that day went home barefoot with broken bicycles and with an equally wet uniform after you hosed them down at the school garden and threatened them with a baseball bat. That very same day, you gained a new friend. 
And then that said friend, years later, proposes the most preposterous idea ever known to man.
“Do you wanna be friends with benefits?”
You thought that he was just kidding, that he was just randomly blurting out whatever kind of stupid idea that popped into his head impulsively and unabashedly like he always has, but he never followed that question with an ‘I’m just joking, you should have seen the look on your face’. That night, despite having a few drinks in his system (because you were celebrating the end of one hell of a semester), you realized that he was serious because he was looking at you dead in the eye without a single glint of mischief in his eye.
Now, you weren’t purely against the idea of hooking up. At that time, you’ve never even had a good lay because of how busy you got and definitely (not) because of how the last guys you’ve ever dated had a seriously bad dick (and head) game. But this was Minho you’re talking about. A friend you’ve had since you were in braces. The guy you were thick as thieves with. 
“Come on, it can’t be that bad, right? No strings attached. Just fucking and friendship. What do you say?” 
Just fucking and friendship. Your friendship. As if that’s something so easy to risk. 
“Will this change things between us?” 
“Aside from giving you the best sex of your life, I don’t think so.”  
It’s been six months since you’ve had that conversation with him, six months since he’s given you the best head of your life that had you agreeing to the whole setup despite your reservations.
His rules are fairly simple: No falling in love, no catching feelings— which, at the time, sounded like ABC’s to you.
But now? Six months in? 
You must have underestimated yourself into thinking that there’s no way you’ll be falling in love with Minho. Him? Out of all people? The guy who literally farts in his hand just to throw it on your face? No fucking way. You’ve hooked up with other people more than once just for shits and giggles and you have never caught any feelings. There’s no way you’ll mess up this bad, right? 
Wrong. 
Because those 6 months sleeping with your best friend had you seeing him in a whole different light. 
At first, it was all purely sexual and lust-driven, fuelled by desire as he gave you mind-blowing orgasms after mind-blowing orgasms. Minho made you feel things no other sexual partner ever could, it just so happens he also made you feel more than just things. 
Maybe it’s because of the sex, or how easy it is to be around him even after fucking, how weirdly normal everything seems to be even though friends aren’t supposed to see each other naked in the first place. Maybe it’s because of how he can kiss you as if he’s chasing air and you’re his only source of oxygen but at the same time kiss you as if you’re the most delicate being on earth. Or perhaps it’s the fact that when Minho sleeps the night, you can expect him to still be there in the morning, a protective arm strewn across your waist that tightens the moment you try to move away from him. Maybe it’s the sleepy kisses he places on your bare skin as he slowly wakes up, the kisses that start on your shoulder then to your nape, neck, and eventually to your lips. Maybe it’s the way he knows how to gently hold you as you stay buried beneath the sheets on a cold rainy night, his hands that had been all roughed up because of all the boxing he does as a hobby safely tucked underneath your shirt just to keep his hand warm while the two of you talk about whatever comes into mind without the expectations of sex. 
You have no idea which was it, what specific thing he did that had you suddenly waking up in the middle of the night with cold sweat because you realized that you were slowly falling for your best friend, the one you agreed to not fall in love with. Honestly, you’d be lying if you didn’t say you saw this disaster from a mile away. But you really just had to fuck around and find out. 
So now, as Minho lathers up your hair with your shampoo, talking about the most mundane things in life (specifically how he’s planning to buy his cats new cat toys just because), you’re too busy focusing on how good it feels to have his fingers gently work their way through your hair, lathering up the shampoo as he massages your scalp. He looks so serious while doing it too, never missing a beat even when he’s knee-deep into telling you what his plans were for the weekend, and for some reason it only made him look even more attractive. 
Would you look at that? Who knew you’d live long enough to admit that your friend is indeed handsome, that you’re now understanding why he has so many girls falling for him?
But that’s a crisis that you’ll have to worry about for another day. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right? 
---
Okay. Maybe it is true that what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, but it will certainly hurt you because the next day before you can even pick up some coffee at your favorite cafe after your first class, you see that Minho is already inside. Talking to another woman. On a circular table. Sitting face to face. And he’s drinking coffee. 
Minho doesn’t even like coffee.
Which could mean only one thing… he’s on a date.
A funny feeling washes over you, one that has your insides churning and swirling around in a bad way as ice spreads through your veins as you watch them together, talking about god knows what. Probably something so funny that had them laughing so hard with their heads tipped back. 
What on earth could be something so funny? You can make Minho laugh just as ha—
Oh no.
Everything inside your head clicked. You’re jealous.
Nope. No. Nuh-uh. Hell to the fuck no. 
Random strangers on the street probably think you’re crazy with the way you're running your hands through your hair and face as you pace back and forth in front of the cafe, but you could care less about the odd looks they give you. 
There’s no fucking way you could be jealous, it’s not like you like like him right?
Wrong. The bitter pit in your stomach tells you otherwise. 
“Okay, okay… focus,” you told yourself as you took deep breaths, settling yourself first as you swallowed the lump in your throat. You glance toward their table once again, seeing that they’re still there, and judging by the way the woman’s cheesecake isn’t even half finished yet, they won’t be leaving anytime soon.
Great. Just great.
Seeing that you can’t properly function the day without coffee and that this is the only cafe that can somehow make your order just the way you like it, you resorted to just quickly placing an order, getting your coffee, and leaving as soon as you can, praying that he wouldn’t notice you because the last thing you’d want (but really, it’s only because there’s no way you can face him and the girl who’s potentially his new girlfriend). 
Entering the cafe was the easy part because you were able to easily blend in with the other customers, which also meant that you’d be able to sneak glances toward their table without getting seen. 
They look happy. Even when Minho’s back was facing you, you could tell that he was having a great time judging by the way his shoulders didn’t look tense, and if drinking coffee wasn’t a dead giveaway that he really wanted to be here and spend time with this girl, then you don’t know what will.
Something about that just made you feel… sad? Or even heartbroken. You’ve never felt like this in a long time since your high school boyfriend dumped you for the cheerleader. The funny thing is, Minho was actually the first to come to your aid when that happened, rushing to your childhood home with some comfort snacks. It’s only ironic that the next heartbreak you feel is because of him. 
Having a friends-with-benefits relationship with the guy you’ve been close friends with for years is… not exactly ideal. It was a disaster in the making but what you didn’t anticipate was that you’d be taking the most damage. 
Right after placing your order, you made sure to stay close to the bar so that you’d be able to leave as soon as you got your coffee. That way, you’d be out of there in a flash as if you weren’t really there at all. 
But there’s one teeny tiny detail that you forgot that would spoil your plans. And that is…
“One medium hazelnut coffee for Y/n!” 
Great. Just great. 
The way the sound of you facepalming yourself could resonate throughout the whole cafe from how hard you slapped your hand on your face as you stood there frozen in sheer shock. Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse, you really had to forget that the people here call out their customers’ names as soon as it was ready. 
“One medium hazelnut coffee—” 
“Me! That’s me. That’s– that’s my order. Thank you,” you hurriedly said, not giving the barista a chance to even say your name again while giving him an awkward sheepish smile as he handed you your drink. At this point, your heart is pounding against your chest, your own pulse ringing through your ears as you start to quickly walk away. 
You hope that Minho was too busy to even hear your n—
“Y/n?”
Just as you were about to grab for the door handle, you hear him, making you stop dead on your tracks with your hand sticking out in mid air.
“Y/n! Over here!”
Great mother of God, kill me now. 
