#click and take a look but then i get distracted on another website and forget to actually answer the ask sorryyyyyy

[fruitybashir]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C9wHlM2xAZL/?igsh=MTljYnN0bjg3cHo1eA==

The Bojan

link

SCREAM?????? i guess i do write it like that huh...........

[fang-wife]

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voyeur | m. izuku 

➳ tags ;; sub!izuku, dom!reader, watching hentai together?, reader is mean and nice </3, quirkless college au!izuku, corruption kink/religious guilt, unprotected sex/creampies, established relationship, afab reader

➳ wc ;; 2.1k

➳ a /n ;; @/sems-diarie made a post abt this a while ago n my brain wouldn’t let it be so. here we are </3 

➳ plot ;; izuku didn’t sneak you into your dorm to watch.. this with you. but he has a habit of letting you do what you like. 

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This is embarassing. 

He knows this is embarassing - more embarassing than he really cares to admit to. He should really know better by now then to let you do as you please. You’re always stringing him along with your schemes and plans and he loses sight of his morals. His standards. 

Then again, he doesn’t have any at this point. The point of him paying for this single dorm was so that he could have space to focus. It wasn’t to sneak you in when his R.A. wasnt looking. Even more then that, it wasn’t to do.. whatever this was. 

It’d be one thing if he was having sex. That’s a normal thing to do in college, to sneak your partner in and smash. But you’re you, and all you ever seem to have planned for him are hair-brained schemes. It’s what this feels like - when you sit on his twin size bed and pat the empty space next to you. The distrust in his expression makes you laugh.. He sighs and does what you’ve asked. 

“What’re you doing?” 

He sounds exasperated. You laugh - too pleasantly for him to be comfortable. You type something into the search bar. Green eyes widen, skin warm and blushing. 

“Wh-what’re you doing?” 

You laugh as you prop the computer on the bed. You grin at him, tucking yourself under his arm. The website mocks him, all black background and animated women with huge tits covering the screen edge to edge. 

“You know something, after you’re done using incognito mode - you’re supposed to switch out to regular search, you know,” you explain. Your hand rests on his thigh. Deku freezes. 

The sound of your voice has always been something of a vice. It gets a little raspy like this - sultry in a way that has him squirming. He doesn’t know what to do. He can feel the heat of your body. 

“Would you know my surprise when I borrow your phone to look up when the convience store closes,” you inch closer, press further “only to see..” 

He knows what you saw before you announce it. His skin feels like it’s on fire, tuning out whatever description you’ve been giving of what he chose to watch. 

Maybe it was the way he was raised - but he always had such a specific sort of guilt towards pornography. Always told himself he shouldn’t watch things like that, shouldn’t touch himself. Izuku had always been a good, well-behaved boy. Done the right thing even when it was hard. 

Meeting you had changed that, changed him. He found his body craving you when he couldn’t control it and he ended up here - watching porn and jerking off with his shirt in his mouth. It’s all come back to haunt him, really. 

“I’m not mad, y’know,” ― and your tone goes soft - it’s assuring enough that Izuku can whimper out an okay, but you’re not done ― “I’m just curious. Can’t we watch it together?,” 

“That’s ― !” 

You flutter your lashes him. 

“That’s?” 

He has a million words that he can say. That he should say. Bad, wrong, immoral. Words that belong at the end of the sentence to describe what he’s doing with you and what he’s considering. 

None of that comes out. 

“That’s.. too much” 

You grin at him. 

“Do you not want too?” 

“..I didn’t say that, it’s just -” 

Your hand squeezes his thigh until your stiletto's dig into them. Your mouth trails his jaw with hot, open mouth kisses until your turning his head to face you. A hand splayed on his face, tongue deep in his mouth. French kissing makes him pant - hands twitching eagerly to touch you. He watches, dazed - the spit trail of saliva that stretches between you two. 

He’s so easy, it’s cute. You press forward with a chaste kiss. 

