#annoyed briefly at the other take in question because what??? That's not how it would go!!

[lizardlicks]

A little annoyed, amused, and relieved every time I see someone else's take on Avatar Sokka and it doesn't match mine.

[unheavenlyvision]

BAD ROMANCE.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: gojo satoru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your love life is in a tragic state, all your dates go poorly and just when you think you found a nice guy you could like, that ends poorly too. good thing you have your best friend gojo to look out for you !

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, cheating (not done by reader or gojo), dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting, praise, p in v sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, big dick!gojo, tease/mean!gojo (he likes embarrassing reader), jealous!gojo, gojo is down BAD, use of pet names, that's all !! (i think :3)

Checking the time again, you sigh, it’s bordering on an hour since you first sat down to wait for your date. The thought that you had been stood up entered your mind maybe half an hour ago but now it’s practically been cemented.

Maybe you should just cut your losses and leave but this is a nice place, it’d be a shame to waste the reservation. Hope that your date is going to miraculously show up has left you though. Opening your texts, you think of who to message, the idea to message Gojo briefly crossing your mind before you decide he is the worst possible person to tell about this.

Instead, you message Shoko, asking if she’s free and telling her of your failed date. It takes her a few minutes to reply and when she does, instead of a straightforward response, you receive a cryptic and ambiguous saluting emoji. Deciding to take that as confirmation of her presence, you begin waiting… again.

You think you’ve reached your waiting quota of the year, no more waiting on people. Why do people never seem to value your time? While lamenting to yourself silently, you don’t notice the arrival of someone incredibly familiar, someone incredibly exasperating.

“I’m hurt you know.”

The words startle you and as you look up to find the source of them, you’re confronted with Gojo standing beside you. Pouting like he’s feeling extremely slighted by you for some indiscernible reason.

You almost sputter at him, his presence completely unexpected, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores your question, continuing with his faux pain, “My best friend gets stood up and instead of messaging me… she messages Shoko? That stings.”

Sighing off his dramatics, you ask again, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

“What else would I be here for?” He smiles big at you, moving to sit in the chair opposite you, flopping down and making himself comfortable, “I’m here to be your date!”

Propping your head up on your hand, you grumble at him, “How did you even know I was stood up?”

“I was with Shoko when you messaged her,” he shrugs easily.

You squint at him, “Why are you here and not her?”

“Because it is my duty as your best friend to be there for you.”

So stubborn about the weirdest things, you’ve known each other forever and sure, maybe he is your best friend, but this is something that has bruised your ego a bit. It’s silly, but for some reason… you don’t really want for Gojo to see you like this.

Sulking, you huff, “It’s not a big deal, I just didn’t wanna waste the reservation.”

“Don’t lie, you dressed up all cute and the dude couldn’t even be bothered to show up?” He frowns like he’ll get angry if he thinks about it for too long, “It’s a big deal.”

“You’re more upset about it then I am,” you play at indifference and while you don’t really care about your failed date, you are thinking really hard about how he said you dressed cute.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re always settling for less than what you deserve,” he grows a little more irritated, like his observation annoys him more than it annoys you.

Defending yourself with a grumble, “That’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he smiles in a manner that exudes disbelief. Because it does, Gojo has witnessed you settle for less nearly every single day of your lives and every time he has to grit his teeth and cope.

Crossing your arms, you snark at him, “Don’t patronise me, Gojo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he still has that smile plastered on his face.

You glare at him from across the table but sit in silence, not really having anything else to say to him right now. Annoyed at yourself for losing the back and forth between the two of you for not the first time and definitely not the last.

Gojo, however, is not capable of sitting in silence for too long and so, he whines at you, “Anyways, I thought I was always your first call when things went wrong.”

Looking away from him, you scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly, “You are… for other things.”

Catching onto your meaning, he asks, “So, you never call me when things go wrong on dates?”

“…Correct.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not really something I thought would matter to you this much.” The truth is, you’ve been on much worse dates, dates where they actually show up but prove themselves to be some of the worst people. You always call Shoko though… that or you just brush it off.

Telling Gojo about your dating life feels weird, it’s not like he tells you about his.

His mouth downturns at your remark, “Anything that involves you matters to me.”

“It’s not like you tell me about your dating life,” you counter, starting to feel somewhat badly.

“I would, if I had one,” he leans back into his chair more, “I’m not currently dating though.”

Sheepishly, you say, “Oh…well…I am.”

“I know that now,” his eyes focus on you, “Just how many dates have you gone on recently?”

“Recently?” he nods at you, “Uhm… a few every couple of weeks, not heaps but… frequently enough that getting stood up isn’t the worst thing to happen to me lately.” You laugh slightly at a memory, “You know, on one of them, the guy actually got back with his ex during our date, like he–”

You cut yourself off when you realise Gojo isn’t experiencing the same amount of enjoyment at the recounting of your date a few weeks ago. “Why is this bugging you?”

“It’s not,” his tone is certain but the expression he’s wearing is anything but. Clearly annoyed by something.

Challenging his logic, you ask, “Do you want me to tell you about my dating life?”

He thinks on it for a second, “No.”

Tilting your head at him, “See? That’s what I thought–”

“–But I want you to call me when things go badly,” his gaze even on you, unwavering.

“You’re annoying,” you huff out a breath.

His face brightens up again, “And yet I’m still your best friend.”

You can only roll your eyes at him because he’s right, he’s completely annoying and also completely your best friend.

★

After that failed date that turned into you having dinner with Gojo, you decided you would listen to him and call him whenever a date goes south. He seemed actually bothered by the fact you weren’t relying on him more, so you decided that if something does go wrong, you’d tell him about it.

However, your dating life has been going pretty swimmingly the past couple weeks. You’ve actually found someone you wouldn’t mind being with, having gone on a few dates with him now. You’ve pretty much been exclusively seeing him, he’s taken you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Previous dates barely made it through one meal, but this guy managed to appeal to you enough to take you out multiple times.

It’s your fault that you got your hopes up, thinking that maybe he was different but as you sit on the couch in his apartment, his assumed girlfriend yelling at him, you can see he’s just like everyone else in the dating scene these days. It’s that or you just have really bad luck when it comes to your romantic life.

For the third time, you try to leave but he holds you back, “Wait no, please don’t go, this is just a misunderstanding!”

You shrug him off you, his touch making you feel disgusting.

Going to say something in reply, but his girlfriend speaks first, “So now you’re cheating on me and trying to keep her here?”

He sputters, like he forgot she was here for a moment, “No! Babe, I’m not cheating on you!”

Awkwardly, you scratch at the back of your neck, “Listen, I’m going to be so honest, I think you’re a bad person and any interest I had in you is gone. I’d just really like to leave now.”

He’s wearing an annoyed look on his face, “How do you even expect to get home? I drove you here.”

She scoffs at him from by the door, foot tapping impatiently, “Now you’re offering her a ride home? Are you fucking serious right now?”

Walking to the front door, you shuffle around his girlfriend, “I’m just gonna… slide right past you.” Pausing after opening the door and turning back to address her, “Uhm… Just in case he tries lying to you… we went on multiple dates over the past couple weeks.” Standing awkwardly for an extra moment as her face twists in realisation, “Bye!” You rush out the door, speed walking to the elevator.

The screaming and yelling gets louder from their apartment, able to hear them until you finally get in the elevator and start heading down to the ground floor. In the lobby, you pull out your phone and sigh dejectedly, scrolling for Gojo’s contact, you need a ride home.

He picks up pretty quickly, “Hello?”

You get straight to the point, not feeling particularly great right about now, “…I need a ride home.”

“Well, good evening to you too,” he replies, voice full of mirth, “You know. people normally exchange pleasantries over the phone before immediately asking for things, I’ve been told – by you actually – that just asking for things straight up can be read as rude, so–”

“–Satoru.”

The use of his name has him going quiet, stopping his tangent instead to ask, “Where are you?”

You’re tired, your mood travelling through the phone as you answer, “Some apartment, I’ll text you the address…”

“You okay?” He checks.

You can’t help the pause before your reply, “…Yeah.”

His concern for you growing at your seeming uncertainty, “You gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s a little embarrassing, you think, but yeah, you’ll tell him about it, “Later… I just wanna go home now.”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before you get to thank him.

You text him the address and then head out the front of the building, waiting for him to get you. While you’re waiting, you find yourself wondering if that girl will stay with him, you hope she doesn’t, she deserves better than him.

When Gojo pulls up, you silently slip into the passenger seat, you’re expecting him to immediately drive away but he turns and looks at you. His eyes examining you carefully, scrutinising you.

Turning your head to the side, “What?”

“Just making sure you’re okay.” His hands reach out and for a second you think he’s going to touch you, but he pulls on the seatbelt and clicks it into place for you.

You mumble out at him, dismissive, “I’m fine.”

He hums at you, in that way that tells you he doesn’t believe you even a little bit but he’s letting it go for now. Instead focusing on getting you home.

Back at your apartment, Gojo follows you all the way inside, you thought maybe he would just drop you home and leave you alone, but he’s followed you into your living room. You don’t know if you have the energy for him right now, feeling so drained. Probably feeling this way because you’re incapable of finding a decent guy to date.

Couch looking so inviting, you flop down onto it face first, mumbling out, “Gojo, will you just be my boyfriend?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden ask, choking on his own spit, coughing out a confused, “What?”

Sighing, you cryptically answer, “I don’t think I’m built for the dating scene.”

When he finishes hacking up a lung, he taps your legs, to which you hold them up so he can sit down. His hand tugging them back down once he’s sat, “What happened, sweetheart?”

Your voice is still muffled by the couch cushions, “Been seeing a guy for a couple weeks now–”

“–The same one?” Gojo cuts you off.

Humming out a, “Yes and–”

Again, he cuts you off, “–That’s pretty serious…”

I know but­–”

“–Why didn’t you tell me about him?” His tone growing slightly alarmed by the apparent seriousness of your dating life.

Becoming somewhat annoyed, you push yourself out of the cushions and sit up to face him, your legs still resting in his lap, “You said you didn’t wanna hear about my dating life.” You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah, but casually dating and actively seeing someone is different–” He’s not really sure if he’s making a fair point or not but sticking to it like he is.

“–Does it matter?” You’re looking at him incredulously, not sure if there is a difference.

He’s steadfast in his opinion, “Of course it matters.”

“I don’t think it should, especially since–”

“–If you’re seeing the same guy multiple times that means you were actually interested in him­–” He’s annoyed at himself for not realising you were seeing the same guy, for not asking questions, not realising how serious you were getting about one guy. So caught up in this one fact that he’s lost sight of his original purpose of being here.

“–Can you stop cutting me off!” You raise your voice at him, getting sick of how much he’s been interrupting you, “I’ve been trying to tell you that he had a girlfriend the whole time,” you purse your lips and look away from him, feeling embarrassed, “That’s why I asked you to come get me.”

“Oh…” He feels bad now.

“…Yeah, she showed up while I was there, and it was really uncomfortable, and I didn’t exactly feel safe.” You sigh, slumping, “And now I just feel really bad about dating.”

Completely serious when he suggests, “Maybe you should stop.”

“Stop dating?”

Consistent in his confirmation, “Yes.”

Meeting his gaze again, “How else am I going to meet someone?”

He rolls his eyes at your question, irritated for reasons unknown to you, “Why do you need to date someone now anyways?”

You don’t really see his point, what does he mean ‘why?’… why else do people date? “Maybe I’m lonely, maybe I seek companionship, maybe I’m like every other normal person?”

“You have me though,” you’d think he was joking if he weren’t so straight faced.

Unsure how to go about answering when it seems pretty straight forward to you, “Gojo… that’s not the same thing, we’re friends, we don’t look at each other that way.”

“Says you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’d date you in a heartbeat,” he folds his arms over his chest, “In fact, you’re the only person I want to date.”

You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, “Get real, that’s not what I meant.”

His head tilts at you, “What did you mean then?”

“I’m talking about romantic and sexual attraction,” you’re avoiding his gaze again.

So casual in how he bluntly asks, “You think I’m not sexually attracted to you?”

His question catches you off guard slightly, “It’s not just about sexual attraction, Gojo,” you shake your head, “if that were the case, I’d just be having one night stands all the time, I want a relationship with someone…”

He nods his head like he suddenly understands, “Ah, so you think I’m not romantically interested in you?”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

Disbelieving when you look at him, “Are you serious right now? We’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are friends, but I also happen to be romantically and sexually attracted to you.”

How do you even respond to a confession like that? He’s not even flustered, completely nonchalant in how he’s just told you that he’s interested in you. “I don’t think–”

“–Are you going to tell me you’re not interested in me? Even a little bit?”

“We’re friends.”

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “Because if it is, then it’s a little arbitrary, no?”

The beginning of a frown settles on your features, “What are you trying to get me to say? That I’d date you if we weren’t friends, that I’d fuck you?”

He smiles at you, “Sure, but if you would if we weren’t friends, I’m saying you should even though we are.”

Frown deepening, “You’re being serious?”

“I’m being so serious,” he leans in slightly, hand moving to your face, thumb smoothing over the crease between your brows.

Looking at his lips before catching yourself and turning your head to the side, away from his touch, away from his enticing lips.

He sighs at your reaction, “You know, I’ve been interested in you from the beginning, and maybe I’m an idiot for not saying anything but watching you seriously try dating someone else might just kill me.”

You had no idea he liked you, you’ve liked him at different points in your life too, but he always seemed so out of reach from you, and you never wanted to ruin the friendship, so you forced yourself to move on. It feels a little unfair that you’re finding out now he’s liked you the whole time, “What are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” his hand gently guides your face to look at him again, “I’m asking you to seriously try dating me.”

You’re trying to make a decision, trying to figure out how to answer him, if you should even give him a chance but the way he’s looking at you, how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips is distracting you.

Brows pulling up, voice quieter than before, “Gojo, you need to stop looking at me like that if you want an answer.”

“Like what?” He plays dumb.

“Like you really wanna kiss me,” you murmur back.

“Can’t help it…” he leans in a little bit more, “Maybe if you let me kiss you, I’ll stop.”

“Satoru,” you warn.

“Hmm?” His eyes meet yours for a moment, trying to see what you want.

He’s making you dizzy, “I can’t make a choice when you’re this close.”

Humming at you, “Why not?”

“Can’t think,” you blurt it out before really thinking about how it will come across.

He’s smiling smugly, “Then don’t.”

You don’t know who leans in first, all you know is his lips are on yours and they’re soft. Kissing you gently, trying to learn how you like to be kissed. Growing more insistent the longer you let him kiss you, the years of his need bleeding into it.

One of his hands traveling down your body, resting on your hip, the other cradling your face. He’s leaning into you more, pushing your body down into the couch, him following behind it, never parting from your lips very long.

Hand now holding himself above you, kiss growing urgent, tongue licking into your mouth, meeting yours in a way that makes your body tingle. If you thought his proximity was making you dizzy before than his kiss might have you actually passing out. Skin growing hot at how his hand on your face angles you, how he deepens the kiss effortlessly.

If Gojo were more aware of himself, of the precarious position he’s put himself in, he might be a little bit more careful with how feverish his kisses are and how needy he’s getting but when he’s finally getting to kiss you after years of not being able to, he can’t really control himself. The little control he does have, slipping when you moan into his mouth, his own moan shared in the kiss.

It's you who parts the kiss, it had to be because he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do it. If he had his way, he’d have his mouth on you until he died. In the back of his mind, he knew that kissing you would be good, but he didn’t think he’d get so lost in it. Somewhat embarrassed at himself for how aroused he’s gotten over your lips on his.

Your huffed breaths are intermingled with how close you both are to each other, Gojo hovering over you, speaking into your mouth, “Have you made a decision yet?”

You’re having trouble thinking still, especially with how his lips brush ever so slightly against yours, “I…uhmm…”

When he realises how dazed you are, two things happen. One; his ego grows about ten times bigger and two; he pulls back from you, still close enough that if you tugged on him, you could kiss him again but enough to hopefully give you room to think.

“Come on, don’t keep a guy waiting,” he’s taunting you lightly, taking joy in how hazy your eyes are as you look up at him.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Hmm? Okay what?”

Taking another moment to clear your brain fog, you answer again, “Okay, I will seriously try dating you.”

“Can’t date anyone else while you do,” he conditions.

“Okay,” agreeing easily.

He adds, “Have to seriously think about me being your boyfriend.”

Again, agreeing, “Okay.”

“Have to keep kissing me right now,” smile growing on his features.

“Ok–” frowning at him when you realise, “–Hey.”

“You don’t want to?” His hand tilts your head up by your chin, looking down into your eyes, “Because you look like you want to.”

Pouting at him, “Don’t be cruel.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” his smile evil as he continues to look down at you.

Leveling him with an even stare, you state, “I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

“Got a dirty mind, huh? All I asked for was a kiss.”

You glare at him and then try to avoid his gaze, voice smaller than before, “You don’t kiss like that’s all you want.”

His smile is crooked as he asks, “And how do I kiss?”

Feeling your skin flare at his taunting question, at how he leans in again, his mouth right over yours, “Dizzyingly.”

He breathes out an amused laugh before he’s slotting his mouth back over yours, how you described his kiss is accurate. He kisses you in such a way that you can’t think straight even if you really want to, which is why it’s probably a bad idea to keep letting him kiss you if you don’t want to sleep with him before you even get a first date.

Abruptly parting your mouth from his, gasping out, “Wait,” taking a second to catch your breath. Gojo groans softly at the loss of your lips, his forehead resting on yours waiting for you to speak.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when you don’t continue.

“You need to stop kissing me.”

“Oh?” He hums at you in thought, his lips now trailing down the side of your face, only to rest right by your ear, “And why’s that?”

His voice has goose bumps raising on your skin, “If you keep kissing me like that…” your volume gets quieter as you mumble out, “…I’ll wanna have sex with you.”

He has the fucking audacity to laugh at you, “That worked up by a few kisses, huh?” Taunting you like he isn’t the hardest he’s ever been, cock twitching at your confession.

“Shuddup.”

His words are dripping with delight, “At least we know you’re sexually attracted to me.”

He licks lightly at your ear, and you feel like you almost jump out of your skin, gasping at it. Hands reaching out to push back on his chest, “You’re a mean man, Gojo.”

“At this point…” He looks you over, unmoved by your hands, “…I think it would be meaner to deprive yourself.”