You turn to face them by your heel, and you’re met with the sight of Minho waving you over.
Dread fills you as you realize that there’s no turning back now. You can’t just leave, especially when Minho just looks… so excited.
You offer them the best fake smile that you can muster as you walk toward them, pretending to be as shocked as they are that the two of you managed to be in the same cafe. 
“Minho, I didn’t know you were here,” you said awkwardly paired with an equally awkward of what was supposed to be a laugh of disbelief, a poor attempt to pretend that you didn’t saw them 15 minutes ago. 
“Y/n,” he says, standing up to greet you, his hand automatically coming up to rest on the midsection of your back. “Y/n, this is Sujie. Sujie, this is Y/n.” 
“Hello, Y/n! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” the woman, Sujie, greets you as she too stands up to shake your hand to which you politely accept, returning her warm sincere smile with a shy one. “I’ve heard so many things about you from Minho.” 
“All good things, I hope,” you reply with a soft giggle, your eyes raking all over her features. 
She looks like the embodiment of what every man wants. 
When she smiles, her eyes slightly disappear into crescent moons, a pair of dimples even appear on her cheeks too. Her hands are soft, the scent of the hand cream she uses lingers on your palms. She’s so soft spoken too, as if she has never yelled at anyone in their entire life. She just radiates so much warm energy, it’s making you start to feel bad to even feel so jealous toward someone who’s a personified sunshine. 
“Would you like to sit with us? I can get us a spare chair, hold on—” it feels so foreign seeing Minho act so civil and formal around you as if he didn’t spend the whole night yesterday rearranging your guts. 
“Ah, no need. I was about to go anyway. Besides, I don’t want to ruin your moment so…” you immediately tell him as you start to slowly back away. 
You needed to leave. Quick. Because you start to feel that familiar lump in your throat and the sting in your eyes. 
“Are you sure? I haven’t—” 
“Mmmhmm, yup! Yes– I-uh… I got a report coming up— yes! A report, yes. So I gotta go.” You say sheepishly, even stumbling on some of your words as you pull a lousy excuse. 
“Y/n—” 
“I’m sorry, I just… I just really gotta go now. But we’ll catch up next time, yeah? Bye!”              
Minho continues to call for you even as you walk away, not even sparing another glance toward the two leaving him consumed with both confusion and worry. 
The moment you exit the cafe you started to run as fast as you could, blinking away the tears that were starting to gather from your eyes. 
You feel so stupid for even crying over this, you don’t even know why you felt the need to even cry. 
Yet the hurt that seems to seep deeper into your heart every time you remember them being together is only making the tears you’re shedding make more sense. 
Minho > hey y/n-ah y did u leave so quick? > u even left urcoffee here dumbass > sujie was wondering why u left the cafe looking like u saw a ghost lol > can i come over later? > hello? *2 missed calls, 1 missed video chat
Minho> y/n > y/n > y/n > are you ignoring meeeee??????? > yah y arent u picking up my calls? >dont b rude stop leaving me on read *10 missed calls, 3 missed video chats
Minho> still leaving me on read?? srsly??? > can i come over? > y/n ur avoiding me arent u > i literally saw u turn around the other way the moment u saw me in the hallway > did i do smthn wrong? > whatever it was im srry > y/n > it’s been three days pls pick up the phone *30 missed calls, 5 missed video chats
Minho> I’m coming over. > Whether you like it or not. > We need to talk. *1 missed call
You stare at Minho’s last few messages in horror. You knew he’d come over sooner or later and that avoiding him would be no use. Locking him out of your apartment would do no good either since he has a spare key. 
Fuck fuck fuck fuck
Embarrassment dawns on you once more as flashbacks of you leaving the cafe terrorize your mind. You kinda wanna throw yourself off a cliff or walk onto a busy highway and hope that a ten-wheeler drives you over just so you can end your misery, but alas there is no escape because not even 5 minutes later, you can already hear the familiar sound of your front door being unlocked, bringing you back down to the reality that you’d eventually have to face him.
“Y/n, what’s going on?” 
Minho looked like the way he did that one fateful morning, confused and worried, and maybe a little bit mad, but understandably so. 
“You’ve been ignoring me for days. Fucking days Y/n! I have no idea what has gotten into you or if I did something wrong for you to just avoid me.” 
“I know, I know,” you say apprehensively, still seated on the couch of your living room. “I’m sorry.” 
Minho only huffed at that, dumbfounded. “Sorry? That’s all you’re going to say?” 
“Min, please. Just calm down for—” 
“Calm down? Y/n I—” he takes a deep breath and runs his hands over his face as he starts to lightly pace around, trying to figure out the right words to say while keeping his temper down. “I can’t calm down, Y/n. You know why? It’s because my best friend for years decided to suddenly ignore me, ignore my calls and messages, leaving me on read, and mind you this went on for days. And for what reason? I don’t know! The only time I finally get to see you is when I physically brought my ass to your apartment.” 
You stare at him wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing like a fish as you try to find the right words to say, processing every single word he says with hurt in his voice. 
“How long did you plan on ignoring me? 5 days? A week? A month?”
“Minho—” 
“A year? Maybe a decade even—”
“Minho!”
“What?!” 
His chest heavily rises and falls as he finally stops pacing to finally look at you, his feline eyes filled with both anger and hurt as it look at your regretful ones.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ignored you like that,” is all you say, his eyes slowly softening at the sight of the tears welling in your eyes. But he still stays silent and huffs out a breath in an attempt to calm himself down, racking his mind through all the possible reasons why you’d do something like that.
“Then why?” He asks after what feels like years of deafening silence. “If you wanted time alone, you could have just told me.” 
“No, it’s-” you gulp, throwing your hand back against the couch as you press your palms against your eyes. Right. You have to eventually tell him sooner or later. “It’s not that.” 
“Then what is it?”
He finally flops beside you on the couch, eyes glued to the ceiling as he rests his head against the soft cushion until… 
“Wait, you’re not pregnant are you?” 
You immediately turn to him and look at him as if he had grown another head in shock. “Pregna– no! God no, no! It’s not that. Jesus may he forbid it.” 
“Okay, so what’s the catch then?” 
You say nothing, staying tight-lipped as you were a few minutes ago, leaving Minho with nothing but silence once more. He rolls his eyes, but this time, there’s a small smile now gracing his lips. Everything was much calmer now than it was moments ago, nothing but the sound of both your breathing fills his ears. He doesn’t mind the silence now that he’s with you, seeing you, next to you, hearing you. Something he wasn’t able to do the last three days which, in his book, was torture enough. Sure, he missed sneakily making out with you in one of the old buildings around campus or perhaps skipping a class just so the two of you could fuck the stress out in the back of his car, but he also missed annoying your ears off,  reading your texts and hearing your voice, he missed grabbing a sub with you after your afternoon classes every Tuesday, and he missed taking naps with you in the library. 
So spending time with you right now even if it’s just like this after he last saw you at the cafe with Sujie then—
Wait a minute. 
The last time he saw you was at the cafe with Sujie. 
Sujie.
“Y/n.” He calls out, making you reply with an annoyed “Yes?” 
“You’re not… jealous, are you?” 
Again, you turn to look at him so fast, it almost breaks your neck. “What? Me? Jealous? Are you out of your mind?!” You abruptly stand up, quickly making your way toward your kitchen to get a glass of cold water. You weren’t even thirsty, but you knew that if you stayed a second longer on that couch, you felt like you were going to explode. “Who would I have to be jealous of in the first place?” 
