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thecreelhouse · 1 year ago

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part time soulmate, full time problem

Paring: Gator Tillman x Alt Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns) || MDNI!

Summary: Gator’s sleep deprived but dead set on setting up that goddamn air mattress, which the two of you use for anything but sleeping.

Word count: 4.2k+

CW/Tags: language, mutual masturbation, oral sex/face riding (fem receiving), soft switch (both Gator and Reader), praise kink, dirty talk, brief anal play, squirting, brief body image/self esteem issues, tooth rotting fluff, orgasm induced syncope (i am so sorry lmfao), sleepy confessions, gator being a lovable idiot

Series Masterlist // Read on AO3

A/N: hi y’all!! thanks for all the kind words in the tags and replies about this series!! I’m glad others are enjoying this, bc I’ve been having lots of fun writing this. This chapter is kinda silly and a bit of a filler, but hopefully it still keeps y’all fellow sluts happy and entertained :’) <3

Day 6

It’s one in the morning, and you’re still awake. So is Gator. And the two of you are delirious at this point, running on broken sleep schedules.

The two of you were bundled back up in the coziest sleep clothes while the fireplace burned on and illuminated the room in a soft, warm glow. Gator blew up the air mattress like he suggested, but you were skeptical about the idea.

“We’re gonna end up on the floor by sunrise.” You warn with a yawn, side eyeing the mattress with arms crossed. “These things never stay inflated.”

“No, no, look, this one’s high quality, okay?” Gator insists, slapping the mattress as the air pump raises it from the collapsed state it was just in. “This thing doesn’t deflate, I swear.”

“Didn’t you say that when we went camping in middle school?” You argue with the memory fresh in your mind. “We ended up on the ground and the tent leaked from the storm, so we got all soggy and sad.”

Gator snorts at the memory, “Yeah, but if we did sleeping bags we still woulda’ got wet.”

“This isn’t the same mattress, is it?”

“Wh— no!” Gator grumbles, focused on closing the entrance for air before it begins leaking. “Look, look how big it is! Now that,” Gator slaps the top of the mattress one more time before grinning at you, “That’s a firm mattress. That thing means business.”

You’re giggling at his enthusiasm. “You sound like a dad that found a deal on an air mattress at the hiking store.”

“You just can’t appreciate a good mattress.” Gator’s totally more delirious than you at this point, with less sleep in his system than you. “Look, watch, are you watching?”

“Gator, I am literally staring at you, what the fuck else should I do? Throw my eyeballs at you?”

“This won’t deflate. Seriously, watch me, I’ll show you,” Gator jumps onto the air mattress like a child would, and he’s right, it doesn’t deflate. It does, however, bounce him back into the air and onto the hardwood floor.

You gasp, but can’t hold back more giggles. “Are you- oh my god- Gator that was so fucking—“

He’s face down on the floor, cutting you off with one hand raising in the air, flipping the bird.

“You did this to yourself, Tillman.” The laughter continues, but you move to his side, glancing down at the exhausted heap his body landed on the floor into. “You want some ice?”

Gator turns his head to the side but doesn’t move otherwise, “Yeah… maybe. That might be a good idea.”

“Okay, there’s plenty outside,” You tease as you sit on the bed, bouncing a little yourself. At least you’re still on the bed. Gator pushes himself up from the floor, shooting an unamused glare your way.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, it’s still inflated. Told you!” He’s a little too excited about this damn air mattress.

“Gator you definitely need to sleep,” You tug at his legs after he’s back on his feet. “C’mon, maybe if you lay down like a normal human being, you won’t get hurt again.”

Surprisingly, he’s got no marks on his face despite launching in the air and falling flat onto the floor.

Your arms loosely loop around his legs, trying to gently tug him onto the bed; his arms mirror yours, pulling your face closer to him. He’s not aware of where your face is, he’s too tired to think clearly. You, however, are very aware.

“Gator, if you want me to blow you, you could just ask.” You’re teasing him, but he lets go, laughing nervously.

“I- that wasn’t intentional, I swear.” He’s in a fit of sleepy laughter now, and it’s contagious, making you join in. “I was just huggin’ you back, I promise!”

“Uh-huh, sure.” You taunt as you move over, mocking Gator by slapping the mattress like he did moments ago. “Are you getting on this damn bed or not?” Gator narrows his gaze at you before sitting down slowly, as if it’s your fault he fell.

“What if I told you I hurt my dick when I fell?” Gator asks, trying to keep a straight face. His eyes are bloodshot, and the circles under his eyes are dark. “What then? Huh? Ice can’t fix that, y’know.”

You roll your eyes before swinging a pillow at him playfully. “Well, I ain’t no doctor. You’re shit outta luck.” Dramatically, he falls over on the bed, frowning while clutching his chest.

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”

“Gator, what happened to watchin’ more movies?”

“An emergency happened! It’s not like you can really plan for those.”

You snicker, “Do I look like an ambulance?”

“No, but y’look like an angel that should be saving my life.”

Eyes rolling, you say, “Hey, Gator?”

He rolls over to get closer to you, head laying in your lap as your legs are criss-crossed. “Yeah?” He looks up at you, grinning like a sleepy idiot.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

His smile flips into a ridiculous frown. “Why? I like bein’ up with you.”

“Because I can tell just how exhausted you are by talking so sweet right now.” You gently move him off your lap before settling under the fluffy blankets piled around the two of you. Gator follows suit, grabbing your waist as soon as he’s under the covers.

“Surprised you ain’t takin’ advantage of that.”

“Listen, I’m not complaining, but you need sleep way more than anything right now.”

“M’fine! I probably could stay up ‘til sunrise.”

“Gator.”

“Fine, fine!” He glowers at you before shutting his eyes. “Fun sucker.”

He falls silent, and the only sounds around the two of you are the fireplace crackling, the wind continuing to brutally howl outside, and the soft breaths between the two of you. You watch Gator for a bit, and he seems to be relaxing, falling into a steady pattern of breaths.

That was fast.

As soon as your own eyes start to shut, though, Gator breaks the silence, groaning, “I can’t sleep like this.” You were so close to falling asleep; your eyes open, glaring at Gator.

Irritated, you still humor his thoughts; your brows knit together, confused, “Like what?” His hand clumsily grabs yours, leading it down to the length growing under his sweats. Your eyes are wide now; you’re definitely awake again.

“Like this,” His eyes flutter closed as he lazily bucks into your palm, making himself shudder a sigh out. “Please, baby.”

You’d be a liar if you tried to deny how attractive he is while he’s so needy.

“Again, you did it to yourself.” You’re trying not to automatically give in, but the way he looks so pathetic and cute at once is hard to ignore.

He ruts against your hand, whining when you don’t return the friction and pressure he craves. You pretend to start to fall back asleep, while Gator still searches for satisfaction from his actions against your palm.

“You’re terrible at faking bein’ asleep, darlin’.” He’s trying to sound composed, but his words just come out breathy and desperate, instead.

“And you’re terrible at going 24 hours without being as horny as a teenager.” You murmur, keeping your eyes shut. While he keeps moving, you can feel a damp spot forming on the fabric. It’s taking everything within you to ignore that, too. “Your dick’s gonna fall off if you don’t leave it alone.”

“If I wasn’t so tired, you’d be over my knee already for being a brat.”

“See, you admit it! You’re tired! Now, go the fuck to sleep.”

Gator doesn’t listen, pulling his sweats down and moving your hand so you can really feel him. “Can’t. Need you, darlin’,” is all he breathes out.

Pulling back, you sit up, leaning on your arm, watching disappointment cover Gator’s face. “You want to get off?” His face lights up immediately.

“Yeah, yes, I need it,” He’s palming himself now, growing more agitated the longer he goes without relief.

“Alright. Show me.” Gator’s confused, so you elaborate. “Show me how you get off.”

“Me? I have to do it?”

“You don’t have to, but you’re not getting off any other way.”

Gator’s mouth drops as he glares at you, insulted. “But I’m so tired.”

Shrugging, you lay back down. “Oh well, not my problem.”

“Well, actually, you stole the blankets from me, and that kept me up, so—“

“And?”

“You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Tillman.” You’re quick to respond. “You’ve got two options: show me how you touch yourself, or sleep. Your call.”

Gator huffs, frustrated, before pushing his sweats down his legs completely, kicking them off the side of the bed. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, hand wrapping around his length; he’s a swollen, leaking mess. The tip of his cock is red with need as precum pulses out.

“You gonna be okay without a sock, baby?” You pout at him mockingly. “You might make a mess.”

His hand speeds up as he arches into his own touch. “Shut up about the fucking—“

You lean over him, spitting onto his cock and hand around it. He stops to watch you in awe before breaking his trance to spread the saliva over himself.

“That make it easier?” You continue mocking him. Gator grits his teeth, hand moving with ease against his skin. You grab his face, forcing him to look at you. “Answer me.”

Those two words seem to make Gator’s brain melt; they’re not special, but the tone you give him hits a weak spot somewhere within him.

“Y- yeah, it does.” He sighs as he continues jerking himself off. You move back a little before removing your own pants, touching yourself lazily in front of him. Gator throws his head back on the pillow, unable to take his eyes off of you. “We could be doing this together, y’know. Isn’t easier to just fuck instead?”

Your fingers slide up and down your slit, gathering arousal before pushing two fingers into yourself at once. You gasp at the sensation of stretching your own walls out. It’s not as good as Gator using his hands, mouth, or cock, but it’s enough for right now.

“You haven’t earned it yet.”

Gator’s eyes roll back in his head as he picks up the pace on himself. His back arches again, off of the bed as he whines. “Fucking fuck—“ his face is red, embarrassed that you’re making him work for his own release. “How the fuck do I earn it then?”

“Not sure.” You giggle, and he glares at you. “Guess we can figure it out along the way.”

His eyes dart back and forth between the hand between your legs, now toying with your clit, and the taunting smirk you’re shooting his way.

“Need you.”

“I know, you told me already.” Every time you mock, dismiss, or belittle him, his hips stutter, and his breath shudders, but he tries to hide it. “It’s okay, Gator, it’s hard to keep your thoughts together like this, isn’t it?”

Gator shakes his head, free hand reaching out for you. You pull back, but he’s faster, grabbing your leg, digging his nails into your skin. “No, I need you.”

“You already said that, babe.”

“Fuck— just fucking sit on my face. That’s what I need. Please?” He sounds so hot and bothered like this. “I owe you, you didn’t get off last time, darlin’.”

Your face heats up at his words, suddenly growing shy. “Won’t I- uh-“ You’re trying to find your words without embarrassing yourself, so you just shake your head ‘no’ instead.

“Why not?” Gator whines, grip still tight on you. Your own actions along your folds stop, and you pull your hand away from your core. Gator slows his own hand, noticing the way your mood shifts. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What if I hurt you?” You motion to your legs and hips, plush with curves and softness.

Gator sits up, letting his grip on himself go, focusing on you.

“You kiddin’? There’s no way you would.” Gator tries reassuring you, ignoring the way his cock twitches after he stopped stroking himself. “Plus, on the off chance you did hurt me, I’d think it’d be an honor to have my neck snapped by a pretty girl like you.”

You snort at his sentiment. “You’re definitely sleep deprived sayin’ some shit like that.”

He reaches out, hand cradling the side of your face; you instantly lean into his touch, tension leaving your body. “Sleep deprived or not, it’s true.”

Your face gravitates towards his as you giggle, “You’re corny.”

“And you’re a sucker for that.” Gator’s voice drops low while his thumb wanders to your lips, eyes quick to follow and linger, too. You nod, watching his expression as he toys with your bottom lip. “I’d still love to make ya’ feel good, if you’re comfortable with it, darlin’. But we can go to sleep if you’d rather that.”

“Oh now you want to sleep.” You tease, and it earns an eye roll from Gator. “If we do… you’ll promise to tell me if I hurt you, right? Like you can tell me to stop, I don’t want you to feel like—“

Gator cuts you off with a kiss; his lips languidly move against yours, coaxing your lips to part, letting him in with ease. His tongue melds with yours, earning a whimper from you; his reaction is a smirk and a breathy laugh into you before biting on your bottom lip, slowly pulling on it before releasing his hold on you.

“Use me to feel good, darlin’.” He whispers as your noses still touch, lips just centimeters apart. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat. “I promise you can finish this time.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” You deadpan, pushing his chest gently so he falls back onto the pillow. He reaches out to you, hands grabbing whatever he can touch. “Promise you’ll tell me to stop if you’re not okay?”

Gator nods intently, tired eyes wide with desire. You pause for a moment, hesitant.

Fuck it.

As you clamber up Gator’s body, he assists you faster by hooking his arms around your legs, pushing them from the back. You yelp at the sudden push, only making him smirk. You’re hovering above him, about to lower yourself, when concern for his pleasure hits you. “What about you, though?”

Ignoring your question, his arms move to hook under your thighs, hands finding your backside, kneading the soft swell of your ass. “Hey, darlin’?”

You’re dizzy from his touch. “Hm?”

“Shut up already.” He swiftly pulls you down to his mouth, and on contact you’re beginning to see stars. The noises that erupt from the two of you are obscene and loud; you’re immediately grateful there’s no neighbors around his house.

You’re frantically searching for something to hold onto; air mattresses don’t come with a bed frame, unfortunately. You look down at Gator, who’s already looking up at you, and the eye contact makes the knot in your lower tummy tighten with want. Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging softly.

“C’mon, you can pull harder than that.” Gator murmurs into your folds, deliberately taking his time tasting you. “You did a few days ago, remember?”

The morning you found his porn searches flashes in your mind, along with pinning him down to his bed after he caught you, pulling on his hair as you taunted him.

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut. Your fingers weave and wind through his hair before tugging harder, earning a deep groan from him, vibrating into you from below.

“That’s it, darlin’.” He’s praising you in between sucking on your clit. “Just like that.”

Your hips start rolling, but you force yourself to stop, worried it’s too much for him. Gator notices, reminding you, “You don’t gotta to hold back. I can take it.”

Your thighs instinctively try to close, but you stop yourself from doing that, too. Gator pushes on your thighs, closing in towards his head anyway.

“You’ve got no idea how many times I dreamt about bein’ between these legs,” Gator softly nips at your clit, and you cry out, head falling back. “Got no idea how many times I wished it was you riding my face when it was someone else.”

“Gator…” You’re tensing up as you keen, pulling roughly on his hair now. He spanks you, earning a shaky yelp from your lips. “Th— you’ve— god.”

“No one’s tasted as sweet as you, baby.” He tongue fucks you, and you lose it, all concerns and doubts vanishing into thin air; you begin really riding his face, and he’s taking it with pride. “Can’t believe you’re this fucked out already.”

Your whole body is burning up; you hastily tear your shirt over your head and throw it aside, hand leaving his hair to start grabbing yourself. You barely begin groping yourself before Gator unhooks an arm to reach up and shove your hand away. You’re about to whine out, annoyed, but he immediately replaces your touch, teasing your body. “Let me do the work, darlin’.” His other hand follows suit, fingers tweaking and pinching your nipples, causing you to grind down on his face.

Gator alternates between his tongue, lips, and nose to keep the pleasure building within you. The combination as you continue riding him makes your legs begin to shake.

“You better not be cummin’ yet,” He warns as his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it again while his strong hands continue to fondle your tits. “I just started playin’ with ya’.”

“Ye- yeah but what about you?”

“This is more than enough for me.” He quickly answers before delving back into your centre, tongue teasing your entrance again. One hand comes back down, but as he hooks it under your leg again, he lightly touches and circles your tight, puckered hole. You jump, not expecting the sensation, but you moan, thighs tightening around Gator’s head again. “Can I play with ya’ back here sometime, darlin’?”

You nod quickly as your hips work faster. Gator chuckles into your core while his fingers swipe through your folds briefly, collecting arousal to spread onto your tight ring, making his touch even more sinful.

“Gator, please…”

“Anyone ever eat ya’ here, too?” The filth of his words and casual tone make your eyes roll back into your head. “Need an answer, darlin’. Wanna learn everything about you, pretty girl.”

You can only think of one response, “I’m- I’m close,” You whimper, lightheaded from all the teasing and stimulation. “Gator— Gator, please, I—“

His arms move back to where they first started, hands on your body, guiding you along roughly on his face as your hips stutter their movements.

His tongue works in tandem with his mouth’s suction before murmuring, “Make it count, princess.”

The encouragement is enough to send you over the edge; you started this seeing stars, but now you’re surrounded by the entire fucking galaxy. Legs shaking, you’re involuntarily grinding harder onto Gator’s face. He doesn’t stop his meticulous actions, even when you nearly put him into a death grip with your thighs. Your head lolls back, mouth falling open in a silent cry before a moan fills the empty space. You’re screaming his name, followed by an incoherent chain of noises and babbling, mind melting from the intense pleasure.

“There ya’ go, darlin’.” His praise earns another wave of noises. You’re unable to tell until it hits you like lightning; another orgasm floods through you, causing you to squirt. You’re too engulfed in your second climax to realize how horrified you’d probably be, squirting on Gator, but he moans into you loudly, hips flexing up into the open air before his own legs shake wildly. Despite it all, he’s somehow able to continue praising you. “That’s it, such a good girl. My good girl.”

Your eyes cross, vision tunneling before everything goes dark. You don’t even hear yourself make the loudest cry you’ve made so far since being snowed in.

——

“Hey, c’mon, get up baby.”

Your head feels floaty, eyes softly opening while you try blinking away the blurriness. Everything comes into focus around you; you look up to see Gator gazing down at you, worried. You’re resting on the bed, head laying in his lap.

“Jesus, you scared me.” He runs a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face. You’re a mess, soaked, sweaty, and finally coming to.

“Gator?”

“M’here, I got ya’.” Relief replaces his worried expression as you wake up more. “It was only a minute, but might’ve been the longest minute of my life.”

“Whaddya mean?” You slur, breath calm, slow and steady now. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Can you worry about yourself for once?” He’s lighthearted in his words, but he means it. “Are you okay?”

You’re silent for a moment, reaching up with tingling hands to rub your eyes. “I think I found God in that last orgasm.”

Gator can’t help the laugh that leaves his lips, despite trying to stifle it. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, continuing to become more aware of your surroundings.

Gator’s here. You’re on the air mattress. The one he insisted the two of you sleep on tonight. Everything’s okay. It just made you—

You look down, realizing how soaked you are. The pillow Gator laid on earlier and the surrounding area of the mattress are wet, too.

Fuck. Not again.

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” You grumble, sitting up fast, but your vision tilts, and Gator can tell you’re still dizzy.

“C’mere, give yourself a bit to get up.” He pulls you into his lap, but you squirm, even more embarrassed. “Darlin’, what’s goin’ on?”

“M’all gross, don’t let me sit on you—“ You stop, studying his face. To your horror, his face, not even just the bottom half, is damp, and you know exactly why. “Oh my god. I- fuck. I’m so sorry. Oh my god, this is so fuckin’ humiliating.”

Gator uses the back of his arm to wipe his face crudely, but he’s smiling. “Wish you’d stop apologizin’ for this, because it’s so fuckin’ hot.”

You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head. “Here I was worried I’d crush ya’, but instead I just— I can’t even say it.”

“Squirted?”

“Gator.”

“Why’s that so bad?” He’s sincerely asking, but his tongue swiping along his bottom lip isn’t making this easier to accept. “It felt good, yeah?”

Slowly, you nod, but you’re embarrassed to admit it. You look away from him, but your gaze lands on the damp spot on his sweats. You figure he put them back on after you passed out, but it takes a second to realize he came on himself, and didn’t clean up before checking on you.

Something about that, despite being gross, is really sweet.

“Gator, did you touch yourself?”

“Huh?” He looks down, blushing as he notices the spot, too. “Oh, uh, no. My hands were on you, baby. It just kinda happened watchin’ you cum again. Swear it’s not from watchin’ you pass out.”

You giggle, “I figured, since you didn’t even clean yourself. Fuckin’ A, Gator. We just cleaned up like two hours ago.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “I’ll grab somethin’ to clean ya’, wait here.”

“No way, I’m coming with you, and we’re sleeping upstairs. I’m not laying on this bed that I soaked half of.” You cringe at your last sentence.

“Alright, fair point. I’m gonna put the fire out, then we can head upstairs, okay?”

It’s only a minute or so before the fire’s extinguished, and Gator’s helping you up, guiding you safely to the stairs.

“Hey, darlin’?” He’s a few steps ahead, turning on the bathroom light and grabbing towels for the both of you.

“What’s up?”

“…. Can I use that face wash of yours?”

———

“Have you ever passed out before while you cum?”

Gator’s voice is raspy, exhausted, and he’s wrapped around you in his bed. You offered yours this time, but the two of you remembered he’s the one with blackout curtains, not you.

You quietly respond with just “No.” with your head ducked in towards his chest. The two of you are naked again, it’s just easier at this point. “M’sorry that happened.”

“What do I gotta do to convince you that ya’ got nothin’ to be sorry for?” He asks, kissing the top of your head. “Stuff happens out of our control, it’s okay.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to scare you like that. I think the combination of everything happening and being sleep deprived caused it— wait. Gator? Why the fuck are we still awake?”

“Because we’re both idiots.” He chuckles, eyes growing heavy. “Did you drink enough water? I can get ya’ some more.”

You shake your head, “No, thank you, though. I can’t get over how nice you are when you’re not being a total douche.”

“There were definitely nicer ways to word that, y’know.”

You ignore his quip, half asleep. “Thank you, Gator. Wouldn’t wanna be an idiot with anyone else other than you.” In seconds, you’re dozing off, falling into a steady breathing pattern in Gator’s arms.

As you fall asleep, you don’t hear Gator murmur, “Thank you for givin’ me another chance, darlin’.”

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x fem!reader #my fics #gator tillman smut #sorry this took so long!! i was having issues with tumblr lol but who’s surprised #fic: part time soulmate full time problem

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ablazenqueen · 4 months ago

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WIP Tag Game

Rules: Tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share an excerpt from your WIPs that start with that letter.

My Word: WHAT

Tagged by the lovely @wereflamingo-in-thai-dramaland! Thank you, this was really fun!! 😊

The only W quote I could find, from my Tiwpor (My School President) Star Trek AU:

When Por first offered – or like, politely demanded, whatever – to practice sparring with Tiw, he thought he knew what to expect. He’s sparred with other people before, obviously; he’s a Federation officer. And he’s even sparred with other people he happened to be attracted to. But the thing about his fighting style is that he learned very early on that what he lacks in physical strength and speed, he needs to make up for by other means. Given that words have always been his specialty, that usually means taunting or flirting with his opponents. It’s always been an effective strategy: either his opponents get flustered or annoyed or distracted, for just a few seconds, and it often leaves him with a good opening for an attack. With Tiw, it works exactly twice.

From my Difanghua (Mysterious Lotus Casebook) smut fic:

He knows why Di Feisheng is saying it. Put on a show. Make them believe. Practically speaking, however, that doesn’t stop the air from leaving Fang Duobing's lungs and it doesn’t stop his legs from suddenly turning to jelly beneath him. He carefully, desperately, skillfully latches onto the only other emotion he feels bubbling to the surface. The one that’s easier to name. The one he’s more used to feeling in Di Feisheng’s presence. Indignation. “I can’t just moan on command,” he complains, haughtily.

From my Bakudeku + Togaocha (My Hero Academia) 10 Things I Hate About You AU:

A few minutes ago, Himiko had rushed down the hall to Katuski’s room and hopped onto his bed where he was trying to focus on kicking virtual dragon ass. Now, she leans her full bodyweight into his side and bats her eyelashes up at him. “Don’t you love your favouritest baby sister?” Katsuki stands abruptly, letting a surprised Himiko squeak, tip over, and fall onto the bed, then he seats himself on the ground, never once breaking eye contact with the screen. Not even a whole second passes before he feels Himiko’s arms wrap around his neck. “I’ll do all your chores for a week!” she pleads, clearly desperate. “Not worth it.” “A month!” “Still not fucking worth it!”

From my Bingqiu (Scum Villain Self-Saving System) Modern Grim Reaper / Murder Mystery AU:

“Teach me.” Shang Qinghua quickly throws his hands in front of himself placatingly. “Okay okay, geez,” he says. “You were born like two seconds ago, chill.” Shen Yuan has half a mind to snatch the Book of Death that Shang Qinghua is holding so that he can hit the other grim reaper over the head with it.

No pressure tagging @arisprite @welcometothelairofthebitchking @pigeonriot @ullvide @playlistashton @gaym3bo1 @xagan @fairlylokai @faillen with the word THIS, if y'all wanna play!

#tag games #wip tag games #fanfiction #my fics #my school president #my hero academia #mysterious lotus casebook #scum villian self saving system #svsss #*my stuff

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stardustandash · 1 year ago

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Next on the Febuwhump docket: Too weak to move - Jedi Fallen Order for @pennflinn

I've always wanted to write a little Ilum whump, and you picking this prompt got that particular plot bunny going again! I hope you enjoy!!!

Words: 1,525

Tags: whump, hypothermia, no Jedi Survivor spoilers, exhaustion

ao3 link

Can't Go On

Everything is too much. The Force, the endless cold, the cries of the kyber as the Empire drills down into the heart of Ilum. Cal can feel it all dragging at him like the cold that has sunk into his joints and stiffened his movement. Maybe swimming his way through a frozen planet’s cave system wasn’t the smartest idea, but he needed his crystal. And now he has it and all he wants to do is lie down and sleep but instead he’s fighting his way through an Imperial mob.

Then he finds the room full of KX droids. Sure, Cal has a functioning lightsaber now, and he’s hastily modified it to split into two with the help of his new crystal, but he’s still just one rusty padawan against a room full of droids. Droids that have two feet and about two hundred pounds on him. He separates the blades, blocking the first one’s attempt to grab him while fending off a second with a slash towards its middle. The movement is slow, his joints hurt as he tries to get them to move with his usual amount of speed.

It's not big a problem though. At least, it isn’t a problem until the other droids in the room make their way over as well. Cal can usually dance circles around KX droids and their slow swings and stomping steps but this is different. Every move Cal makes is slower than the last, every swing of his ‘sabers falling later than they should. When one of the droids comes up behind him he can’t quite get his feet to move him out of the way before the KX droid has him by the throat. Cal scrabbles at its metal fingers as it lifts him from the ground. There’s a pause, then the droid is slamming him so hard against the ground whatever air is left in his lungs leaves in a strained wheeze. He has a moment of panic as he realizes he just landed on his back. His back where BD-1 usually sits. Then he hears angry beeping and a mechanical whirring noise.

BD-1, the hero that he is, has sliced the KX droid. Cal tries his best to scrabble out of the way as BD-1 pilots his new ride towards the other droids. The carnage that follows mostly comes to Cal as loud, metallic crunching noises. He’s only half paying attention as his highest priority is convincing his lungs that they do, in fact, know how to breathe properly.

Cal’s only halfway back to breathing when BD-1 screeches out a warning. He gets his blade up just in time, and slides between the legs of the KX droid standing over him and uses it to climb to his feet. Then he cuts its arms off for good measure. He spins, trying not to trip over his heavy, clumsy feet and throws himself back into the fray. T

Thankfully, BD has managed to get rid of most of the KX droids with the one he’s puppeteering. It doesn’t take much more effort for Cal to cut through what’s left until he and BD-1 are the only things moving in the room. BD-1 immediately scuttles over to Cal’s side and tosses him a stim. It feels a bit like cheating that he uses the Force to bring the stim to his hand, but Cal knows he isn’t going to catch it without its help. The adrenaline in the stim clears some of the fog from his mind, but it also makes the shrill cry of the kyber around him louder.