“We are not sleeping together for the first time on my couch before we even go on a date,” you’re trying to stay steadfast but he’s making it hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

“So… you’re saying I should take you to the bedroom?” When you look at him in exasperation, he smiles softly, “I’m just kidding, we won’t do anything you don’t want to, but I will point out – for the last time – that you look an awful lot like you want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I just feel like if you’re gonna make me seriously consider you then I should date you properly too,” you avoid his gaze, feeling unusually sincere.

Abruptly, he states, “It wouldn’t be our first date though.”

“What?”

He’s a little distant when he answers, having trouble concentrating on the conversation when you’re pouting your lips at him like you are, “I count a couple weeks ago as our first date.”

“When I was stood up?” You scoff, “That does not count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t even planned.”

“No but we ate dinner together and you were dressed awful cute, I count it as a date,” smirk present on his face as he continues to hover over you.

Ignoring his compliment, you continue to try and reason, “We were still just friends then though.”

“So, we aren’t ‘just friends’ now?” He’s being a smart ass, he knows what you mean but he’s not going to let up on this, taking it as a small victory in making you think of him as more than just a friend.

You return earnestly, “I don’t wanna count it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t meant to be you on that date…” before he can get hurt over those words, you clarify, “…don’t get me wrong, I had fun and I’m glad you showed up, but it wasn’t planned to be you… when we go on our first date… I want it to be meant for you.” You’re unsure if you verbalised yourself in a way that makes sense, feeling much more nervous all of a sudden.

He’s looking at you so intently and you’re worried you’ve upset him somehow, “I know you said I need to stop kissing you, but that’s what I want more than anything right now.” He leans in closer, pausing just shy of your lips.

His words make your heart stutter, throwing caution to the wind as you close the distance between the two of you again, kissing him fully. Letting his mouth consume your ability to think critically, all too happy to fall into him.

Your control of the situation is slipping more and more away from you and so is the ability to care, not minding at all how you’re becoming more and more okay with how hot your body is starting to feel.

Hands reaching up and fisting the material of his shirt, pulling him down into you, his hips colliding with yours. Almost entirely instinctually – and somewhat purposefully – your legs wrap around his lower half. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, gripping the fattest part of it harshly.

You both moan into the kiss and he parts his mouth from yours, voice straining when he speaks, “Sweetheart, if you really don’t want to do anything more than this then you need to tell me to get off you right now.”

Looking at him through your lashes, you play coy, “But I like having you on top of me.”

A shiver runs down his spine, “You’re evil,” he grunts, fighting the urge to grind down into you.

He’s been pining after you for years and it feels like torture to be this close to you, pelvis pressed up against yours, having you so pliant and needy under him. He can feel his sanity slipping from him the longer you stay like this, and your words make it harder for him to pull away.

“Satoru–” when you say his name his hips jut into yours, making you gasp against him.

He hisses an apology through his teeth, “Sorry – fuck – sorry, what’s up?”

Deciding to be forward, “Take me to my room?”

Trying to hide the excitement from his face, he checks with you, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you give a small nod, feeling shy.

You really do want to though, more than anything. Only initially so hesitant because this doesn’t feel like the right way to do things but then again, your whole relationship with Gojo is a little less than conventional at times.

When he determines that you’re sure of yourself, he’s off you in the blink of an eye. Quick in his movements as he pulls you up along with him. Before you can even really register that you’re off the couch, you’re thrown over his shoulder as he walks hurriedly to your room.

“Someone’s eager,” you laugh at how ridiculous he’s being.

The chuckle he returns is humourless, “You have no fucking idea.”

You’re dropped down onto your bed unceremoniously, bouncing slightly at the force of it. Your arms reach out behind you to support yourself, palms splayed against your bedspread. Gojo is already tugging his shirt off and over his head, thrown and lost to some corner of your room.

“Gojo, breathe.”

“Don’t need to breathe,” he smiles large at you, “Do need your pants off though.”

Listening to him, you shimmy your pants down your legs, mumbling to him about how bossy he is.

“You know… I’m hearing a lot of complaining but I am also seeing a whole lot of direction following,” he teases.

You grumble at him, “If you’re going to be like this the whole time then I’m changing my mind.

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not with how you’re rubbing your thighs together.” His large hands grip your thighs, “Feeling horny?”

You don’t really want to answer him honestly but denying it feels like a trap, like he’d do something to prove you wrong and the last thing you want is for him to torture you. You’re already so pitifully slick from kissing him.

Fighting with your embarrassment, you give him your best pleading face, “Mhm, really horny.”

The smugness drops from his face, hands suddenly tugging you down the bed as he drops to his knees. Mouth leaving kisses from your knees to your inner thighs, your breath catching in your lungs. Not expecting him to be so forward, though you don’t know what you were expecting if not that.

“Gojo, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” his eyes flick to yours, “Plus, if you wanna take me, you’re gonna need the prep,” smile growing at how your eyes grow wider.

Disbelief clear in your expression, accusing, “You’re full of it.”

He’s not worried about your scepticism, “You’ll find out for yourself in a bit.” He shrugs easily, “Now, can I put my tongue on your pretty pussy, or do you have more to say?”

He asks but his attention is already completely on your covered cunt, a single finger moving under the elastic of the waist band just to snap it back against you. A small noise of shock leaving you, “Ah! Do what you want…”

Oh, he looks so excited by your words, “You mean it?”

You’ll be honest and admit you weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, brain hazy with how close he is to your core, skin pricking at how you can feel his hot breath against you. Feeling so unusually exposed and sensitive and you can’t tell if you’re that worked up or if he just has that effect on you.

“Mhm,” you’re nodding your head at him, giving him a green light, for what, you’re not entirely sure, all you know is that you want him to do something – anything.

“These are some really cute panties…kinda bothers me,” he’s still playing with the edges of them, annoyed when remembering you were with another guy tonight. Were you going to sleep with him tonight?

Pulling yourself up onto your elbows, you question, “What?”

Eyes flicking towards yours, “I’m a bit of a jealous guy.”

“I know this,” he always has been quick to get worked up over things regarding you, though it makes a little more sense after learning he’s liked you for so long.

He smiles at you, but his eyes are humourless, “Of course you do,” he fists at the material of your panties, “But the idea of another guy getting so close to seeing you in these… has me feeling really annoyed.”

The sound of fabric tearing fills your ears, he’s just ripped your panties off you completely. There is no salvaging them, completely useless as he throws them over his shoulder.

“Hey! those were my good pair!” They were one of the nicer pairs you own.

“Who cares about that?” His tone is dismissive, hands spreading your legs obscenely, eyes greedily looking at your uncovered pussy, “Your cunt is much cuter.”

God, you feel like you might pass out, face suddenly extremely hot, “Don’t be crude.”

“Hmm? …but I think you like it though…” his thumb swipes through your folds and you gasp at him, “Got so much wetter when I said it.”

He’s quick to begin rubbing circles into your clit, thumb giving even pressure. The stimulation has your arms shaking, threatening to give out from under you. Biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning, feeling embarrassed at how intently he’s shamelessly staring at your cunt.

Continuing to speculate, he says, “That or you like being praised…” he smirks evilly, “You like being praised, sweetheart? Being told how good you’re being for me?”

Your heart leaps in your chest, brows upturning, trying to hide your outward reaction to his words, “Hah– No…”

“Such a bad liar,” eyeing your face, “Wearing a really great expression right now though.”

Fighting the urge to grind down, you deny, “Not lying.”

He ignores you, “Could be both though,” he’s continuing to ponder on what you react most to, “Which is it, sweetheart? You like how crude I am, or do you like the praise?”

You don’t plan on answering him, eyes closing harshly against his intense gaze, feeling way too exposed. His touch leaves you and you open your eyes in alarm, trying to see what he’s doing. You see his smile before he’s leaning in and licking up the length of your pussy, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Surprised moans slip from you, arms almost giving out completely, head rolling back. His arms wrap around your legs to hold you steady, face pushing closer into you, tongue flicking at your clit before pressing into your pussy hole.

He’s relishing in your sounds, in how wet you are, how you taste and smell, almost forgetting why he did this in the first place. Pulling away from you with a lewd smack of his lips, smiling big at the whine you let out from the loss of him.

Huffing slightly as he says, “Asked a question, not licking your pussy again until you answer it.”

“I don’t know,” your head lolls forward, eyes wet.

Head moving to the side to nip lightly at your thigh, “Shall we find out then?”

You jolt at the sensation, face twisting in confusion at him.

“You don’t gotta do anything, sweetie, just stay like this,” his hands push back on your thighs though, opening you up to him even more. “Been doing so good for me, sound so pretty,” he coos at you.

Brows furrowing at his words, heart skipping beats at his sudden praise, feeling fuzzy all over.

He hums in thought, “So fucking wet for me, dripping everywhere, creamy fucking pussy.”

You twitch at the switch, wanting to crawl away from him.

“I think I’ve just realised something,” he glances up at you, “Got such nice reactions to both things I said, do you know how much wetter you got, cunt twitching and drooling for me.”

You try pulling from him, but his hold is firm, “Gojo!” You warn.

He might be enjoying this too much but learning about what gets you going is way too enticing, especially when he doesn’t have to do much to have you looking so pathetic. “Trying to run away from me,” he tsks, “But you’re fucking dripping, so reactive, so sweet.” His eyes are glazing over, working himself up.

“‘Toru!” You call for him again, you feel like you’re on fire, beyond embarrassed.

He groans at the nickname, not hearing it from you in so long, you used to always call him that. He liked it a little too much, cock leaking for you. He feels as wrecked as he looks when he looks up at you, “I think you like both,” is his conclusion.

Reaching up, he grabs at your hand and pulls it down to your cunt, his fingers guiding your own through your slick. You gasp at it, not expecting for yourself to be so soaked. Biting at your lower lip when he moves your fingers over your clit, teasing you.

Dazed when he asks, “Ever been this wet, pretty?”

You shake your head, “No… I didn’t know I…”

Fingers moving yours to your entrance, “Poor thing, didn’t know how slutty her pussy was.” Feeling the way your cunt clenches at his words, his face bright with it, “Fucking great though, in love with it,” and again, your brows raising in realisation, “Yeah… you know now, don’t you?”

“You’re making me feel embarrassed,” you pout, head dizzy.

“No, I’m making you feel so fucking horny, not my fault that you like being embarrassed and praised at the same time,” he pulls your fingers away from your core, moving them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

You remove your fingers from him, coming to rest back in the bed, feeling breathless as you look down at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Want you to admit it, want you tell me how much you like when I talk to you,” his hand tickles up the skin of your inner thigh.

“…Like it,” you mumble out.

Humming in thought, “Hmm, not good enough, don’t think I believe you.”

Repeating, louder, “I like it.”

Tilting his head at you, “You like what?”

“I like when you talk to me,” you say with more force, brows furrowed.

He pretends to be unsure of your answer, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You try again, but as his expression remains unchanging, you add, “I like when you talk to me, I like how hot and fuzzy your words make me feel, I like just the sound of your voice, makes me want to squirm. Love it even! Is that what you wanted to hear?” You huff.

“Holy fuck, yes,” if he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them again.

You let out a squeal at the way his mouth is already back on you, tongue pushing into your hole insistently. Fervent in his actions, clearly worked up by your words. If he were on the bed, he’d be shamelessly grinding his hips down into it, cock so fucking hard it’s aching. Pulsing so pitifully for you and if he weren’t so completely distracted by how you taste he’d throw caution to the wind and fuck into you right now.

“Gojo! Oh–” His name comes out all broken, ruined and shaky from how he laps at your cunt, drinking down all your slick.

Your elbows officially give out and you’re flopping back onto the mattress, fingers digging into the bed. Struggling to hold in all the little noises he’s pulling from you, hips trying to desperately rut into his pretty face with no luck, locked in place by his strong hold.

Gasping out at him, “M–more. Gojo – hah – more, please.”

Grunting against you, vibrations running up your spine, wanting desperately to kick your legs against the stimulation but unable to. He’s worked you up so much, so fucking desperate for release that his touch is making you crazy.

A finger presses at your hole, slipping inside easily, both his finger and tongue fucking into you. Another finger added, opening you up, scissoring them, tongue sneaking deeper inside your cunt.

He feels drunk, head heavy and brain foggy, tongue fucking you deeply. Delighting in the sounds of your sloppy pussy trying to suck him in deeper, he’s losing his mind. Tongue leaving you only for him to spit onto your cunt, thumb rubbing it into your clit, third finger added to the first two. Determined to have you ready for his cock.

“Need you to cum,” he sounds wrecked even to himself, “Before I do in my own pants – ffffuck –” Can’t help the way he curses at how you tighten around him at his words, “Must’ve been telling the truth about liking my voice, huh?” He teases, laughing breathlessly at how you react to him again.

Pressing out a simple, “S–so mean,” in response.

“You fucking like it,” eyes watching how your back arches off the mattress, “Love it even,” he reminds.

A series of moans leave you unabashedly at how he crooks his fingers just right, consistently hitting the one spot, thighs twitching at it. Stomach pulling tight and toes curling, head moving from side to side, so fucking close now.

“That’s it, sweetie,” he encourages, “Doing so good, just let go for me.”

You’re cumming suddenly, the abruptness of it shocking, like your body skipped the rest of the build up at Gojo’s words. If it didn’t feel good how he was fucking you through it, how his thumb kept rubbing at your clit, you’d feel beyond embarrassed at how you came just because he asked you to.

It’s not lost on him how quick you were to finish after he spoke, his ego big before and now fucking massive. Absolutely thrilled by how you continue to prove your responsiveness to him, if he were ever worried about you not being attracted to him, he can’t possibly remember why. Not when you’re squirming under him, tears threatening to slip from your waterline.

“Such a good direction follower,” he mocks, repeating his earlier sentiments.

His fingers keep stroking at you until your body goes limp, only jerking every now and again with your come down. Pulling them from you and parting them, looking at the way your cum connects his fingers together with white strings.

“Look at that,” his voice dripping with glee, “I was right… got such a creamy pussy,” he hums, shoving his fingers into his mouth.

He wipes his spit covered fingers on your thighs before standing, tugging off his pants and boxers before crawling up the mattress, leaning over you. Fingers skimming at your sides, pulling your shirt along with it, “Can I take this off, pretty?”

Eyes bleary when they meet his, giving a small nod, “Mhm.”

“You okay to keep going?” He checks, leaning in closer to you.

His concern makes you unreasonably happy, feeling genuinely cared for, “Yeah.”

“You sure–”

Cutting him off, “–Yes.”

Shock present on his face before smiling endearingly at you, completely smitten with you and has been for a long time now. It all feels a little surreal to him, being able to hold you, be intimate with you. Leaning in more, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

Showering you in affection as his hands continue to pull your shirt up. Only parting to pull it from you fully, thrown to some corner of your room, joining the rest of your clothes. Shuffling back so he can look at all of you, hands delicately tracing over you, like he’s memorising how you feel under his palms.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, hands smoothing over you. He drops onto you, face pressing between your tits, breathing in your scent.

Confused as your voice calls for him gently, “‘Toru?”

“Fuck,” he nips at your skin first and then moves to get back on his knees, “Alright, spread those pretty legs for me, sweetheart.”

Feeling placid from the intensity of your orgasm, you immediately listen to him and open your legs, moving them to the outside of his. Gojo feels like his heart grows in size at how quick you are to listen to him, so docile you don’t even talk back to him.

Your head cocks to the side at him, confused by his stare, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head at you, “You’re just really cute.”

He grabs your face, sandwiching your cheeks between his fingers, his lips leaving behind a big and sloppy kiss on yours before focusing back on your cunt. Grasping his cock and groaning at the pressure, squeezing himself to alleviate some of the need crawling desperately up his spine.

You can’t help but stare, he wasn’t full of it, he really is that big. Long and thick and looking so painfully hard, dripping precum so messily down the length of himself, dribbling down onto the bed sheets.

“It’s rude to stare,” he hisses, hand now stroking himself, clearly not even a little bit put off by your shameless staring. If anything, completely aroused by it.

Looking up into his eyes as you apologise, “‘M sorry.”

“Hah,” he huffs in amusement, “So polite all of a sudden, orgasm that good, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod, staring at him straight on, aiming to work him up more.

It works, “Fuck– alright,” his hips stutter into his hand and he stops fisting his cock, “‘Bout to give you an even better one,” guiding his dick to your core.

Swiping the head of himself through your folds, letting it collect the slick leaking from you. Teasing you like this for a bit, moving himself up and down before dipping into your hole, only to pull away again.

You whine at him over it, “Please.”

Smile large as he coos, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.”

Keeping his word, he slowly presses the tip of his dick into you, hissing at the stretch, worried he didn’t give you enough prep. You bite your lip as you begin to take him in, fisting the sheets below, looking up at Gojo. His brows are upturned, and his jaw clenched, focusing so hard on being slow and careful. He pauses when you clench and flinch around him.

“I can take it,” gaze determined as you try to assure him, “You can keep going.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his hand grips at your inner thigh, squishing it under his hold, “I appreciate that,” he smiles, “I do… but you’re gonna want to pace yourself.”

You pout up at him, sulking, wanting to be full and not appreciating his probably – definitely – sound advice.

“Hah, don’t pout,” his thumb moves to your clit, “You’ll take it, know you will,” rubbing circles into it, “Cause I’m gonna make sure of it, but you gotta pace yourself.”

Under his touch, you relax again, and he pushes his hips forward, starting the slow process of opening you up on his cock. His control astounding himself right now, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you completely, feeling your pussy swallow him whole.

He’s not quite half-way yet and already pressing up against the most delicious spots inside you, with that and his consistent pressure on your clit, you’re suddenly so fucking close to cumming like this.

Reaching out to him, your hand lightly slaps at him, trying to warn, “I’m gonna – hah –”

Gojo realises when you clench down on him what you’re trying to say, the small noises you make getting louder, he almost blows his load the second he realises. Ripping himself from you suddenly, you cry out at the loss, cumming around nothing, gasping into your hand.

“Why? Why?” you’re almost incoherent as you ask him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, trying to make up for the loss of his cock, “Would’ve cum if I hadn’t pulled out, wanna at least fuck you before I do.”

You glare at him, trying to convey how slighted you feel but he only seems to find it endearing, smiling at you over it. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

Wasting no time, he fucks back into you, to where he was before he pulled out. Giving shallow thrusts as he keeps pressing forwards, breath stuttering at the small way he’s getting the friction he’s desperate for.