“Sujie, the girl from the cafe. Come on, Y/n. I know you,” he says, following you with this stupidly handsome grin on his face. “And I know you didn’t have a report that day, you would have told me the day before. So I know you just made that up as an excuse to leave.”
The cold water going down your suddenly-dry throat was like a kick to the gut. Curse Minho and the years you’ve spent time together. Of course, he’d figure it out. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
“Hm. I’m pretty sure you do.” 
Minho traps you with his arms planted on either side of you, leaving you trapped behind him and against the marble counter, his lips ghosting against your ear, brushing against the shell as he speaks. 
“And for all I know, you’ve always been a terrible liar.” 
Goosebumps erupt from your skin when he starts lightly kissing your neck as he presses himself against you, feeling his growing bulge against your ass. “You don’t have to feel so jealous of her, baby.” 
“Minho—” your words were cut off with a gasp as you felt his teeth nip against that one sensitive spot by your ear. 
“You know I only want you.” His hands find your hips, his fingers dipping under your shirt just to feel your soft skin. His warm breath against your skin sends tingles across your body, especially when you feel his hands softly rubbing against your stomach while the other is dangerously drawing closer to your breasts.
“I won’t find anyone else when you’re always so, so good to me.” 
“M-Minho, wait,” you say, but it only falls on deaf ears. He continues to kiss your neck and your shoulder even when you still had your shirt on, the hand that was by your stomach was now moving toward the hem of your shorts, toying with the elastic before slowly slipping each of his fingers inside. 
“She’s no one, you don’t have to worry about her, yeah?” 
“Min…” you feel him graze against your mound, raking his fingers against the hairs that would make your knees buckle if it were any other day, and give in, let him take you then and there. But this isn’t what you wanted, not right now, despite the fact that you’re probably dripping into your panties at this point. 
“Minho,” you say his name a bit firmer this time, and your body almost screams the moment you pull yourself away from him, twisting your body so you can properly face him and add some distance. “Min, please.” 
He pulls his hands away from your body almost immediately, backing up just a bit with concern lacing his features. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing, just,” you gulp, fixing the stray hairs from your face. “Is this about Sujie?” Minho asks, his voice serious but tone soft enough to offer some semblance of reassurance. When you didn’t say anything, opting to just stay silent while you looked anywhere but his eyes, he took that as a yes. “Look, I’m not sleeping with her, alright? So if you’re worrying about me not being clean—” 
“Minho, God no, it’s not that.” 
“Then what is it?” His words come out a bit harsher than intended. But can you blame him? His patience is already running thin because you just can’t seem to get straight to the point, keeping him on edge. “I just don’t understand why you’re so jealous of Sujie when she’s just a frie—” 
“It’s because I like you, okay?!” 
Feeling as if the world stood still would be an understatement the moment you blurted those words out. Minho was just as shocked as you were, seeing as his eyes were just as wide as yours in utter disbelief. The shared silence between the two of you was far more uncomfortable this time around as you waited for him to say something, anything. But all he gave you was the rapid blinking he always does when he’s trying to make sense of this, big boba eyes looking at yours as he tries to figure out if you’re being serious or not. 
“Is that it?” he mutters out. “That’s the reason why you’ve avoided me for days? It’s because you like me?” 
“Why are you repeating it like it’s such a bad thing?”
“It’s not, it’s just…” he shakes his head, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “I don’t think we’re supposed to… you know… catch feelings.”
What he said made you raise a brow, head tilting to the side as you were hit with the irony of it all. “And friends aren’t supposed to fuck each other but here we are,” you scoff out, pushing down the sudden bitter feeling that had your hands feeling ice cold. 
“Okay, that’s a different thing. We’re talking about falling in love here,” Minho replies, sounding a bit more defensive than before as he puts his hands in front of him as if he’s trying to make a point. “And why is that such a bad thing?” You ask back, trying to mask the hurt in your voice and staying composed, putting your hands against the counter behind you. 
“Because…” he breathes out, and you see the way he’s starting to hesitate, contemplating on the right words to say.  “I just don’t think we’re on the same page.”
Your hands grasp the counter tighter at that. 
“Minho, we’ve known each other since we were teens. It’s not like I’m a stranger or anything,” you say with a chuckle of disbelief, your voice almost pleading as you try to search for his eyes, looking for something; a spark maybe, the same light in your eyes every time you get to be with him, or perhaps some warmth? 
“Come on, Min.” You inch closer to him, pushing yourself off the marble just so you can see him eye to eye with tears that you can no longer control, already brimming on your waterline. “I can’t be the only one who’s feeling this way.” 
Your gaze travels all over his features as you reach out to hold his face— to the crinkle of his forehead to the faint smile lines by his eyes, the subtle texture on the skin of his nose, trying to memorize every single detail because this may be the last time you’ll be able to see him like this— quiet and vulnerable, a side he doesn’t normally show to anyone else but you. 
He stays silent, and you hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance, a miracle perhaps. 
“I’m sorry, I-I don’t think I can.”
He places his hand on top of yours, thumbing at your skin as he leans into your touch, his eyes filled with nothing but regret. “I’m sorry.”
Dread fills you the moment you hear those words, your throat suddenly going dry as silent tears finally stream down your face. “Do you not love me, Min?” Your voice sounding so broken only breaks Minho’s heart more, swallowing the bile that threatens to spill from his lips at the thought of hurting you this way. 
“Come on, say it. Say it straight to my face,” you say through your sobs. “Tell me, Min. Please, so I can start moving on from you. Please” 
“I…” He starts to remove your hands from his face, his grip remaining firm as he holds you.  “I’m sorry but I just… I don’t think we can continue doing this anymore.” He says. “This friends-with-benefits thing, I don’t think it was a good idea.” Finally, he lets go of your hand, letting you to finally wipe the tears from your face with a bitter chuckle. “You think?” 
“Fuck around and find out, right?” 
---
The club feels stuffy, especially when it’s packed with drunk people. You should know that by now, should have trusted your gut and and just stayed at home, but did you listen? Nope, not at all, but this guy that you just met, who goes by the name ‘Changbin', was at least making this a little more tolerable. He’s a pretty nice guy, ordering you your drinks and keeping you company while the friends that you came with were no longer to be found. The last time you’ve seen them was when they left to go to the dancefloor, easily getting lost in the sea of bodies dancing with the rhythm of the loud music that only makes your ears ring, yet the sound of Changbin’s laughter as you tell him an embarrassing joke back when you were in 5th grade still sounds clear as glass in your ears. 
He’s charming with a dimpled smile, hella ripped too. Have you seen the size of that man’s biceps? Truly delectable. 
But there’s one thing that you also couldn’t ignore tonight, and that is the feeling of being watched. Normally, that would ring some alarm bells in your head, but the familiar silhouette of a man from the corner of your eye lets you know that Changbin’s attention is not the only thing you’ve attracted tonight.
It’s him.
You take a sip from your drink before letting your vision fly elsewhere, looking for that one person who’s been burning holes in the back of your head the whole evening.
There, you find him standing at the corner a few feet away from you, Minho with his own drink in hand, sharp feline-like eyes never leaving yours as he takes a sip from his cup, watching you intently like a hawk.
This was the first time you had seen him after what happened a few weeks ago, having no contact with him since that day. So seeing him here was definitely a surprise. Out of every club available in the city, he just really had to go to this one. 
You have no idea how long he’s been standing there or when he even got here, and despite the club being almost dark save for the strobe lights, you know fully well that he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. The irony of how the tables have turned makes you wanna scoff. 
You couldn’t care less if he’s pissed, not when you guys weren’t and aren’t together in the first place. So feeling guilty for entertaining a potential lay who isn’t him is definitely out of the table.
