#Hes an array of choices he never got to make | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlinos · 3 months

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It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉 Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field.

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again.

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head.

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

#stray kids #bang chan smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan x you #stray kids smut #skz #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you

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risuola · 8 months

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DON'T HOLD BACK — F. READER x GETO SUGURU, who'’s as sweet as he's mean to you

If anyone got to know Suguru Geto, they would say that he's really nice guy, very kind and soft spoken, and they wouldn't be exactly wrong, but it seemed like you were the only person in the world that knows that Suguru, your tattoo artist boyfriend, is a meanie.

cw: smut, no-curse au, size difference, spanking, hair pulling, cunningulus, slight description of pain (tattoo related), so many pet names, Geto has tattoos and piercings (yup, that's a warning), there's an appearance od Satoru at the end, reader discretion is advised — 7,9k words

masterlist

If anyone would ask you few days ago what will you be doing on friday at 21:38pm, you’d probably respond with a large dose of confidence, that you’ll be resting in your bed. Maybe catching up on your favorite anime because you had no time to watch the newest episode during the week. You’d be lying comfortably, sipping on your favorite, fruity tea and if you’d feel fancy enough, maybe you’d even order yourself a pizza. That’s what you’d assume you’ll be doing late on friday, it sounded reasonable and reasonable is what you liked to call yourself.

Making spontaneous decisions is not a trait you’d give to your personality. You were always the one to think at least twice, usually more like seven times, before you commit to something, especially when it came to serious things such as body modifications or a choice of college. You were an overthinker, a helpless one to be exact, but that got you through life somewhat safely up until the point of reaching the sophomore year at uni. Your grades were fairly good, you had a little circle of people that were close to your heart, and you couldn’t think of many that you’d actually call your enemies. Being called a bore by your best friend was just a side effect of your usually cold and calculated thought process, but it never bothered you.

That was just who you were – a helpless overthinker – so it’s only natural, that you couldn’t find an answer reasonable enough to explain why on earth, on late friday evening, while the clock was slowly but surely heading towards 10pm, you were standing in front of the deep purple, slightly flickering neon sign that read Curseive.

A clever concoction of something so dark and mysterious as a curse and the intricate art of lines and shapes that the font cursive is all about – it hung up high above the entrance, written in a way that mirrored the conflicting feelings and somehow making it work. It was a tattoo salon, a relatively new one in your area, but it already had many good reviews online – or at least that’s what you assumed while doing the quickest research of your life. If scrolling through the messages left by customers for at most thirty seconds could be even called research. Why were you here? You had no clue, but you pushed the doors open and there was that little version of you sitting on your shoulder that wished you’ll just get asked out, because the salon was closing in about 20 minutes, but you decided to ignore the frail voice in your head and move forward.

When you stepped inside, it was empty in the lobby where the little sofa was situated for those who are waiting and a desk that was probably a reception. Dark walls around you were adorned by paintings that on the first glance looked to you like were handmade. Quickly you found yourself lost in the soft sound of buzzing that mixed with the quiet rock music playing somewhere in the background, as you began examining the artworks around you. One of the walls was made into a gallery of sorts, with the photographs of finished tattoos and printed patterns displayed in an array, supplemented with little descriptive notes and sometimes comments, that you assumed were left by clients. All of them were breathtaking and although you couldn’t see yourself rocking most of those heavy inks on your own skin, you were more than happy to appreciate and analyze. The precision of lines, the shading, the colors and composition – all of those tickled your artistic soul in ways not many things could and maybe it was the aesthete in you who stopped you from decorating your own body until this point, because fact is – you thought about getting a tattoo many times before. You really did and even had a pattern you really wanted, but it just scared the shit out of you to think someone could butcher it up and charge you for the mess. So, you never made an appointment. Until now. Now you were determined to do so.

You took one deeper breath, as if encouraging your own self to speak up and make your presence inside more obvious. The subtle scent of antiseptics and inks filled in your lungs as you inhaled, but instead of giving you more courage, you became more nervous. It’s just an appointment, you thought to yourself, you can always call later and say you have to call it off. Yeah, that sounded like a plan in your head and with that plan, your legs automatically moved towards the exit, despite what you wished to do.

“Running away, princess?”

That voice. You couldn’t mistake it for anyone else, you knew the soft, tender tone that even laced with malice sounded so pleasurable to the ear. You knew the owner, although not that close, but you met him many times – not one of them being all that nice. It was Suguru Geto, one of the biggest heartthrobs in your college. He rocked a disposable, black surgical mask that was pulled down under his chin and a pair of black gloves that he was in the process of taking off. Silver earrings glistened in the dim light of the salon, just as his rings were when he finally dealt with the hand protection. Your eyes glazed over the metallic accessories he had on – that also tickled something inside of you, triggering an unknown fantasy of having those long, ringed fingers of him deep in your… Suguru had nice hands.

“I’m not running away,” you told him, hoping that your voice was as firm as you intended it to be. Spoiler alert, it wasn't.

“No? Looked like it.” He chuckled, throwing the latex to the designated trash. His tone was taunting, you felt so small under the weight of his golden gaze. “Are you lost, little girl? You don’t exactly fit in that place now, do you?”

“You’re working here?” The question slipped through your mouth as if it wasn’t completely obvious from the very fact that he was here, alone, equipped in safety gloves and a mask, so near the closing time.

“Do I work here?” He took a look around himself, taking the mask off his ears and throwing it away before once again looking at you. “It’s kinda my place, so yeah, you could say so.”

That actually made sense the more you thought about it. Suguru was your senior, he was two years older and now finishing college. You had some of the faculties joint with his year and you were always the one to sit beside him – by the orders of the teacher, not by your own choice, although sitting next to him wasn’t that bad usually. You can clearly remember that during every lecture, he was doodling something on the screen of his ipad – something that you never really paid attention to because for your own good, you decided that staying away from the so-called frat boys was the best you could do. All this time, he probably was designing tattoo patterns.

“Right, so-“

“I assume, if you’re here that means you’d like to have something inked, is that correct?”

“Y-yeah, but, uh-“

“Are you 100% about it or did you come here to stutter?” You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious about your decisions or just mocking your nervousness, but either way, you felt it in ways you probably shouldn’t. This man had some power in his demeanor, and when he leaned over the counter, propping himself on the elbows and looking at you like a predator would glance at his pray, you felt small.

Suguru wasn’t the typical fuckboy, although he for sure was a magnet for the ladies, thanks to his absolutely stunning visual. That, you couldn’t deny – he was just gorgeous, with his sharp features that somehow still looked soft and inviting, the golden irises of his eyes that never faltered from eye contact, manly jawline and long, luscious locks of black hair that he often tied in a low bun. You never seen him in anything that wasn’t grey or black – white when it really was an odd day – but other than that, he was dressing in monochrome and you truly couldn’t blame him. He was a type to make the most boring sweats set look like the sexiest outfit on earth with just the fact that it was him who wore it. Yeah, he was gorgeous, you had to give him that, or rather blame him for that, because his apparition was for sure going to be the beginning to your end. Speaking dramatically, of course.

“I’m sure.” You forced out, mentally kicking yourself for being caught off guard just because it was him. You were never that taken aback near him, but you were also never alone with him. It was easier to stay indifferent when there were people around, when all of his focus wasn’t targeted at you and when that gorgeous pair of eyes wasn’t gazing straight into your soul. You felt like he could read your thoughts just by looking at you.

“Cool. So, let me close and you’d tell me what’s your vision.”

Suguru found your presence in his studio amusing. He’s seen you at uni, you were quite known in his circle of friends that unofficially were called the frat boys, even though your college didn’t really have this kind of organization. It’s due to your friendship with the cheerleader’s leader, but thing is – although you’re close with most of the fun girls, you were most definitely no fun whatsoever and for some reason, Geto found it interesting. And the fact you never faltered to speak up for yourself… How he’d wish to fuck the attitude out of you. He himself wasn’t exactly the type to party until blackout, drink until sunrise or have a checklist for girls to screw at the college. He had no wish to cross any names off of any list. Aware of his good looks, he used them to their limits to make his way through studies smoother and there were not many things that he couldn’t achieve if he tried hard enough. Even the principal of his faculty had a soft spot for him, so many things he was able to get away with. That being said, if he really wanted to have a girl, unless she was really hooked in someone else, he would probably face no issues of getting her. That’s what he thought, until you came to picture. Considering every charm and trick he had up his sleeve, he was almost certain that getting you wouldn’t be so easy for him, or for any of his friends. And now you were here, in his shrine, trying to sound confident when you most certainly weren’t. Adorable.

You watched him pulling down the shades in the windows and turning keys in the lock, effectively closing you both inside the studio and in a matter of few minutes, you were situated with him on the couch, sitting quite snug as you scrolled through your phone to find the picture of your little drawing. It took everything from you not to melt into his side. The way he smelled was intoxicating, a mixture of cedar wood, pepper and some kind of citrus – a tangerine if you were to guess. And the warmth of his body was so inviting. Before being so close to him, you didn’t even notice how cold you were – apparently your shorts and a sweatshirt weren’t good enough for the October evening, even though during the day it still was way too warm for the fall attire.

Geto waited patiently for you to find the picture you just told him about. The sketch you did that was meant to present him the idea of what you wanted to have tattooed onto your skin and as you were scrolling through your gallery, he took this time to take you in. He noticed that you have a really nice profile. Your lips were pouty, just slightly pushed forward and so kissable right now, as you were focused on the display in front of your face. Your hair looked good also and he couldn’t deny the fact that you looked like you’d perfectly fit into his arms. And on his dick. You were way smaller than him, but that wasn’t unusual – he was a fucking giant, but something in your frame made you appear like you’d slip into his embrace just right and that thought make him go crazy. It’s been quite some time since he found a girl so captivating.

“Here, I found it,” you informed, showing him the screen, and he placed his hand over yours, slightly shifting the device so he can see it better. A hum left his mouth as he analyzed the drawing you did. It showed two betta fishes, one black and one white, positioned in circle, as if they were chasing each other’s tails. The pattern was intricate – the fins were ruffled and detailed, scales bearing a little bit of shading and yet, the whole image was quite a simple one. It also reminded him a little about the yin and yang symbol. He liked the idea, it worked well with his perception of you and what surprised him was the fact that he as well had a little tandem of bettas tattooed on his body and there was no way you’d know that.

“And where would that be?”

“I thought on the sternum maybe?”

“Oh, that’s going to hurt like hell, princess,” Suguru chuckled, already opening the new canvas on his tablet. “How are you with pain?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be good,” you accentuated the words with a nod at the end and leaned in a little bit to see what he began to draw. The pencil slid over the grey colored screen with skill that stunned you. Just from memory and the little reference you had in your hand, he quite quickly created the basic sketch of what you just showed him.

That night you spent two hours with him on the couch in his salon, admiring in quiet the process of creating a finished artwork. You enjoyed every second of it, the artistic sequence of lines made something unbelievably good, impressing you to the very core, even though you already looked through the little gallery he had on the wall. Seeing it being put down in real time made it that much more captivating and you didn’t even notice how during the process you glued yourself to him, nearly laying your head over his strong shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

When he was about to finish, you understood why he chose grey background to work with. As the last step, he dragged the white color over one of the fishes and that really made the whole piece magical.

“That’s perfect,” you told him when he tilted the screen so you could see it better. Taking his ipad in your hands to closer examine the creation of his hands, you nearly gasped at the incredible detail he put into the scales, shading each and every one individually. And the tails were so beautifully drawn, perfectly reflecting how they would just flow in the water.

Geto would lie if he said that the admiration your eyes were overflowing with wasn’t fueling his pride. Sure, his clients liked his projects – obviously, cause they let themselves be tattooed with them, but somehow the sparkle in your eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

“Is that so?” He purred, wrapping his arm around your back and planting his hand on the curve of your hip. There was no protest from you – quite the contrary, Geto noticed you even scooted a little closer, but the reason made itself apparent sooner than he’d expect. Even through the fabric of his dark washed jeans he could feel how cold was your thigh when it made full contact with the side of his leg. He placed a hand over your naked skin to check if his senses weren’t fooling him. “Gosh, you’re so cold.”

“It’s nothing,” you tried to shrug it off, but the feeling of his palm pressed against your plump flesh sent searing impulses through your nervous system. Slowly, you became almost painfully aware of how pleasant the near proximity of him was. How perfectly warm he felt next to you and your mind couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be even closer. You actively tried to suppress those thoughts, but it was damn difficult, when he was just right there, so easy to reach.

“You look great in those shorts, but the summer is over, pretty,” Suguru muttered, his voice just slightly amused as he let his fingers smooth over the supple flesh of your inner thigh. He was so close to where you wanted him to be and yet so far.

“Yea, I know. It was warm during the day though. I was supposed to be home hours ago,” you confessed with a sigh, already thinking about the cold you have to walk through to get to your apartment. It wasn’t far, but if you were freezing inside Curseive, you’d most likely turn into an icicle when you get out, considering it was already midnight.

“Well, let me schedule your appointment and I’ll take you home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll set you up for next month, so you’ll have plenty of time to chicken out,” he teased, shooting you a wink and making you roll your eyes.

That night, you did many things you’d call unreasonable. You spent few hours in closed space with a man you probably shouldn’t have anything in common, you leaned into him without giving it a second thought. That night you made an appointment to your first tattoo. That night Suguru carried you home in his arms, wrapped in a blanket he kept in the studio in case someone felt cold during the inking process. And that night, you let him into your bed.

If anyone was to meet Suguru for the first time, they’d probably say he’s absolutely perfect human being. Kind and always keen to help, very soft spoken and caring and mostly, they would be right, because he really was all of those things to the public eye. Before, you considered him a red flag, but it turned out, he didn’t leave you alone after he fucked you. You expected him to be gone as soon as he pulled his dick out of you, you expected him to ignore you after that night, but he stayed with you till morning, not even once letting go of you. You woke up to the soft kisses smeared over your shoulder and a little tickle of his hair brushing against your flesh instead of the cold bed.

You spend day after day at learning things about each other. You got to know how he liked his coffee in the morning, what foods he enjoy and what shampoo he uses to keep his hair so luscious and gorgeous all the time. Suguru noted to himself what sweets bring you the most joy, he discovered that the little scrunch on your nose when you’re laughing is the most adorable thing in the world and he also studied the playlist of your favorite music, finding out you share similar taste when it comes to songs. You spent hours drawing with him, creating designs on his tablet while sitting in between his legs, your back pressed to his broad chest. Sometimes he was suggesting changes to what you created and sometimes you were the one to add some details to what came from underneath his pen.

It’s been a month since you got together with him, or at least, since you started paying more attention to each other. With good dose of confidence, you could call him your boyfriend – even though it wasn’t officially talked through between you two, your actions made it pretty hard to deny. It just happened, after the first night together, you just became closer and there was no need to give it a title, when everyone knew you’re in relationship. You were holding hands in the campus, kissing publicly and spending time together for most of the breaks. You got to know his friends, his brothers and even got the password to unlock his phone. Yeah, it’s been only a month, but your bond with him developed quite quickly. Turned out, Suguru Geto wasn’t anything that you assumed he is. He’s lovely, really. Saccharine sweet if he really wants to be, but what no one seemed to be able to notice was that he really is a meanie sometimes.

Just like now, as you laid on the dark leathery bed in Suguru’s salon, already having enough of this whole idea of getting a tattoo and he only just started. To his credit, he did warn you that it’s going to hurt like hell, even suggested picking another place for your first tattoo with real concern in his voice, but you weren’t anticipating this kind of hell when you insisted you wanted it below your cleavage. It really was something you couldn’t compare to anything else in your life – maybe a kick in the shin, but continuous and in the middle of your chest.

Geto was working in focus, keeping his eyes on the pattern he was permanently imprinting onto your skin and taking little breaks from time to time to check on you. Last thing he wanted was you fainting there, and you felt like you were close. You couldn’t even focus on how the chocolate tasted on your tongue – the one he bought you, so you can have something to snack on during the process. The way his needles were stabbing the delicate, sensitive skin of your chest millions of times made you feel sick. The vibration of the machine reverberated directly into the bone below, enhancing the horrible experience and you could have sworn you were actually hearing the pain, while he was going over and over again through some areas. The choice of white ink made it that much worse, because to even make it properly visible, he had to re-trace the shapes more times and you felt each of them.

“Oh, you’re such a crybaby,” he teased softly, noticing the glistening trace of a tear that just rolled down your cheek. “Told you it’s gonna be a painful process.”

“Oh, shut up, Sugu,” you muttered, wiping the salty mark away and taking another chocolate. “Can we take a little break?”

“Let me finish that one and I’ll give you a minute. Sounds cool?”

“Uh-huh…”

You weren’t looking at what he was doing, and those little moments that he promised will get you that breather you asked for seemed to stretch for hours. The constant, sickening poking of the needles seemed to never end and at some point, you really were that close to just yank him by the hair and throw the tattoo gun out the window, just so he’ll stop for even a moment. But the break never came, Suguru just kept going, telling you he needs to just finish that line until the relief washed over you, when he smeared some kind of gel over the area of your sternum. You felt almost orgasmic, when the cold, soothing fluid covered the burning skin between your breasts.

“You can stop crying now, baby girl, we’re all done,” he all but sneered, making sure to cover the entire pattern with the healing formula that he made sure was enriched with anesthetics. He ordered that specially for your session.

“We’re done?” You repeated after him, wiping away the tears.

“Yes, baby, save those tears for me later.” He teased, helping you get up from the bed and you hopped down on the ground to properly see the artwork in the mirror. The skin around the lines was red, but the pattern itself made you gasp. It was made so beautifully, the lines were crisp and very thin, perfectly mirroring the vision you had, and the white ink? Gorgeous. Suguru put his entire soul into your tattoo, it was a mark he left on you that will stay there forever and sometimes you wished he’ll stay with you just as long.

“You’re so mean,” you grumbled, admiring the shapes that now were stuck to you permanently. Geto laughed quietly and wrapped his already ungloved hands around you, standing right behind and checking his work in the reflection.

“And what’s my crybaby gonna do about it?” He couldn’t help the mock and the glare you shot him only made his laughter bigger.

“I’ll ban you from my bed,” you deadpanned, a soft pout forming on your mouth and you slapped his hand away when he tried to undo the only button that held your tiny cardigan together.

“Then I’ll take you to mine and you’ll have to deal with Satoru sleeping with us. You know he can’t help himself and you know how that will end, right?”

“I know, I know…” you sighed, too focused on the lines that adorned your skin to care about the clinginess of Gojo, although you felt the soft cringe washing over you quickly. The artist in you was screaming, giggling and kicking its legs – the tattoo was everything you wished it to be and more. “It’s so beautiful, Sugu.”

“You like it, huh?” Geto smiled, leaning in to have a taste of you. The kiss he pressed to the side of your neck sent immediate shivers down your spine and you tilted your head as an automatic reaction. Your body knew that giving him more space will result in more pleasure. “I like it too,” he purred against your skin. “No bra for you for at least few days, pretty. I’ll be checking.”

“No cum on my tits either, poor little you.”

“You didn’t just call me little, did you?”

“And if I did?”

“Isn’t my dick pretty much the size of your entire forearm?” He joked, looking you up and down in the mirror. It was comical in a sense, to see what buttons you were eager to push when it was clear as day that you’re just tiny next to him.

"I wouldn't say so."

“Oh, you little brat. And to think I felt guilty for making you cry today,” Suguru shook his head and it was you this time who chuckled.

“You shamelessly tortured me for two hours, where’s the guilt in that?”

“I could have tortured you for three. Am I not the best for making it quick?”

“You’d love to make me suffer for longer, wouldn’t you?”

“Not before, but now I might wanna make you cry a little more.”

You shook your head and followed him, so he could put the protective film over the tattoo and once you sat on the edge of the tattooing bed, Geto pressed not only the second skin to your chest but also his lips to yours. The force with which he leaned against you made you almost loose your balance as the metallic frame underneath you squeaked from the sudden weight change. With ease, the man encaged you between his arms, intimidating your small form with his much larger one. You were no match for Geto when it came to sizes. He is a damn giant next to you – tall and broad, nothing but wall of muscle with limbs long and strong. Sometimes, you found it unfair how easily he was able to overpower you, manhandling you any way he wanted, no matter how much you’d fight.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, feeling his weight overpowering you and you tried to push him away, desperate to catch some air into your lungs but that desperation only made you mewling into his mouth. The cold metal of his lip piercing never failed to send shivers down your spine, whenever he was kissing you like his life depended on it. He made you feel special, even though you were far from it.