BD-1 trills at his side to ask if he’s okay.

“Not really, Buddy,” says Cal. “The Empire, what they’re doing here is awful.”

BD reiterates the question, this time specifying that he meant Cal’s personal wellbeing, not whatever-the-kriff Force nonsense was clearly upsetting him.

“I can get us back to the Mantis,” says Cal. I think, he doesn’t add. “I’m fine.”

His knees and ankles protest something fierce as they set off again. Of course, the door BD-1 manages to slice leads to nowhere but a single rope hanging over a dark chasm. Of course, Cal has to swing across it to keep moving forward. He pauses before swinging across. He tells himself its so that he can inform Cere that the Empire is on Ilum, that he’s been spotted and there could be trouble, but he knows it’s so that he can put off attempting a death-defying stunt while feeling at about half capacity at best for his usual tricks for just a minute longer.

He can’t feel the rope in his hands.

BD-1 whoops with his usual amount of glee as Cal may or may not use the Force to cling to the rope and get them both across with all his joints protesting doing anything other than lying face down on the ground and waiting for either the Empire or Cere to find him. He lands ungracefully and immediately stumbles into an endless fight to get out of the caverns. The galaxy seems to be laughing at him as every time he feels himself slowing down and fading there’s a new, stronger enemy in his path from purge troopers with their electrified weapons to stormtroopers with flamethrowers.

By the time Cal and Bd-1 stumble their way through the frozen over entrance they’ve gone for yet another swim and this time Cal can feel the ice forming in his elbows and knees. He’s exhausted too. The day has been full of heavy emotions and fighting and through it all he can feel the planet crying out through the Force in pain. And yet, there’s still more the empire has to throw at him.

Cal can hear the AT-STs before he can see them. The familiar whirr-thunk of their steps echoes across the snow and ice now that the storm is gone. The sun is almost blinding where it reflects off the snow and Cal has to squint to get the barest detail of the landscape around him. He knows that he can’t face the walkers head on, he can’t even feel his fingers where they are wrapped around the hilt of his lightsaber, nor can he manage anything more than a slow, awkward shuffle. So before the AT-STs spot him he makes for one of the narrower channels formed by the ice and settles in to wait until they decide to go patrol another sector. He leans back against the ice and slides slowly down into the snow. BD-1 jumps down beside him and beeps that they should comm Cere and Greez.

“You’re right,” says Cal.

He fumbles in his pouches for his comm device. It takes longer than it should, but eventually he gets it into his shaking hands and manages to press the right buttons with numb fingers.

“Cal,” Cere’s voice is steady through the comm channel, but her relief is evident. “Where are you?”

“I’m close to the ship, but hiding. There’s walkers out there and I can’t get past them without a fight.

“What if you don’t fight. Can you sneak past them? You could scale a wall and walk over the top back to the ship.”

Cal goes to stand up, just to have a peek and see, but his legs don’t get the memo. He can’t feel them. He can’t even feel the wall of ice he’s leaning against.

“No,” says Cal in a tight voice. “I can’t climb.”

“Cal, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know. I can’t move anymore, it’s so cold and I’m so tired, Cere. I’m so tired.”

“Do not fall asleep. BD, do not let him fall asleep,” Cere orders.

BD-1 chirps an affirmative and fixes Cal with a strange stare. Cal doesn’t know if Cere hears the response or not. It doesn’t matter, she knows BD-1 will look after him, he always does.

Cal slumps even further against the ice. At least he’s starting not to feel so cold anymore. In fact, his fingers and toes are starting to burn a little, and if he could muster up the energy he’d be tempted to rip off his poncho. Cere’s still talking through the comm, and Cal can think of responding, but it’s too much effort to actually form the words.

It’s kind of funny, in a way. Earlier in the caves Cal had been ready to lay down and die after the crystal broke in his hand. But then BD-1, with the help of Master Cordova, reminded him that he has to keep going. Now he wants nothing more than to get back to the ship, to Cere and Greez, and a bunk that’s starting to feel like home and a purpose that is uniquely his, and yet he can’t get up and get himself there. The bright sky and BD-1 are receding away from him down a long, dark tunnel. He wants to claw his way back to the light, but he’s far too weak to move. All he can do is hope that somehow Cere will find him before he becomes another screaming ghost on Ilum.

#febuwhump #j:fo #jedi fallen order #cal kestis #fanfic #fanfiction #bd-1

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thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago

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Retirement.

Summary: Blood is something Bucky has grown used to but when he's covered in yours, he's sick. Don't worry, happy ending!!

Warning/Content: almost death, getting shot in the head, Bucky cries but finally gets everything he deserves 😅

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Bucky Barnes tag list and master list

"Buck -" The rasp comes from the piece in his ear, he barely hears it as bullets that wiz past the surface of his head and bounce off the ground. He's out of breath, gasping as he find shelter behind an abandoned car, pressing the piece closer.

"What is it? Did you get in?" He pauses, "We need those files."

"Buck, he has a gun, he has me. Compromised." His heart is already unsteady and those words only make it beat faster. A pit forming in his stomach instead, he hears a male voice in the background.

"Who has a gun?" The silence makes his brows crease, heart drop as his voice cracks. "Answer me!"

"He wants to know where you are and what files you want." Bucky let's out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding at the sound of your voice.

"Tell him, give him the drive." There's no hesitation in his voice. There nothing in this world he wouldn't do to save you, nothing else mattered. Not the mission and definitely not the data.

But you know this, he's hard headed but instead of listening to Bucky you decide to test the waters. Looking up at the man which isn't hard, he has you on your knees, hands out in front of you but a gun inches from your head. "He said fuck off, if you shoot me you'll never know."

"What are you doing? Give him the drive, now." The growl that emphasizes the last word would usually be enough to have you shaking, but you don't give. Despite how rough he sounds, he tries to soften it "That's an order, give it to him sweetheart."

"Oh, he said fuck off again."

Bucky body runs hot, adrenaline pumping through his veins, warming his entire body as makes a b-line for the building you disappeared into a short while ago. "Give him the fucking drive."

It's useless, he hears rustling and talking but nothing he can understand but that's until he hears you talk to fast he can barely understand. "Office, we are in the first office second floor."

It's music to his ears, a second of relief but he feels dizzy as the found of a gun going off through the comlink almost paralyzes him.

"Fuck!" He yells, as he calls your name repetitively but there is no answer.

Nothing can stop him, he's running so fast he can barely register. It's all a blur, up the stairs through the main office until the stench of blood greets him.

There you are, lifeless and surrounded by your own blood.

His hands grasp gently grasping your head, blood seeping through his gapped fingers as good heart drops. "No..no." he mumbles to himself, managing to turn you over. It's hard to breath, he can't even think, see over the tears that blue his vision. A large lump forming in his mouth, it seals his throat.

There's too much blood to see anything, it soaks your scalp and mats into the hair around it. His fingers blindly look around for an exit wound but nothing is there, instead his focus falls to the rise and fall of your chest, still breathing.

Eyelashes flicker again cheekbones, disoriented and confused as Bucky let's out a sign of relief while you crunch your nose together in pain. He takes a second, just one to lay his head on top of yours and thank anything - anyone.

"Where does it hurt? I can't see, your bleeding too much baby.." Bucky watches as your eyes flicker from his steel blues and your hand reaches up to run a knuckle again his jaw, feeling the course fine hairs there. "Hey, listen to me, where does it hurt?"

Following the path of your shaky fingers he lets out a sigh of relief, the bullet managed to just graze the side of your head. The spot is hot under his trembling plam, beginning to scab and the hair is ripped away but he feels so thankful in that moment.

"He missed." It's not funny but both of you can't help but laugh as your sense of mind is returning. Hues of yellow and blue already forming under both of your eyes, no doubt from the head trauma.Bucky feels one of your hands push against his chest which he responds by tightening his core.

"Get off, I'm fine."

The look he gives you is filled with annoyance, eyes widening as if he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth, especially since his pants are wet and sticky seeing he is actually kneeling in a pool of blood.

"Are you crazy? You will bleed out." Bucky is quick to rip a piece of material from a nearby blanket, wrapping it tightly around your head but keeps pressure with his palm. "You need to get stitched up before you bleed out."

"I'm fine." Trying to push him away again but the look he gives is warning enough so you don't fight him as one arm slip underneath your knees, and then other supports your head against his chest.

"Scared me." Is all he manages to mumble as he starts his ascend towards stairs, a small kiss pressed against the uninjured part of your head. It's gentle, filled with so many words as his lips linger there, more so to reinsure that the skin is warm, full of color and lively. "Don't ever do that again, please."

"Bucky I couldn't just give it to them." Something is placed into his coat pocket while you tap it with a small smile. Hooded eyes weak, threatening to close with every passing second. "So I didn't, it's safe, the morons didn't even bother to search me."

Great, the mission is still ago but he's frowning. "I don't care about the mission. I care about you risking your life for some file, you disobeyed my orders I told you to give it to them and to tell them. If that bullet was an inch closer you would have died."

Silence feel over the pair, nothing else to be said because Bucky was right. The agreement was Bucky was in charge, in order for you to come everything would be up to him, especially because you weren't supposed to be there in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Guilt creeping over, pressing a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Small tears beginning to blur vision but you're not sure if it's from the look of disappointed and fear that line his handsome features or that fact that you were that close to death and blood is soaking threw the make shift bandage and trailing down the side of your head. "I should have listened."

"I need a medic." Bucky brings his wrist to his lips before laying his cheek against the top of your own. The heavy, swish of air from the helicopter does little to him, he still stands confident and strong as he speaks.

"Don't cry, doll. I'm not mad, I promise." He pauses but you can feel his hands trembling, heart pounding inside of his chest. "Just scared, I'm covered in your blood and i hate it."

***

He was right, from head to toe, smeared across his face and dying his hands pink even after scrubbing them effortlessly in the shower does little to get it off. The smell of your blood is still fresh, enough to crinkle his nose with distaste. Every time he looks down it's a reminder that he almost lost you.

When he enters the bedroom with a towel around his waist you look up, head still spinning but now the wound is stitched up, white bandages knotted behind your head. After the initial shock left your system you notice the side affects, right below where the bullet grazed, your right ear is ringing. You can hear anything and honestly, the doctors couldn't give a definite answer if it will ever come back.

"How your head, did the medicine start working yet?" Bucky asks, throwing on a pair on underwear and doesn't bother with anything else.

With a defeat huff you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as the bright light of the bathroom hurts. Bucky notices and shuts it off before curling up into the bed, legs entangling with your own as he presses a soft kiss against your neck.

A few more soft ones pressed against your cheeks, the warmth gathering the few tears that slip from your eyes. A hand runs through the soft strands of the involved side of your head, a soft hum of comfort vibrates against it. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay sweetheart."

As the underside of his hand comes back up to comfort you the pink hue catches his attention once again and a frown fills his features.

"I don't want to say this..." his words are rushed and desperate but he can't keep it in any longer. "Every time I close my eyes I see you there, in your own blood. I can't shake the feeling of your blood oozing through my fingers."

Bucky is never one to hold his partner back and to be honest he thinks you're one of the best agents he's ever met, skilled and smart but none of that will matter if you are dead. "I don't want you going on active missions anymore."

"You don't get to decide that." You argue, he fears the worse as your head moves from his hand, no longer seeking the comfort. "You can't do that."

"I need piece of mind, you're the only person I have left." He argues. The bright moon creates just enough light to illuminate one side of your face through the window. Eyes are black and blue and red shot, a popped vessel on the corner of your right eyes almost swells it shit. They're also puffy, no doubt from the wound and all the crying. In pain, agonizing pain, who knew getting shot in the head would give you such a bad headache? His soft hands find you again, pulling you close and gently for you face him.

One hand slides over the skin of the back of your arm, squeezing the muscle there as he presses an experimental kiss against your lips in fear you'll pull away. You couldn't if you tried, pull away that is. The smell of his soap overrides any other sense, his skin is soft and warm, his lips gentle as he strokes your hairline, pushing the hair away from your forehead. "I didn't say you have to stop, just be more careful about it, no more active missions but you can go after, make the arrests, still get in on the action."

"So let everyone else do the hard work while I sit on the sidelines? That not who I am."

"Please." He sounds desperate, blue eyes roaming over the soft features of your face, the wrinkle of irritation pinching lines between your forehead, the curve of your nose to the fullness of your lips. Beautiful, breathtaking, he's never loved something so much before. The fact that you're still laying next to him, breathing makes him want to cry.

So he does, unwanted tears fall in a messy, zig-zagged pattern as he hiccups. A soft, small hand finds his head, the buzz cut smooth under finger-tips.

"Bucky, baby.."

"I have lost everyone. My parents, my friends... Steve. I don't want to loose you either." A sound so sad, choked up and stuttering jumps his chest as he cries into your neck.

It's long over due, he refuses to speak about it. The last year of his life as been challenging to say the least, he's trying to adapt but struggling. Coming to terms of what he's done over the last 70 years but also learning how to love again, how to become human again.

Steve still haunts his dreams, his best friend, the man who saved him from Hydra, from everything is now gone. The one person who has been constant, his backbone but now he's finding that in you and honestly, his heart cant take much more.

"It's alright Buck, I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm right here." It doesn't help, his heart his burning, chest crushing under the pressure of tears. The ball of emotion and growing and growing in the back of his throat, making it hard to speak. "You can't leave me.. you can't."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, you can barely keep your eyes open. You have a gun shot wound in the side of your head! I felt it, your blood stains my hands. It's all I can smell. I thought you were dead... I can't take it."

What If he didn't miss? If Bucky had found you lifeless and cold?

"It's okay." You rub soothing circles to the middle of back, letting him cry it out. He needs it, he needs to talk about his problems, grow from them.

"What If we both stop?" Bucky's words silence you, "No more missions, we find a home, settle down. Just me and you."

The thought had crossed your mind more than once, a peaceful place to call your own with the man you love. Who knows what would happen? There's no doubt the pair of you would be bored out of your minds but can also gets jobs to fill the void, teach self defense classes.. start a family.

The thought alone makes your heart pound, so filled with love. "I want a normal life.. it's all I ever wanted. I can't imagine it with anyone else but I also need you safe. We can...." He's hesitant, not sure if they're the right words. "We can get married, get a home.. leave all this behind."

It's all so much, his words mix with the ache in the side of your skull but you don't need to think twice. The promise of Bucky forever is impossible to pass up on. "Yes."

"Yes to what?" Bucky's breathing is normal now, a few stray tears soaking your skin but his chest doesn't move. Like he's not breathing because he'll miss the words you say.

"All of it, to being your wife, to starting a normal life with you." After everything Bucky has been through, it's the least he deserves and you're going to give it to him. As his smile grows against your skin, you're breathless. Heart beating rapidly against his own and you swear you fall in love all over again.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #buckysam #sebastian stan #bucky angst #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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cg29fics · 2 years ago

Text

Gone

Issues with previous updates, so if you’re reading along you may want to check out the links for previous chapters. The complete fic is also available via FF.Net & A03 - CreativeGirl29

Tagging 🔖 Sorry if I’ve missed anyone - If you would like to be tagged in these updates then please let me know and I’ll add you to the list: @janetm74 @drileyf @katblu42 @psychoseal @weirdburketeer @alexthefly @misstb2 @thundergeek59 @burningcowboyhoagietaco @dragonoffantasyandreality

Previous. Chapter 42: Visits.

Chapter 43. Emotions.

Both Scott and Gordon had spent the last 45 minutes in silence, watching over Virgil with deep concern as he lay with his eyes shut, clinging tightly onto his sick bowl. The intensity of his migraines had grown, the vomiting had become more frequent, and due to the lack of sleep he was getting, the normally peace keeping artist had become extremely moody,

“Scotty,” Virgil mumbled, after he had finished vomiting once more.

“Yes bro, can I get you something?” Scott asked.

“Please don’t let Alan or Gordon see me like this.”

“Err, sorry Virg. Gordon’s already here,” Scott pointed out, signalling to where he was sitting.

“Hey,” Gordon smiled, when Virgil looked at him groggily, “as for Alan, I don’t think you’ll be able to drag him away.”

“No control anymore!” Virgil stated before crumpling himself over the bowl and vomiting again.

Gordon and Scott exhaled at the state their brother was in, both desperate to help or soothe him in some way.

When Virgil had finished the nurse quickly swapped the bowl. “Try and drink some more water.” She said, pouring some into a cup.

“Virg, please... Let me help you, you’re going to drop it,” Scott cautioned, noticing Virgil’s hand shaking.

“No!” Virgil snapped, taking a hold of the cup and sipping some.

“Try and drink some more,” the nurse ordered, when Virgil had placed the cup back down.

Virgil huffed to himself and muttered under his breath before taking hold of the cup.

“Come on Virgil, let us help you,” Gordon begged, when he saw Virgil’s hand was shaking even more than before.

“No!” Virgil snapped again. Gordon and Scott glanced at each other knowing the inevitable was going to happen. Sure enough, Virgil’s hand began shaking and the water went all over him. “God damn it!” Virgil exploded. Throwing the plastic cup across the room. “Can’t do anything!”

The nurse half-smiled at Gordon and Scott, who both looked shocked and saddened by Virgil’s outburst. “Don’t worry, It’s just the drugs. As soon as they are out of his system he’ll be back to his normal self… It may be best if we had just one person at a time while his migraines and sickness are this bad,” she suggested, “it may also help him emotionally as well… If you can give us about 10 minutes, I’ll get this cleaned up.”

“Okay,” Scott and Gordon agreed, both trudging out the room and outside to the hospital gardens where their grandma, John and Alan were enjoying some fresh air.

“Is everything okay with Virgil?” John asked with concern, when he saw Gordon and Scott.

Scott and Gordon despondently relayed what had happened. Detailed their concern over Virgil’s emotional state becoming worse, and the advice the nurse had given.

“The nurse is probably right,” Alan stated, “it’s just the drugs, he’ll be okay in a few days.”

“I don’t think so,” Gordon replied, “he seemed so angry and frustrated.”

Scott nodded. “I think the drugs are displaying the pent-up frustrations he’s been trying to hide since we found him.”

“Mm…” Ruth pondered. “Alan, John, I know you were both due to go in, but because it’s now one at a time, I think it may be best if I go next… I believe this may need a grandma’s touch!” Ruth smiled at Gordon and Scott. “How long did the nurse say she would be?”

“About 10 minutes,” Gordon answered.

“Right, then I’ll make my way up now,” she smiled, “will you boys be okay, while I’m gone?”

“Yes grandma,” Scott grinned, “I don’t know about the others, but I need a coffee.”

“Count me in,” John, Alan and Gordon echoed.

“You boys and your coffee,” Ruth laughed, “I’ll see you all in the canteen when I come out!”

… …

Auckland Prison:

Jeff and Penelope glanced at each other and smirked as the Hood’s eyes now changed from a piercing yellow to an intense gold. “I really think you need your eyes tested,” Jeff mocked.

“Why is it not working?” The Hood shrieked.

“Oh, dear, what’s wrong?” Penny questioned with fake concern.

“I think it’s his powers,” Jeff answered, “for some reason, they don’t seem to be working.”

“What have you done?” The Hood demanded.

Penny pulled out a small box from an inner pocket, opened it, and then placed it on the table in front of the Hood, displaying a pair of contacts which were inside. “The reason your powers are not working is because myself and Jeff are both wearing contacts which are just like these prototypes. You see they were invented by a colleague of ours, they work by protecting the retina from receiving the hypnotic suggestions you are sending out.”

The Hood growled and brought his chained hands down onto the contacts smashing them into bits.

“Oh, how clumsy of you!” Jeff taunted. “Now, don’t worry… Our colleague was quite confident that these would work. In fact, he was so confident that he’s already made several of them in advance, and thankfully they’ve already been given to anyone who has the displeasure of dealing with you. Of course, now we know they do work, he will be making plenty more of them… Which means, that you’re not going anywhere!”

… …

Ruth had quietly entered the ICU room, and taken a seat next to Virgil’s bed. Softly stroking his head while he dosed. After five minutes, with his eyes remaining shut, Virgil clutched onto the sick bowl which had been resting next to him and vomited. The nurse swapped the bowl over and handed him some more tissues, while Ruth poured some water into a cup. “Right, are you going to let me help you?” She questioned, holding the cup firmly. “Or are you going to throw another cup across the room?”

Virgil blearily opened his eyes and looked at his grandma. “Sorry,” he stuttered, excepting the help from her.

“You know, it’s perfectly okay to get angry, scared, and emotional after what’s happened to you,” she said, placing the cup down when he had finished. Ruth turned back to face Virgil and noticed the tears that were beginning to well up in his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart,” Ruth exclaimed, gently holding Virgil in her arms as best she could with all the wires that were attached. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay.”

“I want to feel like me again,” Virgil wept.

“You will. Maybe not the old you, but a new you will emerge from all of this, one who is stronger than before… It may take some time, but you know that we are all here to help you along the way,” Ruth soothed, continuing to hold onto Virgil as he openly sobbed into her shoulders.

After Virgil had fallen asleep in her arms, Ruth placed him gently back on his bed, and returned to her four other grandsons who were in the canteen, having been joined by Doctor Gerry Sylvia. She happily greeted the doctor and then began filling them all in on what had happened.

“Is there anything we can do for him?” Alan questioned.

“He’s emotionally exhausted… He’s frustrated, angry, and scared, not that he’ll admit that last part,” Ruth observed, “the best thing you can do, is to make sure he receives the much-needed support he will require when he returns home!”

“Of course!” All the boys replied.

“Good! Just maybe try to hold back on the smothering, okay?” Ruth said, staring straight at Scott.

“What?” Scott commented. “I think you’ve got the wrong grandson, I never smother!”

“Ah!” Gordon, Alan and John retorted.

“Okay, okay,” Scott grinned, “I’ll try… No promises though!” Everyone laughed, except John who was staring across the room. “Hey, what’s up?” Scott asked.

“What are they doing here?” John growled, pointing across the room at Maria Andrews and Emily Sanderson, who had not long entered the canteen, and were both trying desperately to not catch their eyes.

“They’re here for a meeting to discuss everything that’s happened,” Doctor Sylvia answered.

“And what will happen?” Gordon asked.

“Unfortunately, it’s up to them,” Gerry responded, “no charges have been made, and unless new evidence surfaces, or Virgil remembers something, neither of them will be taken back in for questioning. So, as far as the hospital directors are concerned they are innocent and welcome to return to work.”

“Well, one of them is guilty and she certainly doesn’t belong here!” Scott stated, rising from the chair.

Ruth immediately pulled her grandson back down. “Scott, one of those two women is completely innocent in all of this, and she doesn’t deserve a tirade.”

“No, but the other one certainly does!” Scott muttered.

… …

Auckland Prison:

After a long period of silence. the Hood leaned in closer to Penelope and Jeff. “I know all of your secrets Jeff… Everything about you, from your family life to International Rescue. If you don’t let me go, then I will make sure the whole world knows exactly who runs International Rescue!”

Jeff smirked. “Do you really think I would let you go, just so you could leave here and hurt my son again? No! Your threats are not going to work on me… I would gladly sacrifice the secrecy of International Rescue for any of my boys… So, you can tell whoever you want… However, let’s face it, no one would believe you, and even if they did… Well, I would make sure they didn’t find a single piece of evidence… So, if you want to tell people then go right ahead, tell everyone who we are. Shout it from behind your prison walls… Because Balah Gaat, you won’t be leaving them for a very long time!”

“God damn you Jeff Tracy!” The Hood shrieked, throwing himself into a fit of rage.

Four prison officers rushed in the room and constrained the Hood, while he continued to yell obscenities at both Jeff and Penny. They were about to pull him out of the room and escort him back to his cell, stopping when the Hood screamed. “If I’m going to prison then that damn woman is coming with me!”

… …

Scott continued to stare at the two women, as they both sat separately on the opposite side of the canteen. Eventually his continuous glare was broken when his grandmothers phone began to ring. “It’s your father,” Ruth observed, when she looked at the caller ID, “hi son.”

“Hi mom, how’s Virgil?” Jeff immediately asked.

“Not great I’m afraid, his sickness and migraines have gotten worse, and he’s been very emotional as well.”

“Oh,” Jeff sighed, “well, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

So, what happened with this invention?” Ruth questioned.

“They work!” Jeff happily reported.

“That’s great news Jeff,” Ruth beamed, passing on the news to the others.

“And did the Hood reveal anything useful?” Ruth queried.

“Can the boys here me?” Jeff asked.

They’re sitting next to me, with Gerry Sylvia,” Ruth replied, “I could put you on speaker if you want me too? But we are in the canteen, and those two women have just shown up!”

“What,” Jeff gasped, “they’re in there right now?”

“Unfortunately, they are.” Ruth confirmed.

Jeff exhaled. “Please put me on speaker, but keep the volume low.” As soon as Ruth had done what Jeff had asked, he continued to speak. “The police have just called the hospital to find out where they both were, and are probably on their way now.”

“Why?” Alan asked.

“The Hood named one them,” Jeff reported.

“What… Who?” Scott questioned.

Jeff released a heavy breath. “With them both in the room with you, I don’t think I should say, and to be honest, none of us are sure if Hood was even telling the truth… At first when he went to name her, he was angry and wanted her to suffer as much as him… But he then grew quiet, and when we pushed him for the name he seemed to take pleasure from seeing everyone wanting to know, especially me. Even though he hates her, he detests me more, and I’m sure he would love knowing that we have the wrong one. That way she would still be a threat to Virgil.”

“Dad… Please, she’s here right now. Which one did he name?” Scott demanded.

“Scott, I’m not saying. The police will be coming to take her in for more questioning.”

“Well, it looks like we’re about to find out anyway. Security are here now.” Scott jumped to his feet and stared at the security who were now talking to one of the women. “You,” he growled, storming over to Emily Sanderson, when it became apparent from her shocked reaction that she had been blamed.

“I haven’t done anything!” She stressed, looking from security to all the Tracy boys who were now standing next to Scott.

“Then prove it!” Scott countered.

“I will! I’m going to the police station now, and I will clear my name,” She promised him.

Scott seethed to himself as he watched her leaving the canteen with the security. “I hope she doesn’t get away with this!”

“Scott, dad said the Hood may have been lying,” John reminded him, “they may have the wrong woman!”

Scott exhaled and stared at Maria Andrews, who was looking utterly shocked by what had taken place. Glancing up from where she was sitting, she caught the stares of all of them. Looking quickly away, with her head down, she stood and left the canteen, making sure not to catch any more of their glares.

Next: C44

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds original series #cg29fics #tagficgone

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 4 years ago

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I Don’t Like A Gold Rush || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college's football team. Rumor has it, there's simply nothing he can't do. The same cannot be said about you, but you've never had an issue with that. You're happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you've taken an interest in him — and you're sure you shouldn't. There's no way this can end well for you... right?

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 17.3k

Genre: College AU, strangers to lovers, slice of life, mostly fluff

Warnings & Tags: discussed insecurities, alcohol consumption, reader almost has a panic attack at some point, shy jungkook, jungkook is bad at Feelings, Reader is bad at feelings too, mutual pining kinda, Jungkook has long hair, sfw, New Year’s Day themed.

A/N: I don’t know how I would name my stories without Taylor Swift. Anyway, this is more or less centered around the New Year (it was supposed to be more and then... it didn’t happen), and I hope you’ll enjoy it! Happy New Year everyone!

The first time you hear Jungkook’s name, it’s in the sentence “Man, is there anything Jungkook can’t do?”. You look up at your friend Jin from the book you’re studying. You have no idea who Jungkook is, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jin is always complaining about how you don’t know anyone on the campus, which you think is quite unfair.