“Such a greedy cunt,” he murmurs, dick slipping deeper, “So quick to cum for me, sucking me in.”

“Gojo–” you whine at him, his words back to embarrassing you.

His voice cracks at how you refer to him, “–No, no, nono, what happened to ‘Toru?” Fucking deeper, so close to being balls deep.

“‘Toru, you’re–” cutting yourself off with a moan, he thrust the rest of the way in when you called to him, “–so deep.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” he chuckles breathlessly, moving to press his body up against yours, craving the contact.

He’s pressed up against you completely, warm and strong, your legs loop around his waist and he slips in deeper. He groans at it, holding himself back, wanting you to adjust to all of him first. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites against the sensitive skin there, relishing in the way your pussy jumps around him over such a small act.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me or something,” he jokes, referencing how sensitive you are to him.

Without thinking, you admit, “I have – mmph – I’ve liked you mm–multiple times ah– at different points in – hah – our lives.”

His head snaps back as he twitches inside you, “Seriously?” When you nod, he grinds down into you, “Fuck– had me so stressed, liked you all this time and you’re telling me I could’ve had this pretty, little pussy so much sooner?”

You’re feeling a bit dazed, two orgasms deep and stretched so obscenely around him, cunt making wet noises just from the small way he’s grinding into you.

“When,” his words are hurried, when you look at him like he’s just said something in a different language, he asks again, “When have you liked me?”

“I don’t remember that, too many – hnn – different times,” you shake your head, you don’t even know if you could recount all the times you had feelings for him resurface even if you weren’t split open on his big dick.

He moans, starting to move his hips in shallow thrusts, “Enough that you – mmph – can’t remember specifics,” he groans, “Feels like a sick joke, been pining after you our – hah – whole lives.”

His mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, sucking your tongue into his mouth, licking at you. The kiss so dizzying, you’re barely able to catch up to him before he’s talking again, “The most recent time– can you – hah – remember the most recent time you liked me?”

He’s desperate to know, wanting to know how small or big of a window he had missed. Failing to realise it doesn’t really matter all that much right now.

“Not – hah – not that long ago,” you’re almost panting now, wanting for him to move with more urgency but he’s still only thrusting into you shallowly.

“When, sweetie, tell me when, please,” his forehead pressed to yours, eyes imploring.

Struggling slightly as you press out, “B– before I started – hah – going on all those dates,” you’re trying really hard to think, “Beginning of the – hng – year?”

Smiling at you, big, happy, “Not that long ago, just gonna make you like me again.”

He’s a little annoyed that you went on so many dates right after having liked him, not completely lost on him that the two are probably connected and feeling frustrated that he hadn’t just told you about his feelings ages ago.

“Gonna charm the fuck outta you, take you to nice places, shower you in compliments, tell you how cute you are,” he’s rambling now, about your theoretical future dates, “Remind you every day how much I like you, how perfect you are, gonna make you like me again.”

“I’d like it if you moved, ‘Toru, please,” you beg, tears in the corners of your eyes from being teased.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he quips, kissing your cheek before complying.

Finally starting a pace that has you going crazy but in a different way, fast and deep, weighted thrusts that make you struggle to maintain focus. Pulling out almost completely before fucking back into you, hammering his hips into yours, lewd squelching filling the room at it.

Your whimpered moans have Gojo’s skin pricking, so turned on he feels insane, like you might kill him, “Got such a great pussy, fucking soaking wet, taking me so well, could die like this and not complain, fuck–”

Clawing at him now, at his forearms, his biceps, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach, desperately scrabbling for purchase. “Gojo–”

“–No, I don’t know who that is,” he ignores your cry of his name.

Trying again, “‘Toru, want– I want–”

You’re not even entirely sure what you want or are asking for, but Gojo seems to know immediately. His hips moving faster, pelvis slapping into your clit every time he meets yours, cock hitting against your cervix in a way that hurts so fucking good.

Eyes rolling back in your skull with the pleasure, fat tears running down your face at it. Sex has never felt like this, is it meant to feel like this? Have you been doing it wrong? Or maybe he’s just insanely good at it, or maybe you just like him more than you were aware of.

“Feels– feels good, I–”

“Again? Fucking perfect, so perfect for me,” he sounds so excited, “Want it, want you to cum on me, cum all over my cock, fucking coat me in it.” It’s almost like he’s begging you for it.

Luckily for him, you really do like his voice, love how he talks to you and at his borderline begging, you’re cumming all over him. Cunt clenching down on him, sobbing out pitiful moans of his name as you cum. It’s coating him, just like how he asked for, creamy white ring at the base of his cock.

“Fuuck, that’s it, such a good girl,” your cunt jumps around his cock, and he laughs, “Oh? You liked that, should’ve called you a good girl sooner.”

Too dazed to fight him on his teasing, corners of your vision blurry and ears ringing, twitching pathetically under him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, fucking into you harsher, more shallow, getting close to finishing himself.

Orgasm on the tip of his tongue, the thing that sends him over the edge is how you look up at him. Eyes fucked out and cheeks tear stained, whining out a small, “‘Toru, want it, please.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” his words are choked out, almost whining himself, balls heavy with how badly he wants to cum.

Thrusts faltering as he fucks into you the last few times, suddenly slamming his pelvis to yours, releasing all his cum inside you, painting your walls a pretty shade of white. Hips grinding into you as he finishes.

Fucked out whimpers of your name leaving him as he presses his head into the side of your neck. Biting down onto you, shocking you slightly, the pain unexpected, he lathes over it with his tongue.

He slumps down onto you, his weight too much, your hands push at him, “Too heavy.”

He hums out at you noncommittally but gets up, carefully slipping himself from you, not shy in how he stares at your pussy. At the way his cum gushes from it, the urge to fuck it all back inside you strong. He withholds though, seeing you’re clearly beyond fucked out. Next time, he promises himself.

Gone from you but not for too long, only leaving long enough to clean himself up and bring stuff back to clean you up. Wiping softly at your legs, cleaning you of his spend, “You look cute dripping with my cum,” he singsongs.

“Lewd,” you accuse, too tired to think of something more to say.

“Yeah…” he gets into bed by you, “But I’m certain you like that.”

You snuggle into his side, letting him cuddle you, “Not sleeping with you again until at least the third date.”

“I bet…” he looks down at you, lips hovering over yours, “…You’ll sleep with me after each of them.”

You go to scoff at him and deny it, but he kisses you, deep and imploring. Effectively shutting you up and as you let him kiss you how he likes, you realise, he might be right.

𝐀/𝐍: this got away from me, like it so often does, it was only meant to be a couple k of only smut but i am not normal so it turned into this! i hope you enjoyed <3 thank you for reading!

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of unheavenlyvision

[moonpascal]

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook doesn’t mind you waking him up— he just wishes it’s not when he’s in the middle of a good dream.

> fluff, suggestive / wc: 3.1k

> warnings: spider in the bathroom, mentions of alcohol, blood, and punches (nothing bad i promise <3) ; allusions to sex and a wet dream

note: welcome to another product of my insomnia, imagination, and real life experiences <3

—

“maybe we should have couple’s new year’s resolutions. it sounds more motivating if i have someone to do it with.” you utter absentmindedly before taking another sip of hot chocolate from your mug, legs crossed on the small couch, staring across the clear sky and the sunday morning life of the city.

the strumming of jungkook’s guitar ceases briefly before his fingers fiddle with the strings again. he looks up at you from his spot on the floor, a peach fluffy floor rug beside a potted bamboo palm.

“something like?”

“hmmm, sleeping early and waking up early?” you shift to look at him innocently, hugging your knees to your chest. “isn’t this nice? we don’t get to hang out in our balcony often.”

his curious expression turns sour, doe eyes squinting to glare at you as if to say you have got to be kidding me. you pout in response, feeling dejected because turns out he’s still not completely over your . . . unconscious mistake from earlier.

the annoying vehicle sounds that his instrument drowned out a while ago blare in your ears again. “how about we promise to stop disrupting each other’s dreams?”

“i don’t like it,” the frown remains painted on your face. “i only wake you up for emergencies!”

he tuts, straightening his crossed legs and leaning his back against the glass sliding door. “baby, an emergency would be a fire or a thief breaking in.”

—

you were kneeling on the floor, outstretched hands occupying your side of the bed. torn between waking jungkook up at 3am or getting the challenge accomplished on your own, you let your face fall on the bed as you pondered your options.

you did have a few round of drinks earlier that night, so it’s no wonder your bladder bothered your usual sleeping patterns. navigating the bedroom using blurry vision and wobbly feet, you hoped that your eyes were just playing tricks when you caught sight of a black creature crawling on the white bathroom wall. maybe it was one of those shapeless floating spots that dim your vision when you stand up too quickly.

however, the instinctive scream that left your mouth after you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes begged to differ. it was short, almost sounded like it got cut off. nevertheless, it was still loud. the door was left swung open, and you were only a step away from the floor mat. and yet, your boyfriend remained ignorant of his surroundings, absorbed in a dream where in he was a friendly and humble meat vendor in a kingdom among the clouds.

unfortunately, you really needed to go to the fucking toilet and there was only one person in this house fearless enough to face the evil barrier surrounding it.

and so, your hand curled around his bicep, and you allowed yourself another second of contemplation, before you gently shook his body awake.

“babe, wake up. please.”

he hummed in question tiredly, slowly stretching out his limbs and rolling over on his back. his eyes remained closed as he scratched at his cheek, sleep lines visible on his skin because his face got squished against the very corner of your pillow when he was sleeping.

“what’s wrong?” his voice came out rough and slurred, yet it was still laced with sweet concern.

“emergency! there’s a spider as big as my hand. in the bathroom. it’s by the trash, beside the toilet.” you explained swiftly in panic as you climbed on the bed, pulling at his arm in desperation. “if i don’t pee in the next three minutes, i’m gonna start crying.”

somehow, it’s easier to ask jungkook for something when he’s tired or sleepy. or both. he didn’t utter a single word as he dragged himself out of the bed. only, his lips formed a wince when his naked feet touched the cold ground.

“jungkook, put the prada boots down!”

he looked down at his hands holding the left foot of the boots he wore yesterday, before looking back at you. “why?” he was like a lost puppy, with his beady eyes and messy hair pointing at different directions.

“who kills a spider using expensive boots? use a slipper!”

“ah!” he exclaimed in realization, neatly placing it back next to its pair. “forgot i’m supposed to kill it.” he muttered to himself with a lazy smile.

“then what were you going to do with that?” you asked in bewilderment, but the question hung suspended in the air. he picked up one of your slippers beside the bathroom door before slipping inside.

and then you heard it, the sound of your thick slipper slapping the cold, tiled wall. you almost sighed in relief, until another thought entered your mind. you still feel uncomfortable with it inside your home, alive or not. when he came out empty-handed, you immediately stopped him from coming back to bed.

“throw it outside instead. please?”

and again, without a word, he did as you asked. he picked it up using tissue paper, and discarded it in the trash bin near the elevator of your apartment floor. on the other hand, you dashed to the bathroom the second they were gone.

“liar. it was only as big as half of my pinky.” jungkook grumbled as he made himself comfortable on the bed again, burying his face on your chest instead of your pillow this time around. your boyfriend— he tends to treat your body as if it’s softer than cotton.

“it shrank in fear when it saw you approaching.”

your hushed giggles harmonized in the dead of the night, warm bodies tangled underneath the comforter. “i love you. thank you for making it go away.”

the tender kiss of gratitude you granted to his temple made him keen. he stole a second goodnight kiss from your lips before dozing back to sleep, silently praying his dream would have a continuation— he was about to cater a feast in the palace.

—

“a spider in the bathroom is an emergency. it’s an unwelcome visitor! technically, if you think about it, it broke into our house.”

“it’s still not bad enough to be a code red.” jungkook attempts to reason, abandoning his guitar on the ground to crawl to you on his knees. you’re unable to protest as his hands cover yours, guiding the mug to his mouth. the soles of your feet automatically plant themselves on the floor to eliminate the possibility of hitting his face with your knees. “more like a code orange.”

“so we’re going by a coding system now?”

he swallows, and takes another sip of your hot chocolate. “should we? i just came up with it.”

“it sounds cute. and it’s very virgo of you.” you share a grin, as if you weren’t whining to each other about minute ago.

“then i think . . . we should say code blue when we can’t sleep.”

“why blue?”

“mhmm,” he hums, folding his arms over your lap before resting his chin on them, looking up at you with his starry eyes. “usually the reason why we can’t sleep is because we’re feeling blue.”

a breeze blows, causing strands of hair to escape from the black little claw holding back his long black hair. he closes his eyes instinctively, and you tuck them behind his ears so they won’t obstruct his vision again. when he cracks his eyes open, he’s greeted by your smile. kind. warm. golden. contrasting the blue sky behind you, making you the sun in his eyes.

“then what qualifies for a code red?”

the unsurprisingly vivid memories come rushing back to him. “code red is for emergencies like i said. and remember when you woke me up the other night? that also counts.”

—

jungkook sat up on the bed, retreating against the headboard while cautiously eyeing the perilous item held by your right hand. you could’ve sworn that you’ve never seen his round eyes look this big. he looked absolutely adorable. okay, maybe a little terrified, but adorable. with his pretty face bare and puffy from sleep. but for what it’s worth, your fuzzy memories could be betraying you. the culprits of your predicament: hunger and dehydration.

“why is there a butcher’s knife in our bedroom?”

you jutted out your bottom lip sadly, shrugging your left shoulder to focus his attention on the watermelon cradled by your arm. “i’m sorry for waking you up, but i can’t slice it open. i’m still too weak from working out.”

he opened his mouth as he was about to speak, but he closed it again. he carefully pried the knife away from you, climbing off the bed and hiding it behind his back. he started walking to the kitchen and you followed him idly, tightly embracing the heavy watermelon. with alertness, he felt your presence behind him, and he transferred the knife infront.

you refused dinner because you still felt full from the late lunch you had in the afternoon. however, the hunger striked at 2am, leaving you unable to sleep until you satisfy the monster in your tummy. you weren’t in the mood for anything that required to be cooked, you just wanted something easy to eat. the challenge with this fruit, though . . . it’s too damn hard to open.

you arrived at the kitchen, and you left the watermelon over the chopping board to allow jungkook to do his magic. he placed the butcher’s knife back in the wooden knife holder, grabbing the chef’s knife with his tattoed hand.

oh? you can get the job done with a knife that small?

“you looked scary holding that giant knife. this knife is fine, as long as it’s sharp.” you winced at his comment as you watched him flawlessly cut the watermelon in the middle, and then cut each of those halves into halves again.

“baby, did you try cutting it yourself?” he asked when he noticed the scratches on the green skin.

you smiled sheepishly. “maybe. but i gave up after two tries.”

he shook his head with a chuckle, handing you the first slice of watermelon he made. “just let me do it next time, okay?”

“okay. thank you, my love.” you took your first bite, observing him with sheer adoration as he sliced the rest of the watermelon for you.

after finishing your first slice in only five bites, you and jungkook covered the remaining three quarters with plastic wrap and put them inside the fridge.

“want me to cook?”

you shook your head without a word. you were too busy devouring another slice of watermelon, seated on the countertop.

“kimchi fried rice?”

“i’m fine. just go back to sleep, babe.” you hummed softly, wrapping an arm around him when he came in for a hug.

“okay,” he nosed at your neck, getting a whiff of your night-time moisturizer. “i was having a fun dream. we were on a vacation and we found out our hotel bathroom could travel us through time and space.”

“that sounds cool. i ruined it though, didn’t i?” needless to say, you felt guilty. you wanted to stroke his hair and lull him back to the sleep that you interrupted, but your hands were sticky from the juice dripping from your fruit.

“oh, you did.” he replied with a chuckle, lightly slapping your thigh before squeezing it. “but that’s better than waking up to find you bleeding all over the kitchen.”

—

“red because watermelon?”

“the blood, baby. the blood!”

you grimace, feeling offended. you’d argue that you aren’t as dangerous as he thinks, but unfortunately, today is not the day for that. you will not win.

“alright. so, code blue for when we’re feeling blue. code orange for fearsome threats. code red for life-threatening situations.”

he nods along as you list them down, his lips naturally pouting in concentration. “that sums it up. we can add more when we think of other scenarios.”

and it’s still silence for a while. you finish the rest of your hot chocolate, and jungkook is fixed on a weird position, randomly deciding to take a nap on your lap. it reminds you of bam, when he rests his chin on your knee while you pet him, and he just stays there until he almost falls asleep.

“don’t your knees hurt down there, love? sleep here instead.” you try to coax him into moving to the couch, concerned about his knees. also, the air from his nostrils is tickling your sensitive skin.

“it feels comfortable.” he answers with his eyes still closed, embracing your thighs tighter. “just don’t slap me again because that hurt.”

—

jungkook wasn’t quite sure what woke him up exactly. was it your loud gasp or the stinging pain that was blossoming on his cheek? when he cracked his eyes half-open, he saw you covering your mouth with your hand. your eyes were painted with horror, forehead creased in apparent distress.

“baby, what happened?” he croaked out, completely innocent and it killed you. out of curiosity, he touched his warm cheek.

before you, he only grew up living with brothers. adding this to the fact that he’s been training in boxing for years, the pain of a punch is very much dull to him at this point. oh, that slap? it felt more painful than any punch he’s ever received.

“i slapped you.” you squeaked out, mind disoriented and body numb from the shock of jolting awake to find out that you- “i didn’t mean to! it wasn’t on purpose! i’m sorry!”

jungkook stayed frozen, still unable to fully process the series of events that transpired, even after you just bolted out of the room screaming out an apology. too tired to go to the mirror, he used his phone camera to take a look at his cheek. to no surprise, his delicate skin has turned red. no wonder it fucking stings.

it was already 7:12 in the morning, and the sun is shining bright. he didn’t feel like going back to sleep anymore. he sat up when you came back with an ice pack, which you gingerly held to the affected area.

“you slapped me? did i do something bad in your dream?” he quizzed, eerily nonchalant, hand curling around your wrist to guide the ice pack to where he was hurting.

“i’m really sorry.” you sniffled, tearing up with guilt, and at the thought of how fucking ridiculous this was. “it wasn’t you . . . there was a thief who tried to snatch my bag and i- uhm, you know- i got angry and scared and i slapped his hand away. then i suddenly woke up and for a split second i thought i was still . . . dreaming.”

“so you slapped the thief again?”

you bowed your head in shame. “yes.”