“My sweet girl,” Suguru praised, his words being kissed away by you, because as much as you needed oxygen, you also needed him just a little bit closer. “My little crybaby.”

“I think you owe me some kind of apology for the pain you’ve put me through,” you muttered, grabbing his lower lip between your teeth and swiftly taking the elastic from his hair. The pitch-black locks fell down his broad shoulders, keeping the slightest curl to them from the way they were tied up.

“Oh yeah?” A grin stretched his lips and his fingers immediately found their way to the front of your jeans. “I’m not going to apologize for something you signed up for, but I’ll gladly eat that pussy as a form of payment.”

His remark made you roll your eyes, but any comment you wished to throw at him got lost when he pressed his digits to your clothed clit. Suguru smiled in satisfaction, feeling the wet patch spreading over your panties. Desperate to see it all, he pulled back and took those jeans off of you completely, taking your underwear along with it. Cold air hit your soaked folds, making you shiver as you spread out for him.

“Look at you,” Geto smirked, sitting down on his stool and spinning your panties around his pointer finger, “all wet and ready and I barely just touched you. Or is it that pain you’re so whiney about what made your panties so soaked?”

“Don’t focus on that,” you muttered, snatching the cotton from his hands. “Focus on me.”

“So demanding.” Suguru chuckled, but truth was, as much as he wished to tease you a little more, his mouth was already watering at the sight in front of him. You were a meal he’d choose to have as his last supper, the most delicious dessert he could slurp on for hours and never get bored. Every inch of you, he found to be perfect, you raised the bar of his standards to the point he couldn’t even look at other girls around him. You really got him addicted and he wasn’t even mad about it.

The feeling of hot kisses Suguru was planting all over your thighs made you scoot closer to the edge. Usually, you’d let him do his thing – you loved his mouth marking your skin. You loved the bruised spots he liked to suck on here and there only to claim his place beside you, you loved the soft touches and harsh grips. But now, you really wanted him to jump straight to action. Those nips and kisses can wait.

You allowed your fingers to brush through his silky locks, your nails scratched his scalp along the way and he purred softly before a gasp cut the sound short – it surprised him how roughly you grabbed the strands of his hair, right next to his scull and pushed his head nose deep into your pussy. It was new to him, no one ever dared to tug at his hair and when it was you, he was more than keen to get used to it. The stinging feeling of the pull at his hair follicles sent an impulse straight down to his already erected cock, making it now impossibly hard and Suguru was thanking himself that his work attire that day consisted of sweatpants and not jeans.

You couldn’t help yourself, you knew he had the strength to fight you back if he really needed, so his suffocation wasn’t any of your concerns. And Geto took the challenge with pleasure. His pierced tongue danced over your clit as if he was trying to tattoo his own name over the swollen bud between your folds. The mixture of his hot muscle and cold metal made you whine above him, squeezing his hair even harder, pushing his head even deeper. A low, deep purr that left his throat reverberated through your entire nervous system and sipping into the bloodstream, making the pleasure rush inside your veins instead of blood.

“Oh my god, Suguru-“, you breathed out, coming undone just underneath the skill he had in his mouth. He was eating you out like his life depended on it, like he would die if he won’t bring you over the edge just with his tongue, like he was born to pleasure you. A coil quickly began to form in your stomach, a string threatening to snap at any given moment if he’ll continue with the intensity of his actions. Your thighs trembled, squeezing around his head, but he held them apart with force. He wasn’t done with you yet.

You couldn’t control the way his name was leaving your mouth; it came out like a prayer that he’d love to listen on repeat for the rest of his life. A music that filled his ears with pleasure and that pleasure seeped down, creating a river of ecstasy running down straight to his straining cock. You really got him to the point he felt he’s going to cum in his pants, but then the hold on his hair loosened. He used that moment to catch a breath before going back to his work.

“Don’t hold back,” he purred, keeping your hand where it belonged over his head, getting rid of any guilt you felt regarding pulling at his hair. You came not long after and he happily slurped you through the bliss, licking away everything you gave him, devouring your pussy as if nothing better was ever going to happen to him. “So sweet,” he grinned, finally pulling away. His face covered with your slick and hair messed up from where you held it, and he looked so beautiful like that when you looked back at him. Surrounded by haze of your release, he looked nearly angelic when he got up, pushing back the stool and taking his rightful place between your still trembling thighs. Giving you a moment to collect yourself, Suguru used it to take off his t-shirt for no other reason that to feel your hands over his skin and you were quick to press your palms over his tattooed flesh.

Geto’s body was only one of things that were impressive about him, but unarguably one of the most breathtaking. Years of training martial arts made his shape resemble the stone statues of gods. A hard wall of muscles covered with a light layer of soft skin and adorned by black lines of ink. You never failed to trace your fingers along the dragon that curled around his entire arm and spreading onto his chest. He also had a line of letters underneath the side of his ribcage and two betta fishes swimming up along his spine, following a trace of abstract lines and dots. He had told you once about the meanings beside all of images that adorned his body, but you couldn’t recall them now as he was once more kissing you feverishly. You tasted yourself all over his mouth, you took in his purrs and low groans that vibrated in his throat when you pushed down the waistline of his sweatpants, palming him through his boxers.

Geto grabbed your thighs, repositioning you closer the edge.

“Shouldn’t I avoid any physical activities with that tattoo so fresh?” You asked him with the littlest teasing undertone and he grinned, kissing your lips and everywhere around them with fervor.

“I’ll go slow, babygirl,” he promised, but slow is hardly the word he’d use once he pushed his girth into you. If you were a drug, Suguru was addicted to the point of no return, he never had enough of you, always too little, always eager for more and more and more. You were a godsend to him, a gift he was certain he never deserved but he cherished it with all of his might. Just like with all of his might he began thrusting into you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hooking them above his pelvis as if you needed to make sure he’s not going anywhere. Soft pants and whimpers were leaving your mouth every time his hips collided with yours and the sounds you were making concocted an erotic symphony with the low grunts he let slip through his throat. The melodic line of mixed voices, quiet praises and heavy breaths accompanied the desperate squeaking of the bed below you and wet reminders of how he was fucking into your dripping pussy.

Every ruthless push and pull of his hips sent surges of pleasure through your body. Lust and heat erupted inside of you like a volcano and the searing lava of endorphins turned your brain into a flurry. The room around was lapsing, nothing else mattered and even the untrusty bed underneath you, that held there just barely underneath the force of Suguru’s relentless slams couldn’t bother you when he was fucking you that good.

Flaming hot waves of white covered your vision as you hid your face in the crook of Geto’s neck. Panting for air, you held onto his shoulders harshly, digging your nails into the flesh there and marking it in red with crescent moons and scratches. The stinging pain made him whine in excitement, the sound low and prolonged enough to make your walls clench and flex around him. The stretch of his cock was setting your mind ablaze along with your body, your heart was beating fast and threatening to jump out of your chest.

“Sugu-ru-ah~”, you were panting, whimpering shamelessly under the force of his pelvis slamming against yours and he grinned above you, his grip over your hips merciless and bruising.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, smearing wet kisses along the line that led from underneath your ear to your shoulder. Something incoherent left your mouth and you felt yourself close, the swollen walls of your pussy squeezing him repeatedly and he knew you were close but wasn’t ready to give it to you quite yet.

It’s like you blacked out for a moment because it felt like you barely blinked and then your position changed. You didn’t notice how swiftly Geto slid onto the bed himself, situating you over his lap.

“Hop on baby, work for it a little,” he mocked lovingly, giving your ass cheek an encouraging slap. There was barely enough place for the two of you, but you made it work anyway, sliding back down onto his dripping from your juices cock. A soft moan escaped your lips as his girth once again squeezed into your oversensitive insides, pushing against every sweet spot on the way and making you shiver as the tip kissed your cervix. Desperate to feel more of him, you began rolling your hips, working your way into the palace of pleasure that Suguru Geto was and making the most out of the current position. His exposed chest and neck begged to be devoured and you couldn’t leave them neglected, so your mouth was on his skin in no time.

Suguru kept bucking his hips upwards, gasping and growling underneath you. His hands left burning marks over your ass, each slap sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body and the little whines you were letting out against his skin fueled the intense fire that burned inside of him even more. Sometimes Geto couldn’t believe you really were with him. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he’s high on something, maybe he’s imagining you, but only thing he really was high on, was you. Nothing could compare to the way your tight pussy swallowed his cock, to the way your little hands were grasping his arms and shoulders just to steady yourself when his force was becoming too much and absolutely nothing could stand even close to the intoxicating feeling of your lips on top of his. You really were made just for him, it had to be fate that once you stumbled upon his studio. He still remembers the first time you let him in, spontaneously inviting him over and after that, every day seemed to be somehow better than the previous one. Every minute he spent with you managed to surprise him with how good it felt. Suguru was hooked on you. But how could he not, when you had the ability to strip him of everything that was cool about him, leaving him raw and sensitive just for you?

“Fuck, c’mon, cry for me,” he panted, forcing your hips to move even when you clearly were running low on power. Your entire body was tensing, the velvety walls of your pussy squelching over his length and he felt himself flexing inside the hot embrace of you. The rush of ecstasy sent him overboard, it filled his veins and neurons with blissful daze of desire, and he found himself chasing the high, bracing for the impact of upcoming climax.

You whined and melted into him, lost in the haze and diving head first into the puddle of pleasure. The feeling overtook you, you couldn’t think anymore when he was pulling you underneath the euphoric sea. You felt light from pleasure, the ferocity of his movements burning you inside out, sending seething waves throughout your entire form. With vision blurred, nothing felt real anymore and if not for the rough grip he had on your hip and ass, you’d probably fly away and never get back.

Lost in the stars and haze of orgasm, you pushed yourself up, encouraged by few more harsh slaps and Geto followed you to sit up for no other reason than to be able to still taste you. At this point you were sure he tattooed not only betta fishes onto your chest but also the imprint of his hands to your butt cheeks. Gathering every last bit of strength you had in your muscles, you rolled your hips against him few times more. All of the intensity that was building inside of you snapped suddenly. Your spine arched and head rolled back, exposing your neck and chest to his kisses as he pushed you over the edge of bliss and you fell off that cliff with nothing but acceptance. Tears of pleasure rolled down your face and Geto was quick to kiss them away as they gathered along your lashes and down your jawline.

The weak sound of his name slipping down your tongue was enough for Suguru to let go. White hot ribbons of cum sprayed deep inside you as you rode him through both of your orgasms, the movements of your hips now slower and sloppier, bearing no more strength in them and yet, time after time you pulled them back and forth, desperate to feel him a little longer, to take more from him.

“My little crybaby,” he cooed, when you finally run out of battery, settling down on him and leaning against his broad chest, hiding there to catch your breath. You were sore, still overwhelmed by the avalanche of feelings that just fell over your head but satisfied to the point of delirium – so much so that you let the little honey-covered taunt slip. Suguru smoothed your back softly, relaxing in your proximity, once again stunned how somehow, you managed to make all of it feel better than the last time you slept together. Highs with you were unforgettable. Nonreplaceable. Incomparable to anything else he ever felt with anyone.

“Thanks god you’re strong,” you muttered against his skin, planting there few kisses while you’re at it. “I don’t think my legs will work after that.”

Geto chuckled. Yeah, he was going to marry you one day.

“No worries, sweet thing, your place in my arms is secured for lifetime.”

“Good.”

“But first, let me get you cleaned up.”

Your legs were weak when you got off of him, but surprisingly carried you enough to allow you to slowly pull yourself together. Suguru cleaned the space a little while you got dressed and made sure the protective film over your fresh tattoo was unharmed during the activities before you buttoned up your cardigan.

* * *

“Suguru, you still here?” Gojo stormed in, even though the studio was locked, but truth was, nothing could really be locked when it came to Satoru.

“Don’t tell me you copied the keys to my studio.” Geto chuckled, finishing the final wipe of the bed. There was no force that could stop his friend from invading his spaces, he dropped the effort years ago.

“I won’t tell you, you got this.” Satoru shrugged and looked at you. Then at Suguru and back at you, repeating that at least few times. “Were you two fucking here?”

“And why would you ask that?”

“No, the real question is, did that thing endure it?” White haired man pointed at the leathery bed. “What a champ, I thought it’ll collapse.”

“Fair,” you admitted at the same time as Suguru, and handed your man the hair elastic that you snatched from him earlier.

“So, what were you doing here? Besides contaminating the area of course.”

“I got a tattoo,” you replied to him and Satoru grinned.

“For real? That chest piece he told me month ago that you’ll for sure chicken out for?”

“Yeah, that one.” This time it was you who laughed and Geto just shrugged, tying up his hair.

Satoru wasted no time, it’s like he teleported to you and before you registered what was happening, he was already unbuttoning your blouse and truly, you couldn’t really be bothered. It’s been only a little less than a month since you really got to know Gojo, but it was very quickly presented to you that him and your boyfriend have a thing for sharing. It was as natural for them as breathing and whenever you saw them together, you wondered how it happened that they weren’t brothers by blood.

“It’s so cool, Suguru. Who knows, maybe I’ll let you tattoo something on me too.” Snow white grinned, examining the concoction of lines over your sternum. He had to bend in half almost, to be in line with the pattern on your skin so you brushed through his hair, messing them more than they were already.

“Not that it’s my life mission to do so, Satoru.” Geto stretched his body and glanced over the room once more, making sure he can close the studio for that day without leaving any visible remnants of what happened just moments ago.

“Doesn’t it kinda look like us?” Gojo asked, stopping you before you covered yourself back. “The black and white contrast… am I the only one who think so?”

It wasn’t your intention, but as he said it, you began seeing it. It really made sense, especially considering that Geto mixed the tiniest bit of lavender ink to the white, to prevent it from yellowing over time. That lavender coincidentally being the exact shade as the undertone of Gojo’s hair.

“Well, not anymore,” the black haired one sighed and once you managed to button up your blouse, he swooped you up into his arms. “You’re gonna lock the doors, Satoru. Turn off the lights.”

“Sooo…” Gojo nearly sang, flicking off the switches and turning the keys in the locks, making sure everything is well secured before he joined you two, already walking slowly towards your home. “Are you ours now?”

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buckyalpine · 5 months

Note

im just tossing it out here but i headcanon that bucky and y/n’s first dance at their wedding was to the song “until i found you” by stephen sanchez bc that is, in fact, their theme song.

love ya, have an amazing day bby- gossip girl xoxo

IM CRYING YES. I'm actually sobbing, I want this. I want to dance with the love of my life in the living room after wine in comfy clothes, with this being our wedding song. Anyway. In coming sweet sweet fluff while I go continue to cry.

"Can't believe I found you" Bucky leans down to whisper in your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, the gentle action causing an array of aww's and coo's from the audience. There isn't a dry eye in the room. Not one. He holds you by the waist, nice and close to him, your arms draped over his shoulders. His hand holds yours as it rests against his chest, your wedding ring twinkling each time it catches the light.

"How I get so lucky, to fall in love with you sweet girl" His nose bumps against yours, letting his lips brush against your cheek when a stray tear slips out. "Just want to hold you in my arms forever till we're both old"

"Never want you to let go" You sniffle, leaning up to kiss his sweet lips, making everyone else emotional all over again while you both gaze at each other with heart eyes, swaying under the soft light focused on you. "Didn't fall in love until I met you"

"I got my life back when you came into it, y'know th-that?" Bucky tries his best to keep his voice steady but it's hard when he's holding his beautiful wife in his arms on his wedding day, surrounded by those closest to him. He gets emotional himself, smiling against your palm as you cup his scruffy cheek, wiping away the tears he allows to fall. He feels so free and alive with you, letting the world see just how vulnerable he can be with his angel, how safe she makes him feel.

"I don't think I can do this" Steve sniffles, swallowing a hiccup between shallow breaths, having already used his pocket square to mop away the waterfall of tears that started to flow as soon as you'd said I do to his best friend at the altar.

"Get-get it together" Sam rasped, his throat sore from the constricting lump that kept trying to make its way up, obnoxiously sniffling into a napkin after seeing you wipe away Bucky's tears. "Y'know what, I can't do it either"

"Lady y/n and Sargent Barnes make a lovely pair" Thor beamed, admiring how perfect you looked together, looking at each other as if there was no one else in the room, in your own little bubble of love.

Tony silently handed over his napkin to Steve who was still biting onto his lip to keep it from wobbling though he realized he'd made a poor choice, his own eyes growing steamy seeing you nuzzle into your husband, the words you were whispering causing his cheeks to blush.

"Getting emotional there, Tones" Nat teased while the billionaire rolled his eyes, subtly flicking away a tear.

Bucky felt a different kind of happiness, one where he was warm and bundled up in your comfort, his heart protected with your love. You'd wrapped him up in softness and comfort like no other.

"I love you Mrs. Barnes. To the ends of the earth, till my last breath, for the rest of my life, I'm gonna love you" Bucky promised, letting out a wet chuckle at your whimper, gently dipping you down for a final kiss while the crowd erupted in applause and their own share of sniffles. "So glad I found you"

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #marvel fluff #avengers fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x freader #bucky barnes x fluff

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ayyy-pee · 1 year

Text

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Summary: Every choice Satoru makes just seems to be digging himself into a deeper hole. But when it comes to you, he can’t seem to help himself.

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Toxic Behavior, Cheating, Protected Sex (wrap it up kids), Jealousy, Obsessive Behavior, Exes to Lovers (for a lil bit), Gojo is sprung on reader real bad, Dumb Stupid Idiot Satoru, Downbad Satoru

Gojo art by: Ilameys (used with permission)

Available to read on Ao3!

AN: Gojo has been eating my brain so I had to get something out. I've been obsessively listening to LIMBO by keshi and had it on repeat writing this (listen to it if you haven't!) Anyway, enjoy!

“Satoruuuuu,” an aggravating, whiny voice slurs. “Can you get me another drink pleaseeeee?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

Satoru rises from his seat on the couch, running his fingers through his silky white hair. He leaves his girlfriend to chat with her friends as he makes his way to the kitchen for yet another drink. Really, he should cut her off and take her home. She’s insufferable when she gets a drop of liquor in her, not that she’s any less annoying when she’s sober. All the whining, all the clinginess, all the slurring of his name as she wraps herself all around him. It used to be cute when they first started dating a year ago. Now it’s just suffocating. But Satoru sucks it up, though he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because when she drinks, he doesn’t have to deal with actually trying to have a conversation with her. She’s a bit more tolerable after a few drinks. Annoying still, but less so.

He maneuvers through the crowd of the house party he’s currently attending. It’s packed, the scent of alcohol heavy in the air. Leave it to Suguru to go all out when he’s back in town. The guy invited practically everyone from their time in high school. Since arriving, Satoru’s already run into Mei Mei, Ino, Utahime (unfortunately) and surprisingly Nanami. There’s even students from the Ainu Technical School here. He had no idea Suguru even knew them.

Regardless, Satoru is happy to see everyone. He stops every so often to chat with old classmates as he wanders towards the kitchen. Everyone seems to be doing well for themselves since graduating high school, which Satoru is glad for. No matter how life went, he always wished everyone well.

And life was good for Satoru, too. At 26 years old, he certainly couldn’t complain about much. He’d graduated from high school, gone to college, had a hell of a great time during his undergrad career, got himself a well paying cushy sales job. And he had a girlfriend that he…had been with for awhile. Life couldn’t be better for him.

So why did it always feel like something was missing?

Satoru enters the enormous kitchen and makes a beeline to the assortment of drinks lined along the built-in bar. Of course Suguru has a built-in bar in his kitchen with an array of pre-made cocktails to choose from. Always such a great host when he’s not traveling to clean up celebrity messes for his PR firm.

“Satoru!” A man’s voice sings behind him as an arm slings across his shoulders.

“Haibara,” Satoru greets him. “Back for another drink?”

Satoru grabs one of the plastic party cups from the counter and pours one of the cocktails into it; something fruity and syrupy. He might’ve given it a try if the overwhelming smell of tequila didn’t burn his nostrils. He thinks of his girlfriend, knowing she will definitely feel like shit by the end of the night.

“Hm?” Haibara shakes his head, his raven hair whipping with the movement. “No way. One is enough for me. I have early practice tomorrow. Coach says my swing needs work, so not willing to fuck that up.” Ah right. Satoru had totally forgotten that Haibara played tennis professionally now. He nods, listening to his friend fill him in on what his plans for tomorrow are. Haibara’s wide brown eyes follow Satoru’s movements as he fills his cup. “You, though? I never see you drink at these things?”

Satoru shakes his head. “Not for me. For my girlfriend.”