…but then you really don’t know that many people on the campus.

“What’s going on?” you ask him, because he sounds extremely annoyed, and he shows you his phone. On it, there is a score for a basketball game. You think.

Your college is famous for its basketball team… Right?

“Uh-uh,” you still say with a nod, trying to make it look like you have any idea what you’re talking about.

“This kid is crushing it at school, the girls love him, and now this!” Jin complains, a little too loud, and shushing noises come from a spot behind you. You turn around to give the group an apologetic look. “I really shouldn’t have bet against him.”

Ah, there you know what to say.

“You really need to stop making bets. You never win them.”

Jin glares at you.

“And you are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to comfort me!”

“I’ll comfort you when you stop making the worst choices imaginable,” you mutter, going back to your work. Jungkook’s name, his supposed excellence, and that basketball match — if it even is basketball — leave your mind as fast as they entered it, without leaving a trace behind.

“So the school’s won another basketball game, huh?”

You look up at Namjoon who’s just arriving to the table, holding his tray in his hands. You know he can’t possibly be talking to you about that, so you’re not surprised when Jin appears behind him. That doesn’t stop you from throwing Namjoon a disgusted look.

“Really, Joon? Sports?”

Namjoon shoots you an amused glance from behind his glasses. It’s notorious in your friends’ group that you despise conversations around that subject. You hate anything that involves objects flying around and anything that’s played in a team, and, apparently, those are the only sports that people care about. They could discuss athletics, or swimming, which you wouldn’t enjoy but you wouldn’t hate, but that never happens.

“You were right, Jin. That Jungkook guy really is impressive.”

You tune them out. You don’t care about basketball.

“You’re talking about yesterday’s game?” Yoongi asks, coming out of thin air, and you sigh. You had been hoping you would have at least one person to talk to during lunch.

“Jungkook’s friends with Hoseok,” Jin says, leaning forward conspiratorially, which does get your attention. If that’s true, then that Jungkook guy can’t be a completely terrible person. Hoseok is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.

That being said, he might have very low standards for his friends. You know him enough to appreciate him, not to judge his tastes.

“So I’m going to become friends with him,” Jin announces triumphantly, only to be rewarded by a chorus of groans and protests.

“But why, Jin?” you ask. “Please don’t talk about popularity. This isn’t high school anymore.”

“And that stuff was already stupid back then,” Namjoon adds, and you nod. You can always count on Namjoon to support you.

“And I hate people,” Yoongi says.

“And Yoongi hates people!” Namjoon immediately picks up. “Do you really want to make him go through that?”

You grin at the question. Yoongi’s misanthropy always comes in handy. Jin, however, is not amused, but he just shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s used to the three of you teaming up against him by now. Usually, it’s on academical subjects, but he isn’t phased by it anymore regardless of that. Not that there’s much that can phase Jin anyway.

“First of all, I said I was going to be his friend, not you lowly peasants, and second, he seems like a nice guy! Do I need another reason to want to make friends?”

You tilt your head.

“He’s protesting too much,” you say.

“I agree,” Namjoon nods. “That’s suspicious.”

“Very suspicious.”

“Come on,” Jin rolls his eyes, “do you really think that little of me?”

“And now he’s trying to guilt-trip us. Joon, can’t you analyze that conversation and figure out what it all means?”

“You know that’s not how literary analysis works, right?” Jin asks you, but you ignore him.

“Actually, it is,” Namjoon says, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’d say you were right with your comment,” he adds, looking at you. “I’d say… this is about parties.”

“You’re not going to actually believe—”

“Thanks, Joon,” you say, and the two of you high-five without looking at each other. Yoongi lets out an appreciate whistle.

Even if Namjoon and you aren’t being serious about this, parties actually make sense. Jin… isn’t quite a social butterfly but, unlike the three of you, he does enjoy people’s company to some degree. You know first hand that he’s been to a few this year — you had accompanied him for moral support — but they were pretty tame, and you’re aware that he at least wants to try some more intense stuff. The problem was that those were harder to be invited to. Hoseok could probably do something about it, but he tends to avoid parties on campus.

“Okay, then you should go for it,” you nod.

Yoongi and Namjoon, sitting on either side of you, approve. Jin looks a little surprised at your reaction.

“That changed your mind?”

“You said you wanted ‘the full college experience’,” Namjoon explains with a shrug. “If you think that’s part of it, we wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

“We will judge you for it, though,” Yoongi warns without batting an eyelid, pokerface perfect, and you laugh. You won’t be mean about it, of course. You just might tease him a little.

“Thank you,” Jin says. “I’ll do it, then.”

Good. If you’re lucky, it will be out of his system next time you all have lunch together.

Lady luck had never been on your side, for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t like you got the worst of things either, but usually, things that could go wrong, did go wrong. Because of that, you tried your best to remove those things from your path. Sometimes, though, you just didn’t manage to identify them.

And that’s why, when you hear Jin’s voice and look up from your food, being the first at the table as always, you see he’s accompanied by two people.

One of them has fluffy, dark brown hair, falling on either side of his face and in his eyes. He’s talking and laughing, and there’s something that you can’t help but identify as mischievous in his smile. The other is slightly taller, with jet black hair held up in a bun. He’s quiet, mouth opening for silent laughs when his friend jokes. Between them, there’s Jin, and you think that they look good together. All handsome, all holding themselves with confidence.

You had realized before that Jin felt out of place in your group, from an outside point of view at least, but it’s never been as striking as it is now, as he’s walking with people he clearly belongs with.

It makes you really thankful that he’s your friend.

“Hey,” Jin says, smiling widely, “these are—”

“You’re untying your hair before eating?” you say, looking at the guy with the bun who just sat opposite from you and took off his hair tie with a sigh. He looks up at you with wide round eyes, like you just caught him red-handed — doing what, you’re not quite sure.

That is the first thing you ever say to Jeon Jungkook.

“Um. Yes?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get hair in your food?”

You know people find you too blunt sometimes, think you come off as aggressive, but you almost never intend for that to happen. In that case, you just think the logic here is a bit surprising.

“That’s… a good point, actually.”

“(Y/N),” Jin sighs, “let me introduce you to Jungkook” (he points to the man who’s now tying his hair back up) “and Taehyung.” (he points to the other guy, who’s flashing you a smile.)

“Oh,” you say, looking back at Jungkook. “You play basketball.”

He lets out an awkward laugh and avoids your eyes. Instead, he grabs his fork and focuses on it, twirling it in his hand.

“Yeah, I do— I do that.”

Huh. It takes you a second to piece things together, and you think Namjoon will be of great help once he’ll be there, but for now, one conclusion comes to you.

Jungkook is shy.

“I play basketball too,” Taehyung says, leaning over the table, grinning at you, and you can tell that it’s his way of swooping in to save Jungkook. You can appreciate that.

“She hates basketball,” Jin warns.

“That’s a strong word,” you say, but only half-heartedly, because, well, you definitely don’t like it.

“I think it works.”

“You think what works?”

Jin’s face falls while you grin. If Taehyung is Jungkook’s savior, Namjoon is yours. Your friend sends you a questioning look as he sits next to you, facing Taehyung. He gives polite nods to the two basketball players, like they sit with you at lunch every week, but you notice that he doesn’t quite meet their eyes. Namjoon is not particularly shy, nor a misanthrope like Yoongi, he just isn’t too comfortable around people he’s just met.

You and Jin, well, you’re perhaps a little too comfortable. Not everyone likes it.

“He says I hate basketball.”

“But that would imply you care about basketball.”

“Exactly.”

“And you don’t.”

“I know.”

“Which means you don’t hate basketball. As always, you’re wrong, Jin.”

Jin looks extremely, extremely done with you, but when you and Namjoon high-five, Jungkook laughs quietly and Taehyung nods in appreciation — for the gesture, not the debate.

That is the moment when Yoongi drops his tray on the table and sends a weird glance towards Taehyung and Jungkook.

“What did I miss?” he asks. His tone is a bit dry, and you see Jin’s shoulders straightening. He knows Yoongi is going to be the most difficult one to win over. Not that you’ve been won over yet, but you’re not that difficult. Usually, people don’t like you, not the other way around. You don’t blame them. You’re not sure you’d like yourself very much if you were in their place.

“Oh,” Jungkook says spontaneously, “we had a class together last year! You’re majoring in engineering, right?”

Yoongi looks at him. His eyes are shining with suspicion, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Knowing him, he’s definitely wondering why Jungkook would even remember him.

“Right,” he finally confirms, slowly.

There’s a moment of silence, which Namjoon breaks.

“I’m a literature major, by the way.”

“That’s really cool,” Jungkook comments honestly, with the same spontaneity he displayed earlier.

“And I’m in mathematics,” you say.

“Wow. I thought you people existed only in legends,” Taehyung says while Jungkook avoids your eyes. You decide that, yeah, you like Kim Taehyung.

“Don’t say that, I like maths,” Jungkook protests, voice soft, much to your surprise — and, judging by his reaction, Taehyung’s.

You were right, you decide. Jungkook is not a completely terrible person.

You didn’t expect it to become a routine, for Jungkook and Taehyung to eat with you guys, but it does, and as time goes on, other people join your little table. You’re not sure you like that. It’s clear that those people are orbiting around Jungkook, which, good for them, but you don’t see why you need to be there for that.

You do see that Jungkook is not completely comfortable with all of it. He’s good at handling people, good at making jokes and at laughing at the right times, you notice, but there is a stiffness in his shoulders more often than not, and it looks like he’s well-trained at it rather than enjoying it. It kind of reminds you of Jin, except Jin is not as quiet the rest of the time. Taehyung obviously does his best not to let his friend deal with things alone, which is sweet, but he can’t do everything for him.

You barely exchange a word with Jungkook during that time period. You’re usually trying to be forgotten when the table is buzzing with noise, finding refuge in Namjoon and Yoongi’s company. You thought Yoongi would be an ally in reclaiming what’s always been your spot, but it quickly becomes obvious that he has a crush on Taehyung’s friend Jimin, so he never complains about the recent invasion of the table by strangers.

You hear a lot of basketball vocabulary. More than you care for, to be honest. That’s one of the few moments when Jungkook’s face lights up and he gets truly excited, with an almost childish happiness. His demeanor changes, from shy to confident, and the transformation never ceases to amaze you. As soon as the conversation ends, his shoulders fall, he smiles awkwardly, and focuses back on his food or his phone.

You’ve met his eyes a few times in those moments, because he often looks around him like he’s afraid someone’s noticed. He averts his very quickly, though, so you’ve never said anything about it.

So, really, there’s not much that changes. You still only speak to your three friends — you think Taehyung is a good person, and you don’t think he hates you, but you don’t have anything to say to each other —, and sure, you have a little less space when you eat and more noise around you, but aside from that, it’s pretty much the same. You think that’s a relief. You’re not too fond of change.

Usually, you’re pretty decent at spotting it coming. You did miss it when Jin said he was going to become Jungkook’s friend, but other than that you’re able to do your best to avoid it. You don’t see anything coming the day Taehyung calls out your name, though. You look up at him from the book Namjoon is showing you, surprised. He has an arm slung over Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook isn’t looking at you, of course.

“Do you think you could explain a maths-thing to Jungkook?”

You blink at him.

“What’s the ‘maths-thing’?”

“Does it matter?”

You raise an eyebrow, and Jungkook groans. You get the feeling that he didn’t really want Taehyung to ask you about it. He sends an annoyed glance to his friend, who is still smiling brightly at you, while pushing a lock of hair out of his face. His hair is tied, but this one traitorous lock always escapes.

“I’m struggling a little with probabilities,” he admits, glancing at you for half a second. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine once I can get my head back into it, I’ve just been training a lot recently and—”

“I can help you, if you want,” you say. “I’m not the most fond of probabilities, but it should be okay.”

“Great!” Taehyung says, patting his friend’s shoulder before Jungkook can answer. “You should do that then.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Jungkook asks, actually looking at you this time. You meet his eyes, notice that he looks worried about it. You can’t figure out why.

“I really don’t,” you shrug.

He smiles at you, a small, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless. Probably the first one he directs at you. It’s a nice sight, you decide, and you smile back.

Jin’s sentence “is there anything Jungkook can’t do” takes all its sense on the day you meet Jungkook at the library to study. You don’t know what you expected. You never thought Jungkook was dumb or anything, but since Taehyung asked you to help, you thought he would have some difficulties, at least. However, as it turns out, he either understands immediately when you explain something to him, or he’s already understood it. He asks for some clarifications here and there, but all in all, you feel kind of useless.

“You don’t need me at all,” you say after a little while, and Jungkook looks up from the book with the worried wide-eyed look you’ve gotten used to.

“No, no, you’re doing a great job,” he protests. “You’re really helping me out here.”

“No I’m not. It’s obvious that you could do that all on your own.”

He deflates a little at that, looks away from you.

“You help,” he mumbles. “I have a hard time focusing when I’m alone.”

Oh.

That makes a lot of sense to you, actually. You’re good at focusing all of your energy on one thing, perhaps even too good, to the point where you easily get obsessed and become unable to take care of anything else, but even you need the right conditions for that.

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

Jungkook gives you an anxious look.

“So you don’t mind helping me out?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that catches you, but you can’t tell what it is exactly. Maybe it’s the hope, or maybe it’s the fear. You don’t understand what he’d be afraid of. Worst case scenario, you would say no. That wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“We can work together,” you offer. “You can ask me if you need help for anything and I’ll just work on some other stuff.”

He seems relieved, and again, you just don’t understand it. It’s not like you’re his only option. There are plenty of people out there who could help him. Plenty of people who would jump at the opportunity of helping him. You know that, because he’s always surrounded by those people, and everybody in school seems to know him. Even when you walked into the library with him earlier, before you got to the table you’re sitting at now, a few students greeted him. You don’t see why he would attach any importance to you, specifically, helping him. You barely know each other.

“Thanks,” he says, and he gives you a small smile. For some reason, that makes you drop the subject. Instead of asking about it — which, knowing yourself, you probably would have — you shrug it off and reply with a nod.

The silence that follows feels comfortable, to you at least. You’ve never minded silence. Jin hates it, though. You get to work, watching absent-mindedly as Jungkook goes through the lesson he was working on. He does ask you a couple of questions, but it’s probably to make you feel like you’re doing something rather than because he actually needs it. You still answer them, and watch him grin, satisfied with himself, when he turns out to be right every single time.

“Are you coming to Taehyung’s party this week-end?” he asks out of the blue after about an hour.

You look up, surprised. The two of you haven’t exchanged much, and certainly have not talked about anything other than— well, other than maths. His eyes are on his notebook, as usual, and you don’t get any insight as to why he asked the question.

“I don’t know. Is Jin coming?”

“Uh, I guess? Taehyung’s probably talked to him about it.”

“Then I’m probably going.”

Jungkook mulls over your answer for a few seconds, twirling his pencil between his fingers, and you feel like you have to clarify, which is not an urge you have often. Usually, you let people decipher for themselves what you meant. That works very well with Namjoon, sometimes with Yoongi, not so great with the rest of the world. Including Jin, though Jin compensates with his impressive ability to interpret everything you say in his favor.

“We always go to parties with Jin. For moral support.”

For all that you tease him, you genuinely care for him. You know he wants you to go with him, so you do. It’s as simple as that.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, but he still smiles at what you say, and it’s— it’s interesting. There’s something about his behavior that makes you curious, like you are when you’re trying to solve a complicated equation.

“That’s nice,” he comments.

“So… you’ll be there?” you ask. It’s taken you a long time to come up with that simple question. It often takes you a long time to find things to say to keep a conversation going. You’re pretty bad at it.

“It’s at my fraternity,” Jungkook informs you, glancing at you briefly, and you smile. This is exactly the type of party Jin wanted to go to. He’s probably happy about it. “The entire basketball team should be there.”

Great. People.

“That’s nice,” you say, because you have no idea what to add at this point. Jungkook simply nods, and the conversation dies an awkward death.

It’s another half an hour until Jungkook looks at his watch and starts putting his stuff back in his bag.

“I have to go to practice,” he tells you, clearly in a hurry. “Can we— Would you mind if—”

“We can do this again. If that’s what you meant.”

He gives you a bright smile, and that actually surprises you. He looks relieved that you finished his sentence for him.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely.

And just like that, he’s gone, practically running out of the library. For someone who talks as little as he does, he sure leaves a void when he goes away, you think, looking at the empty chair.

But you quickly shrug it off. You’re used to being alone. You like being alone.

Jungkook isn’t going to change that.

You realize very quickly that, while accompanying Jin to parties was never something you particularly enjoyed, going to this one was downright a mistake.

You have this unspoken rule, with your friends, that you shouldn’t stick together the entire time. You’re supposed to wander off, find something to do for yourself, maybe talk to some people. Get that college experience. You’ve never had a problem to do that, even if you ended up quietly sipping soda in a corner more often than not.

Here, though, you simply cannot shake off the fact that you don’t belong here, that this is not your scene. The people here are loud, energetic, garish. They make you feel like a black and white picture, like a silent movie. You want to run away, but you can’t. You don’t want to leave Jin, Namjoon or Yoongi behind, even if you doubt they’re having the same kind of problems you do. You’re pretty sure you saw Yoongi talking with Jimin, and last time you saw Namjoon, you think a cheerleader was holding him by the hand and leading him out of the room. You don’t know what Jin’s doing, but you’re trusting that he’s okay.

You walk around aimlessly, find Jungkook and Taehyung playing beer-pong with some people. Maybe you should be happy to see people you know, but you’re not. If anything, it only drives the point home even more to see them so comfortable: you don’t belong here. Your chest tightens, and you turn around. You need a little peace and quiet. You need to get away.

“(Y/N)!”

You jump at the sound of your name. No one’s said it since you’ve entered the house. No one knows you here.

Except Jungkook, who’s right behind you.

He’s more confident than usual, and you guess, based on his slightly hazy eyes, that it has a lot to do with alcohol.

“Are you having fun? How long have you been here? It’s nice to see you!”

He’s speaking fast, excitedly, and as he does, he runs his fingers through his hair, which he’s let down. It looks good on him, you decide, even as you reply to him with a tense smile.

“Hey, you should join us, we’re—”

“Do you have a closet somewhere?”

Jungkook blinks.

“A closet?”

“Yeah.”

There are probably very few things that are less weird than asking a guy if he has a closet you can get into because you’re on the verge of having a panic attack and you can’t stay outside surrounded by people a second longer.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just leads you through the house and opens the door to a closet for you. You get inside without giving it much more thought, and he looks at you, puzzled. He’s actually looking at you, which you decide confirms that he is drunk.

“Do you— Are you waiting for someone?”

“No,” you say. “I just need a little break.”

He thinks about your answer for a while, probably longer than needed, and nods.

And then, he gets into the closet with you and closes the door.

Inside, it’s dark, with only a ray of light coming in. You can’t see his face, which doesn’t help you understand why he just did that. The space is cramped, and you can smell alcohol coming from his breath, can feel the heat radiating from his body, but it doesn’t bother you that much. It’s still better in here than outside.

“Why did you do that?”

“I thought I would keep you company. Like you’re here to keep company to Jin, you know?”

He’s drunk, definitely, and yet you feel genuinely touched by his words. You shouldn’t, because you doubt they hold that much meaning, but you can’t help it. You don’t need company, but that’s besides the point. His intentions are what matters.

“Thank you,” you say.

“It’s not a problem. You’re helping me with my maths.”

Your first reaction is to laugh at that, because it feels completely unprompted, but then the logic of the reasoning kind of appears to you.

“I mean it!” Jungkook protests. “You haven’t talked about how I’m good at everything or how I’m the one who should help you.”

You frown.

“You shouldn’t help me. You’re good at maths, but I’m better than you.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh, and just like his earlier smile, it takes you completely by surprise. It’s not one of those quiet laughs that he usually has. It’s light and pleasant, and you briefly wonder what his face looks like when he laughs like that. You kind of want to see it.

“You’re a scary person,” he tells you when he’s stopped laughing. “You always say those things directly. It’s like you don’t even care.”

You’ve heard that before. Well, you haven’t been called scary until now, but people have said that you were intimidating. You, personally, believe you’re the least threatening person to have ever walked this Earth. You couldn’t hurt a fly if you wanted to.

Jungkook makes some sense here, though. Your filter is very limited, and there are a lot of things you say that feel acceptable to you, and that other people… don’t think are acceptable. You don’t mean to do it. It just happens.

“I think you’re good at a lot of things, though,” you say slowly.

Jungkook lets out a long sigh and then you hear him sliding down to the ground. You hesitate for about half a second before joining him down there. You fold your legs, holding your knees against your chest while you wait for him to say something.

“People are always saying that,” he finally mumbles. “But what if I’m not that good? What if I fail one day?”

It’s strange. You understand what he’s saying, understand the feeling of pressure, but you don’t understand the emotions that should come with it. In your case, you know that no one holds you to a higher standard than you do. It can be unhealthy, the way you can torture yourself if you don’t meet the standards you’ve set for yourself, but at least you’re the only one you have to answer to. Obviously, it’s not Jungkook’s case.

“Then you’ll try again,” you say, because that’s what you do when you fail. “Or, if you think it’s not that important, you won’t.”

“But what will they say?” he insists. “What if we lose the next game? Or the one after that? What if I fail a class? I can’t get anything done these days.”

“You’ll be fine,” you say soothingly, half-wondering how you ended up here, comforting the college’s golden boy in a closet after fighting off a panic attack. “It’s not like you’re the only one in your team. People will understand.”

You think they will. You hope they will. They should.

“You would understand.”

It’s true, but then, you really do not care for basketball, and it’s not like you have that sort of expectations for Jungkook. You wouldn’t think much of it, if he failed at something tomorrow. If it was the maths test you’ve helped him with, you would be surprised, but that’s because you saw him studying and it was obvious he had understood everything, not because you think he can inherently succeed at everything he does.

Which you guess might be the heart of the problem here.

You reach out to put your hand on his shoulder. It’s not that easy in the dark, and you wonder for a second if you’ve grabbed something else, until you feel hair tickling your skin. Yup, you were right.

“You have the right not to be good at something every once in a while,” you say softly. “No one can be on top of their game all of the time.”

You hear what sounds like a choked sob.

“I like that they’re counting on me, you know? I like that I’m helping them out by playing. I just— I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

He said when, not if, and that breaks your heart.

Without thinking about it, you slide your hand down his arm and grab his hand. You squeeze it in yours, gently, and then you inch closer to put your head on his shoulder. You remember reading that physical touch was good for people who were in emotional pain. You hope it helps him.

“You locked yourself in here with me because you thought I needed company,” you whisper. “There’s so much more to you than just being good at sports or having good grades. And if people don’t see that, it’s their loss. Because you’re a great person.”

He hums, but the sound is quiet, and it’s then that you realize how tense he is.

Shit. You must have crossed a boundary. You start to remove your hand, but he closes his fingers around yours, keeping you in place. He’s still tense, you can feel it everywhere his body touches yours. But he doesn’t let go.

“You mean that,” he says. There are so many emotions in his voice that you can’t identify them all. Relief, happiness, amusement… You don’t know where to start.

“I usually mean what I say.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and you can hear the smile that’s dancing on his lips.

He’s still not letting go of your hand, but you don’t mind. Staying here, with Jungkook, in this small closet is as good a way of spending your evening as anything else you could do out there.

So you stay.

“Where did you all vanish Saturday?” Jin asks, and Namjoon, Yoongi and yourself immediately find your food a lot more interesting. You exchange panicked glances that mean ‘did none of you stay around? This was poorly coordinated’ before finally daring to look up.

“I talked to Jimin,” Yoongi says, face as inexpressive as always.

“I played some beer-pong with Taehyung,” Namjoon says.

That leaves only you.

“I talked to Jungkook,” you tell Jin. That is technically true. It omits the part where the two of you were together in a closet, but if you said that, there would be a lot of questions you don’t really want to answer to. Somehow, you think you would be more embarrassed to tell them that there was nothing going on there than if you told them you hooked up with him. You’re not sure why.

“Jungkook disappeared for a long time,” Jin says, narrowing his eyes at you.

You do your best to keep a straight face while you poke at your salad. You don’t want anyone here to have the wrong idea, and you finally manage to put your finger on what you’re afraid of. Humiliation. You’d feel humiliated at having to tell them that nothing happened and that there is nothing Jungkook could possibly see in you. They would be nice to you, of course they would, but you don’t want to see the look in their eyes.

“Did he? Maybe that was after I left. I didn’t stay that long.”

That’s a lie.

“Really?” Jin asks, clearly skeptical. “I think I saw you there pretty late.”

Maybe when you went down to get some snacks and drinks to bring back to the closet. Damn Jungkook and his stomach.

“Well, that depends what you mean by ‘late’ and ‘long’,” you say.

That’s you calling Namjoon for help, and he recognizes your SOS for what it is. From the way Jin’s face falls, so does he.

“She’s right,” Namjoon comments, so nonchalant you would almost believe he’s doing it naturally. “What is ‘late’, really? Isn’t it always—”

“Please stop,” Jin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just because you’re a literature major doesn’t mean you’re the only one who understands words.”

“Actually it does,” you say with a nod. “That’s exactly what it means.”

You start lifting your hand for a high-five, relieved Jin’s attention is off you, but he sends the two of you a dark glare.

“You two are unbearable. Don’t do that.”

“We have to,” you protest. You would hate to miss a chance to high-five Namjoon.

“No you don’t, you—”

“Actually they do,” Yoongi says, and your jaw drops. Yoongi never intervenes, and you had always thought that if he did, it wouldn’t be in your favor. “That’s exactly how gravity works.”

Jin looks like his soul has left his body. He only comes back to himself after you, Yoongi and Namjoon have all exchanged high-fives.

“I hate you,” he says, sounding terribly tired. “I hate every single one of you.”

“Sorry Jin,” you smile warmly.

“No you’re not. You’re the worst.”

Except he sounds fond, affectionate, and you laugh before going back to your salad. You miss the quick glances your three friends exchange after that. They’ve all noticed you eluding and changing the subject. They don’t want to rush you, know you would hate it and that it’s better to drop it.

But they’ve noticed.

Working with Jungkook on Wednesday afternoons easily becomes a habit, so easily you don’t even notice it until it’s something you look forward to during the week. It adds to the time you already spend eating with him and Taehyung. Jungkook is, slowly, starting to become a part of your life. It’s a thought you refuse to dwell on, because it sounds so strange.

The Wednesdays afternoons are something special, though. You and Jungkook don’t really talk at lunch, even if he’s clearly more relaxed around you now, which you suspect is the reason why you’re ‘Taehyung-approved’. On Wednesdays, you— Well, you don’t talk much, either, but it’s different. It’s a time that only belongs to the two of you. You like that.

You slowly find out things about him, his family, his life. It’s never the main subject of conversation, but it makes you feel like you’re solving a puzzle.

“My father wanted me to focus on my classes and forget about basketball,” he comments once. “But I could do both.”

It makes you laugh, because he says it with obvious satisfaction, but it also makes you wonder if there’s more to it. Jungkook doesn’t add anything, though, and you don’t want to probe into his life, so you don’t ask. After that, small pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place.

“My high school coach told me I could train more if I didn’t work so hard for school.” But he could do both.

“My friends said I never hung out with them anymore and that I shouldn’t work so hard.” So he did both.

It’s always the same story. People telling him things, giving him opinions on what the should and shouldn’t do, and him stretching himself thinner and thinner. It’s almost a miracle he’s still doing as well as he is, honestly.