“and you thought i was the thief?”

you nodded, slowly curling up into a ball to hide yourself from him. “it was so blurry. and he was wearing all black, too . . . does it hurt a lot?”

“not a lot.” he pressed a kiss on the top of your head to ease the tension, and his hand slid up to hold yours. “i’m not really mad about that but- i was having a really good dream, you know?”

“i ruined it again, didn’t i? i’m sorry.” you cried out, throwing your arms around him, face buried on his neck because you didn’t have it in yourself to meet his eyes yet. but still, you wanted him close.

one arm securely held the ice pack to his cheek, the other covered his eyes as soft laughter racked his body, still heavy from sleep. “don’t cry, baby. want to make breakfast together?”

—

that is how you and jungkook ended up at the balcony this morning, too tired to function and too awake to sleep. fortunately for him, the sugar worked well as a sedative. it didn’t for you, but you’re content with just sitting here. apparently, you’re more harmful in your sleep.

you sigh deeply, stroking his soft and smooth cheek with the back of your fingers. the redness is almost gone, thanks to the ice pack. “i’m sorry. i’ll try my best to never do it again.” you regretfully apologize for the nth time.

“you know, it’s not like i would ever steal from you, but that really taught me a lesson.”

“you don’t have to steal. i’ll give you whatever you want.”

and with that, jungkook’s spirit awakens. for a person who loves getting spoiled, those are some of the most dangerous words you can say. but he already got everything he could ever want or need, and he couldn’t care less about the tangible.

“no need to steal kisses?”

kisses. of course. his mind is always somewhere near the thought of kisses, almost as if it’s the house across the street.

“mhmm, no need. you can just come get one yourself whenever you want to.”

you should’ve thought of this form of persuasion earlier. he started feeling a little grumpy while cooking the eggs because he realized this was the second time you ruined a good dream of his in the past three days.

“give me one then. you haven’t kissed the pain away yet.” he cracks one eye open, waiting for it expectantly. you give him his well-deserved kiss on the cheek, lips curving into a small yet happy smile because what kind of superhero shit did you do in your past life to deserve the best boyfriend on earth in this one?

and then he’s climbing over you while holding your face between his hands, peppering you with an endless amount of kisses dipped in love and chocolate.

“jungkook!” you squeal with a laugh as you fall on your back. the empty mug slips away from your hand. it rolls on the floor, and you hear it bump into jungkook’s guitar before making a full stop.

“people can see us here. you know that, right? they might get the wrong idea.” you stifle a gasp when his lips reach the expanse of your neck. your restless hands grasp at the sleeves of his oversized shirt, supposedly to push him away, but why are you holding on so tightly?

“want to make that idea come to life in the bedroom?”

and in spite of your system getting clouded by his intimate affection, your suspicion begins to arise. “what was that good dream about again?”

damn, you’re smart.

he pushes up his weight against the cushion, and his dimpled naughty grin comes into view. the strands of hair you tucked behind his ears stubbornly escape to frame his handsome face.

“i’ll tell you about it in the bedroom too.”

—

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[zoeykallus]

TBB x Gender-neutral Reader (Extended) HCs – Lost Something? Part 2/3/4/5

(Echo/Wrecker/Tech/Crosshair)

Warnings: Partly Slightly Suggestive/Mostly Fluff/Tiny Bit Angsty

This is the continuation of this request:

Reader stole the batcher's weapon. Let's see how they get it back.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

Echo

Echo runs through the Marauders like a startled chicken, followed by the confused looks of his team. "Has anyone seen my blaster?" Hunter, who is putting on his gloves, looks over at him. "You lost your blaster?" Echo sighs annoyed and says, "No I haven't" Wrecker says with a raised eyebrow, "But you can't find it" "Yeah" Tech shrugs his shoulders without looking up from his holopad and says, "Sounds to me like you lost it" Echo waves it off in annoyance and insists, "No I haven't. I never lose parts of my equipment" It annoys him that he doesn't know where his blaster is, he was sure he'd left it with the rest of his gear when he went to bed that night and he says so. Crosshair leans out of his bunk, rolling a toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other before saying. "You didn't go to bed alone last night I take it"

Echo's ears turn red. He pauses briefly in his movement, then turns to the Sniper. "What makes you think that?" Crosshair smirks, takes the toothpick out of his mouth and says, "You were alone on the Marauder for most of the night, I assume you took advantage of that fact." Wrecker asked excitedly, "Ooooh, Echo has a lover? Instead of answering, Echo rushes out of the room, locks himself in the cockpit and immediately starts a holo-call. His heart is pounding in his throat as your face appears on the holo, not just because he's upset and excited, the sight of you alone is enough to raise his pulse. "Took you long enough," you say with a cheeky smile. "You've got my blaster" It's not a question, it's a statement. Inwardly, he's annoyed that Crosshair thought of it before him. You lift the blaster into the holo for him to see. Echo lets out a deep sigh, relieved, a little annoyed. "I need it back," he says sternly.

You smile unperturbed and say, "I thought so. Then come and get it" "But-" You hang up before he can finish the sentence. A little stunned, Echo stares at the spot where the holo with your face used to be. When Echo comes out of the cockpit, he literally stomps through the main room towards the ramp. Hunter asks him cautiously, "Where are you going?" "Spanking someone's ass," Echo growls. "Kinky." Echo's eyes spark as he snaps, "Shut Up, Crosshair" The Sniper leans back in his bunk, unimpressed, chuckling softly.

You've been out all day, had some things to do. Echo didn't try to call again. But as you land your shuttle at the usual landing spot and open your ramp, you hear his footsteps on the ramp and in the ship before you even leave the cockpit.

He stops in the doorway to the cockpit, his gaze so serious and stony that at first you can't help but gulp. After a few seconds, you find your voice again. "Have you been waiting on the landing pad all day?" "Yes" The answer is very curt, a little abrupt. He stretches out his remaining hand, challenging you with a steely gaze. You feel yourself shrinking under his gaze as you pull out the blaster and place it in his hand. Echo holsters the weapon directly, still staring at you. "I should spank your behind" You say cheekily, "Okay. Do you want me to take my clothes off first?" Echo raises a brow in confusion, but he doesn't stop you from unbuttoning your flight suit. "Somehow I imagined it would be different," he says, a little beside himself. "Disappointed? Should I stop?" Echo licks his lips and shakes his head.

"Uh, no it's okay, we'll see where this takes us" You laugh softly, kiss his heated cheek and say, "Well, I was hoping to my bunk"

Wrecker

It's a beautiful evening. The weather is warm, but not too hot. The dinner was delicious, and the atmosphere great. A perfect moment to pass the time with Wrecker. The nice thing about Wrecker is that he's up for any kind of nonsense and is anything but a party pooper. You've been fooling around for a while now. You've managed to take his blaster out of its holster and to get it back, Wrecker has been chasing you around the massive dining table on one of the terraces on Pabuu for a few minutes now. The others have long since left the scene, some laughing or grinning, others (Crosshair) rolling their eyes. You giggle happily and change direction every time he tries to trick you. A little out of breath, you tell him, "I won't make it that easy for you!" Wrecker lets out a cheerful laugh that almost sounds like thunder. "I'll get you one way or another, just wait and see" As he changes direction again, you do the same, squealing happily.

"We'll see about that," you answer cheekily. You have to hand it to Wrecker, as impatient as he sometimes is, when it comes to fun and games, he usually has the patience of an angel. You've been running around for so long, your lungs are starting to burn, your faces are flushed with exertion, but you both grin happily when your eyes meet. But then something happens that you don't expect. With a cheerful exclamation, Wrecker grabs the massive table and throws it behind him, removing the barrier between the two of you. He suddenly stands very close to you and grins down at you. You look up at him, still holding his blaster. "Told you I'd get you," he says, amused. "What the hell.... what happened to my table?" You both look to the side, startled, to where an exasperated Phee crosses her slender arms in front of her chest. "Uh," Wrecker begins, "We were just fooling around a bit."

Phee rolls her eyes and asks, "And you had to destroy my table to do that? Who's going to replace it for me?" A sigh is heard from the other direction, followed shortly by Hunter's unmistakable voice. "Wrecker. Care to explain that to me?" The giant shrugs his shoulders and says with a sweeping gesture, "We were fooling around and then things went off the rails" "So nothing new," Hunter sighs, "Do me a favor and go fool around somewhere you can't destroy anything" You look at Wrecker and ask, "Beach?" Wrecker grins broadly at you. "Beach!" he confirms, nodding and running after you. Phee and Hunter look after you both. The squad leader sighs again, whereupon Phee says amusedly, "Those two will be your downfall one day" Hunter laughs softly, "I know"

Tech

Tech is obsessively rummaging through his things in his bunk. "That's not possible..." Crosshair has been watching his brother in silence for a while now, but finally asks, "Did you lose something?" Tech grinds his teeth before answering, "My blasters are gone" Crosshair frowns. "Both of them?" "Both of them," Tech confirms, vigorously adjusting his goggles. "You're a slob, I wouldn't find anything in this mess either," the Sniper grumbles dryly. Tech takes a deep breath, straightens up and looks at his brother seriously. "I'm not a slob," he replies critically "Yes you are, you're a total slob, you hardly ever put anything away. Your bunk looks like a garbage dump" Tech touches his forehead as if he has a headache, then raises his finger in the air and says, "I don't need order to find my way around. I don't have to obsessively tidy everything like you do, no matter how messy my stuff and my bunk are, I always know exactly where my stuff is" Crosshair smirks and teases, "Then you certainly know where your blasters are"

Tech's ears turn red, he turns away and rummages around in his bunk for a while, sighing again and again in frustration. "Didn't you have a visitor yesterday?" Crosshair asks meaningfully. Tech turns back to him. "Yes, I did have a visitor. And?" Crosshair shrugs his shoulders suggestively. "If the blasters are suddenly gone, maybe someone took them." Tech frowns. "No, that can't be. They wouldn't do that. Why would they do that?" Crosshair shrugs again, leans back in his bunk and says, "How should I know? It's not my love interest." With a bright red head, Tech leaves the Marauder to make his way to you.

You are looking out of your window when you see him walking across the courtyard. He seems to be deep in thought and keeps shaking his head. You smile, apparently he has noticed that his blasters are missing. Shortly afterwards, you hear your doorbell ring. Tech keeps his finger on the bell for longer than necessary, a very energetic ring. You press the door opener without using the intercom. When he arrives at your apartment, he has already raised his finger. "How many times do I have to tell you not to just press the door opener? You have to make sure who's at the door, it's dangerous!" You say calmly, "I saw you at the window. But it's sweet that you're worried about me" Tech sighs softly, straightens his shoulders and straightens up a little. "I'd like my blasters back" "That's what I thought. But I want something in return" Tech frowns and asks, "So you stole my blasters to extort something from me?"

Now you frown, "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so crude and unromantic" His eyebrows move upwards in surprise. He asks confused, "Stealing my blasters was a romantic gesture?" You laugh softly and say as warmth rises in your cheeks, "I was going to ask for some of those sweet kisses you gave me yesterday in exchange" The corners of Tech's mouth twitch, his ears turn red, and he nervously shuffles his foot on the floor. "I only gave you one kiss yesterday. That was our first kiss," he corrects. When he thinks about it, his pulse starts to race again, his heart beats wildly and his body is suddenly filled with this incredible lightness again. "That's right. But now I want more," you say, biting your lower lip. Tech, steps closer and says, "A kiss for every blaster?" "Two per blaster," you say hastily, your ears already glowing hot and your puls racing through you. Tech smirks. "Okay, I think we can do that"

Crosshair

"No" "But-" "No," the Sniper repeats seriously, "This is not a weapon for beginners. You'll learn with the training rifle first and when I think you're ready, I might let you shoot with the Firepuncher" You sigh and roll your eyes. He has just turned his back to you and is putting the training gun away, but still he says, "Stop rolling your eyes. You're learning from me because I'm the professional, so trust my judgment too" "You're stupid," you say, pouting. Crosshair chuckles softly, turns to you and asks, "Then why do you keep coming here to train with me?" You point at his gun and say, "Because I want to shoot that thing someday" His eyebrows move upwards, and he asks, "So you only come here for the Firepuncher?" You shrug your shoulders and say cheekily, "Mostly" "You're a bad liar," Crosshair says, amused. You laugh and ask, "Why? What do you think I came here for?" Crosshair spreads his arms and strikes a pose. "To use my brother's words - isn't it obvious?..."

"You think I'm here for you?" you ask with a grin, "Well, maybe a little, but I think the Firepuncher is hotter" Crosshair laughs and continues packing. "Can't say I blame you" You watch him pack up the gear, then you hear his brother call out to him from the shuttle. "Excuse me a moment," Crosshair says, and disappears up the ramp inside. Your eyes fall on the case with the Firepuncher. You can't help yourself, you can't resist. You open the case, grab the gun and close the case again. You know he'll be angry, but the temptation is just too powerful.

When Crosshair comes out again and sees that you've already left, he sighs softly. He likes your visits, likes talking to you. Whenever you part ways, he feels a certain longing to have you with him for longer. He comforts himself with the thought that you will come back, if only because of the Firpuncher. He smiles and reaches for his weapon case, but his smile freezes. The case is clearly too light. He hastily puts the case back down and opens it. Empty. "You lousy little..." With a growl, the Sniper sets off. He already suspects where you might be.

The rifle is heavier than you expected, just aiming it properly is a challenge. "Maybe I should lie down," you mutter quietly to yourself. "And pull your pants down while you're at it, so I can spank your ass!" Crosshair's smoky voice startles you so much that you hastily turn around with an already embarrassingly high-pitched yelp and drop the gun on the grass. You stumble backwards as he comes towards you and almost fall, but the Sniper grabs the collar of your jacket just in time to hold you steady. "Not only are you stealing my gun, now you're dropping it!" "Not on purpose!" you say hurriedly and adjust your jacket as he lets go of you with a snort. His serious eyes bore into yours, and you don't even dare to blink for a long moment. Cautiously, you ask him, "How upset are you?" Crosshair crosses his arms in front of his chest and sighs heavily. "Very, to say the least." You smile wryly and say, "But you stopped me from falling down, so you don't hate me too much" He rolls his eyes, unknots his arms and picks up the Firepuncher from the grass. "Lie down," he grumbles. "What?" you ask, perplexed.

Impatiently, he snaps his fingers repeatedly and grumbles, "Do you want to learn something or not?" You hastily lie down on your stomach in the grass, Crosshair lies down next to you, presses the rifle into your hands and shows you how to use it properly. "How did you actually find me?" you want to know. Crosshair snorts softly and says almost gently, "This is where we practiced for the first time." "You remember that?" He rolls his eyes and says, "I never forget anything" You take a few practice shots and it goes well. Satisfied, you turn your head in his direction and smile. His expression doesn't say much, but he says, "Not bad for an amateur" As you look at him a little longer, studying the lines on his face, unable to help but admire his face, Crosshair suddenly snaps, "Stop staring at me like a love-struck dove, look at your target" As you hurriedly look forward again, your ears getting hot, a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. He likes you too, very much so, but he won't tell you anytime soon.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@clonelovr

[mrzombielover]

- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Sickness and Health

A married!Javi Drabble based on this request

Series Masterlist

Rating: All fluff except for a few inappropriate words

A/N: I had to use this gif because I couldn’t think of anything for sick Javi. Just imagine he’s wiping his snot instead of his sweat (you’re welcome for the new mental association I’ve created)🤪. I got this request a month ago and I’m writing it only now 🙈 Sorry anon requester, but I hope you see this and like it 💜

I’ll be fine, he said. It’s just allergies, he said. My god querida, stop mothering me, he said. Yet here he was, flopped on the sofa with a leg on the floor as he snored. The man never came home before her. There were times when he’d come home briefly in the morning to shower and put on a fresh set of clothes before bolting out the door with nothing to spare her other than a rushed kiss. And now here he was at 5 PM, sleeping.

She placed a hand on his forehead, wincing when she found him burning up. Not to say she told him so, but she told him so. But he would hear none of it. The man dropped her off at work with the promise that he’d take an Advil if he needed before driving away to the embassy. He probably forgot. Or his promise was made just to placate her, stop her from being the nagging wife.

She didn’t quite know how to do it, the wife thing. Was she supposed to force a pill down his throat? Would she be the annoying nagging wife men talked shit about to their friends if she did? Was she supposed to leave him be? Would she be a bad wife for neglecting him and letting him go to work ill?

Knowing the man, he probably didn’t have anything to eat. His only intake was whiskey and tobacco from all the smoking he did. Was she supposed to pack him lunch? Send food to the embassy? She didn’t know. He never asked for anything and was happy to eat what she gave him when he came home. She provided dinner, leaving it on the table and leaving a note on his bed reminding him to eat it. Sometimes she managed to force a glass of OJ into his hand in the morning. But that was all. Lunch was a big question mark. What he ate when in Medellin was a blind spot.

Retrieving some chicken, carrot, celery and broth from the refrigerator, she got to work. With some time, spices and low music playing on the radio, the soup was ready to be served.

She poured some into a bowl, placed it on the coffee table and hovered over him. Beads of sweat had collected on his forehead, either from the hot weather or his sickness. Messy black hair stuck to his forehead and she reached over and pushed it back.

“Javi…”

Nothing. She placed a hand on his shoulder and shook gently. “Javi?” He stayed still as a rock. Goddamn. The man usually woke up at the slightest noise. A bullet could leave a gun two miles away and he would hear it. It was rare that he slept at all, so when he did, she did everything in her power to keep his surroundings quiet.

“Mi amor…” she called, caressing his sweat soaked forehead. “Come on, get up. You need to eat something.”

He trembled under her touch and whined something incomprehensible. She tried again, called his name while giving gentle rubs to his shoulders. “…hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know,” she said, smiling at his half-awake form. He looked so sweet like this, so innocent and childlike. She wanted to pick him up like he was a puppy and give him a million kisses. He might be a big bad federal agent but sleeping on their couch like this, he was her little puppy.

“… ‘s the paperwork and…Wysession…la Quica…umm and yeah what do I think?” He mumbled, making her laugh. This fucker would not survive without his job. It took a few more tries and sweet words, some of which embarrassing enough that she’d never repeat to him if he were awake. His eyes opened a little, his mumbling about work dimmed down and he spoke her name.

“Yeah. It’s me. Get up. I made soup. You should have some, have a Tylenol and sleep on the bed. Okay?”

“What time is it?” He asked, sitting up suddenly.