“Show me what you were watching, Izuku,” 

His hand trembles as he leans forward. He remembers the title - doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. Within seconds, it shows up and he clicks. You lean forward too, observing the tags with a small smile on your face. 

“Milf, NTR, Gangbang,” 

“S-stop reading them!” 

You giggle. 

Without warning - you press play. Izuku finds himself frantic. Worried about the sound, the time, all of it - but you don’t seem to care. The AD comes on and you skip that too. It’s on. A familiar arousal blooms in his chest, the memory of what he’d seen appearing. You settle between his legs, your back pressed to his chest. You bring his hands around your waist.

“Let’s watch ~” 

Izuku face twists with displeasure. The plot nothing to ride home about - a lonely housewife goes out to a club and finds someone to take care of her needs. At first it’s just one stranger at the club - then two, then she’s surrounded and its too much. 

Izuku assumes you’re gonna find him disgusting, but when he looks at your face - you’re smiling, heart-beating in your chest. His eyes blow wide when you take his hand between your legs. You’re wet and you’re letting him touch you and he’s trying his hardest not to show how much he’s shaking. 

A little sigh of pleasure leaves your mouth when Izuku very carefully rubs your clit. It throbs under the pressure of big fingers - you hold his wrist and moan. He can hear the porn in the background but it doesn’t serve to distract him from you. 

“You want me to go n’ get fucked by a bunch of strangers, ‘zuku?” 

He shakes his head furiously. 

“Then you just like watching depraved shit, huh?” 

Unable to argue with you or with the the way his cock twitches and jumps in his jeans, he opts to whine. You can feel his it against your lower-back, the little wet-spot that presses to your thin tshirt. He’s too turned onto think properly - watching the way your body jerks and twitches. 

The woman on screen is stuffed to the brim with cock - it’s all over exaggerated he knows, but he thinks that’s why he likes it. Maybe he just likes the idea of fucking someone that stuffed fulled of cum, how it leaks and pours onto every surface and the way her cunt just seems to take it. And Izuku is such a good, well behaved boy - it’s never crossed his mind to think about doing it to you. 

And no, he doesn’t really want to see you get fucked by so many men but if there were more than one of him he’d be more than inclined to let you. His chest feels tight forgetting to breath. 

He thinks maybe you’re some kind of witch because you always seem to know what he wants before he does. The right way to push all of his buttons. 

“Oh, I see’ ― and he’s afraid of whatever words come out of your mouth next ― “you wanna fuck me full of your cum, Izuku? Wanna know how it feels raw?” 

He moans - loud and shameless and needy against your ear. A breathless laugh leaves your mouth because that’s exactly what he wants. He wants to fuck you full of cum, just picturing how good it might feel. 

You sit up on your knees and bend over a little - pulling short-shorts beneath the curve of your ass and thickest parts of your thigh. Your panties are drenched, clinging to your folds. He inhales sharply, frozen till as you lean forward - pulling them to one side. 

“Take your cock out ‘n fuck me then, baby” ― you challenge, dark and dangerous. Everything about you is so sinful and too tempting for him to ignore. His cock aches ― “Do your best”  

His body moves before he has a proper chance to feel shame. Whatever devils been whispering in his ear (read: you) has won whatever leftover dignity he has left. Without a proper word, his cock stands to attention. His hands are fidgety but they mange to settle on your waist. He guides you down on his dick, bottom lipped pulled between his teeth hard enough to draw blood. 

“Oh, fuck” 

He’s going to cum right away if he doesn’t take a breather. This is the first time he’s feeling you, and it feels so much better than he could understand. The lingering thoughts of the dangerous act silence by how tight and how wet and how willing your pussy is for him. The way your walls twitch - ache shamelessly around his cock. He’s fucking sliding in and out of you - it feels like a special privilege he’s done nothing to earn.

He’s shivering, over and over. When he looks down, he’s not all the way in. He’s not sure if he’s praying to god for the right reason - for forgiveness. All he can think about is how good it feels to be inside and how he absolutely doesn’t want to do anything else. 