But his tone changes when he talks about his former relationships. He’s usually light and genuine, sharing with you just because. It’s clear that, as much as the stories make you frown, he doesn’t have an issue with them, and you guess that’s all that matters. The first time he says something about an ex-girlfriend of his, though, he’s guarded, almost careful. He sounds like he doesn’t want to tell you.

“My ex said I worked too much.”

He doesn’t add anything. Whatever it was she wanted, he couldn’t do it and work. Didn’t manage to do both. After that, he doesn’t look at you for the rest of the day, like he did when you first met.

You never get a name for the girlfriend. He talks about relationships again, but you don’t even know if he’s always talking about the same one. You doubt it, though, and it only makes things worse.

“My ex wanted me to attend fewer practices.”

“My ex said I didn’t care enough to make time for her.”

“My ex dumped me after I lost a game.”

That last one hurts you, because you remember him crying in the closet because of that exact fear. You want to take his hand again, but you can’t dare to.

“She’s stupid for that,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks surprised first, because you never comment on what he’s telling you, then a smile slowly forms on his lips.

“If the only reason she was with you was because you won a lot of games, you’re better off without her,” you add.

“That’s what Taehyung said.”

“Taehyung’s right.”

Jungkook goes quiet for a little while after that, to the point that you look up, worried that you might have offended him. When you do, he’s looking at you, something you can’t identify shining in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”

He blinks like he’d just woken up for a dream, then nods. He doesn’t tell you that he hadn’t believed what Taehyung said — until you said it and he looked at you and thought that yeah, maybe he was better off without her indeed.

You’re surprised to run into Jungkook late one night, as you’re walking back to your dorm. It shouldn’t shock you — you do go to the same college — but you’re so used to only ever seeing him in the library or the cafeteria that meeting him outside is almost confusing. At least he seems taken aback as well, if the way his already round eyes widen is anything to go by.

Then, his surprised face morphs into a smile, and a wave of warmth hits you without a warning. You don’t get any time to think about it before he waves at you. His shyness is not completely gone, and you see him waver, hesitate, even as he’s walking up to you. You’re quick to close the gap between you, meeting him in the middle. Just in case.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little raspy. He has what you identify as a sports bag, slung over his shoulder, and you wonder what he was doing out so late. You were working at the library until it closed, which is far from being rare for you, but that obviously wasn’t his case.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back. “Were you— training?”

Amusement flashes in his eyes at the careful way you chose your words, afraid to get it wrong. As he grew more comfortable around you, he also started making fun of you for not knowing the first thing about basketball. Strangely, you don’t mind that much.

“I was at the gym,” he says. “Practice was earlier today.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Should you ask what he was doing at the gym? The answer would only leave you with more questions, you’re sure.

You’re still debating it when Jungkook clears his throat. He reaches for his ponytail and undoes it, shaking his head so the hair fall back into place. The sight is— interesting. Pretty. You’re not sure why you’re so fascinated by it.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” he asks, slight concern in his voice. “It’s late.”

“Is it on your way back?” you question, frowning. You would hate to be a bother.

“No, but—”

“I’m fine, then. I do that several times a week, I’ve never had a problem.”

That was, apparently, not the thing to say. Jungkook only looks more worried now.

“Several times a week? That’s really not careful.”

“I don’t see a problem, there’s no one around.”

“That’s exactly my p—” He stops and shakes his head, but gives a look you’ve seen before. A lot. It’s a look that says ‘I can’t believe someone as smart as you can also be so stupid’, in those exact terms. “Expected value,” he then says, and your eyes widen a little. Maths! Great. You can do maths. “Let’s say there’s a 99% chance nothing happens. Your gain is still minimal.”

Well, you get to study late and enjoy a walk home alone at night, but you’re willing to humor him.

“But in the one per-cent where something bad happens…”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. You know exactly where this is going, and you let out a sigh. He’s not wrong. On that aspect, at least.

“Fine.”

He grins widely.

“I just beat you at maths.”

“You didn’t beat me, I—”

“I just beat you at maths!”

You roll your eyes, choose to let him have that. It’s not going to change anything to your behavior after tonight, because the day has not come where you’ll let probabilities rule your life, but, after all, you don’t mind sharing your night walk with him.

Jungkook starts showing up to walk you home whenever he can. It’s not every time, which you’re kind of thankful for — you like his company, but you like being alone just as much, and you need a healthy dose of that every week —, but it does happen regularly. You find him sitting in front of the library, freezing cold, and you take pity on him, buying him a coffee from the vending machine inside, seconds before they lock the building.

That’s how you find out he likes his coffee tasting as little like coffee as possible.

Sometimes, he joins you later, and you hear him jogging to catch up with you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that that defeats the purpose of everything he’s doing, because it’s absolutely terrifying.

As the days turn into weeks, the air becomes colder, and you start seeing Christmas decorations appearing over the campus. You don’t know who is in charge of doing that, but they must be excited about it, because tinsel and few strings of fairy lights start appearing around the campus at the end of November. Jungkook is delighted by it, and you enjoy watching his reactions. You’re not big on Christmas, personally. You enjoy the tradition, the gift-giving, spending time with your family — you’re visiting them briefly this year — but you mostly see Christmas as an excuse for all of that. Jungkook loves it, though, and you decide that his excitement makes you like the season a little more.

“Hey, we should make a stop,” he tells you one night.

You look at him like he’s crazy. It’s the middle of December and it’s already half past nine. You’re cold, it’s dark outside, and you want to go home.

“A stop?” you repeat.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, and he has that wide, childish grin that you’ve seen only a handful of times. You haven’t learned how to resist it yet. “C’mon!”

You sigh. But you follow.

As it turns out, he takes you just a little way off your usual trajectory. Behind a building you’ve never really paid attention to, Jungkook leads you to a small basketball court. You eye the place suspiciously. It’s empty, well lit, but you never know. A ball might come out of nowhere to hit you in the face, as they had a tendency to do when you were in high school and playing for a team that had picked you last.

By the time you turn around to tell Jungkook that, okay, you’ve seen it, let’s go home now, he’s taken off his coat and pulled a basketball out of his bag. You don’t even want to ask. His grin is even wider than earlier.

“C’mon,” he says.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me show you, okay?”

You want to say no but— It can’t hurt, right? And Jungkook loves basketball, and you’re his— friend or something, so you should try to take some interest in it.

You take off your coat and let him lead you onto the court. There, you watch him as he dribbles in what you guess is an effective way (you can’t know for sure, you’re barely able to catch the ball after it’s bounced once so your standards are incredibly low), and then demonstrates his ability to score a handful of times. It’s not that you’re not impressed — again, you can’t do anything with this unpredictable, devilish round thing — but you also can’t say this is a quality you think much of.

You liked it a lot better when he convinced you to let him walk you home by talking about the expected value.

“You want to try?” he offers, holding the ball out for you.

You would rather die.

But you take the ball from his hand and eye the basket like it’s personally offended you. That makes Jungkook laugh.

“You can get closer than that,” he says.

You hold back a groan, aim and, of course, fail. It’s almost a relief. You can cross that off your list, again, just like you did as a kid first, then as a teenager. You’re bad at sports, always have been and, considering the effort you’re putting into it those days, always will be. That’s something you can count on.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook’s caught the ball and is running back towards you.

“Okay, let me show you.”

Is he going to— No, he’s just demonstrating it. You’re kind of disappointed not to get your typical ‘guy teaching girl anything sports related’ moment, disappointed that he doesn’t come to stand behind you to show you like they do in movies, but you can’t unpack that right now. You do watch with some degree of interest as he shows you how to position yourself.

“So you really aim for the line above the basket, not the basket, okay?”

“If you think that just because I aim for something I hit it…”

He chuckles, then gives the ball back to you, and you sigh. This. This is why you hate sports. It’s not the one-off failure, that would be fine on its own. It’s the constant humiliation whenever you even try it. You’re going to fail this attempt, and the next one, and the one after that. You’re a lost cause. You’re fine with it, too, but you don’t particularly want to go through that again.

You do your best, though. Not because you think it will change something, but because you kind of want to prove that this isn’t all you. That, even if you’re trying your hardest, there’s just something that refuses to let you score or do it right.

“Wait!” Jungkook walks over to you, puts his hand on your back, and you freeze. “You need to straighten yourself a little,” he says, placing his hand between your shoulder blades, and you nod. His hand is warm and large, you can feel it even over your sweatshirt. “There.”

He removes the hand, and you’re left a little off balance without him by your side. You shake your head quickly, shoot, and, without any surprise, miss.

Jungkook is on the ball just as fast as before, but you’re as quick as him to grab your coat and put it back on. You’re already feeling warm all over, though.

“You don’t want to try again?” he asks, sounding genuinely disappointed.

Of course, you take pity on him.

“Maybe next time,” you say.

He gives you a bright smile, so genuinely happy, and you know that you won’t be able to deny him next time either.

Jin is the reason you’re here, and that is the version you will stick with. No, you didn’t want to go see a basketball game, even if Jungkook is playing. No, you didn’t feel the slightest bit curious about it. No, you would not be there if Jin hadn’t asked. It’s Jin’s fault if you’re here on a Friday night instead of being, well, at your place, likely doing something equally as unproductive.

You don’t even understand what is going on in the field. There’s a lot of running and throwing the ball, that’s for sure, but then, you’ve just learned that scoring from different places in the field and at different moments will not earn the players the same amount of points.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your friends look at you with such consternation as when they had to explain it to you.

In that situation, you can’t say that you get much from looking at the field. You definitely follow Jungkook with your eyes, cheer and clap when he scores, and let out cries of disappointment with the rest of the crowd when he doesn’t, but truly, the only way you have any idea what’s going on is by looking at the score board. And the truth is, that score is a little too close for comfort.

You hate that it has that much of an impact on you, but it stresses you out. Your leg bounces on the floor, an habit of yours Jin hates, but he’s too focused to notice, which is only more stressful. Jin always notices, and if it doesn’t, it must mean that the situation is dire.

The remaining seconds are slowly ticking down. Jungkook’s team is ahead by only one point, which means that if the other team scores, they will win. You think. You’re not entirely sure, but for your defense, you’ve just heard about it. Jungkook seems to be everywhere on the field. Taehyung is his shadow, perhaps not as noticeable or as spectacular in his actions, but certainly effective.

Again, you have no knowledge of basketball whatsoever.

Jin grabs your thigh, and only then do you realize that something’s happened. The action was so quick, so smooth, that you missed it entirely — but maybe you were also kind of thinking of something else.

Someone from the other team — you don’t even know your school’s team’s players, you’re not going to learn the other ones — just made a break for it. Based on what you can tell, Taehyung blocked his path, pushing him straight into Jungkook’s arms. In a movement you cannot begin to comprehend, Jungkook takes the ball from him, without ever stopping his run.

After that, he’s unstoppable.

He crosses the field, looking almost like he’s dancing in the way he avoids his opponents, and, of course, scores.

The time falls to zero. The crowd stands up like one man, screaming and shouting, and you yourself find yourself jumping up to hug Jin. He hugs you back, but the two of you quickly separate, patting each other’s backs awkwardly.

Jin starts talking with Namjoon and Yoongi, but you tune them out — it’s not like you understand what they’re saying anyway — to look at the field. The players have lifted Jungkook on their shoulders and he’s laughing, holding on to them so he doesn’t fall, and you grin.

“Come on,” Jin says, “let’s go congratulate him!”

That sounds like a terrible idea, you think. You won’t be the only ones, as the crowd has already invaded the field, and you doubt you’ll be able to get very close.

You still follow him. You alternate between clinging to his arm and to his shoulders so you don’t lose him, and trust him to elbow his way through the crowd. You hear him apologizing profusely in front of you, but he does not stop. Slowly, you make it down. Once you’re off the stairs, people are not as compactly gathered, and you can just walk between them. Jin grins at you, and you give him a thumbs up. Yeah, he did good here. You can give him that.

“Hey, Jungkook!” he calls out.

Jungkook was talking with some girls, but he looks up at the sound of his name, excuses himself, and jogs towards the two of you.

And it is then, in the few seconds it takes him to get to you, that it hits you. Like a ton of bricks.

You had known that Jungkook was objectively attractive, of course. There was no ignoring that. But Jin was objectively attractive, too, and that had never changed anything between the two of you. With Jungkook, right now, it does. His skin is glistening with sweat, and he wipes his chin with his shirt, and oh no, you can see his well-defined biceps and the line of his abs, and some hair is escaping from his ponytail, and he’s grinning with a happy, proud smile, and his eyes are shining and—

Jungkook is hot. That’s your realization. You had been aware of it, technically, but it’s like it only clicks for you at that exact moment.

“You came,” he tells you with a bright smile, and you can feel your entire face heating up. You pray that it’s not visible.

“Yeah,” you squeak out. “Great, um, great game?”

It sounds like an interrogation because you have no idea if it was one. It looked difficult, but maybe that was because they played terribly today. You don’t know that.

Jungkook’s smile widens a little, and you know that he has you all figured out. He knows you don’t understand the first thing about this whole thing.

“Thanks,” he still says.

His chest is still heaving quickly, and it draws your attention to his— his everything. The way he’s leaning towards you as he’s trying to catch his breath doesn’t help either. You wait for Jin to say something, to save you, but when you look around, you realize the traitor has abandoned you completely.

Okay, he hasn’t technically abandoned you, he’s just gone to congratulate Taehyung, but it’s the same difference.

You hear someone else calling Jungkook’s name before you’ve figured out what to say. He looks around, then gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I—”

“No problem, you should— I have to go anyway.”

This is not like you. You’re an awkward person, and you struggle in social situations, but you don’t usually trip over your words like that. You kind of hate it.

“Okay, so, um, I’ll see you…?”

“Wednesday, yeah. Or— before. At lunch. If you’re there.”

This is terrible.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you one last smile, and then he’s off, and you’re standing alone in the middle of a crowd. Your chest is heavy and it feels painful.

You hate this.

It’s only after that that you start realizing how big of a part Jungkook now plays in your life. He walks you home at night sometimes. You eat with him once or twice a week. You study together for an entire afternoon on Wednesdays. He’s just— everywhere. And it’s not that it’s a bad thing, because the feeling you get when you see him is a pleasant one, but it is disconcerting. It’s something that you have no control over whatsoever and that’s not— that’s not good for you.

You realize how much attention you were already paying to him, too, which is even more annoying. The signs were there. You should have understood this sooner. If you had, maybe you could have prevented it.

Because that’s the thing. You know the situation is ridiculous. You believe Jungkook sees you as a friend, and you’re happy with that, but there is no way he thinks of you as anything else. That is not an idea you should even begin to entertain. You can handle rejection, you’re used to it in so many aspects, though it’s rarely romantic, but you cannot take getting your hopes up only for them to be crushed.

The thing is, you can’t help it at this point, can’t force your feelings back in. There is so much to like about him. The way he plays with his hair, the quiet laughs when he’s in public, the loud ones when he’s walking you home, the sparkle in his eyes when he asks you a question in maths and it turns out he already had it right, the look on his face when he talks about basketball,… There’s so much.

You briefly consider avoiding him, but that’s not really an option. You like being his friend. You see your feelings as annoying, pesky little things that have no business being there in the first place. You don’t even hate the rush that goes through you when you see him, the way just looking at him brings a smile to your lips that you simply can’t hold back.

But you really, really hate the wishful thinking. The hope.

The feelings are fine, as long as you don’t think too hard about it. As long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Because that would break your heart.

And it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

You really considered declining when Jin asked you to come to this New Year’s party. Your last experience had effectively convinced you that those new parties he was getting invited to were not for you. That was fine, to each their own, but that did mean you didn’t really want to go. He clearly didn’t need you there anyway. You didn’t even know why he asked.

But he did, and he insisted, and he gave you his best puppy eyes, and that’s the thing about Jin: he’s very, very good at giving puppy eyes.

So that’s why you’re there, wearing a red dress that’s way too flashy for you, leaning against a wall and staring into the void. You feel empty and, though you’re not alone, lonely. You’re surrounded by strangers, and there are people everywhere in the house, but you don’t know them, and you can’t just start a conversation with them. It’s not something you do, it’s not even something you want.

You haven’t felt the urge to lock yourself inside a closet yet, though, so you guess that’s an improvement compared to last time.

Looking around, you can see Jimin, perched on the counter, listening to Yoongi talk with a smile on his face. Jin is somewhere else in the room and, though you can’t see him, you sometimes hear him, so you know he has his flirting voice on. Namjoon is nowhere to be seen, but that’s probably a good sign. He always get lucky at those parties. You don’t know how he does it. It’s impressive, honestly. Hoseok showed up earlier, and everyone greeted him like he was a star — which is kind of accurate, actually, at the campus’ scale.

You know, of course, that Jungkook and Taehyung, as inseparable as ever, are by the pool table. You also hate that you know it, because now your mind is constantly wondering if it’s weird that you haven’t been there yet, or if it would be weird to show up. Neither, probably, because exactly no one cares except for you, but you’re the master of torturing yourself with useless considerations.

God, you hate having a crush. It’s just so— unpractical. You also hate that you didn’t see that one coming, and that you didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. Usually, you’re pretty good at nipping those kinds of feelings in the bud. Now, you can only wait it out.

With a sigh, you push yourself away from the wall to wander aimlessly around the house. You promised Jin you’d stay until midnight, and you intend to keep that promise. It’s not like there’s anything for you to do, but still, that way you can look like you’re doing something and look a little less weird. Or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Passing in front of the room with the pool table, you realize that Jungkook is gone. Taehyung is still there, playing with Hoseok, both looking pretty wasted, but Jungkook has vanished. That’s not good. You don’t want him to spring up on you out of nowhere like he did last time. You won’t know how to react if that happens, probably fumble for words, and it will be very unpleasant and very embarrassing for everyone.

You consider finding another closet, then decides against it. There’s just fifteen minutes left until midnight, anyway. That’s not too long. You can just wait it out.

You slowly make your way through the house. No sign of Jungkook anywhere. Maybe he left. Maybe he’s already back to the pool table and you missed him completely. Maybe he’s locked himself in a room with a girl and—

Oh you hate this. You hate feeling jealous. You hate that you have no control over it, you hate that it makes you sad, you hate that you have no right to feel like that. Jungkook isn’t yours. He’s probably even considered you for anything. You should consider yourself lucky you’re even friends with him in the first place.

You do your best to push everything out of your mind. Alcohol has never looked more tempting, but you don’t want the hangover with the morning, so you ignore the inviting bottles of beer and walk out.

It’s freezing — of course it’s freezing, it’s December you idiot, is there anything you can do right tonight — and you shiver, but you stay there. The cold is both numbing and soothing, and while you’re mentally complaining about it, you’re not thinking about anything else, so that’s good.

The door opens and closes behind you, and you guess someone is coming out to smoke. You move over to give them some space, but just as you do that, a jacket falls over your shoulders. You jump at first, and then the warmth makes you sigh in relief.

“You shouldn’t go out without a coat,” Jungkook says, because of course it’s him.

“I feel that you’ve been scolding me a lot recently,” you chuckle, glancing up at him.

He pouts, buries his hands in his pockets. He’s obviously cold as well, but at least his shirt covers his arms.

It also hugs his muscles real nice, but that’s besides the point.

“That’s because you make very poor decisions,” he mutters, looking at his feet. “You have to realize that.”

“You’re right. I could have taken my coat outside.”

“You know that walking back all alone in the middle of the night is way worse,” he protests, and then you laugh, because that’s exactly what you wanted, and he goes quiet for a second. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, looking away from you again.

“I’m not,” you say, and you take a step in his direction so you can bump your shoulder against his. “You shouldn’t worry that much, but I think it’s nice that you do. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“That worked really well,” he says, and he sounds surprised about it. You wonder if it’s because he usually doesn’t get angry for stuff, but you can’t tell for sure. “Hey, you—”

People start shouting numbers inside, and you turn around to look at them.

“It’s midnight,” you say.

“Five!”

You look up at Jungkook. He’s significantly taller than you. Not as much as Namjoon, but still.

“Four!”

Jungkook looks back at you, smiles, and it takes your breath away. His hair looks very good like that, you think absent-mindedly, with the way it falls on either side of his face.

“Three!”

It’s too late to go back inside now. It would definitely be a weird thing to do. Which means you’re here, alone, with Jungkook.

“Two!”

Your eyes flicker to his lips. You wonder what it would be like to kiss them. You haven’t let yourself even consider it before, but right now your brain isn’t functioning all that well. Probably because of how loud your heart is beating in your chest.

“One!”

You look back up and his eyes are wide and focused on you. There’s that same tension in his shoulders as when you first met him, except, back then, he couldn’t look at you, and now it seems that he can’t look away.

“Happy new year!”

You decide you shouldn’t think about your next move. You get on your tiptoes to plant a kiss at the corner of his lips, right at the border between friends and something else, but he leans forward right at that moment, and his hands cup your face, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s like an explosion. You don’t know what you should focus on. How warm he is, how soft and large his hands are, how his lips move against yours, how he tastes, or simply the fact that he’s kissing you, Jungkook is kissing you!

The door slams open, and the two of you move away in a jump.

“Happy new year Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, obviously drunk, soon joined by several other members of the basketball team. If he’s seen what happened, he doesn’t say anything, and you doubt Taehyung would have that kind of control over himself.

Soon, Jungkook is surrounded and they start to drag him back inside. He gives you a brief, apologetic look, then follows them, laughing. You remain there, frozen, unsure of what to do. You take a hesitant step towards the door, only to see a girl planting kisses on his cheeks while he blushes. What gets to you, though, is the arm he’s wrapped around her, the way he’s tracing circles on the naked skin of her shoulder. It makes the gesture look… intimate. Personal.

You let out a brief, bitter laugh, that there is fortunately no one to hear. You feel confused, but mostly, you feel stupid.

Fuck that.

It doesn’t take long for you to drop the jacket onto a chair and find your coat. You wish a happy new year to Namjoon, when you pass by him on your way out, and he looks a little surprised, like he hasn’t heard the shouting. You don’t want to know what he could have been up to.

You’ve kept your end of the bargain, you think as you leave. Jin won’t be able to complain to you. You feel some petty sort of satisfaction when you step outside and find yourself alone alone, finally. You like this. You like being alone. You’ve never asked for anything else.

You give one last look to the party, then vanish into the night. You’re better off on your own anyway.

“I don’t think I’ll be coming,” you say, nonchalantly, as everyone around the table is talking animatedly about a party for the next week-end.

You had hoped it would go unnoticed in the middle of the conversation, but, unfortunately, that doesn’t go as planned. Taehyung turns horrified eyes towards you, Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi all look surprised, and Jungkook… You don’t know how to read him. There’s that surprise, as well, but then he looks down before you can tell anything else. Not that that changes much. He’s barely looked at you today.

You haven’t talked to him since New Year’s Eve. You had other things on your mind, and then he didn’t show up at the library last Wednesday.

“What do you mean, you won’t be coming?” Jin asks. “You always come to parties.”

You shrug. You don’t miss the alarmed looks your friends are exchanging, and you’re sure Namjoon can see through you. Because it’s not like you to do something like that, whatever reason you may give.

“I don’t like them. They’re too loud, and I can’t say that I really enjoy standing alone for half the night.”

“You could stay with us,” Namjoon offers.

“And watch you pick up a girl every time? No thank you,” you reply with a disgusted shiver.

“You could stay with me,” Yoongi says.

You give him a look, and he grimaces, backing down immediately. Okay. He can see why you wouldn’t want that either. Plus he’s pretty sure that Jimin and him are about to get it on after weeks of flirting, so it’s probably not a great idea.

“What about me?” Jin asks. He doesn’t sound as energetic as usual, his voice almost quiet, and you realize that he probably feels bad because of what you said. He knows you come to those parties because of him, so knowing you don’t have fun at all when you’re attending — you understand that he might feel responsible.

“I think I would bore you very quickly,” you chuckle. “You’re not going to get the fun you want with me. But it’s fine, really. I tried it, and now I know it’s not for me. I can just—”

“No,” Taehyung says.

You blink.

“No?”

“I’m taking this personally,” he tells you, looking you dead in the eye. “You’re coming to this party and I’m going to make you enjoy yourself.”

You’ve never seen him so serious, and you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.

“Taehyung,” you say softly when you’re done. “I appreciate that, I do, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, then winces and closes it. You’re not sure what happened there, but he gives Jungkook an offended look.

“I’m sorry,” you add. “I’m sure your parties can be great, but—”

“I get it,” he sighs. “But you owe me.”

You’re not sure why, but fine.

“And you can’t say anything bad about those parties, to anyone. Ever.” In that moment, he looks almost threatening, and you blink, confused. He can’t possibly take it that seriously, can he?

Then he yelps and rubs his leg. He gives Jungkook another annoyed look, but Jungkook doesn’t even look up from his food.

“Leave her alone,” he just mumbles.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t add anything. He does give you a long, pointed glance, though, before muttering under his breath something that sounds a lot like “I won’t let that slander stand,” and you think that’s hilarious too.

When you risk a glance at Jungkook, his arms are folded over his chest, and he looks deep in thought. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes focused on his meal, though he’s not touching it. It’s stupid, but the image of a child that has just been scolded flashes in your mind.

“Jungkook? Is everything alright?”

He jumps at your question, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes meet, but it’s extremely brief, and your chest tightens. This sucks. You thought the two of you had gotten past that now, and you hate that you lost what you had. It’s not like it’s your fault. He kissed you, and then he bailed on you first chance he got. Why would he do that, why would he risk it, if he was going to react like that afterwards?

“I’m fine,” he says with a tense smile, and you doubt it’s true, but you don’t know what you should ask him to confront him about it. You don’t want to talk about the kiss ever again. You certainly don’t want to do it in front of your friends.

So you jump on the first chance you get to leave the table. You don’t ask yourself if it’s a weird thing to do. It probably is, but fuck it, you’re weird, and everyone else can deal with it. You refuse to subject yourself to something unpleasant longer than absolutely necessary.

Except the looks you get are mostly concerned ones, from Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook does look up as you walk away, eyes following you almost longingly, and then he lets out a long sigh that catches Taehyung’s attention. He doesn’t say anything, but he narrows his eyes at him.

God. He really has to get everything done here, doesn’t he?

At first, you think that this is it. Your— your whatever it was that you had with Jungkook is over. You’ll see him around every now and then, and maybe he’ll give you a polite nod, though it doesn’t look like he would even do that right now, but there won’t be anything else. You’ll go back to being basically strangers, and it will be fine, because really, nothing happened there, right? You had a crush on him, he kissed you once, and then nothing. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

Sure, it makes you a little sad. Sure, you catch yourself looking at him while he’s surrounded by girls who are all so much better for him than you ever were, and it hurts a little. Sure, walking back home alone at night is a little more unpleasant than it used to be, but that’s the thing. It’s only a little. You would almost pat yourself on the back for it. Congrats, (Y/N). You made it out before you got too attached. You probably avoided a world of hurt.

Because you know. You know that if you had gotten in too deep, it would have hurt like hell to not have Jeon Jungkook. And sure, it hurts right now.

But only a little.

You’re good. You’re safe. You know that Namjoon and Yoongi would nod if you told them about it. They understand, in a way a lot of other people don’t. You don’t think that Jin would, for example. He would tell you to take the risk, not understanding that people like Jungkook used to pick you last for their teams when you were in high school, not understanding that as far as you’re concerned, you’ve handled more than enough rejection throughout your life. But Namjoon and Yoongi… They’re definitely more successful than you in matters of the heart, but they would still understand. Not that you’re going to tell them about it, because it’s a stupid story, because there never was anything there, and because you’d feel really dumb talking about how you thought, how you hoped that— You’re not going to tell them anything. At least everything’s okay now.