Haibara’s signature, open-mouthed grin spreads wide across his face. “Oh! You’re still dating her? Wow. Good for you, man.”

Something about the surprise in Haibara’s tone takes Satoru aback, brows knitting at this. “Why’d you say it like that?”

Haibara crosses his arms, his smile melting away with a sigh. “I mean…” Haibara sighs your name quietly. “The two of you were together for a long time before you broke up after high school. We all thought you’d still be together, but if you could end that relationship, I’m just a little surprised you’re still with this one. That’s all. But if you’re happy...”

Just hearing your name on Haibara’s tongue has Satoru’s stomach twisting in knots. He hasn’t seen or spoken to you in years, something he’s been wanting to change for a long time but too cowardly to do so.

Satoru nods, giving Haibara a weak smile. He can admit that his girlfriend was…not the least bit interesting, annoying and did little for him. But he enjoyed her company sometimes.

“Just don’t be surprised if one of us leaves with Y/N tonight, though,” Haibara jokes, throwing his head back with an obnoxious chuckle.

What?

Satoru feels his heart leap into his throat as his crystalline eyes dart rapidly over every occupant in the kitchen, only seeing the familiar faces of his old classmates and a few strangers. There’s no sign of you. Maybe Haibara was just fucking with him.

Satoru laughs to save face, albeit awkwardly. “Funny,” he mutters, staring down into the drink meant for his current girlfriend, though now his thoughts are only occupied with you.

“Hey man, I need to get back to my girl, so I’ll catch you later,” Satoru tells his old friend.

“Yeah, later! Hey!” Haibara calls out to him and Satoru turns briefly. “Let’s get together to play some time!”

“Yeah, sure. Text me!” Satoru calls back, waving as he exits the kitchen. Unlikely, but he appreciates the effort.

Satoru shoulders through the crowd again, carefully holding onto the red cup in hand so it doesn't spill. He takes his time getting back, a new goal in mind: find you. Are you actually here? Or was Haibara just trying to mess with him? His heart pounds hard in his chest as he moves, eyes scanning every face he sees.

It’s been seven long years since Satoru last spoke to you - his first real crush, his first real girlfriend, his first time. His first everything. He wonders if you’ve thought about him at all in this time. He’d be surprised if you did. Things didn’t exactly end well between you two.

......

Seven Years Ago

You and Satoru dated all through high school. Satoru, a star athlete, played many sports and you supported him through them all, cheering for him at every game and helping him with his practice. You two were inseparable. If you weren’t at Satoru’s place, he was at yours. The love was deep between you two and a promise was made that you’d always be together.

But life didn’t always happen the way you wanted. The joy and excitement of being accepted into your dream schools did not last long when you realized you’d be going to school thousands of miles away and oceans apart. It was the first time a true test of your relationship was presented. Satoru was staying in Japan for college while you were headed overseas. Could your relationship survive the distance?

The first few months apart weren’t so bad. Satoru was making friends, excelling at school and becoming quite popular. You were also busy with your new life and hobbies. You made time for each other when you could. But it wasn’t enough. The loneliness Satoru felt without you was all consuming and it was only a matter of time before he found himself sending fewer texts, calling less, absorbed in the newness of college life.

Satoru loved you so much, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew the likelihood of a long distance relationship surviving was slim regardless of who it was. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but the trying part was becoming more burdensome than he wanted.

And it wasn’t as though you had done anything wrong. This feeling Satoru was experiencing was all on him. You made the effort to keep in touch, to call when you could. And you still wanted it to work. But if Satoru were honest, he just wanted to enjoy his time in school without the constant worry of pleasing someone who he never saw unless it was behind a screen. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to have fun. This was a new world and he wanted to be free to explore it.

So he ended things.

He’ll never forget the quiet sobs on the other end of the phone as he sat in silence after uttering the words, “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore”.

His heart ached listening to your hushed pleas for him to not do this, to not end things this way. But it was for the best. In the long run, you’d be happier. He’d be happier and what was that corny saying again?

If you love something, set it free? Satoru thinks that’s what he did that day.

And you were so upset. Rightfully so. You loved Satoru. You were each other’s first kiss, first times before you left for college, first loves. You’d quite literally given everything to each other. But Satoru couldn’t commit to you anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy college, live his life. It may be selfish of him, but he didn’t see it that way. It was his chance to grow.

Even after all of your pleading, he stuck to his guns. It was torture, listening to you tearfully beg him not to do this to you. He had to end this.

So he told you he’d met someone else, that he couldn’t be with you anymore because there was another woman he wanted to be with. The stretch of silence was painful, Satoru quietly waiting to see if you had anything to add. The call ended with you hanging up in his face with only a choked sob as the last thing he’d heard.

Adjusting to life without you proved difficult at first. Satoru isn’t embarrassed to admit he moped around campus for a while before he was able to start trying to move on. After that, the next few months of college were great. Satoru was Mr. Popular, quickly rising to the top of his collegiate sports team. He was the life of any party he went to, the center of attention wherever he went.

Life should’ve felt perfect.

But as the months passed, Satoru found his mind occupied with the thought of you at the worst times.

While his professor discusses marketing strategies, Satoru’s mind wanders to you.

What are you doing right now?

When he’s at practice getting berated by the coach for poor blocking form, he knows he can’t tell him it’s because he’s distracted by the thought of you.

Who are you with?

When he’s giving another girl his number at a party, planning to hook up later, he pushes back the memory of the first time he’d spoken to you.

Where are you?

When he finds himself between another girl's legs that same night, he squeezes his eyes shut, picturing you and biting his tongue as he tries his best not to moan your name.

Do you still think about him?

The months soon stretch into a year and Satoru hopes this intense yearning he has for you will just fade away. He’s not so lucky. If anything, he thinks about you more. He checks your social media profiles to find you’ve removed him as a friend on everything. Of course you did. He ripped your heart in two. There was no way you’d allow him access back into your life. Your accounts are all private, so he can’t see anything and he’s not willing to ask a mutual friend about what you’ve been up to. It only makes him a little bit crazy that you’ve put up this wall between you two so he has no access to you.

Another six months pass and Satoru works up the nerve to text you for the first time since you’d broken up. He hopes you’ll reply. It’s been more than a year. You can’t possibly still be upset, can you? He can admit that he could have handled the way he ended things better, sure. But if he can get past it, you can too, right?

You never respond.

More months pass by and soon another year. One late night, Satoru slips into his apartment after a failed hookup. He pulls his phone out, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. You didn’t reply to his last text. He doubts you’ll respond to this one, but he takes a deep breath and shoots off a message to you before he changes his mind.

Days later, you finally respond. You chat for a while, sending messages back and forth. Generic things, really. Just catching up. Until one night Satoru musters up the courage to call you.

“Hello?” You answer. There’s soft music in the background and Satoru wonders what you’re up to. Are you home? Maybe you’re relaxing and the music is on for background noise. Or maybe you’re with someone, listening to music to set the mood. There’s an unpleasant twist that forms in his stomach at the thought.

“Hey,” he says easily, though he can barely hear your voice over the rapid pounding of his heart. “I figured a phone call may be easier than just texting. What are you doing?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” He hears you shuffling around, then the quiet click of a door closing as the music fades out. “I’m actually at a friends for dinner.”

A friend. He wants to ask more about your friend, but he knows he has no right to that information anymore.

“Sorry to interrupt your night,” he tells you, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how tense he is. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“It’s fine. I have a couple minutes to spare.” You sound relaxed. Like speaking to Satoru doesn’t have the same effect on you as it does on him. Like talking to him is just like talking to anybody else. He knows it’s his own fault it’s this way, but it still stings. “Did you need something?”

You.

That’s what Satoru wants to say. More than anything, he wants to tell you that he wants you back, that he needs you back. He wants to tell you he made a mistake breaking up with you, that he’s so sorry. He wants to ask that you’ll please forgive him.

Satoru wants to say he regrets his decision to call it quits. Wants to admit that he should have made more of an effort to make it work out and not have been so fucking weak. He wants to tell you that if you’re willing to give it another try he is, too.

That’s what he wants.

Because after everything, he still l–

“Satoru?” You repeat your question and Satoru realizes he’s let the silence hang in the air between you both for far too long.

“Oh, I jus–”

“Babe? Dinner’s ready. Do you want any wine with yours?” A deep voice cuts through the quiet and Satoru feels his heart drop hearing someone else call you by the name that was once meant for only his use. He hears soft shuffling and hushed whispers and a “sorry, I thought you were off the phone, babe. You were quiet–”

He can tell you’ve muted your phone. He can’t hear anything anymore. The looming silence makes Satoru want to hang up on you so he can swallow the bitterness he feels. So you had moved on, found someone else who gets to treat you the way Satoru should have. It’s fair. It’s been years since you two had broken up. You’d barely started speaking again. Of course you would find someone new. You were perfect and anyone would be an idiot to let you go. Much like Satoru was.

His thumb lingers over the end call button on his screen…and then you’re back just before he presses it.

“Sorry about that,” you breathe. “Anyway, did you need something, Satoru?”

“That your friend?” Satoru asks, ignoring your question completely. He can’t even pretend it’s not because he wants to know who the hell was calling you ‘babe’.

You clear your throat. “No, ah…that’s my boyfriend,” you finally tell him.

The silence falls over you again for a few seconds, Satoru trying to find his words. Again, it’s fair for you to date someone else. Satoru had ended things. He lost his right to be jealous when he did. And yet, against his better judgment, he leans into the bitterness he felt moments ago, forcing out a laugh. “Good! Oh, that’s good for you. Glad you found someone.”

“...Thanks?”

Satoru hums. “Yeah. I mean, glad we both moved on. I was actually worried when I was calling that you’d still be hung up on me or something.” He winces, but laughs awkwardly again. Knows he just shot himself in the foot. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off, take it as a bad joke.

“Yeah.” Your voice is clipped, short. “Okay, well, it was great catching up with you, Satoru. I have to go now.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Got it. Well, have fun at your din–”

The line goes dead.

Satoru tosses his phone to the side, throws himself back on his bed with a groan.

“Idiot.”

You don’t return any more of his calls or texts.

......

Present

Satoru’s feet carry him through the crowd, conversation drifting through the air. He can hear Utahime yelling at Suguru and Satoru resists the damn near instinctual urge to turn towards the screeching so he can join Suguru in whatever antics set her off. It’s always funny seeing how red her face gets. He also hears the sounds of Shoko’s airy laugh as she catches up with Nanami and Ijichi. An odd group, he thinks, but Satoru doesn’t have time to dwell on it because he hears the sweet sound of your laugh and–

Wait.

He stops in his tracks, the drink in his hand sloshing with the abrupt halt. He turns his head to peer over the crowd, but he doesn’t see anything, doesn’t see you. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. There’s no way you’d actually be here. You’re overseas. At least, he thinks you may be overseas. That’s the last thing he knew about you for certain. Satoru’s not sure what you’re up to these days. He hasn’t asked, afraid of what the answer will be. He’s not sure he could handle knowing you’re potentially engaged or happily married. Hell, he’s not sure he could handle knowing if you’re dating someone.

His piercing blue gaze finally lands on you and he realizes Haibara was actually not joking about someone potentially leaving with you tonight. Because you’re right there, off to the side of the crowd with some man, giggling at whatever he’s saying.

Satoru knows it’s you, even from a distance. He couldn’t mistake those beautiful eyes for anyone else's, the way they crinkle ever so slightly in the corners when you smile. He could never mistake those luscious, glossed lips he loved to kiss. You’re all smiles, as stunning as he remembers.

Everything keeps moving as time seems to stand still only for Satoru, his eyes never leaving you. And he knows he’s at this party with someone else. That’s what he should be focused on, but you’re all he cares about right now. His gaze locks onto your lips, following the curve of your smile, the way your tongue darts out just a bit to run along your bottom lip, the way those lips form your words.

You may still hate him after all this time, but Satoru wants to talk to you. He almost wants to get just close enough for you to notice him. Maybe you’ll make the first move and talk to him.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He thinks, lips pursed in concentration.

He should get back to his actual girlfriend. He’s been gone for too long. She’s bound to come looking for him if he doesn’t get back to her soon. Yeah, he’ll just go back. Talking to you won’t be good for him anyway –

The man you’re speaking to leans forward, his lips moving to your ear and Satoru, with his eyes still glued to your lips, feels his blood boil as he watches them part with what he’s pretty sure is a sigh. When he sees your hand come up to lay on the other man’s arm, his nostrils flare with irritation. When you smirk at what the man is whispering, he feels his jaw tighten. And when the other man’s hand comes to land on your waist, Satoru’s feet move before he even realizes what he’s doing.

As he approaches, the man steps away, a slick grin on his face and you roll your eyes, shaking your head and giggling. Are you actually flirting with this guy? It’s only as he gets closer that Satoru can better make out who it is; poorly done bleach job, shitty eyeliner around his eyes, and too many ear piercings. It’s just Naoya Zenin. From what Satoru remembers, you hated that fucker all of high school.

Unless something’s changed and suddenly you’re into him? Is this who you’re dating now?

Satoru wants to be pissed, but this may work in his favor. If you could be on good terms with Naoya, who you absolutely despised for as long as you’d known him, then maybe you had room in your heart to forgive him for being such a piece of shit to you all those years ago.

Your eyes drift over to Satoru as he approaches you both. And you hardly react, only offering him a small smile before your attention drifts back to Naoya. And though a tiny curve of your lips is something, the lack of a reaction kind of annoys the shit out of him.

“Hey,” Satoru greets, mainly directed towards you because fuck Naoya.

“Hi, Satoru.” You fold your arms over your chest, eyes coming back to meet his. God, you’re as pretty as Satoru remembers you being. This close to you, Satoru can see how much you’ve changed. And time has been very good to you. You’re still beautiful in the youthful way Satoru remembers, but you’re grown now. His eyes trail down your frame quickly, drinking in the way you’ve filled out.

“Gojo…” Naoya says with clear disdain in his voice.

“Zenin.”

And it’s quiet now. Awkward. But it doesn’t matter to Satoru. His eyes are only on you.

You pull your gaze away from Satoru and back to Naoya.

“You look great,” Satoru tells you, sipping the drink meant for his girlfriend to keep himself from potentially following up with something stupid. He grimaces slightly at the taste before trying to cover it with a lopsided grin.

And you give him the same grin back, a little shy. It’s cute.

“Thanks, Satoru. You look good, too.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, I’ve been back for a few months now. Just settling back in and working,” your brows knit together as you lean to the side to glance around Satoru. “I’m surprised Suguru didn’t tell you since I just had lunch with him like two days ago.”

He realizes you must be looking for Suguru when you straighten your stance again. Deep in his mind, Satoru makes a mental note to have a word with Suguru about this later. Next to him, Naoya snorts and Satoru has to resist saying something that will surely end with them in a fight. You must sense the tension because you ask Naoya if he can grab you a drink which prompts an eye roll from him, but he goes anyway.

“Doubt he’ll be back,” you mutter to Satoru with a smirk. “That asshole wants to hook up so bad it’s pathetic,” a soft chuckle rushes past your lips.

“Not interested, then?” Satoru jokes, a smile spread across his face.

You narrow your eyes, “Ha ha. You know I hate that guy. He won’t be back anyway. No way he’s gonna waste time getting a drink for someone who isn’t fucking him at the end of the night.”

If you weren’t still watching Naoya push his way through the crowd of partygoers, you may have seen Satoru visibly deflate.

“Ah, good to know you haven’t lowered your standards,” Satoru says and you laugh. The sound makes Satoru’s head spin. It’s been so long since he’s heard it.

“I don’t think my standards could ever be low enough to fuck Naoya,” you clarify, nose crinkling in disgust. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, watching as you shift uncomfortably before him. You fidget with the hem of your dress before you speak again.

“It’s actually really good to see you, Satoru.”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while. Life just got away from me.”

Satoru’s brows lift in surprise. “Reach out for what?” Your eyes are boring into his, wide and surveying, peering into his soul. Just the way they always did.

“I just felt like things left off on such a sour note with us. And you reached out trying to build a friendship and at the first sign of things getting weird, I just…ran. Didn’t look back. You were trying and I wasn’t. You didn’t deserve that.”

He knows you’re referring to the last time you’d spoken, though he’s not sure why you’re the one trying to apologize.

“And I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a terrible friend to you.”

You always were way too sweet to him. He didn’t deserve that.

“I should be apologizing to you,” Satoru shakes his head. “I was still jealous back then. When I said I was worried you were still hung up on me, it’s because I was trying to cover up the fact that I was still hung up on you. Hearing your boyfriend call you babe–”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you interrupt, a soft smile gracing your features. Satoru smirks.

“Hearing your ex-boyfriend call you babe, it just…made me feel a lot of things I didn’t understand at the time. I shouldn’t have said what I did to set you off. I’m sorry.”

It’s only been a few minutes of you talking and it already feels like a weight has been lifted, like the wall you put up all those years ago has come down. You both must look strange, just standing off in the corner alone staring and smiling at each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

You talk a bit more, catch up on life. It doesn’t take long for things to feel comfortable between you two again - for your bodies to move a little closer, for your eyes to meet more often, for your shy touches to linger a little longer.

You’ve got your hand wrapped around Satoru’s forearm, snickering at something he’s said. And when you glance up at him, there’s something in your eyes telling him it’s okay to ask this. Because Satoru is happy to know you’re not interested in Naoya, even happier to know you’ve broken up with your college boyfriend, but what he wants to know now is –

“Are you seeing anyone? Dating, I mean,” He asks while he still has the nerve and tries not to let his eyes fall to your mouth when you shake your head and draw your lower lip between your teeth.

“Nope, single and just enjoying life honestly. You?”

Yes.

“Me?” Satoru asks.

Say yes, stupid.

You nod. “Yeah, you. Are you with someone?”

Yes. Yes.

“Uhh, well…”

YES.

The voice in his head is screaming the answer, the one he knows he should give you. The one that would confirm to Satoru that even after everything he’s done, he’s not a shitty person, not a terrible boyfriend. But when he looks at you, eyes shining up at him with those pretty lips curled into a smirk, he doesn’t want anything more than to be with you.

God, he’s such a piece of shit. He knows it. He’s not even thinking about his girlfriend still sitting around waiting for him to come back. He’s got tunnel vision and the only thing he sees is you.

Say yes!

“I…am not…with someone.”

......

The door to Suguru’s master bathroom slams shut, your back pressed against it as Satoru’s lips find your neck, licking a long strip from your collarbone up to your chin.

“Ah- Toru, the door. Lock the door,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his soft tresses to pull him down for a kiss. His fingers fumble around before he finds the lock, quickly turning before he breaks the kiss to focus on your neck again, kissing and sucking, marking anywhere he can. Your hands move to glide underneath his shirt, fingers grazing over his defined muscles and you sigh just as Satoru moves away from your neck to press his lips against yours.

Soft. So soft. It’s been so long since Satoru’s had you like this. He’d forgotten your taste, your smell and right now, it feels like he can’t get enough. Fuck the liquor, he’s drunk on you.

“Can I touch you?” Satoru breathes against your mouth. And you nod, kissing him again. He groans as your lips part, tongue slipping out to glide against his lips, seeking entry. And he obliges, gives you all the access you want as your tongues tangle together. You moan into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his cock.

The dress you’re wearing is nice, simple but fits your body beautifully. Satoru can’t wait to get underneath it. He reaches down, pulling the hem of your dress up until it’s sitting at your waist. He slips his hand into your panties, hissing when he feels how soaked you are.

“So wet for me,” Satoru whispers into the kiss. “You want me that bad, baby?”

You nod, panting hard. “Yeah, so bad, Satoru,” you moan when his fingers glide through your slick fold, back arching off the door. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“I’m yours, baby.”

His lips crash into yours again, fingers working tight circles against your clit. You cry out, your hands balling into fists as you cling to Satoru’s shirt. He breaks the kiss, pressing his face into your neck as one of his fingers finds your entrance, plunging in slowly. Your mouth opens with a gasp as Satoru pumps into you, curling his finger until he finds your sweet spot.

He pulls back, watches your face as he slips another finger inside. He likes the way your legs shake when he turns his fingers a certain way. And the way your back arches off the door when he presses his thumb to your clit. It’s all new to him, these reactions you’re giving. You were a lot younger when you’d first become intimate. Now, it’s clear you’re much more experienced. The thought bothers and excites Satoru.

He pulls his fingers from your core, kissing you when you poke your lip out in a pout. And then he’s bending you over the bathroom sink, pushing your dress even higher before he slips his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Fuck, I never thought I’d see you like this again,” he groans, palming himself through his pants.