“How’s it feel, Izuku?” 

He groans at the sound of your voice, the way you clench down on him and stretch so tightly around his shaft. He’s too wrapped up in the feeling of your cunt - like heaven and silk. 

“F-feels so, so good” 

Part of you thinks you should ride him, but another part of you is more interested in seeing how he fucks you. You snap the laptop closed and push it to the other side of the bed, before flipping around and laying on your back. His cock slips out and he snaps into reality - the way you have your legs in the air and your arms out. 

“I’ll let you fuck me as many times as you want today,” ― your legs reach and wrap around his waist, easily forcing his cock back inside ― “go on,” 

Izuku is a mess, really. His pants are only half-way pulled down and he’s wearing a nerdy graphic t-shirt. He’s borderline in hysterics over how good your pussy feels and can’t do anything other than thank you repeatedly and fuck you with an animalistic need. It’s clumsy like you’d expect, but he makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm. 

His cock is long and pretty - hits every spot you need it too. Izuku fucks you with shallow, sloppy thrusts - so needy and chasing his orgasm. Selfish and inexperienced. Every time he pushes forward, you can feel he’s throbbing. Aching to cum inside and unload. 

You reach a hand between the two of you to finish on your own time - planning on cumming before him. He doesn’t seem to care. 

“Ngh, ohh my god, feel’s’good” 

“Yeah? Gonna cum inside me, handsome? Makin’ such a pretty face for me” 

His stomach churns at the way you call him pretty. It sounds so sweet and adoring - but he knows that you’re a bully. He knows that about but fucks you with all his strength anyways - overly frustrated and fucked out of his mind by the feeling. Like a drug. He likes you so much he feels stupid over it. 

“Yeah, yeah ‘m gonna” 

Your own orgasm washes over you in a pleasant wave, squeezing his cock with force. He gasp and goes faster - all the thoughts washed away from his head. He needs to finish more than he needs anything. More than he needs to sleep for his 6am work-out and 8am class. More than he needs to be quiet because the walls of his dorm are paper thin. More than he needs to exercise self-control, he needs to cum so fuckin bad. 

“Look at me,” 

He follows your command, like always - and you look amused and fucked out just like he is. And Izuku has really never been this into anyone before so seeing you evokes feelings he can’t understand. 

“Oh, fuuck“ 

Briefly he understands that he really just came by looking at you, but nothing really makes sense to him. His eyes are heavy and he’s drooling onto your shoulder, spasming and clinging to your body with the most needy little whimpers. It’s so lewd, how he can feel his cum spurt out and coat your insides and his cock. It’s all so sinful but it feels so good, he can’t bring himself to care. 

“So,” ― you smile, full of mischief ― “if you want to be like that, we’ve got a few rounds to go” 

Izuku splutters at your comment and you laugh. He knows you’re not joking and he whines. You really are a bad influence on him. But with the way his cock is twitching to life again.. 

He might not be any better. 

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[99liv3s]

Be Careful What You Wish For

Lena laughed as she completed the last question of this little online contest she was participating in. The invitation had appeared in her email one day along with a link, and she had curiosity followed that link to a website that described the contest. All Lena would have to do is answer a few questions correctly before other "participants" and she would be the winner of "her fondest wish!!" Lena had laughed at this, thinking this was a fun little game someone had put up, and though she did not take it seriously at all, she decided to join in the fun. Where was the harm in it?? She was bored at the moment after all.

The "contest" consisted of a few straightforward questions that she was easily able to answer. Shaking her long blonde hair out of her face, Lena's bright blue eyes watched as the site processed her answers, then a message popped up on her screen: "Congratulations, you have won the contest!! You may now make your wish!! What do you desire??" Lena giggled as she jokingly pondered this question, then typed in the first thing that popped into her head: "I wish to live forever!!" Laughing softly as she hit the send button, saw "Your wish is granted! Thank you for playing!" And closed the window, Lena thought, "This was a cute, fun little distraction, but now I gotta finish chores!"