And then, Jungkook appears at your usual table at the library on a Wednesday afternoon. He drops his bag on the floor and takes a seat next to you. You’re surprised to see him when you look up, too focused on your studies to notice him approaching. He has big, wide doe eyes, and he watches your reaction carefully.

“You’re— This seat isn’t taken?”

You shake your head. No. People rarely come here, and you don’t really study with people. Well, didn’t, you suppose.

“Do you mind if I sit here?“

“The seat’s free. You can take it if you want.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You never considered that Jungkook would— That he would—

“I, um, I like studying with you. It helps me focus,” he says, eyes flickering away from you. “So, if you don’t mind I’ll— Can I come back here on Wednesdays?”

You want to tell him that you can’t stop him, that he can do whatever the hell he want, but even though it’s on the tip of your tongue, you don’t.

“Of course you can,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks up long enough to flash you a smile, and you know. This isn’t over, and you’re not going to be fine. You’re probably going to feel crushed, sooner than later, and you could have stopped it all right now.

You think about Yoongi and how not like him it is to be doing what he is with Jimin. How he’s taking a risk. How it could oh so easily not have paid off.

It’s going to, of course. You just need to look at Jimin’s eyes when he’s talking to Yoongi to know that. But Jungkook doesn’t look at you like that. Jungkook doesn’t look at you at all.

And yet here you are. Taking that exact same risk.

God. You can be so stupid some times.

Jungkook glances at you quickly while you’re deep in thought, tapping your pencil against your cheek, and a small smile forms on his lips. He’s quick to glance away, because he would hate it if you caught him, of course, but the smile doesn’t fade.

He couldn’t have forced it to do so if he tried.

“You have to come to the next game.”

“Taehyung, hey, nice to see you to, I’m doing fine, I—”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I know you hate basketball and everything that breathes, but—”

“I don’t hate you.”

“—this is really important and— Wait, really? Thank you. I feel that means a lot coming from you.”

“Is that how you see me? I don’t hate everyone, Taehyung.”

“Can you give me a list of people you don’t hate?”

“Well, you, Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon…”

“Jungkook?”

“…Sure. Jungkook. Why do you want me to come to the next game?”

“Because we might lose.”

“And I’m supposed to change that how?”

“You owe me, remember?”

“I— Because of the parties? Seriously? I need to sit through hours of you guys running after a ball because I don’t like parties?”

“I would really appreciate it if you could avoid describing basketball as ‘guys running after a ball’.”

“I would really appreciate not having to go watch the game.”

“Don’t you want to support your friends on the team?”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be there. Just— stop that thing you’re doing with your eyebrows. Why are you even doing that?”

“You’re so slow. How are you so slow? I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Taehyung…”

“Just be there!”

“I will.”

“You better!”

“Or what, what will you— Taehyung! You can’t just run off like— Well. I guess he could.”

You hadn’t thought sitting through a basketball game could become a more painful experience to you than it already was. As it turns out, you were wrong. It was so much worse when the people you wanted to win were losing. Despite yourself, you found yourself getting invested, standing up and shouting encouragements along with Jin and Namjoon, and protesting loudly when things didn’t go your way.

You were not cut out for this. Not because you still didn’t understand half the rules — you could have by now if you had made the effort of memorizing them — but because of the stress. God, how did your friends handle that regularly? How did the players handle it? You kept looking at Jungkook. You could tell how unhappy he was with the situation, could see the disappointment settling in. He also seemed to get more nervous as time went by, which didn’t help his performance, and his words kept echoing in your mind.

”I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

You’re half way through the game and things are not looking good when Taehyung waves you over. You run to the railway, straining to hear him, and when you finally understand what he’s saying, you regret making any effort at all.

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

But he is.

“You owe me, (Y/N)!”

“I’m already— What’s it even going to do?”

“Trust me on that one, okay?”

You glare at him, but he’s looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes, and there’s nothing you can do against that. You sigh deeply. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest just thinking about what he’s asking you to do. Maybe it’s not such a big deal for him, that sort of stuff, but for you— For you it’s downright insane to even consider.

“Kim Taehyung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “if this goes bad, I’ll kill you and plant your head on a stick outside of my door to warn my enemies not to underestimate me.”

He has the audacity to shrug at that.

“It won’t go bad.”

You look up. Take a deep breath. And call Jungkook’s name.

The gym is insanely loud, and it takes both you and Taehyung’s efforts, as well as a lot of waving, for Jungkook to notice you. When he does, though, he runs towards you, worry obvious on his face. He’s looking directly at you for once, and the intensity of his stare almost makes you shiver.

“Is everything alright?” he asks when he gets there, eyes scanning you quickly to make sure that you’re okay.

“It’s fine, I just—”

“What are you doing here? You hate basketball. Did something happen?”

You shake your head. You don’t know how you’re supposed to do this, especially when he’s looking so puzzled and when he’s questioning your sanity for showing up at one of his games. You glance over at Taehyung who gives you a decided nod.

Ah. Fuck it.

Leaning over about as far as you can go, you cup Jungkook’s face, and as his expression turns to one of surprise, you kiss him. If people around notice or have a reaction, you can’t tell, because Jungkook pushes himself against you and buries his hand in your hair as he holds you. There’s not much space left for thinking in your mind, instead entirely consumed by thoughts of him. He’s completely sober this time, and you don’t taste alcohol on his tongue. He’s also not going as slow, almost desperately kissing you back, one strong hand supporting you so you don’t fall over, and you just melt.

It takes everything in you to push yourself away. When you do, you’re breathless, and he’s staring at you with eyes even wider than usual. You’re pretty sure Taehyung would want you to give an encouraging speech right now, but you don’t want to do that right now.

“I really don’t care if you’re winning or losing games,” you say instead. “If you’re sad, I’ll be sad with you, but it’s never going to change anything in how I see you. But I’ll be here encouraging you.”

He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight.

“Promise?” he asks, almost childishly.

You’re not sure which part he’s referring to, but they’re all true, so you nod.

“I promise.”

He smiles, and then both him and Taehyung are running back across the field and getting yelled at by their coach, but even from where you’re standing, you can see their smiles.

You guess that means you’re not going to murder Taehyung.

“This is actually insane. How is Jungkook even doing that?” Yoongi asks in disbelief after Jungkook scored extremely impressively yet again, and you fidget in your seat. You’re very happy to see that, though you don’t how you feel about the smug looks Taehyung is sending you, but you don’t want—

“It’s the power of love,” Jin says, nodding like he just gave an essential truth to the meaning of life.

—this. You, very specifically, don’t want this.

“Jin,” you sigh, “there’s no such thing as—”

“Actually,” Namjoon interrupts you, “I think he’s right. The power of love is a thing, and I think this is a perfect demonstration of it.”

You gape at him, in shock. He betrayed you?

“Did you just—”

“Namjoon’s right,” Yoongi nods. “This is how the power of love works. You take love, and you turn it into strength.”

And then, him, Jin and Namjoon high five, and you gasp. Traitors. All of them.

But after that, Jimin says off-handedly “Maybe you should come and kiss me before my next competition” and Yoongi’s brain visibly stops functioning, so you consider yourself avenged.

After the match, you wait for Jungkook outside of the locker room. Jin insisted you should go celebrate on the field, but you had declined. It felt like the situation required something a little more private, so now you’re here, leaning against the wall, looking at your phone so you’ll seem busy, even if there’s nothing on there to occupy yourself.

You’re not the only one there, and that doesn’t help soothing your nerves. There are a lot of girls, all pretty and smiling. It makes you feel like a groupie, and you don’t like it. You’re relieved for a second when the door opens and the team comes out, but it doesn’t last long, because the girls are soon surrounding them. You remain where you were standing, watching the whole thing happen. It takes a few moments before you notice Jungkook’s bun standing out of the group, and it makes you smile.

You catch Taehyung’s eye first, and, after you’ve sent him a glare that you hope was threatening, he pushes Jungkook out of the group. At first, he seems confused, before he finally finds you. You wave at him hesitantly. He blinks a few times, his eyes wide, then walks towards you.

“Hey,” he says when he joins you. He’s towering over you. Usually, you don’t like that, and you’ve complained about having to look up at Namjoon more than once, but you don’t necessarily mind right now.

“Hey,” you reply.

Silence stretches between the two of you as you try to think of something to say. You should have prepared a speech, you know that, but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t have been able to say it either.

“Taehyung told me he told you to kiss me,” Jungkook blurts out after a while, looking away from you, and you give him a surprised glance. “So, you don’t have to—”

“No, I wanted to kiss you,” you interrupt him, a puzzled frown forming on your face.

Jungkook’s head whips back towards you, and you just stare at him in confusion.

“Do you really think I would have kissed you just because Taehyung asked me to?”

“Well you— you came to the game because he asked you to, right?”

“That’s not the same—”

“Jungkook!” someone from the team calls. “We’re going to grab a bite to celebrate, do you wanna come?”

Jungkook sighs, then gives you a sharp look.

“You wanted to kiss me,” he repeats.

You nod.

“Why?”

You bite your lower lip, and you’re not oblivious to the way his eyes fall to your mouth when you do.

“And I’m the blunt one,” you mumble.

“Sorry, I–”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just— I wanted to kiss you because I like you. Obviously.”

Jungkook swallows, and you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looks over his shoulder at his friends.

“You can go without me!”

There are some protests, but he ignores them to give you his entire attention. It’s… not an unpleasant feeling.

“You disappeared after I kissed you the last time,” he says.

“You left,” you protest immediately. “You kissed me, and then the second your friends arrived, you acted like nothing happened and you left.”

“I didn’t want to— I just— They’re really annoying about that stuff, you know? I thought it would probably be better if I talked to you after— ‘m sorry. I didn’t— didn’t realize it—”

You look at Jungkook, watch him fumbling for words, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, how much you do like him. Those words really don’t do it justice, and maybe you’re not quite ready to talk about love just yet, but you like him so much, so much it makes your heart swell, so much you don’t think what what he’s trying to tell you would change anything to it, and yet what he’s trying to say is exactly what prompts your realization. He didn’t want to hurt you. Wanted this to be private, for just the two of you, wanted to see how you felt about it. And maybe he went the wrong way about it, but it means everything that he was trying.

“Walk me home?” you ask.

Jungkook finally stops his rambling.

“Are you sure?”

Of course, he has to ask that now, after weeks of trying to convince him to let you walk on your own. Still, you smile and nod, and when you start walking side by side, you grab his hand. He freezes temporarily before grinning and squeezing your hand, pulling it into his pocket so you won’t be too cold, because the air of January is chilling.

“Congratulations for the game,” you say after a long, comfortable silence. You had almost forgotten about it.

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I had some help.”

And then, he winks at you, and your heart misses a beat. That’s when you understand something you hadn’t even considered before: if Jungkook stops being shy around you, you’re done for. You’ll be the one constantly flustered.

“So,” you say, slowly, trying to keep yourself composed, “why did you kiss me?”

“Um. Same as you?” Jungkook’s confidence disappears, and he returns to his awkward self, and you see that, as much as you like it, you want him to be comfortable around you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask innocently.

He gives you a horrified look that soon turns to an offended one when he notices you grinning widely.

“You’re so mean,” he says, but he’s smiling too, “you’re the meanest person I know.”

You’re laughing at that point, as you stop in front of your dorm.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically. “I kissed you because I like you.”

It’s funny. You knew that was what he was going to say, knew it was coming, and yet it gets to you all the same.

“With you, I don’t feel like I have to be the school’s star, you know? I can just be— Jungkook. You don’t expect me to be anything else.”

He’s right. You like Jungkook. With his insecurities and his flaws. You don’t want him to perform for you, and you don’t care what he’s doing right and wrong. Just studying maths in the library with him makes you happy.

He eyes your dorm and takes a deep breath.

“I should go,” he says.

You hum.

“Yes, it would be a really bad idea if you came up tonight.”

But you’re not letting go of his hand, and he’s close to you now, close enough that you can feel his breath catching in his throat. It makes you smile.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats.

This time, instead of laughing, you kiss him, and it’s completely different from the two previous times. There is no uncertainty in this kiss, no surprise, no pressure, no fear. It’s perfect. Jungkook’s hand comes to cup your cheek, his lips soft against your own. His long fingers gently stroke your jaw as he keeps the kiss chaste and sweet. It only makes you yearn for more and when he moves away, you can see in his eyes that he wants more as well.

You just don’t think he wants it now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” you ask.

“I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says solemnly, and it rings like a promise, which makes you smile.

When you move away, though, he doesn’t let go of you, and a pouty expression appears on his face before he releases you.

“I— Yeah. You should go.”

“You can come up if you want to, you know?”

He hesitates, rolls his lips together.

“I want to savor this,” he admits to you in a near whisper.

“Then I’ll go.”

“Yes. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You feel light and giddy as you walk through the door. It’s a nice and strange feeling, like you could just start floating any second.

You already can’t wait for the next day.

People are definitely weirded out by your relationship with Jungkook. Or, rather, by Jungkook’s relationship with you. You’re pretty sure most of the people who give you weird looks when you sit next to him and he wraps his arm around you, or when you walk hand in hand, wouldn’t pay attention to you if you went to class naked. But they all know who Jungkook is, and you guess it is weird to see you in conjunction with him.

They could ignore it and consider you mere part of the scenery when he ate with you, you suppose, but it is harder to do now. You’re not too fond of being the center of attention, to be honest. You don’t know how Jungkook does it.

What takes you by surprise the most is people being nice to you. That confuses you to no end, because you know for a fact they don’t care about you, not really, and you cannot fathom what they think they’re going to get out of this. You’re pretty sure there are a girl or two who are doing that to get closer to Jungkook, and some, you think, have decided to be nice to you because they think that if Jungkook likes you, you can’t be a total lost cause.

You don’t like that feeling. Not at all. You don’t like it when you’re going to class, you don’t like it during lunch, and you definitely, definitely do not like it when people rush towards you the second you get to a party.

Yeah, you’re giving Taehyung what he wanted, in the end. He said that both you and Jungkook owed him, because without him you wouldn’t be together, and you eventually gave in.

You thought it would be fine, now that you have someone to spend time with, but you understand with horror that your status has changed now. You’re not invisible anymore. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriendTM. Because of that, you spend much longer in the entrance making small talk than you would have wished to, and you’re stopped a couple of times while you’re desperately looking for your boyfriend to save you from this hell on earth.

You’re not surprised at all to find him playing beer pong with Taehyung and other guys from the team. He hasn’t gotten time to get drunk yet, so he’s quite impressive, but then again, they all are. That’s why they usually end up wasted.

The second he sees you, though, he abandons the game completely, and the smile on his face threatens to make your heart explode in your chest. Some of the guys turn around to look at you, give you a wave or a smile. Taehyung shouts a greeting.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips. He doesn’t like PDA all that much, but he never misses a chance to kiss you, and the thought makes you all giddy.

“Hey. Are you, um, having fun there?”

He shrugs.

“It’s not that bad. Wanna play?” He waits for your expression to turn to one of horror as you try to refuse politely before laughing. “Just kidding. Don’t worry about it.”

You let out a relieved breath. You know you and Jungkook are very different people, and you’re doing your best to take an interest in the things he likes. You’ve been learning the rules of basketball, for example, and though you still don’t believe you get the point, you like the way his eyes shine when you say something right about a game.

But you don’t take part in any of that stuff. Okay, you stop at that field that’s on your way home from the library every now and again, but that doesn’t count. It’s just you and him then, and you feel good and relaxed. You’ve even scored a couple of times now.

“Come on, I want to grab a drink,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, and you follow without protesting.

It’s probably your second mistake of the night: not realizing that getting a drink with and without Jungkook are two very different ordeals. On your way there, you get roped into several conversations. Those are fine. You can’t say you enjoy them, but they’re fine, and it’s not like those people are actually talking to you anyway.

What you genuinely dislike is that, when you’re by the table with the drinks, a girl starts openly flirting with your boyfriend. It’s not subtle, either, with the way she keeps touching his arm and how she laughs at his every word.

For a while, you just stare in disbelief. You know Jungkook is oblivious to that sort of things — probably one more reason why he likes how blunt you are — but you can’t believe her. You wouldn’t necessarily blame the girl for trying, either, if she didn’t know about you. Jungkook’s quite the catch after all, and you understand liking him better than anyone else.

No, it’s the fact that she’s doing it right in front of you, while Jungkook is holding your hand. It feels so— dismissive. So insulting. She’s not exactly saying to your face that she doesn’t take you seriously, but she might as well.

You watch incredulously when she puts her hand on his arm one more time. You don’t know how you’re supposed to handle that, so you just tug on Jungkook’s hand a little awkwardly. You’re pleased by how quickly his attention snaps to you, even while the girl is in the middle of her sentence. It’s a petty sentiment, for sure, but you can’t help it.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “Is it too loud in here?”

“Kind of, but—”

“Let’s find you a quieter place.”

He forgets about the drink he wanted to get, forgets about the girl, who he abandons there unceremoniously, gently pulling you through the room. Next thing you know, he’s carefully closing the doors of the closet he’s found for the two of you behind you.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied with himself. “Better?”

You chuckle at that and, guessing for him in the half-light, you pull him towards you for a kiss. You press your body against his, pushing him against the back of the closet, and a groan forms in his throat. His hands tighten around you, sending shivers through your entire being, and you only lean into him more. You run your fingers over his chest, just to feel him tremble under your touch and he does, hissing with pleasure at the contact.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth. “Was that— was that what you had in mind?”

You shake your head, and he’s close enough to feel it.

“That girl was flirting with you,” you tell him.

“Oh. Are you sure?”

You are.

“So… are you jealous? Because that’s kind of hot.”

You laugh softly. Truth is, you really, really don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend, but Jungkook actually sounds happy about the idea.

“You really didn’t notice?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I didn’t. Does that— Did it bother you, that she was doing that?”

“Kind of,” you shrug. “What about you? You’re— cool with that?”

“If it bothers you I don’t like it,” he replies simply, one of his hand leaving your waist to grab yours and squeeze it gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

That makes you chuckle.

“How didn’t you? She would have made it barely more obvious if she had started undressing herself.”

Jungkook has an awkward laugh, and you can feel his breath on your face. He starts fidgeting, but then you press a kiss right at the corner of his lips, and he calms down, if just a little.

“It’s— You have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t.”

He hesitates a second longer, as though he’s trying to judge your sincerity by looking at you — except, of course, he can barely see a thing in here. You kiss him again, following his jaw, and he finally gives in when you start making your way down his neck.

“When I’m with you, it’s like my vision narrows on you,” he says, voice low. “I know everything and everyone else is still there, but I just think about you. Sorry, it’s really stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say, shaking your head, wondering if he can feel your heart beating stupidly fast in your chest, all because his words make you feel like nothing else ever has before. “But I’m— I’m kind of boring. That can’t be fun.”

“You’re not boring,” he protests. “You listen to people, even when you don’t look like it. You always look like you have a thousand things on your mind but you always make time for your friends, and when you’re studying here, you play with your hair.” He twirls a lock of your hair around one of his fingers before releasing it, as if to demonstrate. “You’re a very, very interesting person to look at.”

The only thing you can do is stay there, frozen in his arms, after he’s said that. You may be blunt, but Jungkook is honest. Devastatingly so. His vulnerability always shatters the walls that you’ve built around yourself, and you still don’t know how to react when that happens.

So you push yourself on your tiptoes to kiss him again, except this time it’s slow and gentle and you’re trying to put everything he means to you into it. The tip of your fingers are on his cheeks, your mouth barely moving against his, soft noises filling the closet. Jungkook remains still, letting you in complete control, like he’s afraid he could break you if he moved.

“Thank you,” you whisper when you pull away from him.

“For what?” he asks, breathless.

“For being here with me tonight, and for coming with me at that first party.”

“Of course. Any time.”

He lets himself fall to the floor, taking you down with him and keeping you into his lap once he’s done that. You rest your head against his chest. You hear the noises of the party still going on outside, but Jungkook is your island of peace in the middle of the chaos.

“I think I’m going to stop basketball,” Jungkook blurts out without a warning, and you look at him, surprised.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah. Really. I just— I don’t want to be doing that anymore.”

You think about it for a few seconds, then nod.

“You probably should stop, in that case.”

“People are… not going to be happy about it.”

“I’m sure Taehyung won’t be mad at you. Well, not for too long.”

He laughs softly, but his hold on you doesn’t relax, and you know that this was hard for him to even consider. You know it’s a terrifying decision to take, too.

“Thank you,” he says. “For being here with me tonight, too.”

“Any time.”

The truth is, you wouldn’t give that moment away for anything in the world, and something tells you Jungkook wouldn’t either. It’s not ideal, it’s not perfect, but you don’t believe there is such a thing, and you’re happy to satisfy yourself with the imperfect.

But any moment you can spend in Jungkook is as close to perfect as can be.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, and you think that he might feels the same way, which almost makes you burst with happiness.

“And I love you,” you whisper back.

Not perfect, perhaps. But close enough.

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts imagine #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #bts fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #candywrites

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reidjumpers · 4 years ago

Text

Here Comes the Sun: Dumplings

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning: mentions of food, some curse words, domestic bliss, Spencer being a little anxious

Series Summary: a journey of going through parenthood with Spencer Reid

Chapter Summary: When Spencer woke up to you making dumplings in the dining table, he knew he was in trouble.

Note: welcome to the first chapter of dad!Spencer series! For those who have faint heart, fear not, because I am not mean and I write this so we can all have serotonin boost together. Enjoy!

prologue, next chapter, series masterlist.

Nobody in their right mind would ever call Spencer Reid a fool. He might have encountered people that underestimate him or didn’t think he was as smart, yes, but no one would ever call him a fool. Not even when Emily joked about his IQ getting slashed into 60 in the presence of a beautiful woman. He had to silently agree with that statement. How could he not? In front of him was a very beautiful woman that he had the luxury to call her his wife. His beautiful, gorgeous, very understanding, intelligent wife.

But right now he definitely felt like a goddamn fool.

When Spencer woke up to an empty bed and the apartment smelled distinctively sweet like the bakery, he thought he was waking up on a really good day. But when he walked out the bedroom and spotted you sitting at the dining table calmly, a hum of songs from the speaker played in the background, and a stack of dumpling skin placed on the table, he knew he was in the doghouse.

It was common knowledge that whenever you’re stressed or upset upon something or someone, when life seemingly wants to fucks you over and over, you’d channel it through baked sweets or as strange as it sounds, dumplings. He never knew witnessing you silently make dumplings on the dining table with freshly baked cookies on the counter would be such a terrifying and worrisome sight to see.

Spencer stood silently in the doorway, rocking on his heels forward and backwards. He was quiet and careful not to burst the bubble of your own world. His mind started to run a few scenarios inside his head over and over, trying to walk through every minute by minute of every event in his life that had led him into today.

“Hey,” he greeted you after two solid minutes of thinking and couldn’t come up with any answer. His voice was gentle to not startle you as he pulled a chair across yours.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you teased. It was 11:15 AM, you were most definitely saying that just to tease him.

Spencer rolled his eyes at your jab, silently reached for the dumpling skin in front of him and started to fill it with the filling. He had done this thousands of times over to know the right way to make dumplings. Your first few dates with him consisted of homemade dumplings and sipping wine. He was honored when you showed him how to make dumplings the way your grandmother did it, grinning as you said it’s a family secret and he promised to keep it as one.

“Are we having a guest?” Spencer asked as he put his own dumpling carefully into the designated plate. His dumpling would never be as good as yours no matter how much he tried, but he was proud that it was passable enough to your standard.

“No?” you furrowed your eyebrows, glancing up from your own dumpling. “Why?”

“You make more dumplings than usual,” he pointed out.

“Oh,” your voice was soft, barely audible, and he nearly missed it. “Didn’t realize that.”

Spencer nodded, reaching for another dumpling skin to soothe his worry away. Study has shown that repetitive action proven to soothe anxiety and increase focus. He could recite the study in his sleep, forward and backwards without stuttering. But the damned repetitive action of making dumplings didn’t work for him right now.

He cleared his throat. It is now and never. He would have to kiss his husband of the year trophy goodbye if he couldn’t figure out for his life what makes his wife this upset. “Hon?” he called for your attention.

You let out a hum of acknowledgement, eyes didn’t leave your dumpling for a second. It made the corner of his lips twisted downwards.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked gently, mindful not pressing you into telling him things. He knew you would never keep things away from him. You would tell him eventually, but he needed to hear it.

You, however, just scrunched your nose adorably in confusion. “Talk about what?”

“You bake cookies and make dumplings, and it’s just…” he craned his neck to take a glance towards the hanging clock above the cabinet. “It’s not even twelve yet.”

You blinked at his statement. “I’m hungry.”

“You do stress bake,” he patiently pointed out. Placing his yet another passable looking dumpling into the designated plate, he let out a sigh. “You also make dumplings when you’re stressed or upset. And now you do both first thing in the morning.”

“You know me so well, huh? You should marry me if you know me so well.”

“Already did, nine months ago,” Spencer rolled his eyes at your humor, but a smile graced his lips. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

You blinked at him again, nose scrunched up in confusion at his question. Spencer could feel silence slowly settling in, filling the gaps between you and him. His mind started to make a list of things that you like, making mental notes to make a short trip to a grocery store to pick up your favorite ice cream and take a reroute towards the flower shop he saw a week ago and picked up a bouquet of roses.

He was in the middle of mentally reciting his apology for fucking up when he heard you burst into a laughter. It took him a moment to register that the sound of you cackling so hard was not a mere figment of his imagination. He saw you laughing so hard, head thrown backwards overwhelming the small dining room.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccupped, wiping away tears from your eyes with your sleeve. Spencer would’ve smiled at the sight if he weren’t so puzzled. “Babe, are you really thinking I’m mad at you because I bake cookies and make dumplings?”

Spencer sputtered, “How could I not!” he huffed, throwing his hands into the air dramatically as you laugh upon his misery. “I was so worried! You always either bake or make dumplings when you’re upset, but never both! And now you do both and you keep dodging my question.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you said defensively between your laughter. You cleared your throat, not wanting to make the pout on Spencer’s lips even more prominent. “I guess my brain really associated cookies and dumplings as something comforting. I crave for some comfort food, and my brain just screams, ‘cookies and dumplings!’ I didn’t mean to make you worried, I’m sorry.”

“This much? You’re really hungry, huh?”

“Pretty hungry since I’m eating for two now.”

Spencer froze on his spot, his hand stopped midair before he was able to reach for another dumpling skin. He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. “W-what?”

You just smiled cheekily at him. You got up from your seat and walked towards the kitchen, leaving him alone flabbergasted at your statement. You came back a minute later, a wide smile at your face and your hand tucked behind your back.

“Ta-da!” you cheerfully said, placing baby shoes on the table in front of him. Spencer let out a soft gasp, cooed at the sight of how tiny the shoes are.

“Are you…? Are we…?”

“Pregnant,” you finished his sentence for him with a wide grin. “I found out during our case in LA and I was meaning to tell you earlier, I swear! But the case got a little crazy and we’re whisked away into doing a lot of things at once.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, staring into the baby shoes with eyes full of awe. The news still felt unreal for him, artificial, but the warmth blooming on his chest that slowly spreading through his system left him fuzzy. A small reminder that it was as real as he wanted to be.