“Toru, stop wasting time and fuck me, please.”

You’re a lot more demanding now too, apparently. He doesn’t mind.

“Did you miss me?” Satoru asks, because he’s dying to know. Did you think about him when you were with your boyfriend? Were you trying not to cry out Satoru’s name when you fucked him? Did you want him back as much as he wanted you?

Satoru unbuttons his jeans, pulls his pants and boxers down together, hissing as his cock springs free. He’s so fucking hard, he could cum just looking at you bent over the sink like this. But Satoru wants to savor you, wants to enjoy this moment of having you again for the first time in so long. He reaches over and pulls open one of the bathroom drawers, fishing around until he finds a condom and he mentally thanks Suguru for always being prepared.

“Tell me,” he demands, wrapping a hand around his length. He strokes himself lazily as he rips the condom open. He rolls the condom down his length, lining himself up with your entrance. “Did you miss me?”

You’re so patient, waiting quietly for Satoru. Although, he can hear your breathing becoming a little harsher in anticipation. Satoru moves behind you, lines himself up with your entrance and just before he’s about to roll his hips forward, he glances up to see his reflection in the mirror with you bent over and ready for him.

“Look at me,” he says. You look up, watching him through the reflection. Even in the dim lighting of the bathroom, Satoru can see your pupils blown wide with lust matching his own. He wants to see you, wants to see your face when you take him for the first time in so long.

“Look at me,” he tells you again.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Tell me you missed me,” Satoru quietly demands as he pushes forward, sliding the tip through your folds and sinking in slowly.

“Fuuuuuuck,” your mouth falls slack with a moan. Satoru’s hands find your waist, holding your curves as he sinks into you. “I missed you, Toru. So much, so fucking much.”

“God, baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.”

He’s halfway in and he has to stop to catch his breath because hearing you moan his name like that…He may not make it all the way in without blowing his load right into the condom. You’re suffocating him, clenching onto his cock so hard he’s almost afraid to move.

“Satoru, please. Don’t stop,” you plead. He meets your gaze in the mirror again, sees the way your eyes burn with desire. Satoru pulls his hips back until only his tip sits inside you and then he rolls his hips forward, burying himself as deep in your cunt as he can.

Your walls clench down on his cock and he moans again before he starts to move, pounding into you at an unrelenting pace. You cry out his name and he keeps moving, not letting up.

Satoru brings a hand around your neck, holding your head in place so he can look at you through the mirror. He sinks into you, bending down to kiss along your neck, your shoulders, your back as he bottoms out again and again, moaning his pleasure against you.

Satoru thinks you feel like heaven. It’s the only thing he can think when he leans back and grips on to your waist again, watching your face contort in ecstasy. Every little sound you make, every moan, every sigh, every “right there” you utter brings Satoru closer and closer to his release.

Satoru has missed you. He’s missed the way your skin feels against his, missed the way your breath hitches in your throat when his cock hits just the right spot, missed touching and grabbing the soft curves of your beautiful body. Missed how your ass bounces with each thrust, cheeks spreading just enough to give him a glimpse of that tight little hole he’s never gotten the chance to have. And god, he hopes no one else has either.

More than anything though, he’s missed the way you take all of him, hug him tight like you never want to let him go. Fuck, he could live inside you and never get tired of it. The thought alone, the thought of having you all to himself again has him leaning forward, moaning into the space between your shoulders as he rocks his hips against you. The loud smacking noises of Satoru’s groin meeting your ass echo throughout the bathroom, and he doesn’t care who hears.

“Fuuuck, how are you so fucking tight, still?” Satoru groans, reminiscing on the first time he’d ever had you. An out of body experience for him, personally. Truly unforgettable.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he grunts, feeling your walls begin to flutter around him.

“Toru, I’m close,” you whimper. “So close, Toru, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” Satoru groans, hand sliding down your side to find your center again. He rubs tight circles on your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him as you cry out his name, your release crashing over you.

It’s so tight, so fucking tight Satoru thinks he might pass out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t fucking see straight, you’re gripping him so hard.

“Ah- fuck, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grits out as he pushes his cock all the way inside you, thrusting as deep as he can go as hot spurts of cum fill the condom. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your back as you both catch your breath.

Satoru meant what he said. He never wants to let you go. He has every intention of being with you. After you’ve both come down from your highs and cleaned up, Satoru kisses you gently. He watches as you turn back to the mirror. You’re even more beautiful as you tame your messy hair, fix your makeup and adjust your dress.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, ready to make up for years worth of lost time.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, your lips tilting with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

......

Fingers laced, you and Satoru weave through the party together. The crowd seems to have thinned out now with how late it’s getting. It’s the perfect time to get out of here with you, take you home and –

“Satoru! There you are!” A familiar voice squeals. The sound makes Satoru quickly yank his hand from your grip. You stop in your tracks, brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“What’s the matter?” You ask just as this person you don’t know bounds up to him and wraps her arms around Satoru’s neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before she lets go.

And Satoru isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed this before. It seems like some sick twist of fate that it’s only now that you’re standing next to each other that he sees how eerily similar you and his girlfriend look. It makes his stomach churn.

But his girlfriend, so drunk and so sweet, turns to you and beams as she holds out her hand to you. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Satoru’s girlfriend…” His stomach nearly drops into his ass. “...you are?”

God, he wishes he could teleport out of here. Or that the ground would open wide and swallow him whole, bury him 8,000 meters beneath the earth. Anything to avoid being present at this moment. He peers down at you briefly, your hand extending to shake his girlfriends for only a second. And Satoru thinks he may be imagining it, the sheer anger he can feel radiating off of your body, even as you return his girlfriend’s sweet smile.

“Satoru’s girlfriend?” You ask and he knows you’re making sure you aren’t hearing things. Because not too long ago, he told you he wasn’t tied down to anyone. “I wasn’t aware he was dating anyone.”

“Yep! Been together almost a year now,” she brags cheerily. Satoru really wishes she’d shut up for once in her damn life.

You breathe out a bitter laugh, gazing up at Satoru and he knows he’s not imagining the rage. He can see it swimming in your eyes even as you reach up, your thumb gently swiping the corner of his mouth where apparently remnants of your lip gloss remained. You hold your finger up to show him and then hold it up to show his girlfriend who five seconds ago was too drunk to notice. She seems to have sobered up quickly now, eyes focused on the lip gloss you just wiped from Satoru’s face.

You introduce yourself to her, wiping your thumb off on your dress before continuing, “And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m the girl who just fucked your lying boyfriend in the bathroom.”

Satoru watches in ill disguised horror as you crane your next to the side, gesturing to the marks he so stupidly made along your neck in the heat of passion. His eyes find his girlfriend who stands there, mouth agape.

“Satoru told me he wasn’t seeing anyone. If I had known it wouldn’t have happened. And believe me, it won’t ever happen again.” You turn to face Satoru one last time, gritting out, “I can’t fucking believe you. After all these years, you’re still such a piece of shit, Satoru.”

You don’t wait for a response from him, turning on your heel and storming through the crowd. Satoru watches as your back retreats, not sure what the hell he’d say even if he did catch up to you. How could he explain that he lied about his girlfriend because he wanted to spend more time with you? It’s not like he planned on fucking in the bathroom, it just happened. But there was no way you were going to give him a second of your time to try and explain.

There was no coming back from this.

When he finally loses sight of you in the crowd, Satoru reluctantly brings his gaze back down to his probably soon to be ex-girlfriend and is met with a fury similar to yours. Again, the similarities are uncanny. All the love and happiness once shining in her eyes is nowhere to be found as one question hangs in the air between them.

“Satoru, what the fuck is she talking about?”

AN: OOF, let me know what you think!

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

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fiveht · 3 months

Text

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here.

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions?

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair.

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges.

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

#and i disappear into the night once again #turned off anon asks for the time being #sorry i love you guys i'm just awkward

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undercoverpena · 10 months

Text

x. oh, just to be with you

javier peña x f!reader | chapter ten of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: we're back to texts and phone calls. sorrowful!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. pls don't be mad at me ✨ wordcount: 3k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

He's aware of everything.

How the porch creaks when he steps on it, the way the back door doesn’t quite meet the frame unless it’s locked. How the wind is knocking something else, far across the tall grass and fence posts.

Right now, his focus is on how his curtains don’t quite close. That they're letting the thinnest crack of moonlight cascade through his room. How the smallest luminescent slither keeps dancing in the breeze, yet it still lands perfectly on the propped-up photo strip on his dresser, highlighting the two of you, as though he hadn't committed them to memory.

He can’t remember the last time someone had managed to slide around his walls—bypass his common sense and begin weaving themselves into him. Javi also can't remember the last time he wanted something more than a win.

Then came you.

Not that he complains that you're the exception. He'll never complain when it comes to you.

Having people close has never been his issue. It’s letting himself fall that he’s forever found hard. He can be a lover who makes a night all about the other; he can be a protector, shielding and doing what is needed.

It’s the parts after when he feels he clams up. A portion of him constantly weighing up risks, calculating the damage he could cause—either by a choice he could make or others—long before the city that housed Escobar.

Javi knew his reluctance had stemmed from before he left Laredo, but it was now carved somewhere deeper in him. Something you managed to find with relative ease and cut out of him as if it was nothing.

All smiles. All radiance and fucking beauty, with a laugh that could make his lips curl even if his bones are aching and his muscles are tired.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost convince himself that he’s back there, in the hotel room. Because even if you’d never been here, your room is full of him.

His bag of spilt-out clothes from your time together, slowly letting the scent of your perfume seep out across the room. Your jacket, hung on the closet handle, and the photos and sign you made on his dresser, all perfectly in sight.

you have nice handwriting I did try my best, sometimes I get lazy and letters blur together more. I like how you wrote baby Does this mean I’ve got the whole set now? Cause you like how I say it, how I write it, how I mouth it.

Even when he had known you’d needed to get some sleep, Javi had desperately wanted to beg you to stay up. Sending back a text here or there, already missing you so much more than he was sure he could handle.

He felt lovesick. Like the singer in all those songs that make people either stare at a loved one or bite back tears because they lost theirs. Suddenly relating to a sea of them he’s heard on the radio in the kitchen or hummed in the back of his pop’s throat.

Javi had been happy to see his pops, somewhat surprised he even came out of the house to greet him. But, as soon as his eyes landed on him, he became suddenly more aware of his old man’s age. Noticing the lines on his face, the ones that tell a thousand stories—not all of them he’s sure he’s heard. Curling into the hug he’d barely reciprocated before, unsure how to form the words to thank him for convincing him to go.

Naturally, he asks about you.

It’s more of an interrogation if he’s honest. He shows the photos, the ones now on his dresser, watching his pop smile as he continues to answer the array of questions, until he yawns for the tenth time in the space of five minutes.

“You should get some sleep, Pop.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Javi. Tell me more about your lady.”

Your lady.

Those two words stand out as if they’ve been illuminated in bulbs, twinkling and shimmering.

now youre back in reality you sure about us Never been more sure about anything, baby. just wanted to check You’re beginning to sound like me, worrying. left a mark on me Think that’s fair, you’ve left a lot on me too. Especially my chest.

“Tomorrow. Promise. The drive took it out of me.”

But Javi isn’t tired.

Somehow, he had suspected he wouldn’t be the moment he watched you leave.

For longer than he cares to number, he's struggled with it. Had developed an unhealthy live-able balance of it when he was working, something he managed to keep as a prize in his return.

Now, it’s different.

There’s an edge to it. As though he's now having to pay back the stolen sleep he enjoyed when he had been lay with you. When he slept with ease and not struggle. Leaving him feeling now like he’s in a lull, a dream. All aware, not in a daze anymore, noticing things he had never given much attention to before his trip out of town.

You had been so warm, so soft. His fingers gliding up and down your side, soothing you as much as it was him. But, you slept with ease. Falling almost instantly once you'd stopped talking, a little jolt and a soft sigh punctuating it.

Fuck, he misses you.

Thumb and index pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut. Unsure how he's supposed to manage, and cope, until the next chance he gets to see you.

Till he gets to hold you in his arms, stare at your smile as it grows across your face or feels the light tap of your hand when he’s teasing you...

Something ugly curls inside of him. At first, soaked in sadness, before it shakes itself and burns bright with annoyance. Irritation. Anger at how unfair it all is.

How is it, after all, he’s given up—he’s fallen for the one person not even in his state? A person he had to say goodbye to hours ago, for reasons out of his or their control.

He almost snorts, unsure if it’s due to the tiredness or the reality that after all he’s faced, life would continue to be cruel and deal him such a hand. Tempted to get up, kick off the sheets and pull out the crossword from before he left town.

Javi doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes, shaking his head—to no one but himself. Because he can't do them without you now. A promise, one given with ease.

He hears the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the trees. Something needling at him that if he wasn't so broken, this would be the perfect amount of quiet to fall asleep to.

Now, it's not the loud of a Colombian city he misses now. It's how your leg slides over his, how your breaths feel on his chest—how you twitch, ever so slightly, as you first fall asleep.

But, it’s the quiet as to why he hears his phone vibrate, practically darting out of bed, knowing it can only be you.

why aren’t you asleep?

Because I can't sleep without you. Apparently.

I miss you too.

I really hate this. I even miss you digging your knee into my hip.

told you that you’d miss it once it was gone

I feel like telling you that you’re right will mean your head will inflate.

youre right

One day, right?

if I could make that tomorrow I would

You really missing me that much?

not enough words in the world to describe how much, baby

Gonna make me cry.

dont cry I can’t wipe them from here

So not wise for me to tell you I cried the entire flight home.

did the person you sit next to seem to mind

They didn’t say anything until we landed. Then promptly told me that I deserved better.

so they thought you were broken up with

I think I may have led her to believe that from the amount I was crying.

fuck you like me a lot

I like you a regular, normal amount.

I don’t think I like you a normal regular amount

That’s the tiredness talking.

you know it isnt

I feel the same. I really miss you.

I miss you too but you should try to sleep you have work tomorrow

Okay, but so do you!

ill be fixing a shed or a pen baby you have to deal with people

go to sleep and then tomorrow we can call as planned

You’d told him that you suspected the first day would be the hardest.

Not the goodbye (and that had been fucking painful) but the following day when they were apart.

Javi hates that you’re right.

It twists inside of him how much he loathes it—grateful that he gets to push some of his anger into repairing the side of the shed. Hammer meeting nail, again and again. Each time with more fury than is needed, only worrying after whether he’s done more damage to the shed post than pre.

"Mijo."

He doesn't find a judgemental look, but one filled with sympathy.

His pop not quizzing him, just handing him a beer. A cold one, droplets descending down the can, sliding across his palm and down his wrist—attempting to soothe the boiling blood in his veins.

“It’ll get easier.” His pop tugs his hat down, shielding his eyes, before staring off into the distance. “When me and your mama first began, we couldn’t see each other all the time either.”

Letting out a sigh, Javi grinds his teeth. A sea of biting comments lathered on his tongue, all set to pounce, to poison.

Instead, he kicks the ground, swallowing most of them back. “She wasn’t hundreds of miles away, though.”

“No,” his Pop says, clapping his hand on his back—both for comfort and likely stability. “But we didn’t have landlines, or tha' other thing you do on y’phone. The tapping."

The tapping.

He doesn't snort, even if it sits at the back of his throat. Burying it in the liquid that slides down his throat with ease.

"Come on, ‘need to head into town, and my truck is acting up.”

Javi doesn’t question it, why he’s the one sliding into the passenger seat of his own truck.

If he’d thought about it, he’d have asked why the truck was acting up or why Pop was driving instead of him. But he doesn’t—didn’t. Just let it happen, staring off as the shades of grass pass him by, fingers playing with the cap on the can, twisting and twisting it.

To fill the silence, he rolls the edges of the can around in his hands. Crunching the sides every now and again, making him wince from the noise.

Then, he finds himself staring at the fingerprints left in the dust from you touching his dash—eyes catching sight of a hair grip on the floor near his boot.

He’s rolling it in his fingers when they’re back on the road, silence smothering them until he watches his pop turn on the radio. As soon as it springs to life, it becomes desperate to try and cut through it. The broadcaster mumbles about heavy rain and increased traffic, but he’s lost in a sorrow of sadness all cast by the spell of a good week to care. The fog around him making it hard to see the wood through the trees, never mind the hope through the misery.

“Dios mio. More trucks passing through now since the bridge opened. Y’noticed, mijo? So many.”

“Hmm.”

Eyes fixed on the grip, the one more worn on one side than the other—imagining your face, the night when he’d watched you take them out, face fresh, one of his tees on your frame.

Then, because the world isn’t cruel enough, the song changes. The radio playing a game with him now, as well as everything else, as he lifts his head, trying to focus on the road. Hearing the soft thud of his pop’s fingers on the steering wheel, his jaw tightened as the lyrics washed over him. Faintly hearing you humming along with the chorus.

Because he heard the song in the diner with you.

Heard it on the radio one afternoon, then again in the bowling alley—how it wrapped its tune around the two of you.

“Heard our song today,” he says, fingers massaging his temple.

He's thankful his pop said he had plans, the quietness settling over the rest of the ranch.

Before he met you, he dreaded the nights he was left alone. His thoughts gearing up, ready to pounce. The minor differences he could have made if he took a step back and stared at the facts, how he should have noticed how deep the corruption was—how much Colombia was taking from him, bit by bit.

Now, he tries not to grin when his pop says he’s going out.

When he’s left alone, allowed full reign to talk as loud as he wants to you—rather than being huddled near the phone, whispering like a teenager.

“Our song?”

“Yeah.”

Javi can practically hear you smirk. “And how does that go, charmer?”

He’s not a singer. Not by a long shot, but he does his best. Humming the tune at first, softly singing the words from the chorus until he trails off.

You snort, before you try to muffle it in a cough.

“You tricked me.”

“Maybe. But, just because I wanted to hear you sing.”

Smirking, he pulls the phone from his ear—shaking his head—before replacing it back to hear you add:

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Fuck you, baby.”

Your laugh rips from you, hurtling down the phone right to his soul—making fireworks explode in his chest and warmth kiss his nerves.

Because now he can imagine what you look like. Likely head thrown back, eyes closed—nose scrunched a little as your hands grip onto something for leverage.

And it was beautiful. You’re beautiful—your laugh and your smile. Something he feels he should have said long before now. He’s about to rectify that, when he hears it merge into a sniffle—veering into tears and half-suppressed swallows before a noticeable little sob breaks through—as his throat dries instantly, closing.

Turning, he places his palm on the fall as he tries to keep his chest from tightening. The knot in his chest, the one he suspects is tied to you in some way, constricts, pulling taught around his lungs.

“I—I miss….”

You sniffle again, louder. “I've been looking forward to this all day,” you whisper, voice catching, words struggling to fall as sweetly as they usually do. “But, is it bad for me to say that phone calls aren’t the same now I’ve had the chance to be with you in person?”

Leaning his forehead against the kitchen wall, Javi wipes his chin. “Took the words outta my mouth, baby.”

He hears you chuckle, almost both heavily and heavenly, before you ask about his day.

He rambles because it’s easy too. You listen, lapping up every single thing. Hearing about his trip to town, his pop making jokes—trying, desperately, to crack through the mist that had descended.

“How was yours?”

Then you sigh, all tight. You tell him about Aish and her interview, before your voice softens as you begin whispering about the prep you’re doing for your interview. He’s about to comfort you, when you continue about the asshole you work alongside has been taken out for lunch by your boss and that you snagged your favourite pair of tights on a desk.

“But, enough about that—guess what I’m wearing?”

Smiling, he bites down on his knuckle, Javi lifting his head, groaning as he tries to think. “All of your clothes at once? Anything else might short-circuit my brain.”

“Won’t tell you then.”

“No. Please. Tell me, baby.”

He hears you move, and is almost sure he can hear you swallow. “You realise that you’re missing something, Javier?”

Fuck, the way you say his name. How it drips from your tongue. Laced in lust and swirling down the phone line to his brain.

He quickly tries to think of his washing, the piles he made—the attempted sorting. And it hits him. His eyes widened, head half-lifting, feeling his eye twitch.

“Fuck—“

“Yes. I’m sat in that. And underwear, of course.”

“Hermosa…”

His throat is dry, painfully so. Mind arranging an image of you from the days he spent with you. And fuck.

“Wasn’t sure this shade of pink was my colour, but I was wrong.”

Jutting his jaw, he closes his eyes—picturing the sight of you. The underwear he’d had the chance to peel off of you, the way it set against your skin—now, accompanied by his shirt on your arms. The buttons are likely undone, showing off more skin than he can currently process thinking about.