But Minho’s here, watching you flirt with the muscular guy from afar (squeezing his biceps too while you’re at it), getting a taste of his own medicine. Might as well piss him off a bit more. 
Besides, there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.
“Wanna dance with me, Changbin?”
The muscled man didn’t need much convincing, readily offering his hand to you with a smile, helping you off the bar stool before leading you toward the dancefloor. Heat spreads on your cheeks when Changbin guides you through the crowd with a protective arm around your waist until you reach the center, the bass of the upbeat music reverberates through your body. 
With a few drinks in your system, you don't hesitate to dance right away, feeling the music and the energy while Changbin joins in on the fun, watching you move your body while he has his hands on your hips helping you sway before he twirls you around and pulls you against his sturdy chest. 
You close your eyes just for a bit, opting to just let your worries fade away into the back of your brain even if it’s just for tonight. Who cares if Minho is here? He can go fuck himself. It’s about time you move on from him anyway, especially when he made it very clear that you and he are just simply meant to be, something you couldn’t fully stomach a few weeks ago because not only have you lost someone you’ve been intimate with, for lack of better word, you also lost a friend and the years of friendship with it. All that down the drain just because you thought that acting on your feelings was the right idea. 
But tonight is not about that. Tonight, you’re going to redeem yourself and turn over a new leaf. 
Body grinding against body, Changbin handling you well would be an understatement. His touches were respectable enough to not raise a few flags but curious enough to set butterflies flying all over your tummy, his head by your neck breathing in your scent. He’s grown confident enough to breathe against your skin, even smile against it when you giggle every time his fingers wander down your ticklish sides.
“Wanna get another drink before we go somewhere more private?” he asks, his voice sounding way deeper than usual. You smile when he starts peppering kisses on your neck while your arms reach behind you to play with his hair and touch his face, goosebumps rising from your skin at the feeling. “Make it quick then,” you simply reply. “I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.” 
Changbin plants one final kiss before leaving, whispering a quick “I’ll be right back” before disappearing, leaving you alone on the dance floor.
You took the time to enjoy the alone time, fixing your hair and smoothing your dress just before your date for the night comes back, hoping that your makeup is still intact after sweating a bit due to the heat (which, then again, solidifies why you hate packed clubs because it makes the whole place hotter with the number of sweaty bodies. 
But not even a few minutes later, you felt a pair of hands on your waist once again, and thinking it was Changbin, you placed your hands on top of it and giggled. “Back so soon?” you teased, pressing your body against his chest. “Looks like someone’s eager to get out of here.” 
“Yeah, no doubt about that, angel.” 
The familiar voice almost made your stomach drop, your eyes widening in surprise as you pushed yourself off the person behind you. “What the—”
That wasn’t Changbin. 
“Fancy seeing you here, Y/n.”  
It was Minho. 
“What are you doing here?!” you said, totally freaked out. “What am I doing here? I honestly have no idea why you’re acting so surprised when you literally saw me a while ago.” Despite the dizzying strobe lights, you can still see his signature smug look, a smirk plastered on his lips that you so desperately wanted to wipe off. 
“Yeah but—” you sputtered, “that’s beside the point! What are you doing here?” 
“The same reason why you’re here,” Minho simply says, his hands moving to hold you again but you just shrugged him off, infuriated at the fact that he could just come here and show himself as if nothing happened. “Are you following me or something?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. Me seeing you here is purely just a coincidence,” he scoffs out, this time tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, and this time, you let him, momentarily sidetracked by the way he eyed you up and down. “But you are right about one thing though.” 
“And what would that be?” The way his eyes simply locked with yours managed to spread heat all over your body, and the familiarity that it holds, something that you haven’t seen in a long time, something that you’ve missed, was enough to make your walls crumble, so much so you let him wrap an arm around your waist just so he could pull you closer to him, close enough to have his breath fanning against your lips and your noses touch. 
“That I am eager to get the fuck out of here and preferably with you.” 
Leaning in to kiss him seems like the easier choice for you right now, especially when temptation itself presents itself to you wearing a button-up top and matching faux leather jeans and jacket with the name Lee Minho written on its birth certificate, but you can’t let yourself give in right now, not when your resolve is too high for you to just let go.
“I’m sorry but I—”
“I didn’t ask you a question. We’re both leaving. Right now.” 
It was as if the air around you went still the moment you realized he was serious. Gone was the mischief playing in his eyes, gone was his smile. All that’s left is a shell of the man that Minho used to be, replaced by a side of him that completely screams territorial and jealousy.
You didn’t even have the chance to say anything because he’s already moving with you in tow, your dumb silly legs having a mind of their own because you were already letting yourself get dragged through the crowd. After all, whether you admit it or not, this is what you wanted. 
“B-but what about Changbin?” you shout against the loud music and all you got from him was a fierce “He can go fuck himself.” 
Minho was quick to move, leading you outside by your wrist until you found yourself in the club’s parking area, the cool night air helping you to sober you up and realize what was going on. 
“Minho, wait—” you said, tugging against his grip, some self-restraint that’s left in you telling you that this isn’t a good idea, that going home with Minho tonight won’t change anything and could possibly make it worse, but just like before, he doesn’t listen, only tightening his grip until it starts to become uncomfortable. 
“Minho,” you call out again, digging your heels against the payment to add more weight so that he could at least stop and look at you, tell you whatever is running in that head of his, or give you at least some sort of clarity where all this would lead to. “Minho, can you just stop for a sec?” 
This scenario feels oddly familiar, reminding you of that day that altered the course of your life significantly. He’s still so stubborn, a trait of his that never changed, and he’s still too mysterious, and unreadable at times to the point where you can’t seem to understand him at all. Just like right now. 
“Minho, you’re hurting me!” 
Only then did Minho stop, seemingly snapping out of his own thoughts as he finally turned to look at you, his grip now slowly loosening around your wrist, and his eyes now looking at you apologetically.
“What the fuck is this even all about?!” You said, puffing with anger and looking at him incredulously and utterly confused as you pulled your hand away from him. “Why did you just suddenly decide that it’s a good fucking idea to drag me out of the club and steal me away from my date?!” 
“You call that a date? You barely know the guy!” Minho replied with a scoff, shoving his hands into his pockets, acting as if he just made a valid point which only made you want to strangle him until he lost his breath. 
“Who the fuck cares!” you grit out, arms thrown out in the air almost comically. “I’m only trying to fuck him anyway, not marry him!” Your finger points at him, using it to shove him in the chest. 
“Besides,” a shove. “I can date and talk to whoever the fuck I want,” another shove. “Because here’s news for you, Minho, we’re not together!” and another.  “We only fucked each other for mutual benefit and you decided to cut it off because, in your words, we’re not on the same page! So forgive me for fooling around with some guy I just met who isn’t you—” you tried to shove him again, but this time, he catches your hand and stops you before you could even do anything, his body inching closer to yours until your faces a inches apart, his eyes holding both anger and annoyance and perhaps a little bit of regret too because he knows damn well what you said was right, that he did said those words and now it’s all coming back to him to bite him on the bum. But he stays serious and doesn’t let the mean and tough demeanor melt away, not even just a bit.
“We both know that even if he did fuck you tonight, all you’re going to think about is me,” he confidently says, a faint ghost of a smirk decorating his lips. You feel yourself flush at his sudden declaration, eyes slightly widening at his words that are just straight-up vulgar but somehow it still struck on your arousal, a scenario of you under the buffer man’s body yet all you could remember were the nights you spent with Minho now being painted into your mind. It feels all too wrong yet you know he’s right. Perhaps only the gods would know how much you’d struggle to forget about him, and sleeping with another man even just for one night would do little to no help in doing that.  