You probably have mistaken his silence for something else as you shifted your weight from one foot to another. You started to fidget with the hem of your shirt, eyes not meeting his. “I know we agree to wait for a year, but–”

Spencer practically leaped from his seat and scooped you into his arms. His smile was so wide that his cheeks started to hurt. You let out a small yelp as he spun you around before he placed a tender kiss on your lips. “I love you,” he said between your kisses, grinning as he stole a few more small kisses.

You giggled between his kisses, your hand flew into his face and patted his cheeks as he assaulted your face with his lips. “I love you too, you big goof.”

“A baby, huh?” Spencer let out a happy sigh after he spared your life from his kisses. His hand nestled on your waist, gently swaying you in his arms. “We’ve got to start baby proofing the whole place, make sure there are no sharp edges,” he rambled.

“Spencer–”

“I’ll go to the bookstore and pick up some book about baby names! Do you think Jason is a good name?”

“I think–”

“Oh, we should start shopping for some clothes and socks too. Make sure they’re warm–”

“Spencer!” you interrupted his rambling with your hands squishing his face. You smiled at him as he blinked his eyes towards you slowly, a little fazed that you broke his train of thought. “I love all the planning ideas, but right now let’s just focus on making dumplings and feed three of us, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed out, slowly collapsing into his seat again. “Okay. Dumplings…” he muttered to himself, grabbing the dumpling skin in front of him. “But seriously, what do you think about the name Jason?”

“It’s a lovely name.”

“Oh, common ground. I like that.”

====================================

Series tag list:

@measure-in-pain @wooya1224 @reidemandweep @manuosorioh

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godwrecks · 5 years ago

Note

um.. can i req for kuroo just being so mean to his girlfriend with a huge size kink on top? i just love the idea of him deliberately being mean bcs he likes seeing his baby cry for him then immediately change to a loving bf after that 🙈

Mean Dom! Kuroo - Too Dumb

word count: 1.7k

tags: dacryphilia; heavy degradation; daddy kink; dom! kuroo; mean kuroo tbh; size kink; throat fucking; some aftercare (?).

Always in a world of incessant business and black suits, you should have guessed Kuroo would need release somewhere else. Yet out of all things he could enjoy, out of everything that could be his if he just wished it to be, you turned out to be the subject of his adoration. He absolutely worshipped you - showered you with gifts and praise so much so that you would never doubt yourself or his love for you. And considering the way his eyes shone with tenderness whenever you were around, you never did. Not usually, at least.

But right now, when he was so deep inside you yet his face branded utter boredom, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest. You had struggled against his almost suffocating embrace, writhing like a prey facing death, when he ripped your panties aside and aligned himself along your folds. There had been a few protests, yet his dark gaze was enough to silence you.

“Tetsu,” you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders for leverage when he finally directed his eyes towards you.

“You fucking done yet, princess? You’ve had me waiting here for a while now,” Kuroo grunted, lowering himself down to his elbows and pushing a hand down against your abdomen. He was well aware of how much bigger he was in comparison to you. “Been inside you so many times, baby, and you still need fucking time to adjust?” He chuckled cruelly, his mocks only making your walls tighten around him. It wasn’t your fault - you wailed it wasn’t. Taking his long, girthy cock now was no easier now than it was before. No matter how many times you did it, he always managed to stretch you out until he made you his, turning the disastrous burn into pure ecstacy. Each and every time.

“I- I’m okay now, ‘s just too big…” Your whisper was borderline inaudible as he began thrusting inside you, setting a merciless pace that knocked the air off your lungs every time he bottomed out.

“You sound like a dumb whore the way you’re talking. Daddy’s cock, is that what you meant?” To your terror, he sat up on his knees, lifting up your thighs against you to gain more speed. Your back arched with moans as he rammed into you harshly, forcing you to take his full length with every buckle of his hips. “Fucking answer me, are you that hopeless of a case?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I meant. Daddy’s-” Cut off by a scream, your sentence got lost in a sea of heavy breaths. The low growls he emitted by your ear, coupled with the twitching and swelling of his cock inside you was nauseating. Sickeningly perverted.

Wrapping a large hand around your throat, you gasped for air while Kuroo gazed down at you with a sinister smile, zeroing in on the tears welling up. The bruising force of his hips clashing against yours was enough for you to hold his wrist in a desperate plea, begging for a breath of air as he kept tightening his hold.

“T-testu!” The raw panic ringing in his ears instantly tore his hands away from your neck, but the lifted corners of his mouth were unmovable as he pulled out all the way, just to slowly sink in back to you.

Your back pathetically arched into his touch, clit rubbing just right against the smooth skin of his defined abdomen. The way he looked down at you as if you were nothing but a used toy he’d throw away soon had your hand pushing against his chest, attempting to slow the reckless grinding of his hips.

“What now?” His eyes were so cold, only letting the slightly feral tone underneath the ice flicker through.

“Slow down, please, it hurts.” Contradicting your plea, you let it out a shameful moan when his thumb began circling the swollen bud. Oh, it was so clear he enjoyed watching you unravel under him, as if you were a little porcelain doll - the favorite in his collection.

“Princess, I don’t think I ever stated you have a fucking say,” he rolled his eyes, and the carelessness with which he threw you around in the bed - bringing you up to your knees on the edge of the bed while he stood - left an unfamiliar distaste reverberating through your system.

With another hand gripping your shoulder to keep you in place, he pried your mouth open slowly, savoring the crimson of your lips. His digits sensually pushed against your tongue, to which you responded by swirling your tongue around them. The hand previously restraining you lowered down to his cock, where he began pumping his fist up and down. Precum quickly began pooling from his tip and without realizing, your tongue had surely stuck out, ready for him to use your mouth.

At least that’s what you thought, but the moment he fisted your hair and forced you down his length, you knew it would be too much. You tried to relax your mouth, but his cock twitching inside your mouth made you choke even more. You couldn’t breathe, you only ogled up at him with tears that threatened to fall at any moment, hoping maybe he’d have some mercy. “You said you'd take it so why are you struggling, huh? Do you not want to?” He finally let go of you, and as much as you tried to compensate for the air your lungs were begging for, it was hard to even relish in the emptiness again when he sounded so damn disappointed.

“No! It’s not that, daddy, I just can’t fit you inside my mouth, it hurts,” you uttered the words as your arms wrapped around his legs, bringing him closer until his length was raised taut against your cheek.

“So everything hurts now for you,” the laugh that echoed off was strange, condemning. His cringe at the sight made your heart tremble. “I’m taking the time to train your useless little throat and this is how you behave? You should be fucking thankful, or would you rather I use my secretary’s?” You tried to listen for any sign of hesitance or teasing in his tone, but it was cold steel you heard. Shaking your head swiftly, your bottom lip quivered as his tip set against your mouth once again.

“So then why, baby? Why are you acting like such a stupid slut, as if you haven’t learned anything?” Using your throat as nothing more than a cock sleeve, he thrusted into your mouth continuously, ignoring all signs of your struggle. “You’re too dumb to remember, is that it? Maybe it’s time I throw you away and find someone new to play with.” Those were the words you lost it at, when the tears began cascading down your cheeks. Even as you sobbed, even as the oxygen barely managed to reach your blood and dizzied you, you kept him inside your mouth. Wishing - clinging to the hope that you could satisfy him again like you used to. But just as your spotted vision started going black, you were suddenly pulled up into his embrace, his arms holding you tightly against him. No, not like the claustrophobic hold he had on you earlier, but with that warm strength you were always met with when you needed it.

“I got you, pretty girl. C’mon, look at me,” Kuroo’s words were once again dripping with honey, his index finger lifting up your chin so your teary eyes could lock with his. “So fucking pretty when you cry, you know that right? Know how much I love you?” His charming smile was like a lullaby, easily dissipating every concern you had.

“Keep crying for me, angel, yeah? Wanna see those pretty tears when I make you cum.” Those words were the last you registered before he sat down and pulled you onto his lap, easily slipping inside you with how much you had been dripping onto the sheets.

Though you hadn’t come before, every thrust was worse than the previous. You were so sensitive you could feel absolutely everything - every vein and pulsing of his cock, every place where you clamped down on him, every brush of your hardened nipples against his firm chest.

“Tetsu, it feels so good! Feels so good, I’m gonna cum,” you sobbed on his shoulder, bouncing on his lap each time he plunged into you.

“Go on, princess. Cum with me, make daddy proud.”

With a kiss to your dampened cheek, his rhythm increased enough to send you both into your high. For a moment, you felt awfully aware of your surroundings, your heavy pants and the lewd sound of naked skin slapping against another. It was like the calm before a storm, right when your orgasm rushed in and cascaded over you, milking every last drop of the creamy liquid from Kuroo without even noticing.

You still trembled weakly from the pleasure when you felt Kuroo’s fingers draw circles on your stomach. It was then, when you looked down, that you discovered you were trying to keep in every bit of his seed inside you, unwilling to let any pour outside.

“Look at that bulge, too full with my cum, huh? You always do so fucking good for me,” Kuroo grunted with a smirk, the sweat on his forehead glistening with every labored breath.

“I love you,” you looked at him with furrowed brows and a pout, still unable to shake away the words from before.

He smiled briefly, wiping away the tears before cupping your cheeks and bringing you closer. “I love you so fucking much. Never forget that, okay? No matter what I say when I’m like that, you’re the only one for me. Only girl I wanna spend my life with, and only girl I want to absolutely fucking ruin every night.” His lips ghosted above yours with the whisper, merely brushing against yours with every spoken word. “Got that?” A brow lifted up with the question, seeking for the confirmation he needed to hear.

“Got that,” you smiled, taking the reins and lunging forward for a kiss.

my dumbass literally forgot abt the size kink?? i’m so sorry, i tried to go back & include it but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. thank u for the request!

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 4 years ago

Note

Red lily and kirishima?

Alrighty! I am SO SORRY for taking so long but here is Red Lily (Passion) and Kirishima! And as always!

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: oral! (fem & male receiving), use of recording equipment, "sir", drinking, Denki/Jirou and Baku/Deku, uhhhh i think thats it.

Cam!BoyKiri & Fem!Reader

W/C - 5.7K

“Ahhh ahhhh, mmfff.” Covering your mouth with your hand you try your best to muffle the sounds of your moans however, your partner does not approve.

His large calloused hand grabs your wrist and pins it to your side, slapping your thigh to get your attention. As you drag your blurry eyes to the man between your legs you are once again captivated by the sight. How could you not be, when such a gorgeous giant man is tongue fucking you dumb.

He lifts his head up for a moment, licking cum from his lips and not sounding the least bit winded even though he has been shoving his face in your pussy for what feels like an hour.

“I told you princess,” he slowly dips three fingers into your cunt “how can anyone learn when you aren’t telling them what feels good?” he raises a scarred eyebrow and winks at you before dropping his head back down and resuming his feast.

“Mmmm o-okay Red Ri- Riot.”

*****

When you hear the front door to your apartment slam you know your time has come.

“Y/N! Get your ass out here now!”

As much as you want to avoid this fight you know that if you ignore your roommate Jirou she will just use that ridiculously expensive sound system she has and point it right at your door. You groan as you get up and trudge to your door, easing it open and peeking around it to see her standing at the edge of the hallway. “Nice to see you back babes.” You pull the door open all the way and step out of your room but not any closer “How was your night?”

“How was my night? HOW WAS MY NIGHT?!”

You flinch at the sheer volume of her voice and slide a wry smile on your face. “Was Denki not as good as you thought he would be?”

Jirou throws her hands up and scoffs. “Ya know, I would be a lot less upset if I didn’t have to wake up at THREE IN THE MORNING when Mineta came back to their apartment SOBBING!”

You try to hold in your laugh, unsuccessfully, so while you clutch your chest to try and calm the wheezing Jirous face gets red with anger. “I’m - I’m sorry but he fucking cried? Please tell me you got a picture, or a video.”

“Of course I fucking did but that is beside the point!” You see a hint of a smile on her face but it quickly disappears. “I thought you were gonna handle him for me until today?”

“Did you not get your nut? I gave you five hours ya prude.”

“Of course we had sex you inconsiderate butt munch. But it was quickly overshadowed when Mineta busted into the room without knocking and got a bloody nose when he saw me in bed with Denki.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. “It was disgusting, the little freak couldn’t decide whether to drool over me or cry over what you said to him, so he did both.”

You’re hunched over laughing with your hands on your knees but one look at your friend's face sobers you up and you walk over to hug her. “I’m sorry, that must have been really uncomfortable.”

She wraps her arms around you and nods. “It really fuckin was, but Denki got up and threw him out of the room so that was satisfying to watch.”

“Was Denki satisfying to fuck?”

Jirou tenses up and pulls away from you. “Changing the subject isn’t gonna make me forgive you.”

“I know, but telling me about the amazing sex you had will make you forget about it.” She glares at the shit eating grin on your face then huffs out a laugh.

“Fine, but you're buying breakfast.”

“Deal! Now,” you wrap an arm around her shoulder and lead her to the living room, “please tell me he started out with foreplay.”

*****

“The idiot got a fuckin nosebleed?”

Denki nods his head, wincing as a large hand claps his back.

“That’s such a bummer dude!” Kirishima looks at him in pity, “but at least you finally got together with Jirou right? You guys gonna hang out again?”

“I wouldn’t want to.” Bakugou laughs over his very large glass of orange juice.

Denki drops his head on the table in defeat while Kirishima looks over at Bakugou with disappointment. “Dude, if you're not gonna say anything nice then don’t say anything at all.”

Bakugou slams his cup back on the table, the juice sloshing in the cup but not spilling over the edge. “When have I ever said anything nice?!”

Kirishima sighs heavily and shakes his head before turning back to his sullen friend. “Why was Mineta crying in the first place?”

Denki's voice is muffled by the table. “Apparently Jirous' friend Y/N said something really mean to him.”

Bakugou laughs, “Wish I could have been there to see it.”

*****

You had been at the club for almost an hour already, still sipping on the same drink and watching Jirou from the corner of your eye. You knew this was a good place to suggest a casual meet up with the guy she liked.

A two story building with a bar on the first floor and a lounge on the second. The second floor lounge was sparsely decorated and boasted a large open fireplace in the middle and various couches and chairs scattered throughout the rest of the space.

As you sit with your back to the bar you radiate a sense of aloof boredom, just enough of a resting bitch face to keep people from being too chummy but not enough for people to outright avoid you.

She looks like she's having fun, that’s all that matters.

“So how long have you and Jirou known each other?”

Shit, I forgot he was next to me.

You put on your customer service smile and turn to the man next to you, Denki’s friend Mineta. “We’ve known each other since grade school, our parents both work in the music industry.”

“So you’ve known each other through like, high school and stuff?” You try your best to ignore the creepy glint in his eyes and cover your cup with your hand.

“Like I said, we’ve known each other since grade school so yes. We went to high school together.”

“So have you like…. Seen each other naked?”

You cringe when the creepy little brat looks up at you. “Excuse me?”

“Well you know, I’ve heard that umm statistically speaking women have seen other women naked more times than men.”

“Mhm, yeah we did.” You down the rest of your drink and before you set the glass on the bar top another one is being slid over to you by the bartender. You roll your eyes at the pity on their face and tip them. “Thanks Midoriya.”

“Anything for my favorite patron.”

“Only cause I tip well.”

He laughs, his emerald eyes shining. “That and your invigorating conversational skills.” Before you can throw a witty retort back Mineta is asking another thinly veiled offensive question and you are back to entertaining him.

Jirou and Denki leave the bar around ten thirty so he can show her his ‘book collection’ . You laugh, telling Jirou to use protection when reading.

For the next couple of hours you take Mineta to a couple of more bars downtown, ones where you know all the bartenders. He continued asking inappropriate questions that were always followed by an excuse as to why they were actually harmless.

You had just arrived at your favorite billiard bar when you decided to ask your own.

“So you’ve had sex right?”

Mineta chokes on his vodka and redbull, “Fuck yeah I have, lots of sex. You look like you have too.” You ignore the last comment and casually sip your water.

“What do you do for foreplay?”

He laughs and you raise an eyebrow. “Foreplay? I just put it in, pussys get wet eventually and if not, that’s what lube’s for.”

You’re silent for a minute, not fully believing that he just actually said that. “I’m sorry?”

“Foreplay takes too long, I satisfy plenty without it.” He smirks at you, placing one of his hands on your thigh. Taking a deep breath you slap his hand off you and put your chin in your hand, glaring at him.

“Have you asked your partners if they were satisfied?” You hold one hand up, signaling air quotations around the word partners.

“No?”

Taking a minute to have another drink of water you turn to him fully. “Then I doubt you have satisfied them at all. Foreplay takes too long? This is why people need to take a class on how to please their partner. You don’t look like you could satisfy yourself with your own hand much less satisfy another human being.” You wave goodbye to the bartender, and grab your purse. “The only satisfying thing about you is that you are as stupid as you look. Don’t worry about your drink, I put it on my tab. Do me a favor and search ‘how to sexually please a woman’ on wikihow, maybe you’ll learn something.”

*****

Somehow you are invited to hangout when Jirou meets up with Denki again.

They are meeting at the same lounge but he is bringing two of his friends so you are tagging along. You made Jirou swear on her sound board that Mineta was not one of those friends.

You both get to the bar first, grabbing a spot with two couches. Midoriya brings your usual and takes Jirous' order, winking when you hand him your card to start a tab.

You’re drinking and chatting when Denki walks in, excitedly waving to you both and walking over to give Jirou a hug. “Hey ladies! These are my buddies,” He turns to the side to introduce them and you choke.

“Looks like someone already knows me.” The tall beefy redhead has a sideways smile and your face goes red. “I go by Kirishima when I’m not working,” he holds out a hand to Jirou to shake and leans down to kiss the back of yours. “But feel free to call me Red if it pleases you.”

The other friend scoffs at you both and walks off to the bar, a sadistic smile on his face when Midoriya looks at him with wide eyes. “The angry one is Bakugo, don’t mind him.”

Denki is trying his best to hold in his laughter while whispering to Jirou, you can guess what he is telling her by the way her mouth drops open and she whips her head over to you.

The guys head to the bar and you try your best to be one with the couch when your friend sits next to you with a smile on her face. “So that’s what you're doing on Saturday nights.”

“Please just kill me now.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one babe.”

“I’m fucking lonely okay?”

She puts her hands up. “Hey I’m not judging, it’s perfectly natural to watch camboys.”

“And like I say at the end of every stream,” Kirishima walks up and sits on the armrest of the couch next to you. “I always appreciate your patronage.”

“I have never been more embarrassed in my life.” You finish your drink and try to signal Midoriya for another but he is talking to Bakugou, a flirty smile on his face and a hand on his forearm.

“They’ve known each other for a while.” You look up at the man next to you, Denki and Jirou caught up in their own flirty banter.

“Midoriya and your friend? I’ve never seen him here though.”

“They both are convinced the other doesn’t like them.”

You look back over at the two talking. “Are they fucking blind?”

Kirishima laughs, it’s a deep rumble that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and a shiver go up your spine. “Yeah, they are. Denki and I tried to talk to Bakugou about it once but he’s a little hard headed.”

You giggle when Kirishima knocks on his head with his fist. “Yeah he looks like the stubborn type.”

Your companions have moved to the other couch so Kirishima moves to sit next to you. “Hey uh,” he looks down at his drink, a shy look on his face and a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You hurriedly wave your hands in front of you, “Oh no! Please don’t worry about it.” clearing your throat you fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I was just a little flustered, never imagined I would meet you in person.”

He laughs again, and you decide that the sound is more attractive than any you have heard during his streams. “Disappointed?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You smile when he looks back at you. “Why? You worried Mr. Red Riot?”

He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth looking much more dangerous in real life, you wonder what it would take to get him to bite you. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Hours passed by in a blur, you and Kirishima talked about everything and anything. Denki and Jirou would sometimes join in on your conversation or vice versa. Even the grumpy one came back when Midoriya had to help customers. Eventually Jirou and Denki left together, Bakugou went back to the bar and stayed saying something about ‘stupid Deku’.

When you were both alone you and Kirishima sat in companionable silence for a bit before he offered to take you home. Since you both had been drinking he orders a ride service and while you both wait you check your phone. “Well that’s just rude.”

“Something wrong?”

Shoving your phone back in your purse, you sigh. “The love birds went to my apartment to avoid the pervert.”

Kirishima chuckles, “You talkin about Mineta?”

“Ugh, yeah.”

“I heard you made him cry.”

You grimace, “All I did was tell him some harsh truths, not my fault he can’t take criticism. Besides,” you put your hands on your hips and look up at the man with a scowl on your face. “He deserved it, every bit of it.”

The car arrives and he opens the door for you, “I’m gonna need to hear that story, want to go to my place? Bakugou said he was…. sleeping, somewhere else tonight.”

You hesitate to answer for a moment, not wanting him to assume anything was gonna happen but from the look on his face and the tone of his voice you knew he wasn’t expecting anything. “I would love to.”

The ride to his apartment is quiet, not wanting to inadvertently offend the driver with your story you save it for later. When you arrive Kirishima helps you out of the car and thanks the driver before placing his large hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the front door. You almost stumble, very aware of the size of his hand compared to your body.

It’s so warm

He unlocks the door and you head inside, Kirishima turning on lights while calling back to you. “Feel free to make yourself at home. If you want, I can start heating up water for tea.”

You take off your shoes and place your purse on the table next to the door, grabbing your phone and following his voice. “That sounds good to me, could you tell me where the-”

“Restroom is the second door on the right, Bakugou is a neat freak so it’s spotless, don't worry.”

You head to the restroom, controlling the urge to open the other doors on your way. After taking care of yourself you shoot a quick text to your roommate letting her know where you are and to text you when her and Denki are done ‘reading’.

You get to the kitchen and sit at the table, telling Kirishima about your interaction with Mineta. By the time you are done the tea is steeping in front of you both and he is wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Ya know, I was gonna make it a point to beat that idiot for what he said but your response was so perfect I would just be kicking a man while he’s down.”

You stand up, giggling and bow a couple of times. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

When you sit back down, Kirishima has his hand on his chin, a look of contemplation on his face. “A class on how to please their partners huh?”

“I don’t know, I’ve been with quite a few guys who had the same mentality as that idiot. Would be nice if someone could teach them what foreplay is.”

“Like a lecture? Or do you mean a live example?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What would a textbook do? Might as well have someone record a tutorial, the recipient would just need to say what feels good out loud.”

“That’s a good idea, most of those people watch porn anyway, might as well make it informative.”

You look over at Kirishima and blush at his smoldering gaze. “Umm, yeah that’s what I was thinking too.��

“Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Your heartbeat picks up, “Go ahead.”

The smile that appears on his face is down right predatorial. “How vocal are you with your partners?”

*****

You were nervous sure, but so fucking ready. Kirishima had set all of his recording stuff up in his room, after making sure you were 100% comfortable with it, and made sure to let you know that you can stop at any point in time.

“I’m not doing this live stream. Don’t want you caring about what my viewers are thinking if you wanna stop.”

You’re standing off to the side with your arms wrapped around yourself, chewing your lips. “Thank you, that actually makes me feel a lot better.”

After moving stuff around, Kirishima looks over at you in concern. “Are you really okay with this?”

“I’m fine.” he raises a scarred eyebrow, “I promise! I think I'll be less nervous once we get started.”

Kirishima raises both eyebrows and slowly smiles. “Eager are we?”

“Are you kidding me? If you were to grab me by the throat, force my mouth open and spit in it I would say thank you sir.” your face goes red when you realize what you just said. “I-I mean you’re fuckin hot and….. Easy to talk to, and….”

He walks up to you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “It’s alright! Not like I haven't had someone tell me that before.” You huff out a laugh. “I mean not to my face but it was cute coming from you.”

You groan in embarrassment, then Kirishima grabs your hand and guides you towards a chair in view of the camera and your heartbeat picks up. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your face up, moving closer till you can feel his breath on your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please”

He closes the distance, pressing his lips softly against yours as you lay your hands on his chest. The kiss is sweet until you feel his tongue swipe against the seam of your lips and whimper. He growls, sitting down on the chair and pulling you on top of him before cupping your face and kissing you again, biting your bottom lip and thrusting his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the sweet pain.

Pulling back Kirishima coos at the look on your face. “Did you like when I bit you?”

“Mhm” you nod your head, licking your bottom lip. “Do it more… please.”

“Of course princess.”

You shiver at the name. “Oh god please keep calling me that too.”

Placing his hands on your hips, Kirishima kisses your lips again, biting your lip then kissing down your jaw to your ear. “Anything else princess?”

“T-touch me.”

“Where would you like me to touch you?”

You moan as he kisses down your neck, biting just hard enough to not break the skin. “Anywhere… everywhere.”

He chuckles darkly, slowly dragging his hands from your hips up your sides. You squirm in his lap and drape your arms on his shoulders.

“You’re so soft.” he nips then licks your shoulder. “I would never get tired of touching you.”

Huffing with impatience you grab his wrists and bring his hands up to your breasts. He stops just shy of palming them. “You know, if you wanted me to touch you here you should have been more specific.”

You arch your back pushing your breasts out. Your nipples are hard, visible through the thin material of your top. “Don’t be gentle, I like it rough.”

Kirishima answers by grabbing your breasts softly while lowering his head to bite your nipples. Your hands drag up the back of his neck to grab his hair as you cry out in broken mewls.

He alternates between biting and sucking on your nipples rolling and pinching the other one between his fingers. When he pulls away you take your shirt off, he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, which follows your shirt to the floor.

You sit up a bit on his lap and help him remove his shirt before you cup his face and kiss him. It’s messy and ravenous, you whimper when his teeth scrape against your lips.

When he pulls away again he goes right back to playing with your nipples.

He feels you buck in his lap and looks up at you. “You gonna cum princess? Just from me playing with your nipples?”

You nod your head. “Yes, please don’t stop. M’so close.”

Kirishima grins, pushing both of your breasts together and managing to get both nipples in his mouth. Lathing his tongue over both before nibbling on them, paying attention to your breathing and the shallow rocking of your hips. When your breathing gets quicker and your hips stutter he sucks them hard and you cum moaning loudly.

He massages your breast while you come down from your high, kissing along your collarbone.

“Can we lay down?”

“Of course. Hold on to me.” Kirishima kisses the tops of your breasts and picks you up walking over to the bed and gently laying you down atop it. “I wanna see all of you,” he grabs the waist of your pants, “I’m gonna take these off okay?”

“Only if I can see you too.” you answer with a smirk.

“You will, but I have a woman to satisfy first.” He pulls your pants off, taking your panties with them and pushes your thighs apart.

He lays down between your legs and slides them over his shoulders, you clutch the sheets in your fists. When you make eye contact you think you might cum that second, seeing a man you had touched yourself to countless times in between your legs was driving you crazy. Kirishima winks, then looks down at your already soaked pussy. “Thank you for the meal.”

He goes straight for your clit, swirling his tongue around it and moaning at the taste. When you cross your legs behind his head and press him harder against your cunt he ruts into the mattress.

“Oh - oh god….m’gonna cum.” Your eyes roll back. “I-I don’t wanna cum yet….. Please.”

Kirishima takes his mouth off your clit as soon as the words are out of your mouth. Kissing the insides of your thighs when you uncross your legs. “I’m sorry princess, was that too much?”

You struggle to get the words out, panting from trying to hold back your orgasm. “A little yeah….It felt amazing but I like….. too amazing.” You look down at him again, “Maybe a little slower? Feel free to use your fingers too.”

“Want me to tell you when you can cum?”

You groan, the heat in your core getting hotter just from his words. “Fuck….. yes please.”