“It’s nice on my skin,” you whisper, all honeyed. “Be better on my floor.”

Clenching his fist, he bites his lip. “Baby…”

“Maybe I’ll show you one day.”

Snorting, he traces his teeth with his tongue. “You better. Now, tell me about the underwear.”

“Only if you can answer six across. Clue: now.”

Mouth parting, his jaw rolls to the side, eyes picking a spot on the wall. Thinking. And thinking.

“Want an extra clue?”

“An extra? You're spoiling me.”

He hears you giggle, low and in your throat. “It’s an Italian word. And, ‘I want to see you… blank—“

His eyes flick up, a smile spreading. “Pronto.”

“Correct,” you reply. “Seven words, silenced. You did this to me when you had your mouth on my—“

“Shushed,” he says quickly, fist clenching, trying to stare at the mark on the wall again, and not let the image of you populate in his head.

“You okay, baby?”

Gritting his teeth, he sighs. “You’re devious, you know that?”

“I think it’s your shirt. It’s making me… flirty.”

Grinning, he turns on the spot, back against the wall—head tilting up, eyes closing. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too….” your tone softer, frayed at the edges. “I’m kinda glad I stole your shirt.”

“Me too. Means I get to see you to steal it back from you.”

“Off me.”

It comes out quickly—purposefully chosen, spilt.

Frowning, he opens his eyes. “What?”

“Off me. You’ll have to steal it from my body.”

Grasping the phone, breathing through his nose, letting out a murmured, “Fuck, baby,” under his breath.

AN: for all those wondering if they'll be together in person again, they will. i am a happily-ever-after kind of writer unless otherwise stated. but it was so important to me that they had a magical week, and then returned to their lives.

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

513 notes · View notes

plumgyu · 27 days

Text

The Best Man - Choi Yeonjun

(Choi Yeonjun/Female Reader)

Warnings: Smut, Alcohol, Hangover Sex, Creampie, Strangers to Lovers

When you walked into your best friend’s wedding, you hadn’t expected a late night with a perfect stranger. Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?

—˚ʚ♡ɞ˚—

Wedding music blared into your ears, a stark contrast to the harmonious ceremony which had just taken place. People were scattered around the dance floor, drinks in their hands and grins on their faces. Every classic wedding cliche had come true, and you truly couldn’t be happier for Shim Nari, your lifelong friend. She and her now husband carried the biggest smiles of all, and it soon proved infectious as the mere sight of people so in love made your heart feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

As her maid of honor, you felt you had more than earned this tranquil moment, as loud as it may be, as you’d been working nearly as hard as the couple themselves to set up all of the decorations to perfection.

She walked up to you, grinning broadly, and pulled you in for a hug. Behind her stood Seoyoon, her groom. Beside him, though, was his best man. You were unsure if you had ever seen a person so attractive.

His hair was sleek yet soft, split into a middle part which accentuated his pretty eyes. Eyes which you felt as though you could get lost in, like there was an entire world hidden behind them. His suit was just as neat as his hair, a deep grey lined with white satin on the inner layer. Rather than a traditional tie, he wore only the collar, and you couldn’t help but notice it was unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

Just as you wondered if you had been staring too long, you could have sworn his gaze knowingly met yours, but you had no choice other than to brush it off. He held himself confidently, smiling and effortlessly making conversations with even guests he had never met before. Not wanting to be caught looking by him a second time, you decided to head towards the dessert stand instead, choosing from a large (and overly expensive) array of buns, cakes, macarons, and the occasional fancy chocolate shaped like a heart. You sure were glad that all the spending you had done came out of your friend’s wallet and not your own.

Taking a red bean bun from the table, you met up with Nari again and discussed the beautiful arches and flowers of her ceremony. She gushed about how sweet Seoyoon’s vows were, how he had always been so romantic, but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to that boy you’d seen beside him. Although you couldn’t seem to find him anywhere now, the banquet filled with hundreds of guests so that it would be impossible to pinpoint a single person. Sighing softly, you shifted your focus back to the conversation, moving the thought of him to the back of your mind.

—˚ʚ♡ɞ˚—

You had been dancing and laughing for hours, and were now far beyond exhausted. Loud music blared from the speakers, which had once been thrilling, but now just caused a bothersome ringing in your ears. You had to get out of here before this place gave you even worse of a headache… The ability of some people to scream and party for hours was beyond your understanding.

You pushed your way through rows of guests, getting hit straight in the face multiple times, muffled apologies flying from behind you as you left. Finally, you made your way to the exit, realizing that you never even got a chance to fully enjoy the scenery outside. Rows of vibrant flowers filled the field, soft grass inviting you to explore, the faint chirping of birds calling you to a peaceful silence.

In the corner of your vision you saw a gazebo on the pond, built with such intricate beauty you were surprised the wedding hadn’t been held there in the first place. Arches of a brilliant white hue shone against the dark night sky, filled with vibrant stars setting the night alight. It was perfect weather, not single cloud to be seen, and thus it only increased the already great beauty before you. Inside the water were what had to be dozens of koi fish, all with unique colors and patterns and long, pretty whiskers. You smiled at the tranquility of it all.

Now, with nothing else to distract you, your mind soon drifted back to the man from before, and you began to hit your forehead on instinct. To your surprise, the blow didn’t hit. Instead, a soft hand cupped yours, making you gasp from shock.

“I remember you. You’re the girl who had her mouth hanging half open while staring at me earlier,” A voice began, and in an instant you knew who it was. What great timing… Just as you found yourself being unable to stop thinking about him. Turning around, you saw him up close, and his beauty was even more clear than at a distance. His warm eyes were focused solely on you, and his mouth curved into a grin as he tried, but failed, to hide his amusement.

You were at something of a loss for words. What were you supposed to say to that? There was no use denying it, since he clearly did see you gawking at his handsomeness, but admitting it would just be embarrassing in itself. So you chose the option of none, and changed the subject completely.

“Are you here to avoid the noise too?” You asked. A bland conversation topic, yes, but much preferable to anything he wanted to hear from you. He laughed slightly under his breath, amused at your blatant disregard for his words, and you couldn’t help but wonder how someone could be both so cute and hot at the same time. Of course, you wouldn’t tell him that.

“I like the flowers here,” He began, and you couldn’t help but notice that rather than the field he was gazing straight into your eyes. You tried to hide your obvious flustered state, but a certain glint in his eyes told you it was to no avail. Of course, if he didn’t verbally mention it, you’d pretend as if nothing had happened at all. Did this man have to be such a shameless flirt all the time? To your despair, his smile only grew even wider.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I haven’t even learned your name and your hand is gripping onto mine like that of a lover’s,” He said as if observing the weather, “If you’re not careful, I might take it the wrong way, you know.”

“Sorry…” You mumbled. At this point you were unsure if you were more flustered or annoyed. Either way, you were ashamed that you somehow hadn’t noticed that his fingers were practically interlocked with yours. You resorted to looking away in shame, muttering your name under your breath to respond to what you assumed was him asking for what to call you.

“Choi Yeonjun,” he said, having mercy this once to introduce himself, “Want to grab a drink with me? Before you ask, there’s a quiet corner at the side of the bar.” You weren’t sure how confident it was possible to be until you met this man. You tried to look into his eyes to find his true intentions, but decided against it so you could avoid his teasing.

“Only if you’re paying.” You tried to say as bluntly as possible, but you couldn’t hide your grin for much longer, so you grabbed his arm and dragged him away with you.

—˚ʚ♡ɞ˚—

“Didn’t have to be so rough with the person who’s about to pay for you, did you?” He asked, pretending to be deeply hurt, still with that flirtatious glint in his eyes. You just looked at him blankly, wondering how much longer he had the energy to keep this up. True to his word, this corner of the venue was much quieter, although the occasional scream or shriek along with the faint hum of speakers remained. It was bearable, at least.

“Orders, please?” The bartender asked, and immediately you looked to Yeonjun to see if he actually was buying it for you, and he nodded in assurance. To your surprise, he ordered an entire bottle of soju. You started to feel bad, because you had originally been joking, but hey, a few dollars saved is a few dollars saved. You took the liberty of pouring him a glass, since that alcohol likely cost way more than you’d even like to imagine.

Once you tasted the first drop of soju all guilt for the price he must have paid left. You instantly felt relaxed even in the presence of Yeonjun, which was saying a lot considering the fact that all he had seemed to do today was make your heart race to alarmingly high speeds.

“This is good, thank you,” You said, attempting to break the silence. He simply hummed in agreement. Before you knew it, you had already drank the entire bottle together. Your head started to hurt faintly, but you tried to ignore it. You always had a low alcohol tolerance, so it was normal.

“So, are you going to explain to me why you were looking me up and down earlier?” He asked casually, as if the tone of his voice would make you any more likely to answer. Actually, it amused so much that it made you want to answer him just to see what he would do if you said something bold.

“Do you have a reason for me why someone wouldn’t stare at the hottest person in the room?” You remarked, as if it were common knowledge that people should be gawking over him. At first he looked slightly taken aback by your sudden confidence, but given that the both of you were now tipsy, to anyone else it wouldn’t be surprising at all. You were satisfied in this, feeling as if you had done your job, but he clearly had different intentions. Hearing your sudden confession changed something inside of him, and not in a way you didn’t like. He was now looking into your eyes with an emotion you had never seen on him before. Desire.

“Come outside with me?” He simply asked, sliding a tip to the bartender before waiting for your nod, taking your hand, and leading you away. The atmosphere suddenly felt heavier, hotter somehow. As soon as you had fully left the venue, you felt one arm snake around your waist and the other pushing you against the wall. His breath was warm against your skin in the cold night, yet the feeling of being so close to him sent shivers down your spine.

“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to kiss me?” You asked boldly, all conscience lost due to the alcohol in your brain. Immediately after saying this, his lips crashed into yours. It was a sloppy kiss, given both of your drunken states, but just as sweet. Your arms found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer into you. Neither of you seemed to want to let go. Once you eventually had to breathe for air, he pulled you right back, taking your gasp of surprise as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. The taste of soju lingered in his mouth, the tantalizing flavor pulling you back for more.

He soon pulled away yet again, leaving kisses in a rush down from your lips and into the small of your neck. This time, you couldn’t contain your breathy moans, and by the way he was reacting this only spurred him on more. He bit into your sensitive flesh, leaving vivid marks on your skin. It felt good. Your heart was nearly beating outside of your chest, and you could hardly think straight. Maybe something wasn’t right…

“Yeonjun…” You began, slurring your words yet still grabbing his attention, “I don’t feel so good right now…” His gaze immediately changed to that of concern, and he hardly caught you when you began to fall into him. Everything went blurry, and eventually you couldn’t see anything at all.

—˚ʚ♡ɞ˚—

You awoke with possibly the worst headache you have ever had in your life. An overall gross feeling filled your body, and at first you could hardly remember where you even were. You felt a pillow which wasn’t from home, and your bed felt strangely well made as if a professional had done it. You squinted to open your eyes against the bright light from the window, and you soon realized that you weren’t at home. Rather, you were in a hotel room. If you hadn’t been in a large amount of pain, you would have been worried for your safety, but rather than that you focused on simply getting a glass of water. Your hangover was nothing short of terrible, and you didn’t remember how, when, or where you had gotten drunk.

You groggily got out of bed, rubbing your eyes to see things more clearly, when you noticed something, rather someone, in front of you. There was a man. You were in his room. No, you were in his bed. God, what kind of trouble had you gotten into while drunk? Even worse, how do you even wake someone up in this type of situation? You chose the only way you knew to do, the awkward as hell way.

“Um… Are you awake?” You cringed at the sound of your own voice. This was one of those situations where preferable to any other option would be to crawl into a hole and die. It didn’t seem to work, so instead you resorted to tapping him on the shoulder. He strained his eyes as he started to wake up, a look of confusion in his face. As soon as he took in his surroundings, the memories seemed to come back to him. You noticed that a faint blush spread across his face, but as you were still unsure what had taken place, it only scared you more.

“So stupid…” He mumbled, clearly stressed. “Shouldn’t have let her drink so much…” He ran his hands through his hair whilst scoffing in disapproval at his own actions, eventually landing his eyes back on you, covering his mouth with his hand.

“I… don’t remember what happened,” You began, trying your best to say it in the most casual way you could, “Could you fill me in?” A sheepish grin made its way to your lips. And god, was the answer more than you had bargained for. As he explained the previous night, your face grew more and more flushed with pure embarrassment. You couldn’t help but gaze at the lips which you couldn’t even remember the taste of due to the soju.

“I’m really sorry… about the whole passing out on you thing,” You muttered, fighting not to meet his gaze knowing what you had done together, and knowing that your drunken self had done something so embarrassing.

"No, it's fine, I'm glad it didn't end up becoming more while we were both intoxicated." You couldn't help but notice how he didn't say that he didn't want it, just that he didn't want it after having drank an entire bottle of alcohol. You nodded slightly in agreement, still looking towards the wall rather than him, and you felt his warm hand reach your face to redirect your gaze. You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat, but he either didn't notice or purposely didn't react, choosing to speak instead.

"Take this, it will help with your hangover. I already had some." On the nightstand was some medicine, and he took a dose and held it out to you. You opened your mouth on instinct, as if you were a child being fed by your parents, and you saw him freeze. Shit. So much for not doing anything stupid… His expression shifted to one you had never seen on him before, and with a slight smile, he moved his hand to your lips. The medicine was bitter, but the look on his face with your mouth on his fingers was sweet. You pulled away as if nothing had happened, smiling innocently yet proudly at your achievement of flustering him. It had been a day now, but no amount of time could change the fact that you were drunk from his gaze. Maybe it would be fun to see how far you could take this.

Choi Yeonjun wasn’t one to be flustered, but that only made it all the more enticing that you could manage even a faint blush on his face. He seemed to notice this, although he didn’t comment on it. That would only take away the fun. Just what did this man have planned? You didn’t question it. That would only spoil the surprise.

“Oh? You seem eager for my touch. If you wanted a taste of last night, you could have just said so.” His lips curled into that familiar grin you had grown to love. Somehow he was teasing you with both his words and his eyes. If this was how he wanted to play, then you wouldn’t complain.

He clearly handled the alcohol better than you, having changed into a fresh pair of clothes while you were knocked out. His usual attire was a mix of street fashion and the dress clothes you’d seen him in before, as he was wearing dark, baggy jeans with a nice collared shirt on top. You couldn't help but notice how his gaze drifted towards the way your dress accentuated your waist, or the soft lace lining your neck and shoulders. You'd use that fact to your advantage.

"Eyes up here," You said so softly that you were unsure if he would have heard, other than the fact that his ears went red when your finger traced his neck to lift up his chin.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were still drunk. I like this side of you," He began, "But you're playing a dangerous game." In a moment, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His gaze was both affectionate and lustful, and you couldn't tell which side of him you liked more. All you knew was that you wanted all of them as your own.

"Am I?" You replied, determined not to lose to him so easily. "Show me how dangerous you can be then, Mr. Choi."

And that was all it took. Arms still wrapped around your waist, he pulled you closer to him so that your hearts were practically beating against each other. His lips met yours, and that sweet taste you had longed for was yours once again. But this time, you wouldn't be letting go of it so soon. This time, his kisses were soft and loving, and you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast that they had to last night's encounter. He pulled away only to look you directly in the eye.

"I'm going to make you lose your mind," He said simply, whispering in your ear before tightening his grip on your waist. His hot breath traced your neck as he made his way back up to get another taste of your lips, this time more fervently. His mouth latched onto yours as if it was his last meal, soft groans escaping into the kiss. He really did know how to drive you insane.

You ran your fingers through his silky hair, as if he would slip away in an instant if you let go. You never wanted him to. You pulled away, wanting to please him too, tasting the warm flesh of his neck and leaving soft bites to match the ones he had given you the previous night.

"It's only fair that I taste you too, is it not?" You said, hot breath against his skin. Trailing kisses down to the buttons of his shirt, you used your hands to undress him tantalizingly slowly. Whenever you stopped to suck a hickey into his flesh, a soft gasp escaped his lips.

"Haah... Come here," Yeonjun pulled you over and laid you down on the bed, pinning your hands down to the sheets. His shirt was hanging half open, and you didn't bother hiding your stares.

"Ever since I saw you in this tight dress I wanted to take it off of you," He licked his lips at the sight before him, "So I'm not going to stop until you're screaming my name." You felt his warm arm wrap around you, other hand still holding yours, and he unzipped the back of your dress in one stroke. You took this as an opportunity to escape from his grasp, sliding your hands away from his.

“Only if I can do the same for you.” You pulled him back into the kiss by his collar, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt before it easily slid off. Feeling his bare chest, you couldn’t stop the blush from forming on your cheeks, but even so you didn’t stop exploring with your fingers. He had managed to carefully remove most of your dress one-handed, but once he had both it took only seconds for him to finish the job. He pulled away from your lips to admire what he had done, and you couldn’t help but notice his eyes fixated towards your chest. Taking the hint, you unclipped your bra, meeting his gaze as to tell him it was okay.

His mouth latched onto your chest, and you felt his tongue swirl around the sensitive bud, soft moans soon escaping your lips. You reached your hand to pat his head in approval, and as if on command, his hand moved down between your legs to tease your clit. You could tell he was experienced, because he seemed to adjust to every reaction of yours, sole goal to please you. Soon, even this wasn’t enough, and you whined for more. He reached to your hips, pulling off the remainder of your clothing, throwing it off to a corner of the room, forgotten. You found yourself grinding into his fingers, the warm sensation of his hot tongue on your breasts and his skilled fingers between your legs too much to handle.

“Fuck it,” You muttered, “I can’t wait much longer.” You swapped your positions, pushing him down onto the bed, not caring to be gentle.

“Getting bold, are we?” He replied with that flirtatious grin, pulling your hips onto the now obvious bulge in his pants, desire clearly matching yours. You reached for his cock, palming him through the fabric, watching as he bit his lip in attempt to silence his breaths, to no avail as you increased your pace. You slowly undressed him, watching as his impatience grew with your teasing, but since you were just as needy as he was, you weren’t keen on wasting much more time. Stroking him until your hands were coated in precum, you placed a soft kiss on his tip, then to his lips.

“Ride me,” He called out to you, grabbing your hips, practically rutting into you. You wasted no time aligning him to your entrance, and with a shaky breath, you slowly lowered yourself onto his length. You took a few moments to adjust, admiring the look of pure pleasure on his face, until you were comfortable moving. At first you started slow, rolling your hips so that he filled every part of you, and a sharp gasp escaped you as he hit your sensitive spot. This seemed to change something in him, since he grabbed onto your waist, thrusting into you to match your pace. He was practically holding you up at this point, as you bounced up and down on his cock, enjoying everything about this moment.

He increased his speed, and therefore so did you, chasing more and more pleasure, wanting more and more of him. You pulled him in for another kiss, this one more fervent yet equally as soft and loving, and you could have sworn your heart skipped a beat. Soft groans escaped his lips from the sensation of being inside you, and endless moans seemed to pour from your mouth. It felt nothing short of euphoric.

Suddenly, he flipped you over yet again, laying you down in front of him, gazes interlocked and fingers intertwined. He wasted no time in fucking you harder, and you felt one of his hands leave to rub your clit. God, this man was going to be the death of you. You began chasing your climax, and as you heard his breaths grow louder, you could tell he was getting close too.

“You feel so good,” He murmured, drunk on the high of pleasing you. He somehow went even faster, and you could hardly think. All you could feel was his cock, all you could think about was his gentle touch, all you wanted was him. Soon, you felt him slow down, laying his head into the crook of your neck, warm breath hitting your skin, and you felt his hot cum fill you to the brim. He pulled out of you and instantly the white liquid poured out into the bedsheets. His hand was still hard at work, rubbing at the sensitive flesh with no sign of stopping.

“Yeonjun… I’m close…” You moaned, desperate for his fingers, desperate to orgasm under his touch. He only increased his pace from there, and you soon reached your peak. Your legs grew unsteady, a familiar warmth spreading throughout your entire body, and a spike of pleasure went through your system. You rode out your climax with his help, moving slower and slower until he removed his hand from between your legs and instead put it between his lips. Your face flushed and you looked away in an instant, embarrassed he had tasted you so easily, and you heard him speak.

“Tastes good too,” he began, “All of you.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, this time filled with such sweetness you thought your heart might melt. You wrapped your arms around him, peppering his face with kisses, little pieces of your newfound infatuation.

Looking below you, you were met with ruined bedsheets, and you sighed in disappointment.