“Six thirty three.” The man always wanted the exact time. No rounding up or down. It was unnerving.

He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes with the flat of his palms. “Fuck. Got an early meeting at eight with Noonan. Gonna be late. She’ll kill me,” he said, getting up. He hunched over the couch, hand gripping on to the leather of the headrest for support as his other hand clutches his head.

“8 PM is not an early meeting. Unless you’re talking about a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow? Wait, what’s the time?”

“Six thirty. In the evening. You have a bad fever and you were asleep on the couch when I got home at five.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“Yeah. Fuck. Now sit down and have some soup. You can’t have Tylenol on an empty stomach.”

“Actually, I can. The body absorbs it faster on an empty stomach.”

“Alright buddy, sit down and have the soup,” she said, coaxing him to sit next to her on the couch. He sat a bit too close to her, leaning on her shoulder and placing his weight on her.

“Feel like absolute shit,” he said, dipping the spoon into the bowl of hot soup. He blew on it once and then twice before drinking it. “So good.”

“Thank you, baby,” he said, pulling her to his side. She did not want to contract whatever he had and proximity would increase the chances of infection. But she didn’t have the heart to push him away. Even on a normal day, the man liked physical contact with her. It could be anything from a hand on her back when they were out in public to full on cuddling her in bed. He just showed his affection through touch. She didn’t want to deny him affection when he was so vulnerable and soft.

He drank it down quietly, wincing every now and then from his headache. He even surprised her by asking for a second helping and she gave it to him gladly, even topping his bowl up another time when he wasn’t looking.

“Now Tylenol.”

“Nooo,” he whined, flopping back on the backrest of the couch. “Hate pills.”

She laughed and popped a pill out of the foil wrapper before handing a glass of water to him. “Aww, is the big baby afraid of pills?”

“Not scared,” he pouted and folded his arms over his chest, looking like a petulant three year old. Good god. Was this really the man being paid by the US government to catch Escobar? Or was he the secret sweet cuddly twin to her grumpy sassy Javi?

“Right. Definitely not scared. Now have it.”

“I’ll be fine without it. Just need to sleep.”

“Sure, Dr. Peña. If you say so,” she teased. She was definitely noting down all the details of his behavior in her head to tease him with later. “Can you have the liquid Tylenol?” She asked, recalling seeing a bottle of it in their medicine cabinet.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she said, getting up to go fetch the Tylenol for him. Before she could step away, his hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked back at him to find him staring at her with those big brown eyes, all wide and precious. He was still grumpy, but less intimidating and more adorable. “I need to take my hand with me, Agente…”

“No.”

“No?”

“Don’t go. I miss you.”

“It’ll just be gone for a minute. I’ll get you your Tylenol and be right back.” Huffing, he finally let go of her hand. When she returned, he smiled up at her lazily before grabbing both her wrists.

“Javi…I can’t give you your medicine if you don’t let go of my hand.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this too. There is no plan C, Javier. Pill or this,” she said, holding up the bottle of the liquid acetaminophen.

“That tastes like shit.”

“Yeah. You’ll survive.”

“I wooooon’t,” he whined, pulling her onto his lap. He may be very sick, but he was still strong and worse, unaware of how much force he exerted. She fell with her face forward, smushing into his chest. She made a low sound of satisfaction before wrapping his arms around her and settling his chin on her head.

“Bebito…”

“‘m not your bebito. I’m your husband.”

“Yeah yeah. Then stop acting like a bebito, bebito.”

“Don’t do this to me. That thing tastes vile. Tastes like shit. Like, like horse shit mixed in with rat poison.”

“God, you drama queen,” she teased, adjusting herself on his lap to sit up properly. “It’s just 20 ml. Have some of it, drink some water to wash the taste off and go to bed. God knows you need the rest.”

“Fine. On one condition.”

“Uh huh?”

“Bit of whiskey after the medicine.”

Absolutely not.

“Of course, baby. All the whiskey you want,” she lied through her sweet smile. She did not have the energy to argue with a gigantic baby she couldn’t yell at. She’d make him have the medicine first and figure out the rest when she had to.

At the mention of whiskey, he smiled wider than the day they got married and happily let go of her wrists. She hissed at the dull pain around them, flushing when she realized just how strong he was. Yet he never used such strength on her, handling her gentler than this even when she asked for rough treatment. She’d have to ask for more the next time… she looked away from him embarrassed. The man was sick and delirious, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t the most appropriate time to be horny.

“Tilt your head back,” she ordered and he followed immediately, exposing his neck to her. “Now open your mouth,” she said, bringing the little cup of the liquid to his lips. It went alright for the first second, but when it touched his tastebuds, he gagged and groaned.

“Uhh that was fucking disgusting!”

“That was just 10 ml. You need another 10 for the full dosage.”

“No, no, no. Please don’t do this,” he begged before sticking his tongue out as though casting out the organ for making him experience the medicine’s taste.

“Please, Javier… Just one more, okay?” She said, pouring him the other half of the dose. “Imagine you’re taking a tequila shot.”

“Then it should be on your bellybutton with salt on your tits and a lemon wedge between your lips.”

Horndog

“Suuure. You couldn’t tell it was evening and not morning just half an hour back but you think you can do a body shot, huh?”

“Absolutely can. You didn’t know me in college. Plus I’ll do anything to lick your tits,” he said, his eyes looking too adorable for the things he said. Shouldn’t he be too sick to be horny?

“Alright big guy, open up” she said, tipping his chin back and forcing the rest of his medicine down his throat. He groaned and whined once more and summoned a couple demons with the sounds he produced.

“Tequila?” He asked, pouting as he fixed his puppy dog eyes on her.

“Sure. Go sit on the bed and I’ll bring you the goods,” she said, helping him get off the couch.

“Perfect. You’re the best wife, you know that?”

“I’m your only wife. You don’t have much else to compare me to, do you?”

“Fine, I’ll get more wives. Test the hypo- hypo…tenuse?” He asked, squinting.

“Hypothesis.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You said hypotenuse. That’s the longest side of a right angled triangle.”

“The fuck,” he said under his breath, allowing her to lead him to their bedroom. When she’d gotten him to lie down, he pulled her to himself and held her to his chest. She was yet to have dinner and there was a tv program she’d wanted to watch before bed. But with his arms around her and his lips mumbling in his sleep, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

It wasn’t often that she got to be wrapped up in his arms at this early hour. Why fight it when she could savor it.

[dduane]

An anonymized non-anon query

(A note: my ask box isn’t open to anons at the moment, because I started getting inappropriate messages that I didn’t care to see. Maybe I'll eventually go anon-open again. But the present situation isn’t going to stop me from answering asks where the person’s uneasy about having their username revealed. Like this one:)

[text:

Can't go on anon so this is a little mortifying to be Seen™ but;

Do you have any words for fandom girls who are no longer in their 20s and starting to construct people in their heads who shame them for "still being into this stuff"?]

First thing; funny how it's always fandom girls who come up against this, isn't it? If it was some 90-year-old fandom boy in question who'd been painting his face red and white and following Manchester United since he was nine, no one would turn a hair. In fact, everybody in that cohort of interest would be praising him for his commitment and loyalty. It's almost as if some people have bought into the idea that the rules are different for girls somehow! Something to do with the idea that where girls belong is home making everybody a sandwich. I wonder where that might have come from...

Anyway. What you're describing here is something a lot of us have run into: the pressure to (allow me briefly to stand the well-known trope on its head) Be Like All The Other Girls... and to be prepared (and indeed resigned) for that inevitably to happen IRL. This stuff starts sneaking into your head in a very innocuous way: by disguising itself as "being prepared" for what you're afraid might happen. And it's very hard to avoid having that concern slowly but surely turn into a dread of what's going to happen. (For there's a horrible seductiveness about self-fullfilling prophecy... even if you know you've built it yourself. Part of your mind, that frightened advanced-fight-or-flight part that's always trying to keep you safe by predicting all the possible futures, starts feeling satisfied with itself when it finally has the evidence to say, "Well, at least we were prepared for that!")

So it's best to be proactive about managing this, I think, before things start to get bothersome. Develop a quick switchblade-style defense that you can pull out of your brain's back pocket at short notice. And then, when you're used to using it on those rogue ideations, disarm the sneaky "attacker" more thoroughly by taking it apart, gradually, at the more straightforwardly analytical end.

Let's start with the switchblade: a good-old fashioned mantra. How about this:

"Nobody gets to gatekeep my joy."

This can be used as a silent affirmation any time you feel the need. Any time you start feeling that pressure—that annoying whisper from the conjectural voices in your head that want you to think about how maybe you are too old for this kind of thing—pull out the mantra and shiv them in the gut with it, three times. (Threes are always good for this. Think how many spells have to be done, or names spoken, in threes. The rhythm's an archetype all its own.)

What you'll notice, with repetition of this intervention over time, is that the incidence of this kind of thinking gradually gets rarer and rarer. It might take a while to go away completely... but you'll know what to do if it rears its head again.

But also: this response can when necessary be repeated right out loud in front of whatever sorry piece of breathing meat has the unutterable bald-faced gall to actually try to gatekeep you to your (digital or otherwise) face. Pull it out, set your features in an expression of amused calm (because what you do to your face makes differences in your brain), and hit 'em with it. And if they continue to try to argue the point with you, you get to just keep repeating your base-state mantra until they give up and go away.*

...Now, since good mantras normally run deeper than the mere words, it makes sense to inquire into an underlying issue:

Why do people do this to other people? (And I don't mean this as a rhetorical question with optional eyeroll: I mean it as a possible diagnostic.) There has to be a reason people pull this shit... as mandated by the favorite (different) mantra of psychiatric professionals everywhere: "All behavior is motivated."

One aspect of this to consider: the "you're too old to be into this stuff" response is usually a learned behavior. People for whom the perception of "insufficient" age or maturity is an issue have routinely picked it up from others. There are a number of reasons why they parrot it... the likeliest being that simply want to be seen saying the thing that lots of other people they know also say; so that by so doing, they can be seen as Smart. (This is of course just another a manifestation of our old generally-maladaptive friend, the so-called herd instinct.) And nine-tenths of those other people, I can guarantee you, got it in turn from others still. "They're too old for this" is rarely going to be a spontaneous insight. (Except when used pertinent to certain contact sports, and some types of opera.)

Yet why does the trope perpetuate itself so enthusiastically?

Leaving aside personal living-arrangement issues in individual cases, I think it's because in some people, underneath the expressed trope, there's a genuine fear... an insidious variation of the well-known impostor syndrome. And it's this:

They're afraid that whatever it is they've got at the moment, it's may well be the wrong kind of "this stuff"... not a real joy. (Some people will take this to mean, "The kind of stuff, or joy, other people will approve of." Cf. the "seeming Smart" thing.) And, as they get older, they may be becoming afraid they may never have it.

Now, people naturally try to protect themselves from experiencing their own fears whenever possible. This one's no different. So one way such folks find to distract themselves from the fear of having no joy is to devalue such joy in others. That way, whatever they see themselves as having their noses spitefully "rubbed in" can be perceived as no longer a real threat to them. They can start seeing it as a bad joy, a weak or silly or stupid joy. And (in this case specifically) an immature joy.

(With this in mind, the passage in which C.S. Lewis deals with this toxic fetishization of "maturity" is worth quoting in full, since we so frequently see only the last couple/few lines:)

“Critics who treat 'adult' as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence. And in childhood and adolescence they are, in moderation, healthy symptoms. Young things ought to want to grow. But to carry on into middle life or even into early manhood this concern about being adult is a mark of really arrested development. When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”

...And you hear there the voice of a man who'd dealt with a whole lot of critics in his time on this subject—some of them quite famous and elevated types, trying to discredit him for what we'd now think of as "clicks"—and had routinely made them ever so sorry they'd engaged. Also, Lewis was an enthusiastic reader of "the pulps" until his dying day, and you should have seen some of his responses to those who tried to tell him that "at his age, he should be over that science fiction stuff by now." I'd have to go digging for the cites, but... hooboy.

Anyway, and as a closer:

You're not required to—at someone else's mere behest—even think about changing your way of thinking and living in the (probably hopeless) hopes of pleasing or placating other people you've never met. And most specifically:

You are in no wise required by the Universe to curtail your personal experience of joy in order to try to make scared and small-souled people more comfortable.Your soul gets to be its own size, and have its own joy... in its very own shape, volume, and richness.

So if anyone pulls the "You're too old for [x]" crap on you, I encourage you to just let that attitude sail on by you and fuck straight out into the Oort Cloud and beyond. Let passing alien spacecraft on their way in-system gaze at it in wonder and say, "Wow, look at that go! Didn't think they had warp drive here yet."

...Anyway: let me know how you get on.

HTH!

*This is a basic assertiveness-training technique that I feel is much undervalued in daily usage. Every time someone comes up with a new reason you should stop doing what they don't like, and expects you to respond to that... what makes them think you're required to come up with a new and different reason not to? Who made that concept up? And why waste useful originality on someone arguing with you in the kind of bad faith that refuses to accept your answers? Just keep repeating yourself with the main reason until they give up (probably in great exasperation: too bad...) and bugger off elsewhere. :) ...But see the useful 1970s work When I Say No, I Feel Guilty for effective DIY approaches to this problem.

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Okay I see your "if Hobie and Noir meet they would be besties and punch nazis together" and I totally agree with that! But also consider:

Hobie is Spider Noir's biggest fanboy!

Like in the comics he's like a HUGE Gwen Stacy stan and he's such a goofy little dork about it. In ATSV him and Gwen's relationship is more like chill friends, and I'm okay with that. But I think it be so funny that when Hobie was recruted into Spiderverse society and Miguel was showing him all the other universes with the different Spiderman variants he pauses by the computer screen with that one gritty black and white universe cuz he just saw some guy in a fedora and trench coat PUNCH A FUCKING NAZI!!! WHO IS THAT GUY?!?! HE'S SO COOL!!!

He asks Miguel a million and one question about the guy and when the old grump annoyingly shoos him away he asks Peter as he briefly met him during that one incident in Miles is dimension. When that still isn't enough he asks Lyla to tell him everything she knows on Noir. Now obviously Lyla has no obligation to do this but she's also never seen Hobie this giddy and excited over something other then music. Its adorable, he's almost like a little kid wanting to know everything about their favorite cartoon. Also she low key likes to annoy Miguel and Hobie's rebellious spirit that gets under her straight laced boss is skin which is hilarious.

You know when Gwen first met Hobie she was a bit intimated cuz he just had that "too cool" vibe about him. But as soon as she mentions that she has worked with other Spider people before, which includes Noir, he did a whole 180 and became a complete dork!

Hobie: Get out, you actually met him! ��

Gwen: Uh, yeah?

Hobie: How was he like? What did he say? Did he talk about fascist corruption that not only plagued the system back then but even now as well? Was he super cool during the fight?! 😃🤩💫😻

Gwen: ..........He was nice.

Hobie: That's so rad! ✨️🤟🤩

I also feel like, aside from Miles, Gwen keeps in contact with the other Spider peeps from the first movie and tried to recruit them into the Spider society but obviously Noir and Porker didn't join. Porker because he’s a cartoon that follows "toon logic" and Miguel's ideologies are too serious for his taste. And Noir because, and I quote: "The last I heard of a secret society designed to 'keep the peace for the greater good of humanity at any cost' a whole world war came about it. I know fascism when I see it, kid."

Gwen relays that message to Hobie when explaining why Noir isn't joining and Hobie's response to that is: "He gets it! He just like me fr! 😭💕"

I think it be really cute that in the next movie when they finally meet Hobie is kinda awkward and shy. Like this guy has never respected an adult in his life (at least not any that didn’t deserve the disrespect) and with Noir his all like "Hello sir" "How are you sir" "It's very nice to meet you sir!" And Noir is actually just a really nice guy if a little broody but he's heard so much about this kid from Gwen and how much of a good friend he's been to her so Noir already likes him on principle.

Hobie: Uh Mr. Noir-- Parker, sir! It is such an honor to meet you! The work you do in your universe is amazing and I hope to learn more while working alongside you however briefly.

Noir: Ah, Peter is just fine really, or Noir if it gets to confusing. No need to be so formal, we're all on equal footing here. I've heard a lot about you and your world as well from Gwen. Although it does sadden me that such a young man has to take on the burden of saving the world from such a corrupt society yet again, you're going about it quite well. War is hard and ugly and violent but you are amazingly brave to be able to stand up for what is right in the face of it all. If anybody is honored here it is me, for being able to meet such a remarkable young man like you. And knowing that my friends have made such honorable allies in the midst of all this chaos.

Hobie, externally: Yeah, it's whatevs 😎

Hobie, internally: Dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry YOURE GUNNA LOOK SO UNCOOL IF YOU CRY IN FRONT OF HIM NOW 😭💕😭💕😭

I just think it be really cute if they had a wholesome father-son sort of relationship where they shit talk corrupt government systems and punch fascists together. You know, regular father-son bonding!

(Also I think that's another reason Miguel didn't invite Spider Noir to the Spiderverse, cuz he knew that both of these menaces together would cause a bigger headache than its worth 🤣🤣🤣)

[shinjisdone]

Yandere Thorfinn And The Things He Does (For You)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors. However, it seems like this was a mistake...for your bond might get twisted.

[Headcanons of how it would be like to crawl your way into Yandere Thorfinn’s heart (based on season 1;]

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen @theknightssecrets

This t h I n g has been rotting in my drafts since JUNE

This is honestly just a uh Yandere version of the 5.1 and 5.2 HTSAWH posts 😬 the insane potential Thorfinn as a Yandere has in S1 and S2 got me in a chokehold.

I started it, got writer's block and then wanted to finish the S1 HTSAWH series first cause this one just goes at it. It devours.

So...

Remember when I started with 'Thorfinn won't ever admit anything?' That still rings true.

However, this time it seems like he knows what he is feeling. It feels like an aching softness he feels whenever he sees you, a warmth that almost burns him and spreads out from his heart. Longing that twists and turns like a mad snake.

These butterflies and the beating of his heart are as clear the shine of the sun and the cold of snow. He can feel it, physically feel it pumping through his body at the mere thought of you.

He cannot explain it nor knows when it started but he doesn't mind either way. Far from it.

He is young and stubborn. A side of him doesn't want to accept such mushy emotions but he has no strength nor will power to even attempt at fighting it all back. He is still boyish, still inexperienced and it all feels so good. He wants to let his heart give in.