“And we both know that you’re mine, angel. Always have been,” this time, Minho’s voice is a lot quieter, almost sounding like a whisper as his face now so close to yours you could feel your breaths mixing together, your noses almost perfectly slotting side by side as he continues to peer into your eyes. “Your mind, your body, your soul. All mine.” 
You gulp, your heart beating rapidly against your chest as you fight back the sudden urge to just kiss him already just to shut him up, but you can’t because that would be simply proving his point, something you’d wanna put off from doing for now because your pride is too high for you to just give in, so you shut your eyes tight and took a deep breath, even when the feeling of his cold nose brush against your cheek made you shudder.
God, you so desperately wanna give in already.
“I’m not yours, Minho.” You said as firmly as you could, finally opening your eyes so that you could look at him with sheer determination. It seemed to work though, as something seemed to shift in Minho’s gaze, darkening as each second passed. 
Oh?
You’re familiar with this look, this side of him that had the kind of gaze that had you bursting with adrenaline and arousal before when you used to push his buttons until he got fed up with your bratty attitude. 
And right now, it still works on you, warmth spreading throughout your body as it yearns for his touch again, crumbling your resolve to bits. But you hold on to the very last bit of your sanity, wanting to drag it all out because that’s what you want, pushing his buttons and resisting to be under his control which would only make him want to take it back from you, show you who you belong too. Right now, it wouldn’t matter to Minho what he said before, he would take it back if he could as long as you get to be his again. 
Not that you have a problem with that, but since you’re petty for what he did, there’s no harm done in making him work for it even just a little bit more. 
“Oh? Do I need to remind you who you belong to?” He’d pick you up and sling you over his shoulder to bring you home if he could, but he can't, not until he sees you pick up on what he’s insinuating here which you definitely did. Right now, you have the choice to push him away again or take the bait. 
You stayed silent, your eyes never moving away from his, feeling his intense gaze wash all over your body.
“I don’t know,” you drag out, a small smile appearing on your face as you tilt your head to the side. “Maybe Changbin can remind me instead, he looks promising.” 
“Don’t you even dare say his name ever again—” 
“And what the fuck are you gonna do about it? Piss on me like a fucking dog marking its territory?”
There it is. His eyes narrow toward you and he sees the mischief sparkle in your eyes and hears the teasing undertone in your words. You just took the bait and are now dangling it right in front of him just to prove a point.
“Fuck around and find out, why don’t you?” 
---
The number of traffic violations Minho just committed as he drove you to his place was far too much to count, speeding through the empty streets just so he could get there faster and driving through a red light just so there’s no time wasted. It’s obvious how his patience has already run thin, his lips already crashing into yours the moment you step inside his apartment, tugging at each other’s article of clothing because the two of you can’t seem to bear the thought of not being able to feel more of the other’s skin.
As he pushes you against the door, his lips already sucking bruises on your neck, you manage to snake one of your hands to the front of his pants, palming his already hard cock which made him hiss against your skin. 
“Bedroom. Now.” You didn’t need to be told twice, already moving out of the way so you can head to his room, removing your heels in the process while Minho is already removing his leather jacket and leaving it lifelessly thrown at his living room floor. 
By the time you reach his room, he wastes no time pushing you onto his bed, making you land on your back before he climbs above you, kissing you again with so much heat and fervor. Tongue clashing against tongue, teeth mashing against teeth, you moan into his mouth when his hand cups one of your breasts into his hand, fondling and squeezing it almost impatiently against the fabric of your breast. 
A single nip of his teeth against your skin has you tugging on his top, desperately wanting to take it off of him just so you can already feel and touch his skin without a barrier of clothing separating your bodies.
“I thought you didn’t want me tonight?” Minho sarcastically quips, pulling himself away from you to help you untuck his top from his pants. “I thought you said you didn’t love me,” you reply just as quickly, impatiently unbuttoning his dress shirt until you decided that it was taking too long for your liking so you just tugged harshly against the fabric until the buttons get ripped out and fly everywhere the room, hitting the floor beneath. 
“For the record, I never said I didn’t love you,” says as he shrugs the now useless top off of him. “I only said that it isn’t working out for us anymore.” 
Now it was your turn to get undressed, Minho flipping you onto your stomach just so he could pull your zipper down your back, leaving you a few seconds just to ponder over what he said. “Yeah? But what’s the difference? All that sounds the same to me,” you said as you pushed yourself off the mattress just so you could slide your dress off, leaving only your undergarments on before throwing it on the floor.
“Now you’re just being dense,” Minho scoffs, unbuckling his belt while you lay back down, finally facing him again. “And you’re being confusing,” you snarkily reply, your hands reaching out to unbutton his jeans. He only rolls his eyes before a hand moves to grab your face, his fingers squeezing your cheeks. “Less talking, more kissing, yeah?”
True to his word, he starts kissing you again, releasing your face just so he can hurriedly pull his pants down while he shoves his tongue in your mouth, battling with yours with a quiet groan before moving to kiss and lick at your jaw and neck that had you whimpering while you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at it whenever you seem fit just to illicit another groan from him. 
He takes his time kissing you and sucking on your skin, adding more hickies to your neck and chest all the while he’s pulling on your bra straps to free one of your breasts just so he can pop a nipple in his mouth while he toys with the other using his fingers. He alternates between sucking on your tits to teasing your nipples with his tongue, occasionally nipping it too just to hear you hiss before trailing his kisses down your stomach then to your lower abdomen, just above your pubic bone while his fingers play with the elastic of your panties.
All the teasing he’s been doing goes straight to your core, a growing wet patch already forming in your panties, and if Minho ever saw it, he doesn’t comment on it, too focused on the way you’re already panting as if you’re out of breath like you’ve run a marathon when all you did was just make out. Not that he was doing any better, he’s already rock hard in his boxers, the tent all too prominent with the way the stretchy fabric morphs around his member as he sits on his knees just so he can slide your panties off of you. 
He spreads your legs just as quick, hissing at the way your wetness seems to glisten under the light, even close to salivating just by looking at it. “Fucking hell, angel,” Minho huffs out, immediately shifting his position so that he has each of your leg over his shoulder while he’s face to face with your cunt, fingers working its way through your folds, spreading the wetness all over until it’s messy enough for his liking or until he has you squirming beneath him, desperately needing his fingers inside you and on your clit. 
“Such a wet fucking cunt,” he briefly comments before lightly tapping on your clit. “You better drench my fucking face after this or else I’m not gonna fuck you. You hear me?” 
You reply with a simple hum, no longer trusting the sound of your own voice because may god forbid you hear how desperate you sound like right now, especially when he’s teasing you all the right places. A harsh bite to your thigh then pulls you out of your thoughts, making you yelp out from the sharp pain as you look down to where Minho is, only to be met by a glare. “Yapping your damn mouth all over the place earlier and now you can’t talk?”
Holy fuck.
His words only make you whine and make your pussy clench around nothing, a wave of arousal from the pit of your stomach washing through your body. God how you missed this, how you missed this side of Minho, the one that had you easily slipping into a more submissive headspace, the one that had you feeling needier than ever. 
“S-sorry,” you managed to stutter out, heat spreading on your cheeks from the sudden embarrassment. 
“So she does speak. Good.” Before you could even figure out how to respond to that, Minho pushes in two fingers right away, stretching out your hole and curling his fingers until he hits the spot that has your toes curling and you moaning out so sinfully. “You better tell me when you’re cumming then. Got that, angel?” 