“We should probably clean this, shouldn’t we?” You muttered, not wanting to move from his grasp.

“Alright, but as soon as we’re done you’re coming right back to me.” You felt your face heat up. His eyes looked into yours with pure affection, and for the first time in a while, your life felt complete.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. As always please give any suggestions/corrections you like ♡

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mistydeyes · 1 year

Text

take a walk in my shoes

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summary: With the 141 boys home and relaxing in your embrace, you decide to show them a day in your life. A sequel to opposite occupations.

pairing: 141 x civvie! fem!Reader (established relationship)

warnings: swearing, mentions of tattooing (tattoo guns and needles), but like before all fluff!

a/n: i love our lil squad of civilian significant others and thought a sequel needed to be made for our faves :)

🏷️ @fan-of-encouragement - thanks for giving me some ideas for price and the florist!

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watching love bloom - price x florist!

Ever since you first met, Price had been a tremendous help with the management of your shop. You had been going steady for a year now, "10 years in military time" Price would say. Although, it was as if you both were practically married. Besides hosting dinners and communicating with the other civilian girlfriends (in a group chat called "almost military wives🪖💍"), you lived like an old, married couple. Together, you and Price owned a small cottage placed in the English countryside. It was idyllic as Price could spend his evenings on the porch with a smoke and you could tend to a growing flower garden. Price requested some design choices but overall you furnished the home with items curated for the two of you. Your house was constantly filled with life, a new bouquet always resting on the table, and many thriving houseplants. Price would always joke that the plants were like your children especially when you went to water some and even sang to them.

Upon Price’s return to your shared home, he could tell something was on your mind. The living room was a mess with written notes and sketches as well as many sample flower bouquets.

“Darling I’m home!” he called setting his things down. He wondered where you could be. Suddenly you came from the backyard with an armful of flowers and your phone balanced between your ear and shoulder. When you saw him, you almost dropped your trimmings but Price moved to you and caught them.

“I’m glad you liked the arrangements, I’ll have them ready tomorrow,” you sighed before the other person on the line hung up.

After bombarding him with many kisses, he reminded you that the flowers were wilting with the lack of hydration.

“Who was that before?” he asked as he filled some buckets with water for you.

“It’s a bride from London, she and her partner are getting married in town. Funny enough, they started dating because of my little flower sign.” you chuckled as you began to prune the leaves and trim the stems from your haul. “Ah sounds like someone I know,” he said, gently kissing your forehead.

“As much as I enjoy the celebration of love and business, it’s been a whirlwind. You wouldn’t imagine how many phone calls and test runs I’ve had.” It was no exaggeration, these last few weeks had been a living hell as you helped the couple make their final preparations.

“Let me help you out tomorrow, got nothing better to do” he offered as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist. “You really don’t have to” you replied but he could see the stress this was putting on you. “Darling, there is nothing more that I would love than spending time with you and seeing you at work.”

You and Price woke up bright and early at 5 am. The sun crept on your sleeping face as he gently woke you. After some necessary coffee, you and Price opened your shop. You went to work, grabbing buckets of flowers from the fridge. You loved the brides but this order was shipped to you from a farm, one currently not being met with the cold, autumn temperatures. As you trimmed the summery array of dahlias, hydrangeas, and cosmos, Price helped to move the never-ending buckets and took care of the growing piles of trash. You were in the middle of showing him how to assemble a bridesmaid bouquet when you heard the door open.

"Fuck, can you take care of that?" you asked as you glanced at the clock, the wedding slowly approaching. "Love, what did I tell you when we first met?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am not a man for flowers" you both said in unison. You continued, "Please John? I have a list underneath the counter detailing the different flowers for occasions. You got this!" you placed a small kiss on his lips, knowing he would do whatever you asked.

He nodded and exited to the front. When he emerged, he could see an elderly woman. "Can you help me pick out flowers? My grandson just got a new job and is moving here tomorrow" she sweetly asked. "Oh and young man, I just need them wrapped. No arranging necessary" she continued and you could hear Price rifling around for your book. Miraculously through your notebook's guidance and some of your aesthetic impressed on him, he was able to help her pick out a colorful array of peonies, tulips, and chrysanthemums - a perfect combination for a congratulations gift. You made sure to shout out from the back that he should include some wisterias and eucalyptus as a nice welcome message. You caught a glance at the bouquet and you were happy to see that the lilac hydrangeas with the orange ballerina tulips were balanced with the magenta chrysanthemums and the bundles of wisteria and eucalyptus. You can safely say, the one thing he was a natural at was tying up the loose stems. You guess his training did come in handy.

As you finished making the final additions to your bouquet, you heard Price making conversation with the older woman. “Young man, I hope you have a sweetheart at home waiting for you,” she said as you peeked and saw him handing her a bouquet. “I do actually, she reminds me that there’s more to life than destruction,” he said and you could’ve married him on the spot. The old woman wished him well as you heard the sound of her exit.

As you exited from the back, you planted a kiss on his cheek. “What’s that for?” he asked. “For being the boyfriend and employee” you smiled back at him, admiring his face that shined in the afternoon light. “Might have to change positions soon,” he joked and while you initially thought he meant employment, you realized it was something else as a more than year later he proposed. Don’t worry, he let you handle the wedding floral arrangements.

two inked hearts - soap x tattoo artist!

Although Soap had his own home, he always managed to end up at yours when he was on leave. This time was no different but unfortunately, the short notice did not allow you to take off of work. You had two customs the next day and four flash works as well.

As you were enjoying your beer, you heard the front door unlock. Knowing who it was, you walked to the entrance and saw your boyfriend standing there. Although he appeared tired and a bit grimy, his face lit up when he saw you. He kicked off his snow covered boots and dropped his duffle. He held his arms out and you immediately embraced him.

After many kisses, you lightly punched his chest. "I didn't know you were coming home so early!" you said, slightly pouting. "Well is that any way to greet a soldier," he replied and you couldn't help but smile as you missed his loving accent. "I would have called off work tomorrow," you began to say before he interrupted. "Work doesn't have to stop because I'm home, lass. I'll just go to work," he said as you pondered this decision. It was clear, he didn’t want your busy schedule to get in his way and would follow you around like a lost puppy. "I mean if the shop and the patrons don't mind, then I guess," you said back, ecstatic he would see you in your element. "Until then, you're all mine, Bonnie" he laughed before picking you up and sat you both back on the couch.

After a rushed morning, trying to get the man to let you out of bed, you showed up to work. It was winter so to Soap's dismay, you were unable to showcase all your amazing tattoos. He did insist on matching outfits. So emerging from the winter cold, you entered both wearing matching beanies and winter coats. Upon your arrival, one of your fellow artists warmly greeted Soap and commented on how cute you both were. After some catching up, you went to set up your station. Soap followed you and watched as you got your tattoo gun and the inks you would be using for the first customer. He held your waist as you sterilized the area. "My beautiful artist," he cheekily said and you rolled your eyes.

Now you were no idiot, there was no way anyone would let him tattoo them. Although his signature mohawk made him fit in with the shop's patrons. Knowing he would eventually become bored after watching you, you left him with a sketch pad and pens in a corner of your room. Your first client of the day was one of your frequent patrons. They had decided on one of your flash pieces, a hand holding a bouquet of rosemary leaves, on their thigh. As you got them comfortable in the chair, you gave Soap a quick peck and began the process. You would occasionally glance over and see him drawing with a concentrated look. “From strong, protective boyfriend to a child in seconds,” you mumbled and earned a hearty laugh from your patron.

And so the day continued, you tattooing away and Soap drawing in the corner. He would occasionally ask you what the different needle gun sizes were for and how you were able to create custom works for clients. He even conversed with another soldier getting a bicep tattoo of a skull with snakes surrounding it. You thought the idea was badass, complimenting his choice. Almost immediately, Soap interjected to say his tattoo was the best compared to the one they were getting. Eventually, once you were done for the day, you walked to Soap to see what he was drawing. You snatched the paper and in return, he pulled you into his lap.

"Well, what do we have here, my tattoo apprentice?" you asked, holding up the paper. As you looked at each drawing, you could see some familiar faces. You couldn't help but laugh when you say "You have to pay the" with Price's face following the words. He even managed to draw what looked like a depiction of Simon underneath his mask as well as Price in a florist's apron in front of his girlfriend's shop.

Your favorite was the bar of soap he had drawn in the corner with a surprising amount of detail. "You know with this work and the fact they call you 'Soap', I would think you wouldn't be as smelly," you joked. "I thought it was cool at first, they all said it was because I'm good at cleaning house but I see what you mean," he said, slightly embarrassed. You kissed him gently before telling him it was time to return to your warm bed.

Weeks later, you texted Soap a picture of your new tattoo. It was the sketch he had drawn of the bar of soap. You had done it yourself, his drawing placed on your forearm. He loved it, proudly showing it off to the other 141 boys and anyone who listened. He even was sure to text Alejandro and Rudy a picture with the caption "mira el nuevo tatuaje de mi novia!". He did ignore the reply from Alejandro that asked, “¿por qué la chica inteligente se tatuaría una barra de jabón?”

translations: mira el nuevo tatuaje de mi novia! - look at my girlfriend's new tattoo!

¿por qué una chica inteligente se tatuaría una barra de jabón? - why would a smart girl get a bar of soap tattooed on her?

being the teacher's pet - gaz x teacher!

"You know the kids always ask about you," you told Gaz as you lay leisurely on his couch. It was a Sunday and you both were enjoying each other's presence before the school week. He came home on Friday and you welcomed him home with a cooked meal and his favorite bottle of wine. The entire weekend was filled with cuddling on the couch and catching up about the last couple of months. You laughed when he told you of Soap's girlfriends tattoo. You joked wishing he had a cooler call sign so you could get it tattooed. Since your first date, you both had established a comfortable long distance relationship but you always loved when he was home.

"I could make an appearance," he joked. As you lay on his chest, you could feel him laughing lightly. He would come to regret that statement as you begged him to visit the class the next day. After some convincing, he obliged unable to deny your sweet face.

The next day, you stopped by Kyle’s flat for some morning coffee. As you opened the door, you could see him standing by the hallway mirror making sure he looked presentable. You smiled, noting he was wearing the beige button-up and navy blue sports coat you had bought him. You suddenly felt underdressed in your green slacks and brown blouse.

“You look great, Kyle, let’s go get something to drink” you spoke and he looked at you with his charming smile that brightened the room. He took your hand gently and you walked to the local coffee shop. It was spring and you couldn't help but admire the new blooms on the trees. Once you both arrived, you enjoyed your morning brew as he sipped his tea. You wished he could stay home forever as he looked so relaxed in the early morning sun. However, you suddenly were reminded of the time and kissed him on the cheek, reiterating that he should be at school for snack time.

Once you arrived at the school, you went about your typical routine and eventually, it was time to begin your lessons. You went through your plan, teaching your students basic arrhythmic in the morning. As snack time approached, you smiled knowing you'd make your students' day.

“Alright, class! I have a surprise for you” you eagerly said. Gaz was on the other side of the classroom door, smiling as he heard your enthusiastic voice. “We have a special guest today who’s going to join us for snack time!”

With that, you whisked open the door and Gaz walked into the cheers of the children. He had two lunchboxes in his hand and your heart melted. The entire class wanted Gaz to sit with them so you decided to form them into a circle so everyone could enjoy his presence. You opened the lunchbox to reveal a variety of strawberries and watermelon, delicately cut into hearts. As everyone ate their snacks, one of your students asked if Gaz would be teaching them today.

"Well I'm sure Mr. Military Man could teach you some things while we eat," you winked looking at Gaz. The children were giddy with excitement and kept begging Gaz to teach them some military things. Not wanting to expose them to the horrors of his job, he simply taught them the military alphabet and assigned them all code names. He carefully assigned one to each kid based on their personalities as well as some stories you had told him. As you watched your boyfriend methodically assign the names, you softly chuckled to yourself. In another life, Gaz would be an amazing teacher as he was great with the kids.

Once snack time was over, you let the children know they would be doing some quiet reading before practicing some of their writing skills. Gaz sat on the edge of your desk as you answered some emails from parents.

You both then heard a child whisper, "Goose, can we swap books? I finished mine." Her friend replied, "Shhh, Maverick I'm almost done." You let out a small laugh, enjoying the subtle nod to the Top Gun movie.

"Goose, you can get another book from the cubby" you said as the other children continued reading. Looking over to Gaz you gave him a smile. “Thanks for doing this, babes,” you said and placed your hand on top of his. The moment was momentarily spoiled when he whispered, “So when are we going to have our army of kids?”

Upon Gaz’s next return from the 141, he found his apartment filled with framed drawings from the children. You had surprised him with it and all of your students were more than happy to participate. Each one of them wrote their names at the bottom along with their call sign. They all had one theme: “Miss Y/N and her husband.”

a purr-fect romance - ghost x veterinarian!

"How's my favorite patient doing?" you ask as you see Ghost with Earl Grey in his arms. Simon had come home just in time to enjoy the beginning of summer and the clear skies. He was dressed in a neutral-colored t-shirt and shorts, enjoying the nice weather you recently had been having. He even had put Earl in a small straw hat you had bought. You loved seeing him look like a little beach-goer.

“I’m doing well, love,” he said and gave you a peck on the cheek. As soon as he got close to you, Earl Grey tried to leap on you. “Well hello to you, Earl” you smiled as Ghost gently handed him to you.

In the last two years, Earl and Simon had become your home. You and Simon owned a flat down the street, a lovely commute for you to the office and a place of solace for him. When you began to furnish your home, you were astonished at how little he had in personal items and how much he had for Earl. Maybe it was due to all this spoiling that Earl had a clear love for Ghost. When he would leave for deployment, Earl would find his way to sneak in between you both in bed. One time Ghost snuck out of bed and was able to capture an image of you sleeping on your stomach with Earl resting on your back. Although you said you looked like a hot mess with your sprawled figure and crazy hair, Ghost treasured the photo and printed out a small copy to keep with him at all times. Despite this domestic life, Ghost would always insist on bringing Earl Grey to your office whenever he was home. It would be easier to just have you bring him in with you for his check-up but you secretly loved seeing your boyfriend in your office.

“Just a check-up and vaccine for us today, Doc” Ghost said as you checked them in. It was later in the afternoon and you had sent your assistants home as the only patient was Earl for the rest of the day. Plus, you knew they would love to enjoy the warm evening around town. “Actually, would you like to see what I do?” you asked. He nodded and you could tell he was curious.

You lead him to one of the rooms as you donned your coat and gloves of your own. You gently placed Earl down and went through the motions, showing Ghost how you typically performed an exam. You let him listen to Earl's heartbeat with your stethoscope and described to him what things to look for when examining his coat, ears, eyes, and mouth.

"Well I'm happy to say, Mr. Riley, that your cat is in perfect health," you smiled at him and you raised your hand in front of Earl to receive a high five. "Now just for that rabies shot," you said and you pulled out the materials from around the office.

As you drew up the vaccine, Ghost entertained Earl with one of the many ribbon teaser toys lying around. You laughed as you saw Earl going crazy for the thing. Finally ready, you let Ghost pet him as you found the best area on Earl's right hind leg to administer. Setting him on his side, your heart warmed hearing him purr gently into Simon's arms.

"Alright, Earl, this will be real quick," you said and you quickly administered the shot. Earl whined and Ghost tried his best, gently saying to him, "It's okay bud, the lovely doc is almost done." With that, you finished and allowed Earl to return to his toys as you cleaned up.

Ghost picked Earl back up and you closed up the office. As you walked home in the balmy night air, Ghost was clearly in a cheery mode. "You're so great with animals, when are we-" he began to joke before you stopped him. "We can think about adopting maybe another kitten. I swear if you make Kyle's joke about having an army of them, then you can live in a house with them while his girlfriend and I live in our clean flat." With that, he laughed and wrapped a free arm around you. You wondered how life could be so perfect. You lived with your soulmate, taking care of an animal who loved you both and got to end the night with long conversations over some tea. You smiled up at him, content with your loving boyfriend and his cat child.

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sophierequests · 2 years

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i have a request, my love! nikolai lantsov x reader

y/n is the sunshine-y, sweet person who literally brightens up any room. and she caught nikolai's eye and he tries to make his move but everytime he tries to talk to her he finds himself... well, unable to get proper words out. he can't string together a single sentence. y/n picks up on this and teases him ('cause he's obviously known as a flirt) and makes it a bit harder before she finally asks him out herself

you take my breath away

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x f!Reader

A/N: *screams because this is such a cute idea* Omg omg omg, I LOVE THAT IDEA, EL! Nikolai being nervous and flustered >>> Thank you sm for the request, I loved writing it! I hope you enjoy reading this <333

Summary: What happens to the oh so charming Nikolai Lantsov when he starts crushing on a someone that - quite literally - takes away his breath?

Genre: Comedy, Fluff

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: Mention of sword fighting, pining, oblivious!Nikolai, slightly suggestive ending if you squint, Zoya being an icon

“Zoya, I really don’t think that all of this,” he ambiguously gestured at the array of files in front of him, “is as good of an idea as you think it is.”

The Squaller groaned, hauling the papers towards herself again. The two of them had been wasting their time in his sitting room for hours on end, flipping through files and files of eligible royal women that could become Nikolai’s future wife. It was hell - for both of them - but Ravka needed a queen. So as king, it was his duty to find someone that could rule alongside him.

If he would be completely truthful, he already had someone in mind. Someone that was roughly his age, not promised to anyone else and of royal blood. Meaning, that someone would tick all of the necessary boxes.

You were one of the rather newer Ladies at Ravkan court. Your parents were a duke and duchess who he didn't necessarily remember meeting. Yet, ever since he first laid his eyes on you, he was absolutely smitten with you. You'd be an excellent choice. He really liked to think that. You got along with everyone you interacted with - at least to his knowledge -, you were kind, well-spirited and utterly lovely. You were a literal ray of sunshine, and he couldn’t get enough of you. It was almost like you were born to be a queen - his queen.

Everything seemed to be so perfect. The only issue was that he couldn't even get out one word before his brain went into shutdown when you were around. He had tried and tried to strike up a conversation with you, only to fail miserably. It was as if all of his usually flirty demeanour had been stripped off of him, and he was left with the confidence of an insecure stuttering teenage boy. He had been with countless women before but never had he been left this helpless.

The first time he attempted talking to you, was probably already enough of an embarrassment for you to never give in to any of his advances.

Nikolai had just finished another terribly draining conference and, as much as tried to get his mind off of all things political, he still had another dreadful load of paperwork waiting for him once he reached his sitting room.

He has been so lost in thought, that he didn't register the other person that was coming around the corner. And with both of you not paying any real attention to where you were going, you ran straight into him at full speed. But before he could - quite literally - knock you off of your feet, his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady. It took you a minute to break free from your daze when you noticed who you were currently staring at.

"Oh Saints! Your Highness! I'm so incredibly sorry. I should have watched where I was going." You apologized profusely, taking a step back to give him a bit more personal space.

"Don't apologize, it's fine!" He started grinning like a fool after he realized who he was talking to. Your hair looked slightly out of place - probably a side effect from almost toppling over - but somehow, you still managed to look absolutely magnificent. His heart couldn’t help but skip a beat while he watched a faint blush rise to your cheeks.

And when a wide smile began to grace your lips, he almost thought that he would pass out. In a treacherous motion, he could feel that his own cheeks started to warm up now. How he hated this.

"Oh, thank you, Your Highness! I have just been so lost in thought that I didn't watch where I was going."

"Please, it's call me- I mean, please call me Vas- Nikola! Nikolai. Please call me Nikolai." Well done, he couldn't even introduce himself correctly anymore.

"Alright Nikolai," you let the name roll over your tongue slowly as if you were trying to savour its taste, "I'm not one for titles either, so feel free to call me Y/N." He wanted to answer, to say or do pretty much anything else, instead of just gaping at you as if you had grown a second head.

You had expected him to offer you a cheeky comment or a flirtatious smirk in response, but the cogs in his brain still seemed to process your words. It was odd, and not at all what you had expected. You had heard stories about the smug and cocky Ravkan king, who was never too shy to hand out brash compliments or whisper promiscuous promises into the ears of any young woman that would give him more than one minute of her time. The man standing in front of you seemed to be anything but that.

Before you could open your mouth to break the uncomfortable silence, a voice calling out his name and the clicking of heels could be heard coming from the corridor right next to him.

"Nikolai? Nikolai! Did you forget that we still have some correspondence to take care of today?" A slightly agitated Zoya came into view, eying you from head to toe, however, still giving you a polite nod.