The blonde is good at masking it though. Mostly because his life is so hectic that he never really gets the chance to indulge in anything, lest his feelings and inclinations.

I can still imagine him acting non-affectionate with you. Dragging, pushing and pulling. Though his touch is akin to velvet gloves and he tends to touch you far, far, far too much and a whole lot more.

The pushes are there but brief with his hand on your back - and once he gently shoves you, his hand is right back where it orginally was. Broad and warm palm pressed against your skin for support.

Dragging you because you talked too long to someone else? Of course. Taking you elsewhere since your eyes seem to wander to something else? Sure. Simply wanting you to be somewhere else with no one but Thorfinn? Why, yes.

While doing so he often gets the urge to have his hold slip down from your wrist to your hand and firmly hold it. He wants your fingers to clasp around his hand and hold it. Hold his hand. He bets yours is warm.

Though he is too embarrased to do so...and he won't have an answer or comeback if you question him on the sudden change of behaviour.

Pulling? What he pulls he wants to pull on your heart strings like you do his is usually you closer to him for safety or warmth. Wrapping an arm around you and pressing you to his side, either for others to get the message that you are NOT to be attacked or to keep warm in the cold mornings. He doesn't mind either way and it is one of the many things he likes to do most. It's warm and comfortable, makes his heart sing to have you this close, it makes him feel like a protector and that you belong together. Neither of you need anyone else. It's you and Thorfinn against the world.

He is scarce with his words when he initiates any kind of physical contact but his touch is gentler than a mother's.

He still likes to pull on your hair, briefly though and just to annoy you.

Thorfinn likes your hair...he pulls on it to annoy you but also to just feel it for a second at least.

Signs of affection or intimacy coming from you is different however.

The one thing that makes Thorfinn spiral down into his lovesickness and hits him with a tsunami of realization of his feelings for you is when you smile.

Your lives aren't easy being part of Askeladd's band. The fighting, the killing, the surviving, the cruelty and mockery of Askeladd and his men - it gives no one a reason to be even joyful for a moment, really. He knows he doesn't. The only reason he can find himself smiling for is you.

So it almost is akin to a miracle when your eyes crinkle and the corners of your mouth go up so naturally because it is so rare. When your grin already rivals the sun and you accompany it with laughter? It's like Thorfinn is transported to a different life entirely.

A life where you two share joy. Where it is only you two.

99% of the time you are smiling because of him since the young man is the only one you really have, at least as a source of companionship, kindness and comfort.

And 99% of the time when you smile you are looking straight at him.

He caught his breath and right there is the realization of his feelings. Of the fact that the cold and brooding viking boy has normal feelings, feelings for someone, and they are this deep and sweet too.

His heart is trying to rip out his chest and the sight of you makes him feel so special. He can make you feel this way, can make you happy even if it is for a moment. No one but him should see it.

At the same time he is blown away by your smile's beauty. He can't remember the last time he ever saw someone smile (it was a long time ago, 11 years) and he never knew a smile could look this stunning. But then, he comes to realize, it is only stunning because it belongs to you.

He freezes up as if you had stabbed him. You grow concerned, asking what's wrong before he avoids your gaze and turns away a few moments later. The young man still needs to digest your words, laughter and smile before a small one appears on his face. It was nice...

But when he turns around, your smile is gone already. Of course you won't be standing there grinning like an idiot, especially after Thorfinn weirdly zoned out there. It deflates him a bit and only makes him more determined to make you smile each time he sees you like that.

You're beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful...

And when you say or do something affectionate? Thorfinn dies.

Again, he freezes up like a cat before really getting used to it. Even when your touches have a logical reason behind them (fingers grazing over his skin while checking for injuries), the blonde melts anyway. Its...foreign and different and so, so soothing. He likes it quite a bit but won't ever admit so.

In fact, once gets really used to it and your soft touch becomes a routine, Thorfinn really leans into it. Closing his eyes and letting out such a tired sigh as if he had been holding it for months. It's therapeutic for him, really, almost like a release of all tensions. Nothing but you wander his mind and soul right now in moments like these.

When you usher him to wake up by tapping his face he sometimes pretends to be still asleep just so you'd touch him more. When you come closer to his face and speak louder with your breath fawning over his lips...his heart picks up and before an excited smile overcomes him, the lad 'wakes up' (and annoyingly tells you to be quiet. Partly not to blow his cover but also to joke).

The moment your fingers glide over his palm as he leads you elsewhere OMG OMG OMG. As if you want to hold his hand...while Thorfinn gazes ahead with stern eyes he is waiting with bated breath on your next move only to feel the disappointment grow when you aren't reaching out to hold his hand. He blushes profusely at the realization, feeling embarassed.

When out camping, you can be sure Thorfinn will not let you out of his sight ONCE. Especially after Askeladd's attempt at killing you, the thought of leaving you alone would not cross his mind once (even if Askeladd's stunt didn't happen).

Sitting on opposite ends makes more sense to watch you but he quickly finds out that he much rather prefers to be as close to you as possible (what a great opportunity to wrap his arm around you to keep you warm at the fire place). Nevertheless his stare seems stern and dark as he watches and listens like a guard dog. What matters most is your safety, that's something he knew from the very start, whether he was lovesick before or not.

Might end up staying up all night keeping you safe. Watches you often just to see the rise of your chest as you sleep peacefully. It makes him calm and slightly proud as he's doing a good job so far.

During the night he keeps checking if you are sweating, too hot/too cold. Will take off his own cloak and wrap it around you/off you when needed.

There are nights where he just stares at you with an unreadable gaze. His body is moving on his own, it's as if there are no thoughts in his head and he's just following instincts. His fingers graze your cheek and brush your hair out of your face. It's fascinating to watch you like this.

You aren't glaring, frowning or smiling. All of your muscles are relaxed as you sleep peacefully as if nothing in this world could hurt you (Thorfinn couldn't and wouldn't let that happen). The blonde leans further down to get a closer look and will just...stay like this, watching. Watching your chest rise, how your breath leaves your parted lips, how the light of the fire engulfs your form.

It's...enchanting. That's the only word he can find that fits what he's feeling.

Whatever you two decide to do, Thorfinn will wordlessly be deciding to be joined at the hip even if you don't need him or suggest to split up. "No." He bluntly tells you as he glares but his eyes are soft as he does. His tone is not, however.

It's simply out of the question. He can be as loving as he wants to be but the viking will NEVER EVER leave you alone, or leave you entirely. No, you are far too important, far too precious.

He doesn't let you leave either. When he trains, he doesn't let you stray far. When he eats, sleeps and kills, you are to be close. Even in his many duels with Askeladd does he want you to be in the first row to watch him, watch him win (he never does but is stubborn enough to delude himself into believing it).

Whenever you decide that you are not needed in this situation/activity and attempt to leave, Thorfinn will call out and stop you. "Where are you going? Stay here." He's blunt and gives no explanation on why except by broadly mentioning possible dangers and that there is nothing out there to go to anyway. Where are you going in this dense, lonely forest? If anything, you're just gonna get attacked by a boar. Stay here with him or let him come with you. These are always your only two options.

Bathing is a necessetiy but usually not for Thorfinn. He'll gladly drop everything if you want to go bathe so that he can keep watch for you and your belongings. However, the young man usually ends up bathing too once you convince him.

Take all the time that you need, Thorfinn is ready to keep guard until dusk if necessary. He'd stay still like a statue with the eyes of a hawk for any potential dangers. Your belongings are right there at his feet.

Now, this can be easy to misunderstand hence why Thorfinn never lets himself be caught...but he takes glimpses of you while you bathe. Not for perverted reasons but because he...simply wants to. A lot of the rather quiet things he does for you and to you are most of the time always something akin to instincts. Thorfinn is fond of you, very much so, which is why his hand is reaching for yours on its own. It's the reason why he shoves you behind him during battle, why he seems to want to caress your hair, why he almost automatically always sits near you and why he wants to watch you bathe. He doesn't even really know what this is and if they can really be called 'instincts'...but he doesn't mind it and doesn't question it. It feels right.

Your face is beautiful. Your smile is beautiful. Your hair is beautiful. Your eyes are beautiful. Your form is beautiful. So he wants to see your nude body because he is certain it is beautiful, too.

And he's right. You're beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful...

This is never going to happen since he prioritizes your safety above all else and will always keep watch, but Thorfinn would like to bathe with you. Just once.

Again, not for any perverted reasons but because the intimacy would make it so special. Both of you don't trust anyone but each other so only you two could see each other like this. No one else.

No one else could wash your and his back, no one else would be able to see your beauty like Thorfinn can.

It's wish thinking, really, really wish thinking but he would love to embrace your nude body flush against his. The warmth of your naked skins against each other in the water with the sun shining down...the closeness, the intimacy, the warmth. It's a dream he is longing for even if he does so secretly.

The bond the two of you have is just this special. Nothing and no one could sever or replicate it. He really likes the feeling of the world being your enemy and you two being the other's only companion. Just you and him. You and him. You and him.

Grooming is done together as well.

Brushing his hair is...embarassing but it feels so good. His heart is pumping feeling you so close, your hands running through his hair, maybe you even hum or just talk...

It's embarassing...but it's so nice. Nice enough that he'll let you brush his hair more often, as well as cut it if you want.

Thorfinn would only do it when necessary though. Your touch is nice but goodness, it's not the only way he can melt and revel at your kindness. Brushing and cutting hair is just a way to enjoy your touch in a different way.

Will close his eyes, flush a bright red and usually ends up leaning against you in his sitting position. It's nice. Do continue and do whatever else you want, too. It just adds to the experience.

Though the blonde is a bit too flustered to talk back if you converse with him.

He'll gladly cut and brush your hair. Uses the opportunity to run his fingers through your hair again and again and again and again. The urge to do this just overtakes him and even if he looks very concentrated with his usual scowl, believe him that he is thoroughly enjoying this.

Tries bis best to cut your hair the way you want it to...but he's still not good at it. He learns with each session so give him time. Additionally, he very much likes to cut your hair with his dagger. It gives him a little boost, a sense of purpose that the weapon that already protects you now grooms your hair. Thorfinn's dagger, which belonged to his father, is protecting, helping and grooming you, doing everything for you - and in a way, Thorfinn is doing all of this since he is wielding the blade. Whenever he wields the dagger for you no matter for what reason, it gives him a boost of self-confidence as your protector - which he heavily sees himself as.

Yes, Thorfinn very much so sees himself as your protector, even if you don't agree. In fact, he won't care what you or others think, Thorfinn IS your protector. There is no doubt about in his mind.

When fighting, there are only three important things: Survival, holding up a deal to get a duel with Askeladd and your safety. You are the priority.

So the blonde won't care what he has to do, what he must endure or who has to die to keep you safe. Thorfinn utterly despises the fact that you are often on the battlefield and that Askeladd out of all people are ordering you to fight vexes him even more. You shouldn't be fighting. You shouldn't be any where near danger, you are supposed to be away in a safe place waiting for him. Waiting for your protector, your Thorfinn. (In his mind he belongs to you).

So he gets extra pissy and aggressive on the battlefield, shoving you behind him, shushing you when you disagree and yelling at you to stay away! No more fighting for you! He doesn't care what he has to do or how he has to convince Askeladd but you are not. Going. To fight. Anymore.

Due to the sudden aggessiveness and adrenaline, Thorfinn becomes a beast during fights. There is no mercy in his eyes nor heart as he slaughters one enemy after another, as if they were twigs he pushes away while running through a forest.

Anything can be a danger to you. You could die and that's a thought he cannot actually bear!

No. No, no, no, no, no. It won't happen. It won't happen. It won't happen.

Screaming like a banshee as these words are repeating in his head. He stabs and stabs and stabs and seems lost and drowning in his anger, in his fear and squashes it all down with sheer determination. As long as he can take a breath, there will not be a single hair on your head harmed.

In the aftermath, after making sure every single enemy is dead on the ground will Thorfinn run back to you. He is covered in blood and his hands are desperately tight on his two daggers just in case anything might happen. His eyes are wide as blood runs down his face, panting. Once he found you he has to abruptly stop before he might run into you.

The first thing he does is mumble your name as he slowly awakens from his bloodied trance and his eyes that seemed so glazed over now narrow. He screams at you that you weren't supposed to fight, that you shouldn't do it again. Don't ever get involved in a battle again, no matter what that bastard Askeladd tells you!

Thorfinn is not really angry at you but rather still emotional ober the possibility that you could have died. That's not something he can allow and still lost in his rather emotional state - in fact, the viking boy always follows his emotions and guts as if they were a guidepost - he yells at you. He needs some time to calm down again.

However, you are calling him out as well that he just charged in there and that you had to fight! You cannot just turn your back especially when Askeladd is the one who brought you into this situation! Screaming at you won't change anything!

The young man is stumped for a bit and calms gradually down. Finally the daggers are put away and he keeps on interrupting himself as he struggles to voice out his feelings. "You could've died." He bluntly lets out before adjusting his stance. His hands reach out to your arms. "Let me look at your wounds".

He's trying to avoid his own emotions - he's too overwhelmed and doesn't know how to express himself. First he was scared for your life, then screams at you, can only see red...but he should be paying attention to you. You are what matters.

But once you shake your head and tell him you have none because he charged into battle like a boar...he goes silent again. His hands get ahold of your arms finally and he's looking you up and down, from head to toe.

An eerie grin appears on his face.

"...Good. Good." He absent-mindedly nods and rubs your arm.

Good. This is very good.

Thorfinn protected you. You are unharmed because he suceeded in protecting you, just like how it should be. This is how it always should be.

You snap him out of his trance when pointing all the blood on him. Thorfinn is the one wounded, why is he not looking after himself?

Because you matter first - that is his very first thought but he doesn't say it. He can't...not yet.

Ushering him to let you look at his injuries, the blonde complies with that eerie grin again. He lets you do anything you deem necessary to him while staring either into space or at you with that eerie smile. He basks in your concern especially if you dote on him.

He likes this. This is how it always should be. Thorfinn won't let anything go near you, he will fight for you, kill those that have the gall and arrogance to do you harm (because they deserve it. Anyone who thinks they can do anything to you deserves to be killed by him and only him) and return to you, into your arms, as your protector. He doesn't mind the blood that taints his face, hands and soul nor the stabs and broken bones in his body so long you are safe. And not just 'safe'...but safe with Thorfinn, because of Thorfinn. He wants to be your sole protection and he already is. You don't need anyone else.

And now here he is lying down and gazing at your beautiful, worried face as you tend and dote on him. He'd rather be nowhere else but here.

And if you do somehow get injured? The perpatrator will be met with a beast.

If you got hurt there is a high chance Thorfinn will just see red. Screams like a banshee and goes for the perperator to finish them off again and again and again. He'll pant like a dog after the deed is done and would need to collect himself before his thought process goes from "getting rid of the threat" to "you are hurt".

His clothes heavy, dripping with blood he hurries to you and in moments of panic, tend to your injuries as fast as possible.

In his mind, the faster you are tended to, the better.

However, his movements are hectic. Thorfinn cannot stand the sight of you hurt and he just believes he must fix it. Fast.

It is akin to a fight-or-flight response. Your injured body is something that brings stress and panic, so he acts accordingly to it. As hectic as he is, it is just as painful to be treated by him but the blonde always manages to tend you right.

Only after your are treated can Thorfinn let out a sigh of relieve. He'll sit next to you, glancing every other second to make sure you are okay. He keeps an keen eye on you until you are better.

If the injury is severe, expect him to embrace and press you close to him. Eyes blown wide as he pressed your head close, not believing how close to death you were. He says nothing but attmepts to collect his thoughts, breathing heavily.

At the least, he will sit close and hold your hand. At most, he'll have you sit on his lap as his arms are protectively wrapped around you (or he shifts his legs so you'll sit on the ground). He...must have a grip on you after all this. He must.

Once the day slowly ends, and you two are fortunate enough to find a stable or any other shelter, you might find Thorfinn to be quite...clingy.

It's strange. There are instances where he is exhausted and just falls on a hill of hay with a thump. Though as he lays there and turns to your direction, he reaches out his arm.

It's an invitation that slowly turned into a demand for you to come close. Sit or lay down, it doesn't matter to him. What does matter is that you are close. Close enough for Thorfinn.

If there are other balls or hills of hay where you'd like to sleep, Thorfinn will "prohibit" it grumpily and tells you to come closer. Close enough that if something were to happen, he can easily reach out to you. Without getting up but by simply leaning and stretching his body.

It stems from his overprotectiveness but also for his need of comfort (which he'd never admit). Nightmares are his familiars and if - rather when - they plague him again and he awakens with a start - you'll be there. You, beautiful, beautiful you and he can easily reach out for you. Grab your wrist or hand, anything, and have your touch as comfort to fall back asleep again.

After all, when he wakes up, either through another nightmare or by the rays of the sun, he'll still have you in his grasp and you'll still be there. It comforts him. Makes him believe everything is going to be okay.

However, there is seldomly, seldomly, seldomly, seldomly a chance where he feels bold and excited and overconfident when he tells you to come even closer.

It's a stark contrast to the usual Thorfinn, for the Thorfinn that isn't lovesick. He'd never ask or be vocal about wanting to be close, about wanting you to be in his arms as you sleep. Its...shocking but not the first time he requested this.

Well, winter is here. The cold, biting wind creaking its way into the open stable and it only makes sense.

Being close in each others' warmth prevents you from freezing to death, it only makes sense.

It isn't the first time.

However, cuddling with him isn't as easy as he makes it out to be. Actually laying down and shooting closer with your arms around each other flusters Thorfinn immensely. He only gingerly places his hands on your back and seems to grunt quietly, eyes darting. Once you finally settled in and wrapped your own arms around him, does he go awfully silent.

He clears his throat, grunts and blinks, glancing around between you and anything else. Thorfinn is excited yet flustered, happy yet nervous. It was a mix of emotions whirling inside him and now that...he got what he wanted, he doesn't know what to do.

If his odd behavior concerns you, you could let out a soft 'is this okay?'

The blonde's breath hitches - then he hesitates. A moment later, he nods in a way that you almost reckon to be timid but surely not Thorfinn?

While cuddling, Thorfinn will surely stare at you. Stare at your face with an unblinking gaze. He'd do so while you sleep and while you are awake.

You can tell him how uncomfortable it makes you which he'll reply to with the quietest 'right' and 'sorry'. Nevertheless, he'd continue to do so anyhow as long as you dont notice.