“Y-yes, yes, I— fuck!” he starts fingering you before you could even finish what you were saying, the words dying on your tongue only to be replaced by your moans and the sounds of his fingers working their way in your pussy, wet slick noises accompanied by his occasional hums and grunts spurring you even more. Minho doesn’t even need to work that hard to figure out what makes you tick the most, having already memorized how your pussy works like the back of his palm. He has one of his thumbs rubbing firm circles on your clit while his fingers in your cunt massages against your sweet spot over and over again, making you literally see stars and have tears run down your face. The pleasure his fingers bring only seem to make your head swirl and your ears ring, effectively drowning out that isn’t Minho Minho Minho and the way he works his fingers in and out of your sopping cunt. 
By the time he puts in a third, he has his mouth on you, alternating from licking your pussy from bottom to top to wrapping his pretty lips around your clit. He had to taste you, especially after being away from you for so long, so excuse him when he replacing his fingers with his tongue, the strong muscle dipping into your walls just so he could taste you better, loves it when he feels you clench around it, loves it when you cry out his name when his fingers pinch your clit while he’s out it. It’s driving him delirious; your taste, your smell, your pussy, your moans, everything. 
“M-Minho, c-close— ah! —if you keep doing that, I-I’ll cum!” you warn him the best as you could, your fingers already tugging at his roots while you grind your cunt against him, chasing your high. And when you do cum, your whole body shakes from the intensity of it, convulsing beneath him like a leaf as you brokenly moan out his name while your eyes roll to the back of your head. 
It isn't until the overstimulation starts to kick in when you start to move against him, but he doesn’t budge, continuing to stimulate your core with his mouth as he laps at your juices, even using his arms to lock your legs over his shoulders in place. 
“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, voice muffled against your cunt because he’s too into it now to move his mouth away. “Give me another then I’ll consider fucking your pussy.”
It’s when the sting of the overstimulation bleeds into pleasure that makes your whole body feel like putty, hearing nothing but static as he starts to build you up again for another orgasm which seemed quicker than the first. In no time, you’re clenching around him again, your back arching off the bed while the coil that’s wrapped up tightly in the pit of your stomach threatens to snap. The only time you unravel beneath him for the second time was when he presses his hand against your lower abdomen, the added pressure did nothing but to amp up to the pleasure against your sweet spot. 
“That’s it, angel. Fucking cum for me just like that, just like that, baby—” you feel warmth spread through you then out of you, squirting all over his wrist and his awaiting tongue, cumming for what feels like eternity as the pleasure of your release leaves you no concept of time.
Minho milks you through your orgasm, pulling out his fingers just so he could rub your wetness all over your cunt before he flips you to your stomach to puts a pillow underneath your hips for the perfect angle. 
“I’ll fuck you now, hmm? Squirted all over my face so now I’m gonna give you my cock, okay angel?” He makes quick work of ridding himself of his boxers, finally setting his cock free from its confines, and slides it between your ass and pussy, gathering as much wetness as it could before he slides in. He practically moans at the feeling of your walls swallowing his hard cock, the warm velvety muscle wrapping around the length of it, watching it from above as he slowly slides it in and out of your pussy with both of his hands on your hips. 
Your toes curl every time he pushes in, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm. The pillow beneath you only made his cock slide against your sweet spot even more, hitting you just at the right angle that has you moaning against the sheets. 
“You feel so fucking good around me, angel,” Minho moans out, and you could almost imagine the way his head is thrown back in pleasure, exposing that pretty neck of his that you could just bite and mark up. Perhaps next time when you’re not absolutely getting your brains fucked out you’d take the chance. 
The moment Minho cages you in with his arms planted on each of your side, you know you’re gone. His thrusts had already sped up, his balls slapping against your swollen clit as the sound of skin against skin and slick echoes throughout the room. The extra stimulation of his cock perfectly hitting your sweet spot all thanks to the damned pillow beneath your stomach only brings you closer to your third release of the night. 
Minho isn’t too far off, the deprivation he felt for weeks of not feeling you is not catching up to him, but still he tries to fend off his orgasm until yours, his arms already shaking in effort. 
“You gotta come for me, angel. Wanna feel you cum around my cock,” he grunts out, his chest now pressed against your back as he fully cages you in, his lips dragging against the skin of your back before pressing kisses on your shoulders blades. “Need you to cum for me, sweetheart. I miss feeling you ‘round me.” 
He thrusts against you a few more times before he resorts to just grinding his cock against your walls, hissing at the way it rubs against him, even more so when you clench around him as you finally cum for the final time, tears spilling from your eyes due to the intensity of it. 
“Fucking hell, that’s it, baby. Oh shit— just clench around just like that, holy fuck—” he starts fucking you again, quickly thrusting into just so he could catch your high while he milks you through yours. 
“I’m gonna fucking cum in this pussy, got that?” he says breathlessly, pushing himself off of you just so he could grab your hips again, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Then I’m gonna fucking piss on you. Mark you all up like a stupid little mutt because you're mine. You’re my fucking territory. Mine.” 
You only whine at his words, too cock drunk to even figure out what he’s saying, mindlessly repeating his words back to him as you grip the sheets. “C-cum, piss—” you hiccup out. “M-Minho, need y-your cum, please.” 
With his bottom lip caught between his teeth and a few more harsh thrusts, he cums with a guttural groan, fingers tightly digging into your hips you’re sure there’d be bruises on your skin the next day. With every pump of his cum inside you, he shallowly thrusts inside you before he pulls out just to finish on your ass and back. Sputters of his seed was soon followed by a warm stream of his piss, relieving himself with a groan as he makes a mess all over your body, the liquid spilling all over your ass to your back and cunt, mixing in with his cum until it spills unto the sheets below you. 
After that, only the sounds of your shared heavy panting can be heard, catching both of your breaths in silence until you break into a tired chuckle. 
“Damn,” you say, wincing when you feel the liquid on your back rapidly cool against your heated skin. “You could always just ask me out, you know?” 
Minho only rolls his eyes on you with that, his head hanging between his shoulders as he chuckles with you. “Shut up. You liked it anyway—” 
“You even went with the dramatics, Min. What was that again? Fuck around and find out?”
“Very funny, Y/n. Let’s get you cleaned up now.” 
---
Minho settles beside you on the pull out couch, his bed being not available at the moment because of your early… activities. His bedsheets are already in the washing machine while the two of you had already bathed and dressed comfortably with you wearing of his shirts. 
He spoons you from behind, his arms tucking beneath yours while he nuzzles his face against your neck and hair, your limbs all tangled up from one another. It’s already 3 am at that point and everything is quiet, the earth seemingly as sleep. It feels oddly peaceful this way in his arms with his hand laced with yours as your tucked closely against his chest, easily making you feel sleepy. 
“Y/n,” before you pass out, you hear Minho quietly whisper and you answer with a tired “Hm?”
“I meant it when I said that I only want you.” 
Your heart starts to beat rapidly at his sudden confession, effectively waking your system up, but you stay still, your breathing still controlled as you try to stay silent, so silent in fact that Minho almost thought that you were already asleep. “I’m sorry that I was a coward and ran away from what I felt towards you,” he continues, further nuzzling his face against you as his hold tightens against your body. “I just don’t wanna lose you again.”
You hear the vulnerability in Minho’s voice, the way he sounded so sincere and genuine as he holds you close to him, the way he’s thumbing against the skin of your hand taking you back to the nights you’ve spent with him just like this— just you and him in the comfort of each other's arms. 
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow?” You finally reply and Minho breathes out a sigh of relief. 