"I should better get going. I didn’t mean to keep you from your work, Nikolai. Enjoy yourselves!” You gave him one last smirk before turning on your heels and continuing your way down the corridor.

“Thank you!” He didn’t even know what exactly he was thanking you for. “Have a great evening!” Zoya stifled a snort when she heard that.

“Nikolai, it’s not even time for lunch yet. The poor girl will think that she’s the one going crazy.” She remarked, her eyes drifting from watching you leave to Nikolai’s still mildly flustered state. She’d definitely remember this.

“Why don’t you just marry Lady Y/L/N? She fits the criteria, she probably doesn’t plan to strangle you in your sleep, and you seem to have found quite the liking in her. That’s probably the best choice you have.” Zoya exclaimed, falling back into her chair as she continued to stare Nikolai down.

“I can’t.”

“And the reason for that is…? You need to give me more than that. I may be extremely lucky to have this many talents, but mind reading sadly isn’t one of them.”

“Keeping secrets isn’t really one of your many talents either, Zoya.” Nikolai averted his gaze, thinking that looking through another mountain of profiles would be way more comfortable than having to explain why he didn’t think that courting you would be possible.

“Lantsov, you’re not getting any younger, and you’re sure as hell not getting any prettier, no matter how long you’re trying to postpone this. Just tell me, and we can move on!” She was seconds away from tossing his royal ass out of the window but getting thrown in prison for the murder of the literal king wasn’t too desirable.

“I’m certain that she believes me to be an absolute fool.” The young king sighed, hiding the embarrassment on his face with one hand.

“Many people do. It would surprise me if your future wife wouldn’t think of you as such.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. I can’t even formulate one coherent sentence whenever she is around, and it is driving me mad! Whenever I attempt to make a move on her, every single logical thought abandons the ship and leaves me gaping like a fish on land.” He mumbled defeatedly. “She has to assume I’m just looking for an excuse not to be around her.”

This time, Zoya didn’t hold back the laugh she had been holding in. She didn’t know what she expected, but this definitely wasn’t it.

“Won’t you look at that? Ravka’s Sweetheart gets all hot and bothered in the presence of a girl he likes.” She took a sip from the glass of wine she was holding before returning her attention to a sulking Nikolai. “She’s the most suitable choice, Nikolai. Keep on pursuing her, until you’re one hundred per cent sure that she isn’t worth it. And maybe she thinks your nervousness is endearing? That would be a bit pathetic, but that seems to be your type.”

Apparently, Zoya also seemed to have a gift for clairvoyance, because her last two statements held more truth than she had envisioned.

You had picked up on Nikolai’s odd behaviour whenever he was around you quite soon after that first hallway encounter. At first, you thought that there had to be something wrong with you. How else could it be explained that you were the only girl at court he just couldn’t hold a conversation with? But soon enough you realized that it wasn’t apprehension, but genuine fluster that made him act like this. And it felt terrible admitting it, but you enjoyed using this information against him.

It had been three days since your last brief encounter with the king, and your mind was putting your quest of teasing him on the back burner. That was until you silently crept into the library of the Grand Palace, only to find him hunched over a heap of books, occasionally taking notes or letting out a huffed breath.

“Nikolai?” You mused, sauntering over to him with an innocent smile on your lips. The blond had to do a double-take when he saw you appear from behind the shelves. Saints, someone should really open a window.

“Lad- Y/N!” He gave you a strained smile, slyly straightening his back and smoothing out his sleeves. Did his hair sit properly? Did his breath smell? Did he-

“What are you doing here this late?” You leaned against the desk opposite Nikolai, your upper body slightly bent over the table, very visibly accentuating your cleavage. You really would be the death of him.

He haggled for the right words to say, but everything inside his mind screamed at him to abort the mission. He wasn’t ready to talk. Not when the two of you were completely alone, and you looked like a literal Saint.

“Reading.” He forced out, immediately regretting that he even opened his mouth.

“Oh?” You asked quizzically, rounding the table to stand beside him, giving yourself a better look at the books in front of him. One of your hands rested on the backrest of his chair - dangerously close to touching his neck or playing with his hair - and the other hand laid on the edge of the desk. “What are you reading?” You could have just turned the book around to see for yourself, but you were set on toying with him for a bit.

“Ravkan and Fjerdan poeti- political relationships.” He had to stifle a cough after he felt the soft breeze of your breath hit his neck. You were close. Very close.

“Care for some company?” Nikolai’s eyes met yours as he considered the possibility of having you stay here. He would probably get nothing done, but he had the chance to finally make a move. That’s what he imagined, at least.

“Gladly.”

“Very well then.” That’s all you needed to hear before pulling out your own novel and sitting down in the chair right next to him.

As he had already suspected, he couldn’t even get through one page without allowing his eyes to wander towards you. And whenever he caught himself doing so, he had already forgotten what he had read only mere seconds before. He knew that you were quite literally just trying to read your book, but even that simple gesture made his heart beat a thousand times faster.

“Oh dear!” You uttered after taking a quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner. “I’ve been in here for almost three hours! I should really leave you alone now, Nikolai. I still have a few duties to fulfil.” A faint chuckle left your lips, as you finished speaking, watching the man next to you gawk at the clock in disbelief. Three hours had passed, and he had neither finished any of his work nor managed to ask you out. Maybe he should allow Zoya to kill him. He supposed that death would be more welcoming than whatever little spiel fate had concocted for him.

There were two more instances of you absolutely giving him hell. And oddly, both of them included a territory that he should’ve had the upper hand in. The training grounds.

Nikolai wasn’t too keen on wasting any thought about sparring or other physical activities today. But staying inside the Palace would result in Zoya berating him about finally choosing a wife, so he preferred prancing around with a sword for a few hours.

However, his attention was promptly seized by hearing a burst of loud wholehearted laughter coming from the direction of the archery area. Without thinking, he allowed himself to take a look at whatever was going on over there.

He watched you talking to one of the archery instructors, a wide smile on your face as you excitedly listened to her while she explained something to you. You looked like some sort of mythical creature out of a folksong and he couldn’t help but smile at that thought.

Something inside him told him to move and before he could even start considering all of the negative outcomes of that thought, he already began walking towards you.

“Your Highness!” The woman next to you gave him a curt nod as she noticed him approaching. You felt a grin tug at the corners of your lips as you saw who she was greeting.

“Good afternoon, may I ask what is going on here?” Nikolai tried his best to not let his gaze wander over to you. He was sure that if he’d spend too much time looking at you, he would lose his capacity to form sentences again.

“I was just about to teach Lady Y/L/N how to properly shoot an arrow. She seems to be rather interested in the craft, but I sadly don’t have too much time today to show her everything.” The teacher rasped, letting her fingers run over the wooden part of the bow.

“As I mentioned earlier, I can also come back another ti-”

“I could show you.” Both of your gazes instantly flicked over to the young king, who was currently cursing himself for not being able to just shut up. Now he had to run with it.

“Are you sure?” You asked softly, raising an eyebrow to underline your question. “You don’t have to. I assume you’re terribly busy.”

“No, I, uhm, I insist.” He reassured, taking the bow from the instructor and signalling to her that he would take over now.

Only when he thought about what he was actually supposed to do, he started to realize what he had gotten himself into.

“Archery is a delicate skill.” He began, handing you the bow and arrow. “Everything stands and falls with how adept your aim is.” You took the arrow and adjusted it on the bowstring, imitating the posture you had seen many times before. Nikolai stood behind you, carefully monitoring your moves, whilst also trying not to get overwhelmed by your closeness. “Try to, you know, uhm, aim. Aim for the heart, I mean.” Saints, he sounded stupid.

“Like this?” You asked smugly, leaning back a bit closer to him and roughly pointing the arrow in the direction of the training puppet’s chest.

“No, you need- you have to-” He took a deep breath, stepping even closer to you now. “Look.” Both his hands found their way to yours. One helped you steady your grip on your bow, while the other corrected your aim ever so slightly. Your skin felt like lightning underneath his fingertips, and for a moment, he was glad that he could simply visualize his thoughts without having to embarrass himself by being a stuttering mess.

He pulled the arm that held onto the arrow back a bit, permitting you to shoot. However, he completely underestimated your proximity, especially the proximity to your elbows. Whether that was because of his lack of archery mentorship experience or simply because he was too focused on you was something he didn't want to answer. As soon as you let go of the arrow, your elbow flew back, right into his chest with full force, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Nikolai!” You yelped, cringing at the sight of the violently coughing blond behind you. This was not how any of you had hoped this would turn out. "Saints, are you alright!?"

“Good shot." He choked out as you hastily dropped the bow to help him stand. Against all odds, the arrow had gone straight into the centre of the target, however, you had other worries to tend to.

"Did I hurt you?" Your hands held on tightly to the fabric of his sleeves, fearing that one measly blow might have managed to knock the air right out of him.

"Fine. I mean, I'm fine." He sputtered, admittedly distracted by the feeling of your hands on his biceps. Your touch was practically scorching his skin without even having to make skin contact. He was definitely going insane.

"We really should stop making violence the climax of our interactions."

This wouldn't ring true, of course.

The next time you ventured down to the makeshift training grounds a few days later, you were met with the sight of Nikolai and Tolya practising their sword fighting skills. You kept an eye on them for a while before actually venturing down to the men.

It was as if Nikolai could sense your presence because as soon as you stepped closer to the platform, his gaze met yours. This brief distraction gave Tolya enough time to deliver one heavy swing to the base of his sparring partner's sword, disarming him in the blink of an eye.

Nikolai stared at the discarded sword and then back up at the Shu man in front of him. He rarely ever lost these kinds of duels, especially not because of some minor mistake like losing his focus. Things such as the size or competence of his opponent didn't matter substantially, since he had the advantage of being quick on his feet and the knowledge on how to outsmart the majority of his competition. Only losing because you were around seemed to be another act of fate telling him that he wasn't able to function properly when you were around.

"Lady Y/L/N." The mountain of a man greeted you happily, curtly shaking hands with Nikolai before walking off to bother his sister and her wife.

Again, the king seemed to have a frog stuck in his throat. He just couldn't get a word to leave his mouth. Instead, he continued to ogle at you with a hint of humiliation flashing over his features.

This time barely anyone could really blame him for that though. Your usually bright and well-put-together wardrobe, consisting of colourful dresses or professional-looking robes, we're now replaced by the suitable training attire one would expect a Lady to frown at.

Unable to string a coherent sentence together, he raised his eyebrows, vaguely motioning up and down your body with the hope that you would understand his unsaid question. Saints, he really felt stupid.

"Cat got your tongue, Nikolai?" You laughed, skipping up the stairs to face him properly. If your eyes weren't trying to deceive you, you could have sworn that he was blushing when you approached him. "Or did my utterly enchanting appearance simply take away your breath?" He gave you an unintelligible answer before just nodding in defeat.

“It’s just that, uhm, Lady- I mean, it’s just not wh-” He attempted futilely, but you were quick to cut him off.

“I know, I know. This flattering article of clothing is not really what people would expect me to wear. But I thought it would be nice to get some training done, or else my joints might begin to rust.”

“Training?” Nikolai blurted out, utterly bewildered. It wasn’t entirely unusual for the women at court to receive some sort of self-defence training - not all royal men were as decent as he was - but it was pretty unlikely for them to indulge in actual combat training.

“I used to sword fight with my older brothers whenever I had the time to do so. I’m not particularly good at it though.” That was a slight lie. You didn’t necessarily look the part, but in reality, you were talented when it came to dealing with a sword. However, that was a fact you’d rather keep to yourself, not wanting others to see you as brash or brutish.

“Oh.” He grinned, a new idea on how to get over his nervousness popped into his head. Maybe a nice little training session would do your relationship some good.

“Oh?”

“Do you, uhm, want me to- Would you like me to train with you?” He internally patted himself on the shoulder for finally managing to string together one mildly coherent sentence. And he could pat himself on the shoulder once more when he noticed the playful nature of your expression.

“If you dare.” You teased, picking up the discarded sparring sword off of the ground.

Both of you readied yourselves - you giving him a short bow before taking the position across from him. With the motion of a hand, he signalled to begin, being quick to do so.

His first move was bold, way too bold for it to actually be effective. You parried his blow with an agile countermove, warding him off strongly enough to force him to take a step back. This dance continued for a while longer, with only a few attacks actually coming from you, while you were mainly busying yourself with fighting off his advances.

There was one move you weren’t able to fight off.

He had only retracted his hand for a split second before he sprang forward again, a fierce blow disarming you immediately. However, that wasn’t the end of it. You could’ve still reached for the weapon, but he quickly blocked that move with his own, putting the unsharpened blade to your throat and pulling you against his chest. None of that was done with any real force, but his brashness still managed to catch you slightly off-guard.

You didn’t let allow him to bathe in his supposed victory any more than needed. If he wanted to play dirty, so could you. You cocked your head to the side just enough to face him. He was already slightly overwhelmed by you being pinned against his chest, so you knew that any sense of flirtatiousness coming from you, would make his brain go into shutdown.

It took you one cheeky wink to make him gape at you again. So without thinking about it, your foot slid behind his, abruptly bringing it forward to make him lose balance. He stumbled for a moment before clumsily falling backwards, however, also taking you down with him.

With a groan coming from Nikolai, you tumbled right on top of him, staying on his chest for a second to catch your breath. When you dared to open your eyes, your face was only inches from his. If either of you had decided to be especially bold, you would have probably finally put each other out of your self-imposed misery. However, neither of you dared to do so.

You barely saw him the following week. Which shouldn’t have been such a bad thing if the failed training session from the week prior wasn’t so engrained in both of your minds. You wanted to see him. No, you needed to see him. It was time to end your teasing spree - even though you did thoroughly enjoy it - and make the first move. Because Saints know whether Nikolai would ever have it in him to ask you out himself.

“Nikolai?” You cracked open the door to his sitting just enough to look inside. His eyes snapped to meet yours, the previous tiredness vanishing from his chestnut-coloured eyes. He gave you an inviting nod, and you accepted his offer gracefully.

“Lady Y/N- Lady- I mean-” He cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath. “Listen, I’m sorry, this, this is starting to get embarrassing. It’s just that-”

“I know.” You stopped him in his ramblings, only leaving him with a confused expression.

“You know?” He took a sharp breath, suddenly feeling as if a rug had been pulled from beneath his feet.

“You haven’t been that subtle over the last few weeks, so yes, Nikolai. I know that you have feelings for me.” You watched as his face went through at least a hundred emotions, ranging from relief to shock.

“Wait,” He paused, his brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape. “You were aware of my feelings the entire time?”

“That’s what I’m implying.” Now he genuinely felt like an idiot.

“You did all of that teasing on purpose?”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call it teasing. I was just waiting for you to make the first move.” You gave him a playful wink, sitting down at the edge of his desk right in front of him in a last act of riling him up. “But I figured that I didn’t want to wait until I’m old and wrinkly, so I might as well take matters into my own hand.”

“Take matters into-” You didn’t allow him to finish, instead pressing a brash kiss against his lips. This could either go terribly wrong or terribly right.

Thankfully, Nikolai was ready to answer this question. All of a sudden, all of his nervousness seemed to have vanished into thin air. With a swift move, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you off the desk and into his lap whilst returning the kiss with even more urgency. He didn’t regret not making the first move now. At last, there were no words left to be said.

“Does that mean that I can finally stop wasting my time looking for your future bride?” Zoya called into the room, almost causing you to fall off of his lap. “I suppose they won’t be needed anymore.”

Taglist:

Grishaverse in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Nikolai Lantsov: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaye-here @maximoffgxrl

#nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader

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seresinhangmanjake · 2 years

Text

Wanting it all

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Hangman ends up in the hospital from a very similar Phoenix/Bob/birds situation, and you suddenly regret keeping a big secret from him.

Notes/Warnings: it’s pure fluffiness. future dad!hangman, near-death stuff, I guess. Cursing, im sure. best friend Rooster! In anything top gun related i write, there is likely to be something incorrect. I only saw the movie once and it was back in May, so I try my best but i don’t remember the details of everything.

Words: 2833

When you got involved with Jake Seresin, you knew exactly what you were doing. You knew what it meant. You understood the sacrifices. You accepted that there was an element to your life that would always contain a well of fear. You knew, because he was very careful to be clear when he laid it all out for you.

Before you, Jake didn’t do relationships, but he told you there was a piece of him that fought against that choice, a piece that was desperate to have you and call you his, a piece that forced him to make an exception. In the same way, you had made an exception for him in being a part of the life he led, with all of its trials and tribulations that a man not in his profession wouldn’t demand of you.

But it was not something you ever had to mull over. When he told you how a life by his side would be, you had already decided that he was what you wanted. Come hell or high water, you would be with him as long as he also wanted you.

“Not wanting you isn’t something you will ever have to worry about, sweetheart,” he had told you, “Wanting you was as much a choice consciously made as it was something completely out of my control. My heart decided for me, and my mind willingly agreed. So don’t waste time worrying about that.”

But there would always be other things to worry about: the dangers he faced, his health, his safety. Those nagging pieces were tucked away in the corners of your mind, never quite leaving you in peace. And then for the first time since you made the thing between you official, Jake had come horribly close to not coming home to you. Some stupid birds almost got your boyfriend killed, and now more than ever, it struck you at your core.

---

Returning with oddly soft, quiet steps for a man of his size, Rooster sat beside you in the uncomfortable plastic chairs under the harsh florescent lighting and dumped an array of vending machine snacks on the small table between you. Bags of chips to tubes of candies to packets of gum made a mountain that you would slowly pick at for the rest of the day; and to say you were relieved to see the junk food that wouldn’t nutritiously sustain you for more than an hour would be a gross understatement.

“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I just got a couple things from each row,” he said, and you nodded your thanks, grabbing a random bag of chips and tearing it open. He watched how severely your gaze was glued to Jake. “If it’s any comfort, he could be in much worse condition.”

But it wasn’t any comfort, unfortunately. Pain medications, exhaustion, and mild trauma to your boyfriend’s body had him completely passed out in the hospital bed; and he’d been that way for hours, asleep in misleading peacefulness even before Rooster got the chance to call you and tell you to come down to the hospital.

You knew Jake would be fine. But not yet seeing the green of his eyes or hearing the deep sound of his voice pricked at your nerves. The kind nurse's reassurance was not enough to soothe you, leaving you no choice but to wait for him to wake.

Rooster nudged your elbow with his, drawing you out of your daze, and you turned to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It would have been out of character for you; maybe not so much when you were dealing with Jake, but Rooster didn’t deserve such a reaction from you. Not when he had practically adopted you as his little sister and did everything he could to protect and take care of you when you needed it most.

“You mean other than my boyfriend having to eject from his jet, which according to what I was told, crashed into a mountain less than five seconds after he got out?”

Rooster winced. “Yea,” he said, scratching at his jaw, “…other than that.”

You faced forward, eyes training on the ugly beige coloring of the wall as you put a chip in your mouth. You chewed, swallowed, sipped your water, then took a deep breath and said, “I’m pregnant.”

“Wha—” Rooster’s head whipped to you, and the candies he had been picking away at fell from his hand, M&Ms of all colors scattering across an equally ugly, beige tiled floor, but neither of you cared. “Are you sure?”

You snorted. “Pretty sure.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound insensitive,” he blew out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair, “It’s just—”

“It’s fine, Roose. I asked myself the same question about fifty times before the doctor confirmed it.”

He nodded. “How are you feeling? Wait, does he know?”

You shook your head, considering before saying, “I am happy, though. Absolutely terrified, but happy. I just don’t know how he’s going to react.”

Rooster took your hand in his and laid his other on top until a warmth encased your fingers, but the act made it all the more difficult to hold in the overwhelming tears you didn’t even know were at the ready to fall. “Shocked at first, I’m sure.”

You sniffed and wiped at your cheeks.

“But anything less than absolutely thrilled would be hard to imagine.”

“Can you know that?”

“Y/N, you think he’d be upset that you’re carrying his child when he loves you as much as he does?”

Jake loving you wasn’t something you had to question. Both of you knew a life together was what you wanted. But the pieces of that life that, for you, when combined would make a beautiful whole: a marriage, a house, a kid or two, somehow you and Jake never actually got around to discussing. Instead of talking about everything, the two of you made plans to talk. At the time of the plan-making you didn’t quite see the difference, but now, understanding how close you came to losing Jake, you realized that talking and planning to talk were most definitely not the same.

So here you were, living by what you assumed Jake wanted with you, what you were ninety-nine percent sure he wanted. But ninety-nine percent was not a hundred, and Jake had never explicitly told you he wanted to get married, he never told you he wanted children. That one percent could flip your world upside down if it turned out that’s where his wants, thoughts, and intentions laid.