You're just...nice. So nice to look at. He rarely gets to see you so close in a place and time where everything is so peaceful.

Alone in the hay, inside a barn. At night where there are no marches or sails, where he musn't kill anyone to get a duel with Askeladd, where there are no bandmates with their vile behavior. Only you and him and the quiet.

It's where he can be...anything. A sense of belonging and freedom that is so exciting.

He can just look at you.

If you are female, Thorfinn would definitely be more flustered.

Women aren't often seen in the band and the young viking definitely never had been so close to one before. Having your body so close is...nerve-wrecking. But he likes it.

Thorfinn would generally try - keyword try - to somehow snuggle into you. The mere thought makes his heart pound even of he doesn't understand why. He slightly pulls you closer by the hands on your back and awkwardly tilt his head to be rested on your shoulder. Or head. Or chest.

It is daunting but he wants it.

Since there is definitely trust between the two of you, you'd at least snuggle once. Laying the head on the shoulder, head to head, to the chest...

If you initiate it, Thorfinn would freeze up but be glad for you can't see the exciting grin spreading on his face. It would encourage him to press you as close to him as possible.

If Thorfinn initiates it, it is very sublte, bashful until he fully and willingly tries to mold into your body. Inhaling your scent (even if you stink) and eerily grinning at the intimacy. It's new and peaceful and calm. So good, so good and not violent. Not grueling, not resulting into any bruises and broken bones. It's a world where only you and him reside. Only you and him.

He wishes nights like these are forever.

It's become less about keeping each other warm - it is the very instances where Thorfinn can indulge in his desires and feelings, his inclinations.

And each time you grow so close in each other's arms, does his willingness to indulge grow.

[xxcatzladyxx]

MHA - Hawks x Reader | The scent

Hello everyone! ❤️

I'm here with a small idea of mine! Nothing special or something. Just a stupid idea. Have a good read! I take requests! Any requests!