He chuckles, giving one of your thighs a playful bite before moving one of his hands up and sticking one of his fingers in his mouth. You can’t help but shiver when he pulls it out and it’s glistening with spit.

He brings it to your pussy, dragging the tip through your moist folds. “I was taught to never play with my food...” he slowly pushes his thick rough finger into your hole, “but for you I can make an exception.”

“You’re gonna kill me.”

By the time he is done sucking out your soul he lets you cum only 3 times. You had gone from actively voicing your pleasure to tiredly trying to hold them in until he argued against it.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” Kirishima sits up, not bothering to wipe his face of your slick. When you wince while stretching your sore legs out he starts rubbing them down.

You moan at the feeling of his large warm hands working out the tense muscles. “Holy shit, I might cum just from you massaging me. Feels so goooooood.” After a few minutes of basking in the orgasmic afterglow you sit up, placing your hands on his chest and kiss him softly. “You’re turn big guy.”

“I thought this was about you princess.” He smiles at you, all teeth and shiny lips.

You push him till he steps off the bed, “This is about satisfying ‘partners’. You are also my partner so you also need to be satisfied.” You slide off the bed and get on your knees in front of him. “Would you like to give me commands?” You see his cock throb in his pants.

“As fun as that sounds, I want to see what you do without them.”

Your smile is feline, lifting your hands to his stomach and dragging them back down by your nails. He moans and throws his head back. “F-fuck.”

You lick your lips as you unbutton his pants, not one for being patient you tug them off as soon as the zipper is down. Your mouth starts watering at the sight of his cock, the sound of it hitting his stomach echoing in your brain. You cup his balls, weighing them in your hand and kissing each one.

Kirishima thinks his heart might stop in his chest. Dragging a finger from his shaft to the head, you watch mesmerized as it twitches at the small movement. You smear the drop of pre resting on the head of his dick, then lick it off. Humming at the taste you swirl your tongue around, softly squeezing his balls while you do so.

When you close your lips around him and suck, Kirishima shivers and places one of his hands on your head. You lift up with a pop and look up at him through your lashes. “Feel free to be rough with me, pull my hair or hold my head if you want.” His lashes flutter at your words. “What did you say to me earlier?” You mockingly tap his cock in contemplation. “Oh yes! Thank you for the meal.”

Sticking out your tongue you flatten it against him and lick every inch of his cock, all 7 of them. You’re gonna need every advantage to fully deep throat him and with his girth a sore jaw is the least of your worries. When you're done, saliva has coated your lips and Kirishima has an almost too tight grip on your hair.

You waste no time, going down on him little by little; giving your throat time to relax and take all of his cock. By the time you manage to get far enough to feel his groomed pubic hair on your nose both of you are breathing heavily.

You can feel his thighs tensing under your hand, his balls moving with every breath. You are tempted to touch yourself but refrain, although you can feel the slick dripping down your thighs; this is about him.

You keep your head still for a moment, enjoying the feel of him in your throat. When you hum, the vibrations caress his cock and he pushes your head impossibly closer to him until you push back. Although you were enjoying yourself, you can’t help but gag and cough a little when you pull your mouth off of him.

“As much as I enjoy this sight,” Kirishima lets go of your hair and reaches down to pick you up, pleasing you on the bed again. “I want to fuck you so bad…”

Your mouth drops open, you can’t help it. When have you ever experienced a man, a very attractive inside and out man, expressing his desire to you.

“Is that a no?” Kirishima Backs up a step, worried that he had crossed a line.

“Oh no! I’m sorry….I just..” you grab his hands and pull him closer to you. “I never imagined I’d hear someone say that without assuming I would say yes.”

You sit up, getting on your knees at the edge of the bed and grabbing his face, pulling him into a kiss. As you slowly back up he crawls on the bed to follow you, never breaking the kiss until finally you are laying down with him over you.

You whimper as you feel the head of his cock drag through your wet folds a few times before pushing into you. He goes slowly, almost cumming at the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing his cock with every inch.

You both moan when he is fully seated inside, his heavy balls resting on your ass and pelvis pressed against yours. His cock twitches inside you, the head pressing against your deepest parts and you come undone. Kirishima breaks the kiss and looks down at you with a slight smug look on his handsome face. “That good huh?”

“Oh shut up and fuck me already.” You look at him with blurry eyes and a smile on your face.”

He pulls out halfway then ruts back into you, pulling another moan out of your mouth. “Like that?” He pulls out again, this time slowly until just the head is inside before slowly pushing back in. “Or is that better?”

“Either, both just please keep going.” You drag your nails down his back and he starts moving inside you, starting out with shallow thrusts.

“Fuck, you feel so good princess.”

You mewl in pleasure, coming undone again at his words.

“That’s it baby, cum on my cock.” Kirishima picks up his pace, drunk on the face and noises you make when cumming. When he grabs one of your legs and pushes it into your chest your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body running towards that cliff one more time.

“Ah, ah, ah, hold that one in.”

Your eyes snap open, Kirishima lifts his head up from the side of your face and looks at you. “Don’t cum again till I say so.”

You whimper but nod your head, using all of your willpower to deny your orgasm. “Yes, Sir.” You said the words as a joke but Kirishima's hips stutter and he groans.

“Say it again.”

You have just enough left over energy to smirk. “I said, yes. Sir.”

He swears, changing the angle of his hips and pounding into you with reckless abandon. You're seeing stars and losing your mental grip on holding your orgasm back. Both Kirishima and you don’t know how much longer you can last. Not wanting to wait any longer you decide to make him give in first.

“Please Sir, can I cum?” tears are slowly dripping from your eyes, the pleasure building dangerously but at your words you can feel his cock twitch inside you. “I wanna cum on your cock, please sir. Cum with me, wanna feel it.”

You are both at your wits end. “Your princess wants to cum with you sir please!”

Kirishima cums first, moaning with every hot rope of cum that coats your insides. The twitching of his cock and broken moans that fall from his mouth tip you over the edge soon after.

Kirishima just barely manages to catch himself before collapsing on top of you, slowly pulling out and flopping over to the side.

You both lay there in silence, catching your breath. You finally realize that cum is leaking out and manage to sit up and walk to the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up and going back to the bedroom you see that Kirishima has put some sweatpants on and is turning off his recording equipment.

“Well shit.”

He looks up at you in confusion.

You laugh awkwardly while a slight blush dusts your cheeks. “I… kinda forgot we were recording that.”

*****

Many years later…..

“I can’t believe Scarlet is in high school already.” Eijirou, your husband, walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered.

You're sitting on a bench in front of the window, reading a book. Already dressed since you had to take your daughter to school for her first day. “I hope it's not too terrible, I hated high school.”

“Aww babe,” He walks up to you kissing the top of your head. “It can’t be that terrible.”

You huff out a laugh and look at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me? Kids are fucking terrible, teenagers are worse. They try their best to find anything to make fun of you.”

Later that day

The front door to your home opens and slams shut and the sound of someone running up the stairs follows. You walk out of the kitchen confused, looking toward where your daughter has run to her room then at the front door when your husband walks in. His face is beet red, eyes watering just slightly.

“What the hell happened?”

“I HATE BOTH OF YOU!” Scarlet screams down the stairs then slams her bedroom door shut, muffled sounds of crying worrying you further.

“Turns out teenagers are very horrible…. And so are we.” Eijirous face is filled with guilt and you walk over to cup his face.

“What happened honey?”

He turns his face away from you and sighs heavily. “Turns out some of the fathers recognized you when you dropped her off at school.”

“No.”

“And some of the moms recognized me when I picked her up.”

“Oh god.”

“One of them called me Red Riot.”

@eyebagsbutglam @doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @sendhelpimstupid

#kirishima eijirou #eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #eijirou x y/n #eijirou x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #lillith masterlist #lillith writes #lilliths writing

254 notes · View notes

k3rm1e · 4 years ago

Note

hi love,

what about a short reader, like really short (i’m 5’0 lol) meeting ranboo irl for the first time. they get kinda intimidated by the height difference and their love language is physical touch so once they do feel better standing near ranboo it’s like the exact opposite, so now they’re all over him as if he was monkey bars.

also if you do end up using this could you tag me? i really wanna read it as soon as it comes out♥️

playground

hi love,

also if you do end up using this could you tag me? i really wanna read it as soon as it comes out♥️

hi!! sorry this has taken a while, i am shit at scheduling (like really bad lmao) but i hope you like it anyways!!

cw: cursing

playground:

sitting in the airport, you waited for ranboo and his parent’s to pick you up. the california heat was absolutely miserable, burning you up. everyone in the airport seemed miserable, covered in the slick of sticky sweat. leaning your head over the back of your chair, you stared at the fluorescent lights.

seeing someone shouting your name you picked your head up, only to flop it back down. how fucking tall was that kid…? would he crush you? stomp on you like a large goblin man? take you with his long arms and kidnap you, like slenderman? seriously, what the fuck were his parents feeding that kid????

after a few more seconds of indulging your strange thoughts of the possible cryptids ranboo may be related to ((mothman possibly??) please?), he walked over and stuck his head over yours.

“hello!” he stared at you from above, your brain racing with ‘tall man… tall man scary. but tall man friend…? confuse brain: ACTIVATE’ .

“uh, hello ranboo.” you went to pick your head up from over the back of your chair, clashing skulls with ranboo. tall man = threat.

sitting on the floor you held your head, wishing you could simply evaporate in the sky and then be rained down on the earth. maybe droplet-you would land somewhere colder, like greenland. or alaska. knowing your luck, you’d probably enter the fiery pits of a volcano. maybe a desert. life is a misery of pain cursing you to feel the heat radiating of the sun. your existence was the explosion of one of the endless stars occupying outer space.

“uh, you okay there? you’ve been sitting there for a few minutes now.” when you didn’t respond, ranboo made a confused noise. “i didn’t concuss you, did i?”.

“no, no you did not.” finally coming back to earth, you looked at ranboo. sure, you had known he was 6’6'' but the knowledge of his height was not the same as seeing him in person. you would just barely reach his height if you sat on the shoulders of a small child. even then, you would still be shorter, as the small child would be flailing around. heh. small children are funny.

standing up, you walked next to ranboo. with any other person you would be running to hug them. you had finally met one of your best friends, why weren’t you bursting at the seems. the simplest explanation for that is that he is so much taller when your next to him. thought he could crunch you like goblin earlier? wrong. you are jack and he is the beanstalk.

while he moved his arms for a hug, you patted his arms in a way that felt cryptic. ranboo, already accepting your strangeness, patted you back. after the arm-patting-friendship-initiation ceremony, you walked to the car. time to leave the stuffy airport.

throughout the entire car ride, you sat as far from ranboo as you could. when he slid closer to you to show you something funny, whether it was on tiktok or twitter, you tried to press yourself into the car door. yeah, you might’ve been over reacting but who cares? he was a foot and a half taller than you, were you supposed to welcome him with open arms? if anything, it's good you were afraid. it means your survival systems were still (somehow) intact and working properly.

once you arrived at the house, ranboo gave you your very own tour. within this tour, a pool was shown. a pool that would become your very new home. it was already decently late, which caused the enforcement of sleep. while you each went to your own rooms, you snuck out. pool time, as an escape from the blistering heat.

in the dark of the night, you jumped in the pool, ignoring the noise you made. finally, a reprieve from the merciless, miserable heat. “finally, sweet, sweet, cool water.” you let our a pleased sigh, reclining in the pool, floating on the surface and lightly kicking your feet.

with a quick end to your relaxation period, ranboo put his head through his window. “why are you in the pool?? its like two in the morning??” he stared down at you and you stared back. subconsciously, you moved further away from the house.

“... hot. i wanted a reprieve from the rise of hell.”

ranboo laughed and yelled back to you. “yeah, i expected that. i’ll be down soon.”

you yelled back a “wha-!” but he had already moved away from the window. he was coming down there to what? join you in the pool with his tall-ness?

you heard the back door slide open and out came ranboo. it seemed he also did not have the energy to change, both of you in normal clothing. Running torwars the pool, he jumped in, covering you in water.

“oh my god! jesus! why is it so cold?!?” his head popped up and he was trying to push all his hair out his face. while he swan towards you, you backed away. he paused. “look, i don’t know if you’re playing some prank on me or whatever, but why are you acting so scared of me? seriously, i was super excited to meet you and i understand if you’re tired, but what’s your deal right now?”.

you stared at him in silence. breaking the awkward silence, ranboo sighed and went to leave the pool. “... you’re too tall.” you muttered.

“what?” ranboo turned around and stared at you.

you sighed, accepting your fate. “you’re too tall. you’re like, a whole foot taller than me.”.

he stared at you before breaking into laughter. “are you kidding me? seriously? that is NO reason to be scared i’m not gonna hurt you.”.

you threw your head back. “i knowwww.”.

ranboo started dying laughing, and soon enough you joined him. breaking out in a coughing fit, you stared at him. “i know, i’m an idiot.” you moved from the corner of the pool and moved near ranboo.

“yeah, yeah, you are.” ranboo stared laughing at you and you could see him scheming.

“no. no. nonononononono.” ranboo picked you up and through you into the water as hard as he could. swimming up as fast as you could, you saw him grinning like a fox. “you bitch!”.

this started a disaster, of splashing each other and throwing people in the water. grabbing pool floaties, you both fell asleep in the water.

the next morning your behaviors were a bit different. “ranbooooo. i’m bored. hang out with me.” laying on his floor under an air conditioner, you looked at ranboo as he was editing a new video. from the corner of your eye, you could see a phone pointing at you. he better not post anything on tiktok.

“i’m editing.” he smiled and kept looking at the screen, ignoring you.

“like i give a shit. let’s go out. get ice cream.”

knowing you would never shut up, ranboo gave in to your idiocy. “alright…”.

quickly getting up, you forced him to take you to the ice cream shop, holding his hand all the way. arriving at the shop, ranboo was forced to pay for both cones.

smiling, you chuckled. “gold digger…” you heard him mutter.

sitting at the benches, you leaned your head on his shoulder. “so, what caused this change in personality?” ranboo leaned his head over to look at you.

“nghhhhh;;;;;;; no.” you laughed at him, knowing you were frustrating him.

“so you just magically decided i could be a replacement for a playground?”

“i just got an idea! let’s go to the park! we can play on the playground.” ranboo sighed. you were the embodiment of :3, and definitely a handful.

finally this is out!! i hope you liked this, even though its late. very late… yes! But i hope you enjoyed this. side question - what’s everyone’s favorite ice cream flavor? personally, i always get superman from ice cream shops but strawberry from cartons.

tagged ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@feverish-dove

#mcyt x reader #ranboo x reader #feverish-dove

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saturatedboy · 4 years ago

Note

How about a fluff Donna oneshot with a gn!reader who’s sicker than a dog

If you’re ok with that ofc

Donna Beneviento x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sickness and throwing up

Words: 2.6k

You couldn't believe it. You're mind just couldn't process it. Your nose was stuffy with slight snot dripping from it and your eyes were swollen red from earlier crying. Somehow you had gotten yourself so sick to the point it hurt to even talk as your throat was dryer than the Sahara Desert. You had tried earlier to get up from your bed with little effort because of the quick wash of nausea had influenced all your senses to stop. You could feel your stomach turning every now again and decided that it was probably better to lay down in your bed then go rushing to the bathroom in hopes the cartwheels that passed through your digestive system would soon come to a halt.

A sudden cough popped out of your dry mouth as you raised your hand to cover your mouth, the heat of your skin feeling far more hot and sticky than when you were at the Lord's Heisenberg's factory to gather some materials for your lover, Donna Beneviento. After your coughing fit, you had closed your eyes in hopes of rest, but the sudden noise of the door creaking open had made you whine out. "Still in bed?" The voice had teased followed by a chant of laughter. Without moving, you groaned and sighed at the doll who had now floated into your confined room and made her way to hover over your laying down form.

"Angie...please." You croaked out, waving a hand in a 'dismissive' tone for the doll to go away. Once again, the doll had strummed up more laughter from her unknown vocal cords at your terrible state.

"You should hear yourself, it sounds like you're stuffed with saw dust haha!" Angie crackled away, floating down to sit on the other pillow that was at the side of you as she still stared down at your figure. Trying to not laugh at her remark, you had hauled yourself up to cough up a storm into your arm, tears springing to your eyes from the piecing strike of pain that stuck your head. The laughter from the doll came to a stop, now a worried Angie was staring at you.

"I-I'll go get Donna!" She stammered, backing away from you and flying as swift as she could to go find her owner who was most likely brewing tea like she did in the early morning hours. You wanted to call out to her, tell that you didn't need Donna but the warm feeling of something bubbling up in your stomach came back.

Flinging the covers off your body, you had scurried to find the closest bathroom to your room that happened to be next to Donna's anyway. As you were running through the hallways, you had rounded the corner and almost bumped into the jogging figure of Donna. Seeing your face flushed red and the hurried speed of your run, Donna was quick to turn and follow your trail to the bathroom where she was met with your kneeling body leaning over the toilet seat hurling your stomach contents out. She was quick however to attend to your side after rolling her long sleeves up past her elbows. Her hair was already tied back in her usual bun with two strands falling in front of her uncovered face after four months of getting to know you better.

With your vision slightly blurred from your sweaty tears, you leaned back up and tried to grab the toilet paper from beside you to wipe your mouth with, only for the soft clasp of Donna's hand around your wrist to stop you from proceeding. "Don't wipe your mouth with that, I'll go fetch a cloth for you my love." She spoke softly being aware that your senses were higher then usual because of your sickness. You pulled your hand gently out of her grasp to clutch hold of the seat once again as you spilled more sick from your mouth.

"This couldn't get any worse," You said out-loud as you pulled yourself back away from your now mess and leaned against the wall, pulling your legs up to your chest. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"Cold? COLD? Are you mad meat on feet?" Angie screamed out, going crazy over the fact you claimed to be cold when your skin was a tinted red from the world's hottest coal. You pushed your head between your knees, trying to drown out the loud squeals of Angie going off on a rant about you being cold. It was not pleasant to hear as much as you loved to here Angie talk.

Luckily for yourself however, Donna had rushed back into the room holding a bucket by its handle. Seeing you curled up and Angie speaking in a head-splitting tone, she turned to her partner in crime and gently hushed her. Angie at first had crossed her arms till she watched as Donna went to attend your needs. "Ohhhh right, they are sick." She stated plainly as she shrugged her shoulders and went to also aid your needs.

Donna gently took hold of the side of your head and gently pulled you up to face her. Tiny stands of your hair had stuck to your forehead, making her frown slightly. Seeing you in this state wasn't good. How she ever let you get so sick in the first place was a mystery to her. You had been perfectly fine the other day, playing in the snow with Angie and the other puppets but why had you gotten so sick...- "I told you to not go back out there in the storm." Donna disciplined you as she laid your head back to rest against the wall and went to grab the cloth in the bucket. You sighed and nodded weakly, humming in agreement. You couldn't help it though, last night the snow was so fun to play in with your snow boots and cloak made by yours truly, Donna and Angie. You had to go out though last night in the storm, You just had to go make more snow angels and wanted to build the best snow fort. Not to mention you swore you saw a deer running about and had gone to chase it in the forest for a little while before making your way back home in the late hours.

Rinsing the excess water out from the cloth, Donna gently pattered your forehead with the cold water making you sigh in pleasure. The coldness of the cloth against your hot skin had calmed the banging headache that was bashing against your brain. You closed your eyes in content as you felt a small hand brush against yours. "I apologise for shouting earlier," The sudden contact made you unknowingly brush your larger fingers against the doll's hand.

"Its alright, its okay." You spoke out feeling a little more better with some cold on you. Donna had left the cloth sit on your forehead folded as she moved the bucket to the shower and went to flush the toilet. After you had laid there for just a short while, Donna had spoken up again.

"It's time we get you back to bed my little voodoo," She said, clasping her hands in front of her as she picked Angie off the floor next to you. You groaned and lifted your hand back up, wanting to clutch onto Angie. Angie jumped out of Donna's arms and rushed to your side, holding onto your hand and stroking the back of it with her small structured fingers. Donna cooed at the sight, loving the way how Angie acted with you. It did take a while for Donna to convince Angie in the first place to not play her deadly game of 'Hide and Seek' with you but just like Donna did, Angie soon fell in love with everything about you. From your sneezes that you hated to your slightly taller height than Donna- what wasn't there to love about you?

Noticing she was getting of task, as much as she loved seeing you and Angie bond, Donna crouched down to gently, with a tiny bit of a struggle, lift your body off the bathroom floor and hold you in her arms. You were slightly heavy in her arms since Donna always had a frail body but she was persistent to get you back into the bed so she could care for you till and after your sickness left. She was determined to get you back up to full health.

As she walked down the corridors with you in her arms, Angie had placed herself to rest on your chest hearing your heartbeat pump blood around your body. The doll was on the verge of falling asleep, finding safety and comfort being near you. Dona had started to hum a song to fill the silence of the air, enjoying the task of getting to look after you. You normally had always helped her, ever since the first day she had gotten the choice to keep you from Mother Miranda. Now she could finally repay those days back and look after you- she would've either way looked after you but she tended to forget that you knew she loved you. It was a reason why she mostly made you small teddies on a Friday to give to you. Each of them had a name tag that was tied around their necks always held a note from either saying ,'I love you' to 'Forever my voodoo'. It was a sweet gesture to your heart and to show your appreciation for the gifts, you had placed them all on the shelves that were set up around your room.

Donna was relieved to see the sight of your door in sight, she could finally place you down and be at your side until your sickness goes away. Walking through the opened door, she slightly gushed at the sight of her creations up on your shelves. She pulled you closer to her chest as she slowly walked around your bed and leaned down to place up upon the cotton sheets. Pulling her arms out from under your body, she quickly walked towards your wardrobe and swung the door open to take out a folded white sheet of silk to place over your now sleeping body. When she walked back over to you, she unfolded the sheet and placed it over you, tucking the sides under and folding the top of it so it sat just over your chest. Readjusting the also sleeping Angie in your arms, Donna had leaned down and placed a kiss on both of your foreheads, moving more stray hair from your face. She was glad your skin was less hot, it seemed you throwing up had gotten rid of the bad things in your stomach and should make you better for when you wake up. However for now, Donna swiftly left the room to go search for some medicine, hot tea and easy to swallow food for your awakening. She would stick to her word of making you feel better.

You came to your conscience when you felt a hand shake your shoulder. Moaning in annoyance, you opened your heavy eye lids and faced the culprit of waking you from your amazing dream of Donna, Angie an you sitting in a field having a picnic. On other terms however, when your vision was less translucent, you were blushing like you had spotted your crush- or in other words you did spot your lover. "Having a good dream?" She asked, holding a cup with something steaming out from it. You were loss for words, had you been sleep talking the whole time?

"No...no dreams just darkness." You were fast to reply, wanting to get out of the embarrassing situation quickly.

"Surrreee~" Angie sang out, teasing you as she was once again on the pillow at the side of you. You felt her shift about and felt her climb over you, only for her to nestle herself between your arms that folded under your head. You groaned playfully and kissed her head, laughing as she ducked further under the sheet that was placed over you.

"Now now Angie, I'm sure they need to have something to drink before anyone else sleeps." Donna placed the cup down on the night stand that you were facing and helped you sit up so your back was resting against the headboard of your bed and Angie was sat on your lap, singing softly to herself. Donna, once placing her had upon your forehead and checking to see how hot you were, took her hand away and grabbed hold of the cup that she originally had. Blowing on it herself, she took a little sip to make sure that the solution wasn't too hot or too cold for you to drink and then raised the cup to your lips. You tried to take the cup out of her hands but she wasn't having it. "Let me help you, please." She pleaded, raising the cup back again to rest against your lips. You nodded, knowing full well that you couldn't say no to her and parted your lips open. Feeling her pour the solution down your throat had made you blush deeply. Oh how beautiful she was in your eyes, such a Goddess- she was no Lady only a Goddess in your eyes...But she could be your Lady if she would say 'yes' to a future question you had intended to ask her in the further future.

Drinking what you could taste, which was Earl Grey tea, you sighed as you finished drinking it feeling the warmth in your now settled stomach. You felt grateful to have these people and doll in your life. These two were your home, this was your home and you loved every second of it. Watching Donna place the cup back onto the nightstand, she leaned over and kissed your cheek. You whined in annoyance. "I'm not kissing you on the lips until you are fully better," She accused as she smiled softly at your reactions.

"Then at least stay right next to me until I'm better," You claimed back, adjusting the veil on top of Angie's head getting a sudden yelp from her by your sudden actions. Sighing, Donna had nodded and tried to make her way towards a small rocking chair in the corner of the room that sat by the windowsill but was refused by your hand wrapping around her dress quickly. "Stay right next to me...on the bed." You stated, tugging at her dress with a pout. Nodding, Donna had crawled from the your side of the bed to the other, laying down next to you. You picked Angie's sleeping body up and placed her between bot you and Donna. Stretching your arm out after, you managed to reach over to wrap your arm around Donna who watched you with shining eyes.

"You still need to eat," She whispered, using her hand to place your out stretched hand onto her face so she could feel your soft touch.

"I will after our nap. I think your touch is making me feel better." You spoke, stroking her cheek and blowing a kiss at her to get the best reaction of her closing her eyes tightly and blushing. "So adorable," You whispered back to her, enjoying the moment you had with her.

"Sleep," She said back, keeping her eyes closed and keeping a tight grip of your hand on her cheek, not wanting to ever let go. You nodded and moved yourself slightly to get more comfortable. Although your sickness still lingered, you knew you were in good hands and vowed to never ever go out in a snow storm even if you thought you spotted a deer.

"Both of you sleep," Angie groaned as she yawed loudly and moved her hands to grab hold of both yours and Donna's clothing. Both you and Donna laughed in return- laughter was the best medicine after all.

#donna beneviento #angie beneviento #angie the doll #gn!reader #residentevil #resident evil donna #resident evil 8 #house beneviento #x reader #oneshot #resident evil x reader #donna x reader #donna beneviento x reader

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binniesthighs · 5 years ago

Text

❆on a winter’s day | reader x hyunjin |❆

Pairing: self insert, female reader x hwang hyunjin

Genre: the fluffiest smut

Tags: confident!reader, shy!hyunjin, extrovert!reader, introvert!hyunjin, virgin!hyunjin, dancer!reader, dancer!hyunjin minho and jisung side characters, minsung if you turn your head upside down, slow burn, that sweet sweet build up, first time, meet cute, college au, sexual tension, mentions of food, praising, oral (m&f recieving), marking, fingering (f recieving), protected sex, aftercare, hyunjin is the softest boi in this one

Word count: 4.3k

Requested: By a lovely anon! You can read the original ask/post right before this one!

“and five, six, seven, eight!”

The cool of the hardwood flooring beneath your tired heels squeaked from the movement of twenty dancers throwing their bodies to the left. Each and every one of you were reflected in the mirror in front of you: bodies twisting like the curl of a ribbon and arms outstretched. You winced as your knee hit the ground and you hurled your body into a type of somersault. As soon as you were back on your feet, you bent your spine backwards reaching out as far behind you as you could. For a couple moments, the whole world was turned upside down.

It was then when you saw him. His silver hair was tied up, and his brow glistened with sweat. There was nothing else in his eyes other than pure focus.

It was breathtaking.

one, two, you counted in your head.

Next came the hardest part.

Everyone leapt in sync, creating a resonating thud once you all landed.

Thank God that you landed it that time. To your right, your friend Minho scoffed slightly, likely teasing you for finally jumping at the same time as everyone else.

three, four

The group crashed down to the floor again, this time you had to use all your strength to roll, then pull yourself up without help from your hands. You had been practicing it for weeks.