“Yeah. Tomorrow. Let’s talk about it.” 
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doobea · 4 months
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♡‧₊˚ i got my eyes on you ೄྀ࿐ˊˎ ─ MILESTONE MASTERLIST
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HI EVERYONE!! I hope everyone is excited to this milestone event hehe! It ended up being 10 reqs in total and I just wanna send everyone a HUGE thank you again for sticking with me throughout the months on this crazy site hehe. I tried to keep most of the tropes relevant to the original requests but I added my own ideas/flare to some of them!! any of the ✰'s you see are added hehe
For those who are out of the loop, please refer to this OG post about the event! Anyways, I hope you guys look forward to this!! I've been dying to write some new ideas hehe
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COMING SOON:
OF THREADS AND RIBBONS ─ MEGUMI F.
synopsis: you can see the red strings of fate holding people together, but no one is allowed to know that. that fact didn't stop you from using your knowledge to nudge soulmates together. of course, this led to you getting a reputation as the class matchmaker, which isn't an issue until your soulmate, Megumi Fushiguro, asks you to set him up with someone else.
tropes: soulmate AU, college AU
ALWAYS BE MY MAYBE ─ MEGUMI F.
synopsis: upon graduating and landing your first job outside of college, you soon realize that being in your twenties suck. outside of working nine hours everyday, setting time for the gym, and making shitty home cooked meals, you have a new stressor joining your team on monday - your ex.
tropes: second chances, office romance
NOT LIKE GOLD IN YOUR DREAMS ─ SUKUNA R.
synopsis: your tycoon family has done you the favor of finding the 'perfect' bachelor, aiming to strengthen their connections and net worth. and who is your future husband? cold, brash, and down right dangerous. he is the definition of devastation poured and disguised in a suit.
tropes: arranged marriage, slow burn, billionaire!sukuna ✰
BUT YOU'RE A MASTERPIECE ─ SATORU G.
synopsis: when your friends urge you to take up a new hobby, you decide on figure drawing. you convince yourself that it'll be a good way to make friends, to let your hands and mind run loose for three hours, and maybe you'll find the passion for art again. what you didn't expect is to fall in love with your nude model.
tropes: slow burn, model/artist AU ✰
NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS ─ SATORU G.
synopsis: the last thing you'd expect after moving to raccoon city is a zombie outbreak. but good thing you have a hot police officer to look after you, right?
tropes: zombie AU, christmas AU, police officer!gojo ✰, resident evil AU ✰
YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MISTER GOJO ─ SATORU G.
synopsis: satoru gojo is spoiled and arrogant. he's also the next in line to inherit his family's fortune. his father sends him far away in a small town for a week in hopes that he'll 'change' for the better. instead of the usual five-starred hilton hotels, he stays at a local inn and starts to befriend the owner's daughter.
tropes: small town romance, christmas au, golden retriever x black cat
SPITTIN' OUT LIKE LISTERINE ─ RIN I.
synopsis: sae is great at a lot of things, his brother... not so much. when sae calls you up to tutor rin for his upcoming exams the first thought should've been 'yeah, sounds like easy money' rather than 'why does it look like he wants to kill me right now'.
tropes: best friend's brother, forced proximity, tutor!reader ✰
FROM NEW YORK, WITH LOVE ─ RIN I.
synopsis: it's loud here. loud enough that you can hear the street conversations and car alarms going off all the way from the tenth floor. loud enough that the next door neighbor's dog won't stop barking and their owner just happens to work second shift so they're not able to comfort them. its loud and you haven't spoken to rin since landing here in new york. maybe it was a mistake to come after all.
tropes: second chance, hurt/comfort, college AU
NEW GAME PLUS ─ RIN I.
synopsis: ranked number three on the top streaming platform, twitch, rin hides his secret identity pretty well for a college student. during the day, he's studying non-stop and, when night comes, he's getting headshots left and right while yelling into comms. he absolutely hates losing, which is why you're on his shit list - AKA the second top streamer and the second best sniper in all of asia. so what does rin do when he finds out that you're suddenly his new project partner?
tropes: esport AU, rivals to lovers, college AU, overwatch ✰ (i picked this game bc i know a lot of it lol i hope you don't mind)
ICE, ICE, BABY ─ YOICHI I.
synopsis: you don't do spontaneous and you hate it when things don't align with your routine. so when the school's hockey team messes up their rink and has to settle with the figure skating one, you'll do everything in your power to make sure you'll reach the nationals - even if it means distracting the hockey team's star player.
tropes: hockey player!isagi, figure skater!reader ✰, enemies to lovers
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© 2023 DOOBEA. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.
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jaehunnyy · 4 months
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time's the charm | cs
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Genre: 'hate everyone but you' trope, angst, fluff
Word count: 2.3k
Pairing: quiet-boy!San x fem!reader
Warnings: San has a sad past (nothing triggering mentioned tho), mentions of running from home, sadness, toxic men, crying, some harsh words, misunderstandings, happy ending tho!!, possible grammar mistakes
Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @pocketjoong-reads, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluisheye93, @i-luvsang, @ad0rechuu, @starillusion13
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You had no idea when the quiet, ebony haired guy’s eyes started to form red hearts whenever they landed on you. You had no idea when he gathered the courage to look away from his phone, just so he could get a glimpse of your outfit that day, or your hair, anything when it came to you. You also had no idea that Choi San was capable of having feelings, and neither did he. That was the first time San pleasantly surprised someone.
There wasn’t much he knew about you. Aside from your not-so-good reputation around the campus, he also found out that you held the power to make his heart jolt in happiness, or whatever that feeling was supposed to be. The lingering feeling of warmth whenever he saw you was burning his skin, along with the electric arrows piercing through his spine—and he hated it. He hated that he couldn’t hate you, just like he did with everyone else around him. But he knew he brought it upon himself, and maybe this one time, he was willing to try and risk some things.
You, on the other hand, knew what the people around you wanted you to know about him. San didn’t talk to anyone except one person (the only person he called a friend, just because they were roommates), which is why you just let the guys in your class spill whatever harsh things they dreamt up whenever his headphones were covering his ears; except he wasn’t always listening to music, but also to the things they were saying about him—because what’s so great in lying is the not knowing.
Little did they know that instead of making you stay away from him, it intrigued you. You wanted to see behind the fluffy halo of black surrounding his head—you wanted to know the story of the blue streak that blended in between his black hairs, what music resonated through his ears every break, or what shop he preferred whenever he went shopping. Something told you there was something special about the guy. He was different from all the other ones you messed with, and as much as you didn’t want to hurt him, you were selfish enough to want him for yourself.
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Love did its wonders in the last few weeks, cause San didn’t know what had gotten into him when he grabbed the smallest piece of paper he eyed and a pen, writing a short note and putting it into your locker. It was like Cupid was controlling him or whatever, and as much as his nose scrunched at the thought of those lovey-dovey things, his heart swelled with pride. He just wanted to be looked at from a different point of view, he thought that maybe, you would look at him differently.
“San? Did you just put something into y/n’s locker?” his only friend, Yeosang, asked him with a frown on his face.
San looked at him with puppy-like eyes, as he was caught red-handed.
“San… what did I tell you when you transferred here?”
The black haired guy looked at the older boy, whispering in a tiny voice: “To stay away from her.”
“Well, it definitely doesn’t seem like you are too great at it.” His friend snapped, dragging him along the hallway.
“Yeosang, she makes me feel things no one else has, I don't even know how to describe it.”
“She will make you feel some unique things when she will break your heart too.” The blonde haired guy said and left, not in the mood to argue with his friend.