A couple hours later, Lena plopped into her living room lounge chair, rubbing her belly. She felt somewhat sick and bloated, but she was also exhausted from laundry and housework, so she figured she was just hungry and worn out. Shaking off the feeling, she decided that after she rested for a while, she'd make herself a sandwich. Another hour passed, with Lena watching TV when she looked down and saw a shock!! Her normally small petite belly had expanded outward, making her look very pregnant!! She gasped in horror, and jumped to her feet, a mistake that nearly sent her crashing to the floor, for she was not used to the balance of her new belly. She felt heavy, and full, confused as to how this had happened to her! "I'm having an allergic reaction, she thought anxiously. "That has to be it!!" "I've caught some sort of virus and I'm having a reaction to..." Her thoughts trailed away as she felt movement in her belly, and she absentmindedly rubbed it. "I... I can't be pregnant," she blurted out to her empty house. "I've never had sex... this has to be a bad dream, right??"

Lena waddled into her bedroom and reached the nearby bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked nine months pregnant, her belly hanging out of the clothes she had been wearing on the body that had been so small and slim just a few hours ago. She was still confused and scared as to what had happened to her when suddenly, she doubled over as a painful contraction hit her. Lena gasped as she felt pressure build up, then a gush of water leaked out of her, soaking her bottoms.

"UUUGGHHH", Lena moaned as she slowly made her way back into her bedroom. She reached the bed and climbed on it, as she felt something heavy drop onto her hips. Frantically, she kicked off her pants as she felt huge pressure in her pussy. She could not help but push, screaming in pain. "AAAAHHHHHH!!" Lena felt a burning sensation as whatever was coming out of her began to crown. She struggled to get her panties off, panting and crying as the pain peaked. As the head emerged farther, causing a bulge to form in her underwear, she screamed a high pitched scream and whined as the burning and pressure worsened. She knew she had to get her panties off, or it would block the baby that she was somehow delivering, so she gritted her teeth through the pain and pulled her underwear down to her feet. She then began kicking, not just to get the panties off her feet, but because the pain was so bad, it caused her to thrash around like crazy. She whined and moaned and cried as she felt the heavy head slowly push out, stretching her pussy wide. Screaming, she pushed, willing this process to go faster. "THIS HURTS!!!" she yelled, though she knew no one else was in the house. Finally, she felt a pop and knew the head had finally gotten out. Without waiting another second, Lena pushed, brushing her sweaty blonde hair out of her face, and felt relief as the baby left her body.

For about a minute, Lena lay there, shaking, hardly able to believe what had just happened to her. Then, something in her mind clicked as she realized "Wait, if I just had a baby, shouldn't it be crying??" Lena slowly moved around so she could pick up the baby she had just birthed, noting three distinct things about it: First, it did not have a umbilical cord attached to it, just a belly button. Second, the baby was a girl, with blonde hair the same general shade as Lena's, and third, the baby was not crying, but Lena could clearly see that it was alive and healthy, almost content. Her eyes were closed and she moved around and kicked, as if she had been born for a while and was just simply sleeping. Lena held her baby and stared at it for the longest time before realizing how exhausted she was. Afraid she might accidentally turn over on the baby as she slept, Lena decided she would not sleep with the baby in her own bed, and so the new mother gingerly got up and found the softest part of her bedroom's carpet she could find and placed the baby gently onto it, laying her on her back. Thinking that she would try to figure all this out tomorrow, she fell backward onto her bed and fell asleep.

When Lena awoke the next morning, her first thought was, "Oh God, what a horrible nightmare!! It felt so real!" As she rose up, she realized something was wrong. She was lying on the floor, naked. She looked over her body, thinking. "Did I fall out of bed??" She got to her feet and then her blue eyes fell upon the bed, and she screamed. The shirt and bra she had been wearing last night were lying on the bed, being worn by a skeleton. Lena trembled as she looked around the room, her mind racing. After a while, she remembered where she had placed the baby she had birthed... it had been lying in the exact spot where Lena had woke up, but as she now looked at that spot, there was no baby there, nor any sign there ever was. As she continued to ponder this, terrified, she also realized that her body felt better than it had ever felt in her life, almost as if it were a new....body....