You could feel Minho’s eyes boring into you while you attempted.

You were able to do it, but it wasn’t nearly as fluid as him. How had you never noticed how amazingly his body flowed?

“and five, six!” Your instructor clapped. The music faded as you all sunk down to the floor again, trying to make it appear as if you were dissipating into it. “Very good job everyone!” She beamed and applauded you all who finally let your heaving breaths be heard. “Excellent improvement from you all!”

You couldn’t even stand up from the floor you were so exhausted. The aggressive florescent lights burned your eyes and you considered taking a nap right there.

“You did it!” A foot kicked you. Looming over you were your two friends Minho and Jisung shoving towels onto each other’s faces. “Were you counting like I told you to do?” Minho expectantly leaned in.

“yes,” You answered a little annoyed, not as much at him, but at yourself. You could have done even better.

“We told you that you could do it. It’s just the mental block man.” Jisung offered you a hand up.

Once you were vertical again, a little wave of dizziness hit you.

“Wanna go out to celebrate?”

Your usual friend group circled around you with their bags in hand.

“Finally got it this time, L/n?” They patted you on the back. Besides hip-hop being your specialty in a contemporary class, you still seemed to get along with everyone easily. On the first day of class when you literally announced that you didn’t want to be there, everyone warmed up to you pretty quickly. You didn’t want to lie and pretend that you were all about throwing your body around like that. Of course you thought contemporary was beautiful, just not your thing. Graduation requirements said otherwise.

“Do you need me to carry you outta here?” Jisung joked at your dazed expression. Truthfully, your head was still spinning a little.

“Only very certain people get to carry me Han Jisung, and unfortunately you are not one of them.” You quipped back, and a few of your friends snarked chuckles at him.

He put his hands up in defeat. “I was just offering.”

Across the room, your eyes found him again. He had put his bag a bit of ways away from everyone else’s. He guzzled down his water, bobbing his sharp Adam’s apple. He then tore his hair tie out and ruffled his hair around which was damp at the roots. Everything that he did was so effortless.

“Hey,” you nudged Minho, “You know who he is?”

“Him? That’s Hwang Hyunjin. I dunno much about him, he’s pretty quiet, I haven’t heard much about him within the school either. Amazing dancer though. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah...”

Hyunjin pulled a black pullover past his head.

“You coming with us?” Minho snapped you back.

“No-uh, I think that I’m gonna stay a little while.”

“Suit yourself, I know that it’s gonna be delicious.” He teased and turned to throw his arm around Jisung while the group walked out.

The silvery-haired boy zipped up his bag as if he was near leaving. Your throat became unexplainably tight. Your legs started moving towards him before you could tell them to.

“You popped up behind him. “Hyunjin, right?”

He whipped around startled, with his gorgeous brown eyes widening. “...yes?”

“I wanted to tell you that I saw you dancing today and you’re really good. It looks like its so easy for you. I wish that I could be like that.”

“Oh...thank you.” He gave you a kind smile.

shit, he was so cute.

“Soooo, what’s your secret?” You attempted to keep him there for just a moment longer.

“My secret?” His eyes became puzzled.

“Yeah, like, to how you’ve gotten so good?”

“I just...practice.”

“Huh...”

The door to the practice room clicked one last time and the two of you were alone.

“I noticed that all of your moves flow really nicely to the next, you’re not stiff at all, it’s like your body never stops evolving with the motions.”

“thank you...” Hyunjin hushed shyly and twiddled with his hair.

“Maybe you could teach me? Teach me how to make my technique better? I’m just so robotic sometimes.”

“...sure.” He hesitantly said with a growing tiny grin. “Like right now?”

“Oh! I mean it doesn’t have to be right now right now, just like when you have some time I was thinking.”

“I have a little time right now.” He began taking off his coat which he had just put on.

“Oh really?” You felt your cheeks get a little warm. You certainly weren’t expecting him to say yes so quickly.

“Do-do you have time?” He worriedly asked.

“--Yeah!”

“Okay...let’s get started then.”

✦✧✦✧

The music from Hyunjin’s phone echoed over the speakers and you attempted the twirls again. You were able to execute the timing, but each one felt more inelastic than the last. God, your whole body was aching to stop, but it couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him watching you and observing your every movement.

“What should I change about it this time?” You struggled to take in breaths.

Hyunjin looked you up and down, with that same focus from before. With someone as picturesque as him, he looked a little stern when he examined you, which scared you a little, but excited you at the same time.

“You need to take the strain out of your hips, they’re geting in the way you need to let you whole body fall into it. Focus on your legs. Like this:”

He spun in front of you with his leg pointed out. With the twist of his body his silver hair swept along with him.

“You know what I mean?” He gently asked.

“--yes, I think so.”

“Your hips are your anchor, but don’t let them stop you.” Hyunjin stepped up closer to you, hesitantly going to grab your waist with his hands. It was then when you realized how big and powerful they were. His sudden gesture made your heart beat even faster than it already was.

“Pivot like...this.” He turned you a little to the left.

“Oh.”

He lead your hips into the pivot a couple more times to show you. His hands were so warm.

He quickly removed his hands, embarrassed, like he had been doing something he should not have been. He walked away from you and you took notice of his shoulder blades curving under the thin fabric of his sleeveless shirt.

“Do you wanna stop now? I think I’ve done as much as I can for today.”

He nodded and removed his phone from the sound system.

✦✧✦✧

Outside of the arts building, snow had picked back up again after flurrying the whole night long. Everything around had been covered in a beautiful blanket of white.

“Well, I’m headed off this way.” You head nodded to your bus station a couple blocks down. “Thank you for helping me by the way.”

“For sure! I...liked helping you out.”

“Really?”

Hyunjin immediately made a startled little face upon realizing what he had said and you laughed a little at him.

He pulled his chunky scarf up higher to his chin. “Actually...I um, live down that way too.”

“Do you take the 12 bus too?”

He nodded. Little snowflakes had begun to get caught in his hair like a little halo.

“Well then let’s get going! We don’t wanna miss the last bus!”

✦✧✦✧

It was rush hour, so naturally the two of you had to stand on the bus of packed people. The air inside was chilly and it smelled of old dusty coats that had just recently been taken out for the fist snow. You thought it was a little funny how every five seconds or so someone would sniffle in there.

“I’ve seen you in class too.” Hyunjin finally said something after a while of you two being pushed pretty close next to eachother. “Dancing and other stuff, everyone really seems to like you, you’re really good at making people laugh.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You didn’t quite know how to respond to him. “I don’t really have a problem putting myself out there much, I’ve always really believed in just being me, you know? And not letting others determine who I am around them. That or maybe I just like the sound of my own voice.”

He giggled a little then pulled the string nearby the window.

stop requested. The robot bus voice said.

“You’re not stalking me or anything are you?” You rose an eyebrow at him, which scared him more that you had expected.

“No..? What do you mean?”

“This is my stop too.”

Your boots crunched into the snow of the side walk and you thanked the bus driver. Hyunjin got off after you with his hands in his pockets. The two of you stood there in the snow for a moment, something weirdly unsaid lingering between the two of you. Something felt unfinished but you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He genuinely was so sweet, you sneakily wanted to be around him for just a little longer.

Hyunjin stammered, but confidently got out, “Do you want to get something to eat? Right now?”

It was if he had read your mind. You were glad that he had asked, and a little surprised too. He waited attentively for you to answer, still looking a little nervous; even looking like that he was terribly adorable.

“I’d love to.” You smiled back at him causing him to sigh in relief.

“Is there anywhere that you like?” He led the both of you on.

You pondered for a moment, then remembered. You cringed out the words, “Actually...I really shouldn’t be spending money right now; I need to get a lot better at saving...”

You almost slapped yourself in the face after saying such a thing and seeing how crestfallen he had become. It was true, but technically he didn’t need to know that.

“Or! I mean, we could go to my place and I could I dunno, whip something up? I should have something...”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to be eating away your food.”

“No really! It’s fine, come on, I’m just down this block.”

✦✧✦✧

It was only seconds before you opened the door to your apartment that you remembered how embarrassingly messy it was. You and your two roommates were the best of friends, but horribly matched when it came to being cleanly. The three of you just chalked it up to you all being “creative minds.” You all went to arts school after all.

“Just...don’t look--sorry, it’s really messy in there, I wasn’t really expecting to bring anyone over.”

“I don’t care.” Hyunjin politely said and watched you unlock the door.

“We just call it creative madness.”

When you walked in even you tried hard to not look at the mess and got straight to work rummaging around your cabinets.

“Does spaghetti with sauce sound good?”

He nodded and neatly arranged his coat, shoes and bag at the door.

He wandered over to the large windows of your living area. “You have a really nice view.”

“Ah thanks,” You clicked on the stove. “Makes the price of the rent worth it,” you lowered your voice “fuckin’ swindlers.”

Your eyes wandered to the island in your kitchen full of all kinds of crap: baking supplies, art supplies, old mail, textbooks, mismatched pairs of gloves.

“It would probably be best if we ate in my room,” You let up. “You can barely sit here.”

Hyunjin nodded and turned to keep watching the snow peacefully. While you cooked, he didn’t say much but you couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, nearly burning yourself on the saucepan. He changed the room by just merely exisiting in it. You truly couldn’t imagine how you had never noticed him before.

✦✧✦✧

“Thank you for cooking for me, that was really good.”

You waved his compliment off with the swipe of your hand. “It’s really nothing, you should see my roommate, she’s a culinary science major. Wait! Let me go get something real quick.”

You smiled at your little surprise and shuffled back to the kitchen, putting the two little raspberry and chocolate cupcakes on plates with equally little forks.

“Ta-da! These are to die for. I wish I could take the credit; these are just one of the benefits of having a roommate that’s constantly experimenting.”

Hyunjin took in a careful bite and his eyes widened into moons.

“I know right!? She’s a genius.”

Silence filled the air between you as you ate more. You couldn’t help but feel so completely and utterly cozy in the moment. The sun had nearly set and you had set your heater up in your room along with some Christmas music to softly play in the background. The only regret that you had was the candle you had lit which was just a little too sweet. You started to wonder after you two had finished, what would happen next? Would he leave? Greedily, a feeling seeped into you like before, you still didn’t want him to leave.

“That was amazing.” He placed his plate down.

“You know what?” Your brash confidence pushing through once more. “Your hair, the silver, it’s just so pretty. I can’t stop looking at it.”

He instantly became flustered. “Oh...thank you, I’ve been thinking about dying it like this for a really long time now and I finally did it. It sounds kinda dumb, but I didn’t wanna do anything that would draw attention to myself.”

“...can I touch it?”

Hyunjin looked a little shocked, but eagerly nodded.

You started by thumbing through some of the longer strands towards his shoulders: it was just as soft as you imagined. You then started from the top running your hand all the way down, admiring the way that it looked like it shimmered a little. You had gotten so caught up in him that you didn’t notice that he had closed his eyes.

“pretty.” You cooed.

“Y/n?” He suddenly asked.

“Hmm?”

“Is it weird to say that I feel like really comfortable around you? Is that weird?”

“No, not at all.” You continued running your hands through the silver strands, somehow you had leaned in a lot closer to him than you had been before.

He looked at you with his doe-like brown eyes. You could have sworn that they were glistening. Your eyes fell a little lower to his lips, they looked wonderfully kissable and plump. From that moment your brain furiously wondered what they tasted like. His eyes fell a little too.

He leaned in first, catching you completely off guard. He kissed you so carefully and gently, his mouth parted just slightly; it was heavenly. You could still taste the chocolate and the raspberry on his lips. He sighed a little into your mouth like he was relaxing himself. In many ways, the way in which he kissed you made you feel like he cared for nothing else in the world, just you. Your cupped his face in your hands, tracing your thumbs against his jawline.

That was it. You were absolutely crazy for him.

You broke for a moment and he turned into a huge, rosy, smiling mess. The two of you giddily giggled at how happy you were over what had just happened. You shuffled your own plate off the bed to silently invite him to lay down which he did obediently. Now he seemed less hesitant, but more excited.

You swung your legs around both sides of him and kissed him more on his smiling lips. At this point, you had convinced yourself that nothing in this world was sweet as him. His hands found their way to your back, where he ran his fingers down, making you shiver delightfully at the touch. His hands finally found your waist which he grabbed onto firmly. He pulled you down into him so your bodies were flush and you could feel all of his warmth. Once you were this close, he started kissing you back more wantonly, gasping a little in between.

“You’re so beautiful Hyunjinnie.” You snuck in between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

He let an airy laugh fall into your lips then brought one of his hands to tangle in you hair. All at once, your hands yearned to explore the soft of his skin everywhere. Outside your window the snow still silently fell and the golden sunset faded into the skyline’s horizon.

You knew how excited you had become, where together your hips grinded together. Your head spun thinking about having someone as beautiful as him give your body attention.

Hyunjin broke, holding your eyes seriously. “I-I want to make you feel good. Can I do that?”

“Of course, I would love that.” You melted.

“--But...I think you’ll have to tell me how...I haven’t done this before, sorry..”

The fact that he had shared this with you made him even more adorable.

“Don’t apologize, I can show you everything.” You whispered into his ear with a prideful grin. “But first, can I first help you?”

He gulped, “Yes.”

“I want to show you that you’re worth the attention, you’re worth all of it.”

You helped him pull off his sweater, and then his sleeveless shirt revealing his toned and pale chest, just waiting for your lips. You didn’t want to move too fast however, or risk scaring him.

“Just relax okay?”

You planted kisses everywhere you could: on his collarbones, his stomach and on his ribs, right over his heart. Even from the simplest of touches from you he seemed to unravel.

“You’re breathtaking.” You said onto his skin.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sucking a little harder than you planned, drawing little purple marks against his milky-white skin. He looked like pure art.

“Can I go down a little further?”

“Mmhmm.” He got out, with eyes closed shut trying to control himself.

You slipped his joggers down, revealing his quivering member, which was enticingly long even hidden by his briefs. He had already stained them a little with pre cum.

“oh my god.” you whispered, enamored. You couldn’t wait a single second further.

He timidly watched as you completely striped him, then tore off our own shirt and pants to make it a little more even.

“Tell me stop if you want me to, okay?”

He pleaded with desperate eyes, “Don’t stop.”

First you teased him just a little by running your tongue flat up and down and around his length, wetting your tongue with one hand and slowly pumping. You moved on to then twist around the head which had grown painfully hard. His breaths wavered and he let out little moans in desperation. You took him in at last, bobbing your head steadily.

“ mmm, that feels so good.” Hyunjin moaned out breathlessly.

You kept on, but not for too much longer, you didn’t want him finishing quite yet. He looked a little dejected when you stopped, but you swooped up to kiss him more. You took up his left hand and kissed him all the way up to his wrist and into his palm. His fingertips brushed over your lips, as gentle as one would with a flower petal.

“You want to touch me now?”

“--Yes.”

You unclipped your bra for him and laid back. For this he didn’t need any instruction. He immediately took your breast in his hand, squeezing and and ghosting his fingertips over your nipples; you reveled under his touch. He lowered to suck lightly on the bud, pulling at it lightly with his lips. His teeth grazed you slightly but you didn’t care, you fucking loved it.

“That feels amazing.” You whispered as you watched him. He was sure to give both of your nipples attention.

“I want you.” You said with hot breath. “I want your tongue.”

He looked a little bewildered, but determined after what you had said. He slid down your body, giving you kisses the whole way down like you had done to him.

He nibbled a bit on your thighs. “Tell me how you like it.”

By the second his confidence grew more and more and it was addicting.

You started by rubbing yourself a little so he knew where to start. “In circles, you can go fast or slow, I like both, and you can suck on it too if you’d like.

He lowered, and you swung one of you legs over his shoulder which he palmed into. He started painfully slow, kitten licking carefully; he didn’t know it, but he was teasing the hell out of you. Nevertheless, you whole body began to shake a little with each lick.

“Flatten your tongue out...like that, you can go a little faster, yes...just like that.”

He had closed his eyes and settled into a rhythm, and you dug your heels into the bed. It was astonishing how quickly he got the hang of it. You whimpered out while he continued.

“fuck, Hyunjin--”

He sped up a little, your first orgasm was close by.

“Your fingers, like this.” You held up your pointer and middle together to show him. “Fuck me like that.

He did as he was told, sliding them in with ease over how wet you had become. His fingers were long and slender; addictive. He pumped in and out while your pussy made ungodly sounds. You felt so close you were lightheaded.

“Curl your fingers up, like this.” You showed him again. He continued going fast, taking a hint from your quickened breaths.

You came with white heat, clawing at the comforter on the bed. You only gave yourself a few more moments before pulling him up towards you. “I want you inside me.”

You scrambled with the drawer of your nightstand to rip a condom off from the strand that you kept, tearing it open for him. He was a little flustered, but put it on quickly; he was dripping even more for you. Your lips connected as you laid down, and he aligned himself on top of you. It was then when you saw how pink his chest had flushed. You opened your folds for him, and he started to guide himself in. He filled you up perfectly, and he groaned out once the two of you were connected.

“it’s so tight.” He shivered.

Your fingers latched on to the skin of his hips as you guided him lightly up and down. He buried his face into your shoulder as little euphoric moans slipped past his lips. After a moment, he was able to find his pace, grazing you deep inside. You let him take control as he thrust into you, leaving your arms to wrap around his broad back. You pulled his face over to kiss him, the both of you loosing yourself in the other.

“You make me feel, so, so good, baby,” You hushed into his ear.

He panted, “I-I’m gonna cum soon.”

It took all your strength to flip him off of you, and to land in his lap. He groaned with his hands getting lost journeying all around your body--anywhere he could touch. You took over, riding him and rolling your hips fast with both of your palms flat on his chest riddled with hickies. Like this, you thought that he looked practically angelic. Both of you chased your orgasms together, erupting at nearly the same time, and you ravished in him throbbing inside.

You laughed a little together in sheer bliss and he flinched a little when you slid off of him.

“Did that all feel good for you? Are you okay?” You pecked his nose.

“Yes. It felt like nothing else.”

You stood up, adjusting your frazzled hair and putting on a fresh set of comfy clothes. “Stay right there okay?”

You went to grab him a towel and clean himself off with, handing him his clothes one by one as he dressed. You brought the plates back to the kitchen coming back with a large glass of ice cool water, then offered it to him. He guzzled it letting a little drop fall down his neck.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Do you wanna...stay a little longer?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

You blew the candle out and dimmed the lights, adjusting a blanket for the two of you to crawl under. Hyunijn followed you under, sweeping you deep into his arms.

Just a little bit longer. You thought to yourself. Stay with me.

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

Note

you dont have to write this if youre not comfortable doing it, but could you do something where the reader is toms girlfriend and is diagonsed with a brain tumor and starts forgetting things, like she suddenly cant remember his family anymore or that toms spider-man?

wc: 1.4k words - please READ WITH CAUTION. it's heavy tw // brain tumors, diseases, MRI's, crying, angst

requests are open

—

“And I’m telling you there’s something obviously wrong with her.” Tom was just on the edge of yelling at the doctor. You were sitting on the medical bed in the lonesome room.

One month of Tom being home was enough time for him to realize you were not the same person you were when he left for filming. You were quiet, more conserved, and a bit more curious than you normally were. But not in the sense that you were inquisitive about new things. No, you were forgetting what you already knew to be true.

“Sir, we just asked her a series of questions and she’s showing no signs of change.”

“Then that’s not enough, goddammit!” His fist slams down on the counter, startling everyone in the room.

“Please refrain from raising your voice, sir.”

“I won’t refrain from doing anything until you keep running more tests. Try- try something different if you’re not getting anywhere with these ones!”

The man, his tag reading Dr. Goldstein, offered a tense smile. He whispered something to Tom, something out of your earshot, and he nodded.

“I’ll be right back, okay baby?” He leaned close to your ear, leaving a gentle kiss under the lobe while you nodded. His fingers slipped from yours and suddenly you were alone in the room.

Goldstein brought Tom into a separate medical room, and Tom sat in one of the chairs provided while the doctor logged himself into the company database.

“Can you explain what you’ve been noticing? Your reason for being here?”

“She’s having a lot of headaches.” The doctor hummed, a sign for Tom to elaborate. He did. “She- she told me to bring home extra medicine but the headaches got so bad she had to call in sick for work. About three days later she was throwing up frequently. We took her to the local doctor but they said it was a stomach bug and it would go away.”

“And it didn’t?” Tom shook his head. “Is that all? Has she had any seizures?”

“No.”

“Does anyone in her family have a history of having seizures?”

“Not that I know of.” Goldstein looked at Tom through the tops of his glasses, eyebrows raised as he wrote all the information down.

“Has she had any memory loss, fatigue or sleeping problems?”

“Yeah, sleeping problems were big with the headaches. She- uh… she’s been forgetting things a lot easier now, too.”

“Do you know any of the things she’s forgotten? Anything major, that is.”

Tom scratched the back of his neck in thought. “I mean… she forgot her phone password once. A few hair appointments maybe, or a dinner reservation. I think the big one was when she forgot how to drive.”

“She forgot how to drive?”

“Not entirely, just a couple steps.”

The doctor clicked his tongue. It wasn’t calming Tom’s nerves. You, however, were swinging your legs back and forth as you waited patiently for someone to return. A nurse had come in to give you some water, which you gratefully accepted. You weren’t sure what was taking so long for Tom to get back; you were the one sick, afterall.

“We’ll have to run a few tests just to confirm anything, first. Can you make an appointment with the front desk?”

Tom nods, standing as the man leads him out of this room and into the one with you.

“Hey,” He breathes out. “You okay?” You nod, he hums with a small smile.

“Everything okay?” He nods.

“We’ll have to come back, though.” You frown but nod nonetheless.

Medical dresses reminded you of movies that would leave you crying for a happier ending. You felt like you were the movie, a camera in your face while family members cried because of the news.

You had just gotten an MRI-scan. Magnetic resonance imaging, as the doctor had put it. They explained everything to you in such detail that the information had flown right over your head. You drowned everything out, the only thing keeping you grounded being Tom and his voice.

You were still wearing the dress as the doctor came back in forty minutes later with his head hung low and your verdict on the slip of paper.

“Well?” Tom’s voice was eager, and not in a positive way. His hand was holding yours tightly as his nerves rose to an all time high.

Dr. Goldstein sighed as he sat in his rolling chair. “It’s called neurofibromatosis. It’s a tumor located in the prefrontal lobe. It’s a hereditary disease that can last a lifetime.” Tom physically deflates at the news. A tear slips from your eyes, but the doctor keeps going. “Though we just performed the biopsy, we can already tell it’s spread to the temporal lobe. We can predict it’s probably going to affect your spinal cord and your central nervous system.”

“Can… can it be cured?” Tom was so hesitant, so afraid he’d lose the one stable thing in his life. He was afraid of losing you, watching you slip through his fingers while he tried to hold on, grasp as much of you as he could. What he didn’t want to admit, though, was that you were already slipping, and his hands were already losing grip.

“No. But treatment can help prevent the spread.”

“Am I going to die?” Your shrill, quiet voice cuts the tension, asking the question everybody was afraid to know the answer to.

“The average life expectancy of a patient with your tumor is eight years.” He clicks his tongue and Tom scoffs.

“Eight years? Of what, chemo?”

“Sir, there’s no way to tell if it’s permanent or not. If the treatment goes well, it could die out without killing her. You’re lucky you’re still in the early stages.”

The drive home was quiet. You weren’t reacting the way Tom wanted you to. You were acting normal, and it killed him inside that you weren’t batting an eye or pointing out the elephant in the room.

“Can we go bowling tomorrow?”

“I have work tomorrow.” Tom sighs as he grips the steering wheel harder.

“Work…?” You look at him expectantly. He blinks

“We’re filming Spider-man 3 for the next five months.” He tells you almost irritatingly, as if he expects you to know his schedule better than himself. And you do. But not anymore.

“You’re an actor?”

When he pulls up to the driveway, he parks the car and looks at you strangely, as if a piece of his soul just washed away, lost to never be found again. He looks as if he’s about to cry.

“Sorry if you don’t like talking about work,” You say it defensively. “I just didn’t know you were an actor.”

“Love….” He sits back defeatedly, shoulders sagging. “Maybe Harry can take you bowling tomorrow instead. I need to talk to Jon about something.”

“Harry…?” You trail off as if he’ll fill in the blank to who this person is. Before he opens the car door, he stops to look at you again.

“My brother?” He’s soft as he tries to see if you’ll remember him. You don’t. “You don’t remember my brothers?”

“You have multiple?” The two of you step out of the car as you head inside.

“I have three.”

“I wish I knew them all.” Tom chokes on air.

“Y/N, you do know them.”

You watch as Tom’s figure nearly deflates again, and you pout. “I’m sorry.” He turns around hastily.

“For what?”

“I just… it feels like I’m not trying hard enough.”

“Baby… ” He pulls you into his chest as you gasp out a cry, sucking in a breath as new tears fall. Tom cries too, gripping you tightly as the salty waters flow out of the rivers, breaking the dams and flooding all around it.

“I’m so-” You whisper out between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” He’s trying not to cry too loudly, too harshly. “‘S Not your fault.”

He feels you nod against him, and for the first time in weeks, he feels as if he finally has a grip on you again, as if he can pull you out of the drowning waters, let you come up for air before another wave crashes over your helpless body. For the first time in weeks, he feels like you might actually be his Y/N again. But you’re not, because as soon as you’re in his grip, he loses you again.

He just doesn’t want to see what happens when he loses his grip for good.

hello here’s part two <3

#tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland #tom holland angsty #husband!tom holland #boyfriend!tom holland #tom fic #tom x you

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tintentrinkerin · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Pink Pulse

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: explicit

Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic

Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.

Word Count: 4.5k

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.

Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.

It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.

His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.

There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.

He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.

“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”

Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.

“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”

“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”

“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”

Sam scoffs into the phone.

“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”

Sam hangs up without another word.

There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.

Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.

“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”

A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.

“Who’s this?”

“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”

Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.

“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”

Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.

Holy shit. What the fuck.

Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.

Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.

He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.

Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.

And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-

Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.

“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-

Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-

“Fuck.”

Dean looks irritated.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”

Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.

“Shut up and take a shower.”

Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”

If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.

“You don’t stink.”

“Then what?”

Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.

“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.

“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”

“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”

Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.

“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.

“Sammy… what…”

“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.

Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.

That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.

There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.

“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.

Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”

What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?

Decisions, decisions.

Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.

“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Huh? Not good?”

Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!

Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.

“I need to taste you.”

Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.

“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”

Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.

Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -

Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.

Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.

Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.

In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”

Dean shudders. He needs more.

“Sammy, keep going.”

Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.

His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.

“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.

Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.

“I never really listened.”

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.

“You should’ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”

Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…

“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”

But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!

Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…

Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.

When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.

“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.

“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”

Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?

Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.

“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.

Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”

“Damn right…”

Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.

Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.

Silence.

Awkward.

Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.

Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.

“You didn’t even kiss me first.”

“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.

Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.

His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.

“Sammy…”

Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.

“You’re big.”

Scoff.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.

“Fuck. Dean.”

These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.

The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.

“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”

Sam just has to laugh.

“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.

The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?

More than once…?

Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.

“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.

“Hurts?”

Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.

This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.

“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.

Sam huffs.

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.

He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.

On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.

“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”

Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”

There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.

“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”

Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”

Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.

“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.

Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”

He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.

They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.

Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.

“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”

Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.

Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.

Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.”

He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.

“Dean, really?”

“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”

“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”

Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?

“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”

Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.

Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.

Consequences? Which consequences?

Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.

#wincest #dean x sam #sam winchester #dean winchester #rating:nc 17 #dean with a pussy #wincest smut

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