San felt small again. He hated everyone for the way they treated him—for seeing him as nothing less than a fragile thing who could break in any second. When he ran away at the age of fourteen, everything changed inside the once bubbly guy. He became quiet, indifferent even, or that was just the wall he built around him from broken memories and dirty past; cause deep down, he just wanted to be loved, despite hate being the only thing he knew how to offer.
You truly wanted to get closer to him. You admired how his head bobbed to the beat of the music he was listening to, or how his lips would form a pout when he got out of words when writing a note—the same love notes that continued to grow into a pile on your desk, bringing a lopsided smile on your face whenever you thought about the dimpled guy who sent them. You saw him sticking one of them a few days ago, yet you had too much fun seeing him like this—as the cold boy who had a soft spot for you; so you acted a fool.
You weren’t as bad as everyone claimed you were; you were just giving nasty men a taste of their own poison. Call yourself a femme fatale or whatever, but you just enjoyed seeing them crawl for forgiveness after what they did; yet your little act of service brought you a title as dirty as your actions, so you could just bear it in exchange for some healed hearts. You grew tired of the brokenhearted girls around the campus, so you just made their exes approach you enough so you could break their heart; you would call it playing the hero; except it wasn’t seen the same by the ones who sided with the villains of the story.
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The more time passed, the more you were getting infatuated with the quiet boy, as much as he was getting addicted to your intoxicating presence. You could say you two fell in love with the help of the innocent notes, hiding behind the sweet nothings plastered on the pieces of paper; and this little word game of yours gave San enough confidence, the moment he decided he was ready to ask you on a messy date. That was the second time he pleasantly surprised someone with his efforts.
You might be curious about who I am. Meet me today at 7pm in the park? ♡
You would have said yes, if only someone didn’t have a trump card. The moment San turned his back away from the lockers, the boy who had other plans for you took the note and stamped on it, before throwing it into the closest trash bin he found. He couldn’t let this date happen, and it sadly didn’t—which is why you weren’t aware of the guy waiting for you in the cold, tears threatening to stain his cheeks with the salty taste of loss. Was that all he was destined to? Pain? Where did he go wrong this time?
He waited and waited, and when the clock hit 9pm, he realized he should have probably listened to his friend. He was way out of your league—and still, your responses to his texts (though he supposed you didn’t know it was him), and the subtle smiles you threw in his direction, he thought that maybe, just maybe, in his world full of darkness and bad luck, you would be his lucky charm. He let out a bitter laugh the moment he felt the familiar wetness on his cheek, making him remember that instead of hating everyone but you, he should have stuck to hating everyone, including you. That was the moment he swore he would never waste his feelings on anyone, deciding that he was made to wallow in self-pity forever.
And as expected due to the circumstances, the notes stopped—and you were sad; that sad that you distanced yourself from your heartthrob activities, just to focus on the boy you grew to adore. But things changed—San changed. He didn’t look at you anymore, his once fond look turning into painful daggers whenever your eyes laid on him. His dimples were hidden deeply in his soft cheeks, making you wonder what happened. If it was your fault, if it was a false hope you had, if he was like the other ones. While you two were hurting each other with the lack of affection, the tragedy was happening under the eyes of the person who screwed it all.
You endured, and endured, until one day, you couldn’t endure anymore. When you finished your lectures, you followed San, stopping him at the nearest wall of the school and looking into his eyes.
“Why did you stop sending me notes? I liked them, San.” You whispered, looking for any sign of emotion on his face.
To say he was surprised that you knew it was him was an understatement—though it didn’t matter anymore. You were probably just trying to fool him again.
“I never sent you any notes. You must be mistaking me for someone else.” He said coldly, not even looking into your eyes. He was lying.
“I saw you sticking them to my locker, San. Please, tell me.”
He let out a scoff, followed by a mocking laughter.
“Why do you even care now? Are you going to tell the whole college now? That I am such a pathetic guy?”
“San, please!”
He looked at your pleading eyes, debating if he should give you an explanation or not. You didn’t deserve it, but his feelings made a step forward.
“Why would I try to hit on someone who would only laugh at me? You broke my heart—gave me hope, and then stamped on all my efforts to ask you out the moment you made me wait for you for two hours. And this isn’t even the biggest problem,” he paused, his sharp eyes laying on your confused face: “The problem is I can't even hate you for it. Because I know you deserve better; yet I still had some hope.”
Your eyes widened. What was this man talking about? While you were engulfed in your thoughts, he was ready to leave, but you were quick to grab his wrist, making him turn back to you, an annoyed expression on his face.
“San, let me talk.”
“About? I already know you don’t do relationships or anything, kind of learned it the hard way.” He said sarcastically, yet you knew he was as hurt as you were.
“If you truly like me, give me a chance to speak,” you begged, and you saw his stiff expression relaxing just a bit, a small nod of his head encouraging you to continue: “I don’t understand. What did you expect from me? You never asked me out!”
San frowned, knuckles so tense from the way he was clenching his fists.
“I literally did a week ago?”
You don’t recall receiving a note a week ago. You thought hard, but the last time you got a note from him, he asked you to expect something later. So, what if someone was sabotaging you, stealing the chance you had away?
“San, I didn't find any notes a week ago. I can show you all the notes I have if you want, I… kinda collect them.” You said, a small blush on your cheek—only that he wasn’t buying it this time.
And that’s when it hit you.
“San, wait—what if I never got the note? What if someone didn’t want us to happen?”
“Stop finding excuses to play with me.”
“San, I'm not, list—”
You were interrupted by a shuffling sound behind you, and that's when the culprit who was eavesdropping all this time appeared, a halo of fair hair surrounding his head as he looked down, drenched in guilt.
“It was me. I didn't want you to happen, because I was scared you would hurt my friend.” Yeosang whispered, head hung down in shame.
He never felt that small in front of San; it was always the other way around. But now, he felt like he did the wrongest thing ever, and he didn’t think he had any right to look his friend—or you, in the eyes.
“Yeosang…? Why would you even? You—you knew I was so into her, so… why…?”
“I know she hurts everyone she gets with. I wanted to prevent you from heartbreak.”
“I don't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. I just get revenge for my friends’ broken hearts by messing with their exes’ minds, and this might make me look like some sort of fuckgirl and whatnot, but this time, I fell in love. For real.”
San looked at you in awe, the light in his beautiful eyes shining again.
“Did you really?” he stuttered,
“I… I think I did, yeah.”
San wondered if it was too late to ask you out, again. And, as the invisible red thread of fate tied you to one another, you kinda read his thoughts.
“If you still want to, I would love to go out with you, Sannie.”
Sannie. The first nickname that got his heart running laps, along with the butterflies dancing a sweet dance of victory inside of him.
Yeosang’s eyes filled with hope, and he looked up at his friend, who gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder.
“Thank you for caring, Yeosang. But I am on my own now.” He said, before grabbing your hand and leaving with you.
This was San—the quiet guy who was pretending to hate everyone while waiting for the person who would look behind his intentions, who would see how much he craved to be loved and understood. He improved so much, and that was the third time San had pleasantly surprised someone—but this time, it would definitely not be the last.
After everything he had been through, he felt like the sun had finally risen on his street, the moment he first woke up with you in his arms. This was only the start of his journey to happiness, and he hoped it would last more than the suffering he went through in his twenty years of life.
Time’s the charm, and despite the hardships you two faced, he wouldn’t want it any other way. He felt invincible when he held your hand, happiness written all over his face, and he was sure that he wasn’t meant to cycle this beautiful trip alone, but with the love of his life by his side.
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