“Y/N?”

You hummed in question.

“You’re getting that glazed over look in your eyes,” Rooster waved his hand in front of your face. “I get nervous when you overthink.”

Shaking your head, you pressed your fingertips against your closed eyelids until you saw little colorful spots in the darkness. When you opened them, a hazy purple hovered around the intense overhead lights, and you blinked hard a few times to readjust your vision.

“I’m just tired,” you said. A half-truth, but the yawn that followed your words aided in convincing Rooster.

“You going to stay here tonight?”

“Is that allowed?”

Your friend tilted his head and ran his tongue over his teeth. You could practically see the gears turning in that crafty mind of his. “Probably not, but I could try to work my charm.”

“Your charm? On what?”

“Not what, who.” He chuckled at the concerned look that took over your face, then he stood and asked for your house key, which you handed him. “That cute nurse kept looking at me in some sort of way and was doing an awful lot of blushing,” he continued, a playful smirk on his lips as he tossed your key up and caught it again. “I think I might just be able to get you an overnight free pass and me a date at the same time.”

“Oh, I have no doubt in your abilities.”

Carried by the confident stride that historically had every girl but you and Phoenix swooning, Rooster went to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit with a change of clothes for the both of you,” he said. Then with a wink and a click of the tongue, he left, the door closing gently behind him.

---

It was soft, warm presses on your forehead and spine shuddering tingles from light tugging on your hair that roused you. Your brow pinched as the arm you’d thrown over Jake’s waist squeezed and tightened in a dazed attempt to pull him closer.

A little grunt echoed in your ear followed by a calm whispering. “Ow, baby. I’m bruised there.”

Then the kisses to your forehead and the sifting of his fingers through the strands of your hair continued, lulling you back to sleep. You were almost gone when your mind finally caught up with your surroundings, and your head shot up as you said,

“Jake?”

Eyes met, and he immediately frowned. “Why did that come out like a question?” he asked. “Was there another pilot’s hospital bed that you were supposed to be crawling into?”

You wiggled your body up a bit until you could press your lips to his.

He chuckled into the innocent kiss, his large hand moving to cup your cheek.

“Are you ok?” you asked when you separated. “When did you wake up?”

A smile spread wide across his face at your eagerness as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “An hour ago. And I feel fine, baby. Beat to hell, but fine,” he said, pecking your lips.

“Beat to hell means you’re not fine.”

“Well, the nice nurse came to check on me and said I’ll live, so that’s good enough. Though she didn’t seem that surprised to see you in my bed at one a.m.” a blond eyebrow quirked, “I was scrambling to come up with an excuse, but she didn’t even acknowledge that you were here; just worked around you while you were laying all over me.”

“Rooster may have done me a favor,” you said.

You glanced over to the short row of plastic chairs where you and Rooster had sat hours before to find one of your drawstring bags, likely stuffed with clothes for the morning. He’d clearly come through, in more ways than one, and you were absolutely going to grill him for the details of his date the next time you saw him. But right now, that wasn’t what was at the forefront of your mind. You needed to tell Jake before you lost your nerve. The band-aid needed to be ripped off before it reached the point of being disrespectful for not telling him. And as it was, you were pushing it.

Turning back to your boyfriend, you said, “Jake, I have to tell you something.”

“Uh-oh.” He gave you a bright smile that didn’t quite conceal the hint of nerves.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “No, it’s not bad. Well, maybe—well, no it’s fine, I think. Yea…yea, it’s ok—we’re going to be ok.” You took a deep breath, then the words spilled from your lips in an anxious, rushing wave that left no room for you to properly inhale. “Basically, I wasn’t feeling all that great, but I didn’t think twice about it because it didn’t seem like that big of a deal, and you know how I am when I think I’m getting sick, I just ignore it, so I did, but then it got worse and worse and I got annoyed about it, and then I started having other symptoms and I thought I was going crazy so I took a test, and then four more tests, and they all had the same result, so what I’m trying to say is that I’m—I’m—”

“Pregnant?” He finished for you, his voice soft, eyebrows pinched.

You bit down hard on your bottom lip. “A bit, yea.”

The unreadable expression on his face completely unnerved you. A million questions flashed across those green eyes of his, but he settled on: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how you were going to react.” Which you knew wasn’t a good enough reason to keep it from him, more so considering that you wanted the baby. You wanted to be a mother, and you wanted him to want to be a father. But in the minute and a half you’d given him to adjust to this information—impatience overpowering your ability to be fair—he wasn’t giving you any indication of wanting the same. “How are you reacting exactly? I can’t tell.”

“How far along are you?”

“That’s not really an answe—”

“Y/N.” He shot you stern look that was a little too reminiscent of the look he’d often given you that somehow never failed to get you into bed; a look that sparked the event that lead you to be in your current state.

You sighed and sat up, one leg folding in front of you, the other dangling off the side of the bed. “A few weeks.”

The bubble of disappointment you expected to consume you both didn’t come, but neither did Jake smile with full commitment. The corners of his lips didn’t reach far enough up his cheeks to convince you of its sincerity; that rare meadow-green shade of his irises didn’t shine any brighter, or glisten with unshed tears of joy, which you also would have settled for. You couldn’t decipher what was in front of you, but then he said,

“Come here.”

“Ja—”

The deep noise he made in his throat as he shook his head stopped you. Grabbing your hand in his, he guided you closer, then he patted your side to let you know to straddle his hips. You settled yourself down and rested your hands on either side of his neck while his own slowly slid up down the tops of your thighs.

“Y/N, I’ve known that I want to marry you and have you as the mother of my children for a while now,” he said, finally grinning in a way that lessened the uneasy rapidity of your heartbeat. “So, seeing as we’ve just ticked one of those boxes, how do you feel about ticking the other one?”

“Wh—” The words, you definitely heard, but the comprehension of those words momentarily short-circuited your brain. “Are you—” Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Jake…are you serious?”

“I obviously wasn’t planning on doing this in a hospital bed, and the ring is at home, but—”

“You have a ring?”

He ran a knuckle over the blush that coated your cheeks. “I’ve had a ring,” he said, “for a month. I couldn’t figure out how I wanted to ask you, but I don’t want to wait anymore. I love you.”

You leaned your body into his, chests meeting, and wrapped your arms around his neck. It was a melting feeling to be so close to him, the warmth of your combined body heat practically joining you as one despite the layers of clothing between you. But it was always that way with Jake. From the moment you met, if his hands were on you, you were putty for him, completely malleable and moldable for him to do with what he wished.

Mouths barely brushed against one another. You whispered, “I love you,” and before you could close the space to kiss him deeper, he beat you to it, putting a hand on the back of your neck and pulling you forward so your lips could perfectly slot together.

You don’t know what you would have done if you’d lost this, lost him. But now it wasn’t only you, it was your child as well. Your son or daughter who might never have met their father. So you kissed him for more than just the feel and taste of him. You kissed him for more than just expressing your love. You kissed him because he was real and alive, and you shared something that would forever bind you.

You kissed until you forgot what it was to breathe, and it forced you to pull yourself away.

Calloused hands cupped your cheeks. Thumbs ran back and forth along your cheekbones. His eyes scanned over the features of your face, lazily lingering, in no rush to speak or end this moment of simply knowing without the slightest complication or hesitation that you loved one another. You loved one another and everything you made.

“Will you marry me, Y/N,” he asked, “…please.”

A mocking gasp of shock parted your lips. “Did Jake Seresin just say please?”

He swatted your ass. Your chuckles mingled. “This is a yes or no question, Miss Y/L/N. It does not require additional question or commentary.”

“Yes, Jake,” you didn’t hesitate to say. “Of course, it’s a yes.”

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @nobody7102 @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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chishiyasleftnut · 2 months

Text

Hi everyone ＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／This is another fic I wrote in the middle of the night, but I couldn't get the scenario out of my head haha. It's not smutty at all, but I want to experiment a bit with different genres. I hope you'll all like it! (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

2+1

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Genre: Fluff w/ mild angst. Warnings: Minor existential dread, mentioning of abortions. Pairing: Dad!Chishiya x fem!reader.

Plot: After a long day at work, dad!Chishiya contemplates about his new role as a father. Is he even cut out for the job?

1140 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Chishiya had never seen himself as the father type. Perhaps it was the subconscious fear of becoming like his own father - distant and uncaring - that kept him from wilfully pursuing that path. However, despite his best efforts to prevent it, you had managed to accidentally become pregnant and he had had to come to terms with the scary reality of fatherhood.

It wasn’t as bad as he thought. Sure, the little creature was awfully noisy and smelly at times, but he had to admit that she was also kinda cute. Did the positives outweigh the negatives? He wasn’t sure. But he knew he didn’t completely hate being a parent as much as he originally feared.

Luckily, Chishiya was earning enough money to secure you a long maternity leave, allowing you to bond well with your baby in a way Chishiya never would. He had accepted that and somewhat found peace with the fact that he wasn’t expected to be as close to the tiny being as you were. It was easier to handle having to accept that he was the secondary caregiver and not the primary.

Another benefit of his job were the long hours, which gave him a much-needed break from dealing with home life. He had always used his work as a coping mechanism to deal with every small, negative thing life threw at him, but it was only after becoming a dad that he realised that that’s what his own father did too. It scared him to admit that he shared more than just blood with the man who had been so distant his entire childhood. However, he tried to shake the feeling and convinced himself that he was taking extra shifts to afford your maternity leave. Mh, yes. That was 100% why.

Despite desperately seeking a sanction from the reality of his newfound status as a dad, a part of him was always looking forward to coming home. And so he did this night, stepping into your shared apartment, which was only lit up by the moon shining luminously through the big and modern windows. The apartment, which long ago had been only sparsely decorated (just as he liked it), was now covered in proof of your child’s existence; no matter where he looked, he saw baby toys, neatly folded onesies, and an array of pacifiers in every colour possible.

Trying his best to ignore the way his once tidy apartment had changed, he walked with tired steps through the apartment until he got to the master bedroom. Slowly, he opened the door, mindful of the way it creaked so as not to disturb you or the little human sleeping safely in her comfortable crib next to your bed.

For a while, he stood still in the doorway, examining the way you and your baby’s breathing were synchronised, as if you had become one with one another. Although he would never admit it, he envied you - envied the way you so easily let this helpless child into your heart and how you so naturally took care of her every need in a way that Chishiya couldn’t make sense of.

It was those quiet moments that assured him that you made the right choice in keeping the child. Of course you had discussed the possibility of getting an abortion, but now that your daughter was in front of you - living, breathing, feeling - neither of you would want it any other way. How silly of you two to even consider any other option, he thought with a small smile creeping up on his lips.

With gentle steps, he walked into the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him before approaching the bed. Despite how silent he was attempting to be, you regrettably woke up. He hated when he woke you up after a night shift - now more than ever. As a doctor, he was well aware of how desperately a new mother needed rest, and he hated taking that away from you for even a moment.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered while climbing into bed next to you, still dressed in his hospital scrubs. “It’s just me.”

By instinct, you turned around to examine the small child, unable to fall back to sleep yourself until you had assured her that she was safely asleep. Luckily, she was, her chest rising and falling at just the right speed. He admired your natural dedication to ensuring your offspring’s safety and comfort. It always looked like second nature to you; like you were never, not even when asleep, not aware of how your daughter was doing.

Chishiya moved to embrace you, hugging you from behind and burrowing his face into your neck, taking in your scent. And that’s when he realised that work wasn’t his sanctuary; this was. It wouldn’t be easy for him to rearrange his mindset, but he knew he had to try. While you had never complained, he was well aware of how much being the prime caretaker of a newborn was taking a toll on you. You never got a full night’s rest anymore, surviving on napping throughout the day whenever the baby miraculously fell asleep.

That would have to change, and he knew it. No, he not only knew it; he wanted it to change. He wanted to be a better father and partner than his own dad was, and that started with reducing his work hours.

“I’m taking next week off,” he mumbled into the small hairs on your neck, unsure if you were even awake and listening to him. If he was honest, he wasn’t even sure if the comment was directed at you or if he just needed to say it aloud to believe it himself.

To his surprise, you hummed and scooted even closer to him, gently affirming to him that you were listening. Perhaps tomorrow, when he inevitably has to repeat the very same sentence, he will get a more enthusiastic response.

He could only hope that you were just as excited about the new change as he was. Still, he hoped you were without the deep fear that was echoing through his entire being - the fear of failure, of not being good enough for the sweet, innocent baby that was laying just half a metre away from the two of you.

In the last seconds before he slipped into unconsciousness, Chishiya, for the first time, found peace in his new role as a father, coming to terms with the fear of not being enough for the almost doll-like little girl that lay peacefully so close to him.

After all, very few great things were accomplished without fear and worry, and there was no doubt in his mind that this truly was a great thing. He could and would change. The two of you had turned into three, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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reds-writings · 2 months

Note

Ooo any grump/sunshine day to day with old man Rust!!! Maybe fluff prompt pt.2 #3 or #6!

You’re writings for Rust are incredible please never stop! <3

i mostly combined 3 and 6 with this ask and went with something kinda new?? this features a nurse!reader with a bit of an age gap taking place but nothing crazy. i love the sunshine/grumpy trope so i hope you enjoy!! (also I'm trying out using a placeholder nickname for the reader so i don't have to use y/n as much so pls let me know if y'all enjoy that at all)

When Marty first sprung the idea of a temporary at-home caretaker on Rust the man had half the mind to think the blonde was just being a tremendous chain-yanking shit. But his friend was dead serious and it was less of a ‘think on it’ idea and more of a ‘I got Maggie to pull some strings and a nurse will be coming in next week’ idea. No matter how much Rust reared and protested Marty insisted that he have someone to keep an eye on him since Marty couldn’t be his personal maid for much longer given that it had already been a couple of weeks since their hospital visit courtesy of that fucker Childress.

Rust didn’t want a damned nurse. He wasn’t some pathetic geriatric fuck in desperate need of some lousy assistance. Sure, anytime he moved too much or stood for too long he felt like he’d pass out from the pain of the wound that nearly took up his whole abdomen but that didn’t mean jack shit. Marty brushed off any complaints without so much a blink and kept reassuring that it’d do the grump some good to have company other than himself or the neverending onslaught of his usual doomsday-esque thoughts. The day you showed up at Marty’s door bright and early on a Monday morning with a smile too genuine for Rust to fully comprehend, you were not at all what he was expecting.

Not that he really had any expectations to begin with. Maybe that you’d be older. More seasoned. Not nearly 10 years or so his junior. Certainly not possessing such a radiantly pleasant disposition that no one else seemed to harbor anywhere around these parts. He wasn’t above immediately clocking the beauty you exuded but eyeing younger women was more of Marty’s MO than his own.

You seemed untouched by the vast ugliness of what the world fostered. There weren’t many moments where you didn’t have a look of general felicity painted on the soft planes of your face. It was a habit of yours to wear brightly patterned or colored scrubs that he, at first, deemed a semi-loathsome eyesore (which then eventually grew on him). An array of silly patches and pins allowed on your work bag full of the necessities you slung along for the day’s endeavors with him. Kitschy socks you kept as a hidden surprise within the confines of your clogs that you’d show to him even if he never gave the inclination that he cared about something so trivial. Your unmoving cheeriness translated to a certain form of naivety that had something ugly burning beneath the prison of his ribs. At first, he thought he just felt this brand of annoyance towards a preconceived notion of cluelessness you carried but over time it found itself melting away into a subconscious need to shelter you from the horrors of earth.

It took plenty of time to chip away at that impossible exterior of his but with your incessant refusal to let his initial gruffness and straight-up disregard of your presence deter you he had no choice but to give in to your efforts of friendly engagement.

Given that there wasn’t much to do for him care-wise besides keep his wounds clean, change bandages, make sure he didn’t collapse, and keep up with any meds he was prescribed post-hospital stay you took on the role of making the passing days a little more interesting than they’d usually be if he were by his lonesome. You’d find little non-exertive exercises to do in the afternoon to keep his muscles from getting too weak. Drag him along to the grocery store to shop so that you could try out some new recipes you saved online. You were steadfast in making g sure he wasn’t just surviving off the cigarettes and beer he’d stubbornly sneak behind your back. You also made it a goal to keep up with trimming that bristly mustache of his and making sure his hair didn't get too unruly. You’ve gone as far as to bug him about letting you practice your braiding skills so that you could fulfill your niece’s creative hairstyle wishes but no dice. One day you’d wear him down enough into agreeance. That was becoming easier, though, wearing him down for just about anything. One look at those doe-ish eyes and the battle he was prepared to fight had already been lost. Rust had a feeling you were more clever than anyone probably gave you credit for but there was no use in acknowledging that your stare was having an increasingly strengthened hold on him.

To say Marty was absolutely tickled by the noticeable change in his friend’s demeanor throughout this new development was an understatement. It was about time there was something Rust somewhat enjoyed besides stewing over the point of humanity’s existence or yapping on about unsavory ideas involving shit like damnation. It didn’t take long for your attitude and delightful qualities to earn you the nickname Sunny. Marty deemed it exceedingly fitting and even Rust found himself playing into it much to everyone’s surprise. Hearing it from him had a splendid giddiness sparking throughout your system more than you’d like to admit.

Today you’d driven him out near the water where you both could sit and read for a while. You always stressed the importance of fresh air doing him some good and he never complained. If it meant getting him out of Marty’s bachelor pad here and there he’d let you drag him anywhere as far as Timbuktu. As chatty as you could be, you stayed mindful of any moment of solitude he may require during these daily visits. Sometimes it was nice to just exist and absorb the ambiance the outside world had to offer in each other’s presence and for that he was grateful.

“You’re starting to walk better on your own, Rusty.” You broke the bubble of serenity, looking up from your book –some light read of a romance– to fix him with a small smile that quirked the corner of your lips. The sun’s fading light drenched your figure in the hues of impending dusk and some nagging part of him found it to be an effortlessly alluring sight despite its simplicity. You’d have to be calling it a night soon but what was a few more stolen moments in each other's company?

“Yeah, s’gettin’ a bit easier I suppose. Soon enough I’ll be back to mostly functional as opposed to some lame cripple.” He replied in dry amusement, dog-earing the page he was on to bring his full attention to you. Marty often gave him flack for his outgrown hippie look but it added some sort of rugged appeal in your opinion. Not that you’d ever find the courage to forgo any sense of professionalism by making your whims involving Rust Cohle known. But as he looked at you now with weathered blue you couldn’t help but give in to the ideas of something beyond this current format of companionship.

“Cripple is a bit of an exaggeration. You’ll be up and at em’ before you know it. Though it sucks I won’t be of much use no more.” There was a twinge of sadness in your voice and he hated the frailty of it.

“Ah…don’t worry, Sunny. There’ll be some other helpless old soul who’ll need you around.”

“That’d imply you’re just some helpless old fart in the throng of said souls. Which you’re not. Plus, none have ever entertained me as you do.” You chirped in that playful matter-of-fact way you often do.

“Entertainin’. Hm. That’s new.” He shook his head before looking out toward the water.

“Even if your physical health will no longer be of issue I’ll make it my new mission to spruce up that self-deprecating brain of yours. Not that I’m necessarily trained within the realm of mental health but I can youtube it or something. I have my ways.” You wiggled your fingers in jest as if casting a spell. In truth, it was as if you already had when you came around all those weeks ago.

“Can’t get rid of you that easily I’m guessin’.” He shot back in a lousy attempt at a joke. Whether you could read his poorly hidden desire to keep you around or not, he couldn’t tell.

“You know by now I’m like a leech. A cute, fun leech! It’ll take a lot to get rid of me for good,” You paused with a bout of slight insecurity, “unless you don’t want me around to bother you longer. I know I can be a bit much sometimes-”

“You can stick around, Sunny. Can’t have Marty as my only friend. That’d be plain sad.” He was playing it off cool, unaware of the barrage of butterflies he had set off in your chest with that simple statement.

“I might have to alert the masses now that you consider me a friend. This is by no means a small feat– wait does this mean I can practice my braiding finally?! My niece is getting antsy and I-”

“Don’t push your luck.” He had to look away from the blinding beam of your cheek-splitting smile as he moved to stand up. Without fail, you rushed to his side to place your dainty hand into his so that you could help. The small action sent lightning down the length of his spine. The warmth of your joking jabs about your newfound title of friendship encased his whole being. He couldn’t help but think back on the conversation he’d had with Marty outside of the hospital, about light versus dark. Perhaps you manifesting into his orbit was another indicator that the light just might actually be winning.

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