Your Wolfi 🐺

~~~

You're out with Hawks. He invited you to dinner. At first you didn't want to go because you know how annoying the blonde can be sometimes. But before he annoys you any further, you finally say yes. A little later, you're sitting in a restaurant. While Keigo devours his beloved chicken, a single question that he has been asking himself for a long time burns on his tongue. He puts his cutlery aside and clears his throat briefly.

"(y/n)...?" he asks, taking a sip of his drink. "Yes, Hawks? What is it?", you also take a short break from eating and look at the hero waiting.

"I have a question about your quirk. You once told me you can recognize people by their scent. Similar to a dog. And I wanted to ask you, what do I smell like to you? Masculine, strong, maybe sexy and-" he asks you with a big grin on his face until you interrupt him. "Like coffee and chicken. Only chicken with a slight hint of coffee," you say calmly.

The grin disappears from Hawks' face. He was expecting a slightly different answer. Coffee and chicken? Seriously now? Well, he drank a lot of coffee during the day and chicken was his favorite dish. But does he really smell that strong? Of course, you didn't mention that he also smelled a little of his perfume, which wasn't surprising. However, knowing him as you do, he would have thought something of it if you had mentioned his perfume. He would definitely have insinuated that you were in love with him. You definitely wanted to spare yourself that.

"Coffee... and chicken?" he asks, puzzled, and you give him a nod. "No more...?" he continues. He sounds slightly crestfallen. His honor is a little offended. His masculinity as well. The winged one was really hoping for more, just as you thought. You eat your food in peace. Hawks, on the other hand, just picks at his food. The thought just won't let him go.

"Have you lost your tongue now or what? I don't know you that calm!" you giggle. "I was just thinking..." he laughs nervously and starts eating again. He's going to get you. He won't give up that easily. One day he'll smell like more than just coffee and chicken to you...

[lady-of-tearshed]

The last date.

Ruhn Danaan x Reader

Summary: You are accumulating bad dates, and your best friend, Ruhn, is always there to comfort you when you need him to. He always knows exactly what he needs to do in order to boost your mood.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mention of sexual activities but nothing explicit. A little bit of angst.

“I took your ass out tonight!”

Your hands fly to unbuckle your seatbelt, tears burning your eyes and shattering your heart from this alphahole nasty words. What a fucked up thing to say on a date, only because you didn't agree to go home with him to fuck. “Stop the car.” You urge him, taking your seatbelt off.

“What?!” His eyes leave the road briefly, and he dares to stare at you, looking all confused. What a poor loser.

“Stop the fucking car or I’m jumping out!” The tire screeched, the car stopping so abruptly you almost hit your head on the windshield. You've made yourself pretty fucking clear. Good.

You open the door, completely ignoring the shift in the lion shifter’s voice, now more softer than his previous annoyed one as he calls out for you. “Y/N-”

“Go.Fuck.Yourself.” You cut him off, your voice as sharp as a blade, and you step out of the car.

The atmosphere is heavy, both of your chest heaving heavily as you stand straight on the sidewalk. You keep your chin high, tightly gripping onto the luxury, and probably very expensive, door of the car. You wait in hope to, at the very least, get wished a respectful goodnight. But your crude words had hurt the male’s ego a bit more than you expected.

“Obviously I will, since you won’t do it. After all I’ve done for you...” He rudely says, his teeth clenching so tightly you could hear their unpleasant gritting. You slam the door, hard. Not giving a damn about how you might’ve broken it. He speeds down the street, leaving you standing there, at your request.

You shoot him a last fuck you, joinging a obscene hand gesture with your vile words, before you see the car turn a corner, and disappear from your sight.

You run your hand across your face, not caring that it would smudge your makeup.

What the fuck was this date.

That's it. You are done. Done dating. All of the dates you've been on lately ended up being with shitty alphaholes. You have reached your limit.

You take a big shaky sigh, trying to control your trembling hands as you reach for your purse to take out your phone, and call the only person you trusted to get you back home.

You dialed the number, the phone ringing once, twice-

“Y/N? You're okay?”

Ruhn… Maybe it's just the alcohol you had inhibited earlier tonight, or the exhaustion, or the accumulation of failed dates that are making you feel so sentimental. You gulp down your tears, and clear your throat. “Could you, uh… Could you pick me up?”

You immediately hear Ruhn starting to rustle and get ready on the other side of the phone. “Of course, I'm coming right up, send me your location,” His keys jingle, then you can discern the sound of the motor of his car roaring. You quickly pull the phone away from your ear, putting him on speaker so you can text him your location. “Are you okay though? Are you safe?” He urges, and you realize you haven't answered his question the first time he asked it.

“Yeah, I'm…” You hesitate. Yes what? Yes you were okay? That would be a lie, and you wouldn't lie to Ruhn. “Safe.” You finish, hoping that your answer will do the job.

“Okay, I'll be there in ten minutes maximum,” You can hear him start to drive off, the ticking of his car flasher echoing in the background of the phone call. “Do you want me to stay on the line?” He questions, his voice soft and yet laced with concern.

You aren't even sure what you want anymore. You dab the back of your finger on your inferior lid, trying to dry the tears before they roll out of your eyes. “No, it's fine.” But is it? Your stomach churn, disgusted to be, again, asking your friend to rescue you from an horrible date.

You and your poor choices in men.

“Alright, I'll be right there, stay safe.” Ruhn's soft voice rings from your phone.

The gentleness of his voice makes your cheeks heat slightly, and your heart flutters at how much he cares. “Yeah, love you.” The words slip out on their own, and you gape, staring at your phone, almost dropping it to the ground.

But Ruhn laughs from the other side of the phone, not seeming to be bothered at all from your outburst of affection. “Yeah, love you too.” He teases, reusing your own words, before hanging up.

Oh you fucked up. Why did you say that?! What's wrong with you?! You groan, putting your phone back into your purse and cross your bare arms on your chest. You try to heat yourself up, a difficult task indeed, considering there's only a short, too short in your opinion but perfectly short in Bryce's opinion, pretty black dress.

Your heels are killing you, so you take them off your feet, hissing at the cold contact of the sidewalk on your bare feet. That for sure is a nice way to sober you up.

Before you can bend down to pick them up, Ruhn’s car stops right in front of you, and he quickly gets out of the car to help you out. “My sister dressed you up again?” He snickers, picking up your heels then easily lifts you up into his tattooed arms before settling you down on the passenger seat.

“Why, you think I can't dress myself up for a date?” You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Ruhn rests his arms on the top of the car, slightly leaned forward, and rolls his eyes. He pulls out a ticket out of his leather jacket, and you snatch it out of his fingers, inspecting it.

A car wash coupon.

You hum, turning it over in your hands as Ruhn smirk grows bigger with every passing second. He closes the door, and takes the seat beside yours, settling behind the wheel. “Am I forgiven for my misplaced teasing?”

“Is it the car wash where they have the pretty lights and the tricolor foam?”

“Yes.”

Your fake pout turns into a smile and you uncross your arms, kicking your feet excitedly. “Then you are forgiven.”

Ruhn stops at the gas station to fill his tank before you two go to the car wash. You wait for him in the car, scrolling on your phone. A phone call pops up on your screen.

Brandon 💕

You quickly decline the call, erase the contact name and block his number from your phone. You sigh, pushing it aside. At the same moment, Ruhn opens the driver’s door with two slushies in hand. One red, one blue.

Ruhn grins, then hands over the red one, your favorite, to you. “Moral support drink,” He winks at you, and clings his plastic cup with yours. The cherry flavored shredded ice melts in your mouth, soothing every nerve of your body. You peer at Ruhn from the corner of your eyes as he drives to the entry of the car wash. His tattooed arm stretches out the window to slide the ticket in the machine, and the heavy car wash door buzzes.

Blue, pink, green, orange lights welcome you in as the car moves slowly inside. You'd never get tired of this kind of…

What is this called, a date? Between friends? Yeah. Probably.

The blush heating up your cheek is hidden by the bright changing lights of the car wash, and you jolt out of your thoughts at the sound of the water starting to spray the car. Ruhn hands over the phone wire connected to his car to you. “Want to put on some of your music?” You nod, connecting your phone to his car and scrolling through your playlist.

Ruhn taps his fingers on the wheel as the two of you keep sipping your drinks in silence for a while, drowning in all of the sounds and colors of the car wash. Ruhn was the one to break the silence first. “So…”

“So..?”

He bites down on his lower lip, thinking about his next words. “Mind to explain to me why you ended up tipsy and dressed…” He stops, taking a moment to look at your ravishing, yet quite revealing dress. A breath catches in his throat, and he scratches the back of his neck, trying to ease some tension. “Dressed heavenly, standing on a sidewalk, alone, in the middle of a relatively chill night?” He finishes.

You sigh, looking away from him. You play with the purple straw of your cup, swirling it around to make the rest of the shredded ice melt, in hope it will give you a few more sips. “Bad date.” You mumble under your breath, the shame of again seeking comfort from Ruhn after a bad date. But Ruhn didn't seem to mind for one bit. Always picking up his phone and dropping everything he was doing the second you need him.

Ruhn nods, and takes a long sip of his drink, the two of you staying silent once again. The tricolor foam soap starts its calming pitter platter on the top of the car, and you drift your eyes up from your cup to admire the mousse landing on the windshield. “And how's this date going so far?” Your eyes widen, and Ruhn feels his heart skip a beat at his sudden boldness.

“What kind of date?” You risk asking him. Your heart is beating incredibly fast as he dives his beautiful blue eyes into yours.

His usual playful grin has completely gone vacant from his face, his expression more serious than you've ever seen him as he speaks. “The kind of date I wish would turn us into more than… friends.” The last word tastes bitter on Ruhn's tongue as he swallows down his nervousness.

He had absolutely no clue why tonight is the night he suddenly got the guts to confess his feelings for you. Surely, his sister's pep talk had helped him get that broomstick out of his butt.

You admire the way the changing lights made Ruhn's blue eyes tinted with every color. Your hand instinctively reaches for his cheek, his soul singing to yours to come closer. His beauty was hypnotizing you, and the way he opened up his heart to you, sitting there, vulnerable beside you makes your heart swell.

Your hand rests against his chest, and you can feel his heart beneath the palm of your hand, it is beating as fast as yours. “I swear to every Gods, Ruhn Danaan…” You whisper, and his hand tangles with the hair at your nape when you bring your face only inches away from his. “That you're the last fucking male I give a chance to.”

“And I promise you that I'll worship you everyday of my life for this chance.” He murmurs, before your lips finally get a chance to taste each other. You shiver at the feeling of Ruhn's cold lips, especially as his lips piercing glides over your lower lip. His hand quickly unbuckles the two of your seat belts, and he parts his lips from yours quickly to back his seat so he can slide you over his laps comfortably.

You straddle him, his hands sliding up your dress on your hips so you can comfortably put your knees on each side of him. You attach your hips back to his, and he kisses you back, deeper this time, as he slides his tongue against yours, both of your slushies flavors mixing in your mouths.

You jolt and your lips break apart when the loud ringing of the car wash indicates that the session is over. You timidly move off Rhun's lap with his help, bursting out laughing when your butt accidently presses the honk in the process. Ruhn moves his seat forward, adjusting himself behind the wheel, while you start putting your seatbelt back on.

Your fingers brushes your lips softly, feeling as if the feeling of Ruhn’s lips against yours was still lingering there. The tattooed male keeps his eyes fixed on the road as he drives away from the car wash, cheeks flustered and still panting slightly. “Sorry, I-” He gulps down, but before he can apologize more, you burst out laughing.

He could listen to this sound for centuries and never get tired of it.

“Don't worry, it was perfect.” You bite your lower lip, and you hesitantly brush your pinky against his. He wraps his fingers with yours, and squeezes them softly, never wanting to let go.

“So… I guess that means I get to take you out on more dates?” He says, trying to keep his voice steady as he speaks.

“I guess it does.” You smirk.

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe

[iheartcake123]

min seo-jin x f!reader

warnings:none (?)

a/n: all the military men in sweet home are just TOOO fine!! anyways i hope you enjoy this fic because it was so fun to write🤭

Masterlist

you had been with seo-jin for a good while now, ever since the whole monster thing had happened. he’d saved you from a monster and ever since then, a friendship and then a relationship grew.

to be honest, you were complete polar opposites.

people described you as sweet, kind hearted and a gentle soul because of how sensitive you could be at times.

while on the other hand people described seo-jin as cold, intimidating and hot headed due to the nature of his attitude.

despite some challenges at the beginning of the relationship, you were both going extremely strong and you both complimented each other perfectly.

the day was like no other, the crow platoon had gone on an expedition and you were doing what you needed to do.

as it became later in the day, you patiently waited for seo-jin’ return. you were laying down in your room, on your shared bed. you had just woken from a nap and knew that it would soon be time for seo-jin to return.

it worried you each time he had to leave but you knew it was for the best and because of how skilled the platoon were, you were confident he’d come back safe each and every time.

thankfully, it wasn’t a long wait and several minutes later the door to your room opened and closed.

you lifted your head and saw that it was seo-jin. a smile immediately appeared on your face and you sat up. he must’ve cleaned himself up before coming to see you as his upper torso was bare, he was clean, his hair was wet and so was the shirt he held in his hand.

“seo-jin” you beamed but soon noticed the look on his face.

something was on his mind.

“is everything okay my love?” you questioned as he sat on the edge of the bed, throwing the wet shirt onto the floor.

his hands balled into fists and his eyebrows furrowed in obvious annoyance.

“im okay y/n” he huffed but you knew he wasn’t being honest.

“seo-jin, you can tell me what’s on your mind. i can tell there’s something bothering you” you placed a hand on one of his and he took a deep breath in.

he looked at you briefly before beginning to explain what was annoying him.

“the expedition today, it was a complete waste of time! we didn’t bring back anything valuable and we’re almost out of fuel. and then when we got back, there were these two fucking losers who were complaining about how we don’t let people who aren’t in the platoon on expeditions! are they too stupid to understand that we do it to protect them? it just gets on my nerves” he let out all his emotions and you listened intently to what he was saying “seriously, do they take us for idiots!?” seo-jin raised his voice slightly towards the end.

you let out a sigh, holding back a smile.

it was funny, how annoyed he would get a lot of the time.

“ahh seo-jin..” you began and shuffled to move behind him, you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to massage them “why do you get yourself so worked up?”

seo-jin relaxed into your touch and you continued to massage his shoulders.

“y/n, it’s just frustrating” his voice was a lot calmer and you hummed.

“i understand it can be frustrating but we’ve spoken about this before, haven’t we? let people say what they want to say because at the end of the day, you know how useful you are to this place. plus, you can get more massages from me” you let out a smile as got close to his ear and told him this.

seo-jin fell silent for a couple of minutes as you waited for him to respond.

“i guess you’re right y/n, im sorry i get so worked up” seo-jin turned his head to look at you. his eyes gentle and you couldn’t help the grin on your face as you examined his expression now.

“you don’t guess, you know im right” you teased and seo-jin broke into a smile.

“i know you’re right” he playfully rolled his eyes and pecked you on the lips.

you removed your hands from his shoulder and brought one to rest on his cheek.

“i love you so much” you told him and seo-jin leaned his head into your hand.

“i love you too”

[skellyflowers]

Beach Day

Masterlist

Cumulus x reader x Phantom 

It is Thursday and the band has a week off between music festivals so Copia announced to  his ghouls that they were taking a beach trip to unwind. Phantom ran up to me in the chapel cafeteria after he heard the news.

“Papa said we can all bring a friend! So will you go with us? Please?”

He practically begs me. And he gives me his best puppy dog eyes that he can manage with the mask. I can only imagine his face underneath.  If I was alone or in the ghoul’s common areas I would have been hit with full force.

I put my pointer finger to my chin and look like I am really considering his question. My friend Sister Lucy stands next me and lets out a quiet chuckle. Phantom on the other hand is vibrating with anticipation.

“I don’t know Phantom, I might be busy this weekend.” I say sarcastically.

“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! ” Phantom shouts, dropping to the ground in front of me and Lucy. Drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Siblings and ghouls alike turned to look at the three of us.

“Ok, ok I’ll go, stop yelling.” I say, face hot with embarrassment because of the attention. Phantom jumps to his feet with a huge smile on his face.

“Yay! Thank you thank you thank you!” Phantom now holding on to my hand and bouncing. At least the others in the room have turned away. “I’ll see you this weekend!” Phantom gives a kiss to my knuckles and runs off.

“I think he is excited.” Says Lucy after the fact.

“Do you really think so?” I ask sarcastically. My cheeks are still warm. 

 We both laugh and head out of the cafeteria after a few minutes. We walk down the hallway until we pass the Library. Lucy stops and I turn to look at her.

“I got to return this book” Lucy says with an annoyed look on her face “Sister Marge has started getting on my case anytime she sees me. I can’t keep dealing with it.”

“Well you better get in there.” I respond “Sister Marge loves her books more than any of us. I’ll see you later Lucy.”

“Good night bestie.” Lucy says and then enters the Library.

I briefly wondered what book she borrowed and long before Sister Marge considered it too long to borrow any of the books. I’ll try to remember the question when I see Lucy again. I probably wouldn’t if I was being honest. Now I need to find something to do until bedtime. I’m not tired yet and I don’t want to go back to the Sister's living quarters just yet. So I keep walking down The Ministry’s halls and I end at the ghoul’s practice room.

I head into the room and look around to see any unmasked ghouls who may be there. I see Swiss and Mountain sitting on one side of the room. Swiss has a guitar in his hands and three young ghouls around him. Mountain has some bongos and two young ghouls watching him carefully.  I didn’t know that they were teaching! That is so cute! I look at the other side of the room and see the ladies, Cumulus and Cirrus. They are sitting at the grand piano talking.

“Hello ladies” I say while walking over to them.

“Hi Sweetie!” Cumulus says happily.

“Good evening.” Cirrus responses, cool as always.

“How are you two? How was practice?” 

“It goes really well when the boys aren’t goofing around.” Cirrus says loudly. I assume she is talking about Swiss.

“It will be nice to have a week off.” Cumulus said, stretching her arms over her head.

“Are you two excited about the beach trip?” I ask. Both ghoulettes turn to look at me surprised.

“How did you know about that? Papa just told us.” Cumulus asked.

“Phantom asked if I would go.” I explain.

“So that’s where he ran off to.” Cirrus says insightfully.

“WHAT?!?!?” Cumulus yelps “I WAS GOING TO ASK YOU!” She crosses her arms and starts to pout. She looks so cute, like a grumpy little cloud.

“What are we yelling about?”

I turn to see the mystery person who has appeared behind me. It’s Aurora. I can't believe I didn’t hear her coming up behind me. She looks at the three of us with curious eyes. Her tail gently waved behind her.

“Our dear sister here can read minds.” Cirrus jokes.

“REALLY! WHAT AM I THINKING RIGHT NOW!” Aurora shouts, putting her fingers to the sides of her head. Her face twisted in concentration.

“She was joking.” I said deadpan.

“Boo that’s boring.” Aurora said clearly disappointed. “But really what did I miss?”

“Phantom invited her to the beach trip.” Cumulus answered, wrapping her hands around my middle and hooking her chin over my shoulder. I try, and fail, to suppress a smile. “I wanted to ask her.” Cumulus pouts again and I feel her tail around my ankle.

“And you said yes sister?” Aurora asked.

“I couldn’t say no when he dropped to the floor and started begging and yelling.”

“Hot.” Swiss yells from the other side of the practice room. I feel my face heat up again.

“And now Lus is pouting because she couldn’t ask her girlfriend first.” Cirrus says connecting all the dots.

“I’m his girlfriend too.” I say, defending Phantom. Cumulus tightens her grip on me a little so reach behind me and try to find her horns so I give them a little scratch. When I found one she started purring.

“Are you two going to invite anyone?” I ask, trying to get the attention off me for a moment.

“I was planning on asking Sunshine.”Cirrus says.

“I want to but I’m not sure the person will say yes to me.” Aurora says looking very unconfident.

“Who were you going to ask? Do I know them?” I asked.

“Well.” Aurora pauses “Yes you do.”

“Who?! Tell me!” Fully giving Aurora my attention. My curiosity overflowing.

“Sister Lucy” She mumbled covering her blushing face after.

“Really! Go ask her. Lucy will totally say yes!” I encourage.

“You think so?” I hear Aurora become a little more confident with her words.

“Of course she will!” My voice is getting more animated. “She is probably still at the Library getting a lecture by Sister Marge.” 

“OK! I’ll go right now!” Aurora says running out of the room.

“So that means our guest list is Sister Lucy, Aether and you.” Cirrus comments.

“What are you doing for the rest of the night Sweetie?” Cumulus asks.

I look around the room to check if there is a clock in the practice room. When I see it the clock reads 10:37 PM. Wow, time really flies.

“I have to go to bed. I’m helping make breakfast tomorrow.” I sigh.

“Can I walk you back to your room?” Cumulus mumbles into my neck.

“Sure. Good night Cirrus.”

“Good night Sister. See you on Saturday.” Cirrus says waving me and Cumulus off.

The walk back to my room was quiet and uneventful. Cumulus put her mask back on and held my hand on the way. Once we made it to my door she lifted it to give me a good night kiss. Then slowly turned to walk back to the ghoul den, I hope she takes it easy on Phantom.

The day of the beach trip finally arrives. I didn’t realize how much I was looking forward to the trip. It would be nice to have a day of leisure. I head down stairs and outside with Lucy. Outside Papa is getting the ghouls ready. I notice that there are two Brothers of Sin helping pack up two large vans. I think their names are Sam and Ivan. I wonder if they are going with us or just helping.

Aurora sees the two of us first and starts waving her arms. Cumulus and Phantom turn to see us walk over to them. Phantom takes our bags and puts them into one of the vans.

“You two ready to go? Papa said we are going to a private beach!” asked Cumulus, giving me a hug.

“I can’t wait!” said Lucy.

Papa did one last head count and we all got into the vans. I was with Lucy, Aurora, Cumulus Phantom, Rain and Ivan. I guess they are going too. The hour and a half long drive was pleasant with very little traffic. And when we get to the private beach we see that there are bungalows like a private resort.

All of the boys get to work unpacking the vans and setting up umbrellas, chairs, blankets and towels. Mountain and Aether also set up two large tents. Me, Lucy and Cumulus claim a large blanket, two umbrellas and three chairs for our area.

“If anyone needs a break we also have the bungalows.” Papa announces.

I take out the dress I was wearing over my black bikini and I feel eyes on me. Unsurprisingly both Phantom and Cumulus are staring holes thru me. I laugh out of embarrassment and Phantom wraps me in a hug from behind and starts to purr in my ear.

“This is nice.” he whispers.

“Thank you”

“I can’t believe you were hiding this from us.” Cumulus purrs in my face.

“Hey! Get a room you pervs!” shouts Aurora. She throws her shirt at us and my ghouls laugh at her. Aurora helps Lucy put sunblock on her back and the two go to the water.

“Let's get you nice and protected” Cumulus says “don’t want to get burnt.”

She and Phantom work together to put sunblock on every piece of visible skin. They were very diligent and even got my ears. After a few minutes of ensuring I was protected from the sun we joined the others in the water.

I stay in the waist deep water and see what the others are doing. Swiss and Aurora are splashing and dunking each other. Dew, Adam and Aether are a ball around. I don’t see Rain but I'm sure he is having a swim under the water. Mountain has dug a hole with Cirrus and Sunshine. I guess they are making a little private pond. Papa sits at the shore under an umbrella watching over all of us.

After floating in the water for a while I make my way back to our spot on the beach Lucy follows after. We both look into the ice chest for snacks and water. 

“So, you and Aurora?”

“Yes! I couldn’t believe she asked me to come with you guys.”

“You two are so cute.”

“Thank you. But I want to take it slow.”

“Don’t be nervous, I did the same.” I reassure her.

Our conversation ends as our ghouls come over to us. They look in the ice chests and join us. As the day passes Mountain starts working on making a fire pit. As the sun goes down the ghouls gather using the fire to cook meat and veggies that were brought in the ice chests. Swiss brings out some marshmallows and chocolate. Phantom burns his marshmallow but still eats it in one bite. Cumulus cooks her marshmallow perfectly and I ask her to cook mine too.

When the night starts to get cold Cumulus, Phantom and I head into one of the bungalows. The inside looks like a one bedroom apartment with a kitchenette and full bathroom. Phantom puts the bags down in the kitchen and I head to the bathroom following Cumulus. I turn on the shower and wait for it to get warm. The shower is big enough for the three of us. It is also a rainfall shower. Nice. Cumulus helps me get undressed and pulls me into the shower. I let out a giggle and Cumulus starts kissing me. 

“You two getting started without me?” Phantom asks, pretending to be upset. 

We pull him between us and start kissing all over his face. After the ghouls started washing me. Phantom puts soap in my body and Cumulus works on shampooing my hair. We all take turns washing each other.  Once we are done Phantom dries both me and Cumulus off then himself.

I am exhausted by the time we make it back to the bedroom. Pulling back the blanket and sheets I get into bed. Phantom gets into bed next to me laying on his back and I cuddled up at his side and put my head on his shoulder. Cumulus lays on his other side and laced our hands over Phantom's tummy. Both ghouls started to purr. I let the vibrations lull me to sleep next to my ghouls.

[stariikis]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 | 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 01

synopsis ; when riki's having a hard time with his school work, you decide to buy him strawberry milk. not knowing that it's the milk flavour (and the colour) he despises most. if you're wondering, yes, this is in the same world as my chaptered fic, 'you in the rain', and is one of the bonus chapters i have planned. you can check out the fic here.

Perhaps your presence, a constant voice peeping up from across the library table, disturbs Riki more than he would dare to admit. 

Because the way he briefly glances up at you before groaning and pinching his nose-bridge… it’s probably not a good sign, is it? He frowns in concentration, starting to do his anxious tick you’ve recently noticed is a bad habit of his, clicking and unclicking his 0.5 ballpoint pen. Loudly. And then he twirls the pen over all four of his fingers, confusion evident over all his features. 

“I don’t get it,” he huffs, looking mildly annoyed with himself. Opposite of him, you watch as his stare on the Math worksheet threatens to combust it into flames. You should be used to this, after accompanying him here so many times just to watch him get frustrated over the questions he can’t do. 

Okay, maybe it’s only been a few days, but it feels like a lifetime of awkwardly sitting around, unable to help him because you can’t be asked to solve for x even if your life depends on it. Perhaps you’re just not cut out to be Nishimura Riki’s study companion. Your eyes trail back up from the worksheet (that looks like utter gibberish to you), and analyse your friend’s face instead. 

And then a wave of sadness washes over you. He’s in the advanced Maths class, filling out an advanced Maths worksheet. The fact that he’s able to understand at least half of the foreign language of algebra is already stunning to you. Anything above a C would please you, in fact. But you understand. You understand him with all the hours you spent revising the new vocabulary in English class. You understand with the blood, sweat and tears you poured out over a difficult type of sentence structure you just could not grasp. 

It always hurts to be practically terrible at things you’re supposed to be the best at. 

“I wish I could help,” you say uneasily, taking another glance at the problem Riki’s stuck at, and wishing you didn’t. It’s a humbling experience, to say the least. “But, um, I can’t even understand what the question is asking for.” 

The cogs in Riki’s brain seem to churn for a while, before the fire goes out once more and the light leaves his eyes. “Nope. I really don’t get it.” 

You tilt your head at him, trying to exude as much comforting empathy as you can. Apparently the kind look in your eyes must be either terrifying or out-of-character, and Riki just lets his eyes travel around your face in judgement. You’d like to believe it’s the friendly type of judgement and not the, you actually look really stupid kind of judgement. 

But it’s Riki, so who knows? He could very well still be lost in his own world of complicated formulas and mental equations, numbers of different universes coming together into his mind like they’re meant to be. That’s at least how it sounds like when Riki talks about Maths. 

Wanting to leave him alone to his own thoughts, you pack up your things and head out to the nearby convenience store. Riki doesn’t bat an eyelid, he’s pretty used to you quitting halfway through a study session as well, and he probably needs you out of the way anyway. To solve the biggest mystery of the universe on that piece of paper. 

Once you step foot into the store, you make an instant beeline for the chilled drinks section, gracing your eyes with the marvellous selection of flavoured packet drinks and plastic milk bottles. Perhaps Riki would like one of those to drink on while he studies. You always seem to focus better with a sweet drink in one hand and a pen twirling around in the other. 

The array of choices stuns you for a moment, though, and with a pang you realise you don’t know Riki’s favourite milk flavour. He’s never mentioned it before. In fact he doesn’t talk much about himself to you. Or, according to Jungwon, to anyone. You’re not sure if he’s closed off on purpose, or he’s just quiet in nature. To you, they’re two very, very different things. 

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to buy Riki your favourite flavour, would it? Anyway, it would give you a chance to find out what he really likes, and conversation could possibly start to flow from there. It’s like a mastermind plan, the way you grin mischievously to yourself and snag the cheapest bottle of strawberry milk you see. Because, unfortunately for you, you’re a student. Fashionably broke. 

When you get back to the library, Riki stares at you in bewilderment as you walk back to his study corner and proceed to dump a singular plastic bag with two bottles of strawberry milk sitting inside it. Lips pursed together in curiosity (another one of his cute little habits that you can’t help but to notice because they’re literally right in front of your face), Riki leans over and peers into the bag. 

He raises his eyebrows, sits back down, and pulls one of his legs over the other. 

“How did you know I like pink things?” he whispers, eyes the widest you’ve ever seen them. “And that strawberry milk’s my favourite milk flavour?” 

“Really?” You cannot believe, by lucky chance, you’ve actually guessed it right. And you’re matching with him, and you guys can go buy more strawberry milk together in the future… and…

”What’s strawberry milk in Chinese?” 

You snap out of your thoughts and watch intently as he unwraps one of the plastic straws and pokes it carefully into his drink. 

“草莓牛奶” 

“你喜欢，是吗?” (you like it, right?) Riki smiles slightly and takes a sip. For some reason his facial features stiffen for a second and he looks like he’s trying not to make a face. 

You chuckle softly at his expression. “是. 哇，你的中文真棒!” (Yes. Wow, your Chinese is so good!) 

“因为我在喝…” (because I’m drinking…) He pauses for a while, trying to recall the words. “你最喜欢的草莓牛奶.” (your favourite strawberry milk). 

Your cheeks heat up almost immediately and the hot feeling doesn’t fade for a good long while, even as the librarian scolds the both of you for bringing food and drink into the library and as you walk back home alone after Riki claims with an urgent look that he has somewhere to be, dumping his half-full strawberry milk in the trash. 

It’s not until a week later you find out from an astonished and very bemused Jungwon that Riki absolutely hates strawberry milk and the colour pink, even though the boy has been gifting you the pinkest of milks every day since that day, claiming he loves it; claiming it’s the most refreshing drink he’s ever tasted. 

That afternoon, when you walk back into class after lunch, you see a bottle of banana milk sitting atop your desk, and you can’t help but to laugh to yourself.

if you're not here from 'you in the rain', pleasee go give it a read if you're a taylor fan or when i fly towards you lover! tysm for reading - stariikis ☆

synopsis ; based on the Chinese Drama, 'When I Fly Towards You', in which you, a going-on-high-school English genius named Huang Yuting meets the Mathematics genius of the 10th grade, Nishimura Riki, underneath the rain.

taglist (open)

@laylasmother @seunnimg @natalunae @enwonz @tomomorin

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[afyrian]

ch. 5 - november 1 masterlist

   "'how is married life going?' well, chat, it's interesting! i mean not much has changed, taxes were weird that's for sure," you sit in your office chair, one of your legs crossing the other, "but we've always been roommates so nothing different."

  you search the screen, tossing a piece of grass into a lake of lava. minecraft isn't necessarily your best game, rin having only briefly taught you for a stream. however, sometimes, on a calm evening, you like to play a game and interact with your followers. especially when they start getting engaged with both the game and your conversations.

  a new donation pops up on your second screen, the iconic voice reading out 'do you plan on admitting if the marriage is actually real...'. you widen your eyes, watching as the rest of the chat comments on the romance between the two of you. the countless videos, the closeness of the two of you, faking a wedding for a video. it just seemed all too much like coincidence for the people of twitch.

  "no, no, trust me! i do really love rintarō, but the marriage was ultimately for a joke. it was my idea to do it and he was totally up for it. the only part really messing with the both of us was when it was revealed we couldn't get divorced," you shrug, shaking off the idea of legitimately being married to rin.

  it wouldn't be bad, you figured. he was your first kiss (to make your crush jealous at the time), your closest friend, the one person you could binge a five hour youtube video essay with. being legitimately married with rin would be perfect, the only part would be him wanting to be married to. because truthfully you could never imagine him liking you like you like him.

  the comments continue spewing the idea that the two of you just don't want your relationship publicly on the internet. now, of course you'd want to keep most of your relationship personal, but it's hard to ignore the thought of the two of you kissing for a video. "chat, if rin and i were to ever actually date or get married, you'd be like the last to know. so how about we leave it alone and play a little minecraft?"

  you've very rarely had to put everyone in your comments in their place. however, the begging to know about your personal life with your closest friend strikes an annoying chord within you. especially if you don't know if you'd ever want that type of thing with him. but if you ever did, you don't want chat ruining that for you. luckily enough, the rest of your stream went as normally as it typically does. 

  when you take off your headphones, you can feel yourself already gaining some energy back. you love what you do, but sometimes answering all of those questions while concentrating on something else can drain you. so, you do what you always do after an honestly draining day. 

  you make your way into the kitchen and grab a few stacks, tossing them into a bowl and walking into the living room. on the couch sits rintarō who is binging another new show, feet resting on a small ottoman. when he notices you enter the room, he scoots over some to let you on. 

  "how was the stream?"

  "okay? i don't know, i just hate how incessant they can be on stuff they know nothing about. like our 'marriage', which they all assume was real and that's why we aren't divorced. like that's none of their business," you rant, unaware of rin having paused the show to bring his full attention to you.

  like normal, you lay down on the couch, resting your feet on his lap. “well, i could always say something to my subscribers,” rintarō looks over at you, resting on of his hands on the top of your socks. 

  “you would? i don’t want to force that on you, i just feel so frustrated,” you frown, crossing your arms over your chest with just enough of a force to really show your feelings.

  “yeah, absolutely. i mean it sucks that we need to, because we’ve said all that we’ve need to say, but i’m willing to do that for you. for us,” he shrugs, his hand rubbing the top of your feet in a soothing motion.

  the stress leaves your system and you find yourself closing your eyes in relaxation. you open your eyes and peer over at the screen. on it is a new show that you’ve been meaning to watch, rin having just started the first episode. as soon as he sees the look on your face, he starts the show over and rests his cheek onto his fist.

a/n: sorry this took so a bit longer than normal!!