Lena rushed into the bathroom and vomited as realization hit her. She had given birth to herself. Somehow, after she had fallen asleep, her body died, and her consciousness or soul or whatever had transferred to the baby, which had apparently grown rapidly. She looked herself over, noting that her body seemed to be the same age as it had been last night, in her late 20s. "How is this possible??" She breathed. Lena made her way back into the bedroom, noticing at once that the bones were now gone, leaving only the clothes she was wearing last night, and what appeared to be sweat and other bodily fluids. Lena shuddered at the thought, but did not know what else to do. Her tummy grumbled, and she realized she was starving... of course, this new body had not eaten yet.

Hours later, Lena had eaten, dressed, and had gone into work. Sitting at her desk, her mind was not on her work, however. She could not get her odd situation out of her mind, and the more she pondered on it, the more it made sense that the body she now inhibited was the one she gave birth to. "The baby's features were just like mine," she thought. "Female, petite body, blonde hair... if I saw its eyes, I bet they were blue, just like mine!" "I never had sex, so the baby could only be another me!" "But, how??" "How is this possible??" "What caused this to happen to me??" Lena spent all of her workday lost in thought, and after a while, convinced herself that it had to have been a nightmare. She must have hallucinated those bones, and just simply did not remember taking off her clothes, or falling out of bed during the night. As for her body feeling better than it ever had?? Maybe that was just a result of healthy living lately!! When she arrived home, Lena grabbed her bra and shirt from off her bed and threw it into the laundry. She then looked around the room, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she told her mind it was a vivid nightmare, and to forget about it, and get on with her life.

Two days had passed, and Lena had not given the incident another thought. She had been shut up in her office, preparing an important presentation for her boss to give soon. Her friend and co-worker Marianne had come by to collect the finished presentation, and Lena stood to hand it to her. "Excellent," Marianne said "Lena, this is just what our boss needs to secure that new agreement!!" "You always come through when we need it!" Marianne's brown eyes looked Lena over. "Oh, by the way, congratulations!! When are you due??" Lena looked at her friend confused. "What??" she asked, before looking down at herself and barely stifling a gasp. She was sporting a small bump, almost as if she were about 3 or 4 months pregnant. Her mind raced in panic as her friend was still speaking: "Boy or girl??" After a few seconds, in which Lena composed herself, she smiled and said, "Oh, it's a girl!" Marianne nodded. "I don't know why you didn't tell me or any of us before now, but again, congratulations!" Lena smiled as Marianne left the room, the Lena scrambled for the bathroom. As she closed the door behind her, she collapsed against it, breathing rapidly. "This can't be happening!" She thought. "I can't be pregnant!!" "This isn't happening again!!" "That was just a nightmare... wasn't it??" She glanced into the mirror, her shining blue eyes staring back at her, eyeing her small bump, and she groaned softly. "What the hell am I going to do??"

After she got home, Lena decided that she was not going back to work for a while. This proved to be a good idea, for as the week passed, her bump grew rapidly, and by the time she reached the weekend, she looked ready to pop. She had called the office, telling them she had caught a virus, and that she would be working from home for a while. This worked perfectly, except apparently Marianne began to worry about her, as she had begun calling Lena everyday. Lena assured her she was fine, just sick, and when Marianne asked about "the baby," Lena told her that she need not worry about it.

On the day Lena realized a full week had passed since she had had her supposed nightmare, she tried to get out of bed when she was hit by painful contractions and pressure. "Oooohhh", she moaned, rocking back and forward on the bed, clutching her belly. Hoping that walking might help the contractions, Lena got shakily to her feet and began taking small steps around her bedroom. With each step, Lena felt the baby inside her drop lower and lower. Eventually, she could not take it anymore and she dropped to her knees, crying out in agony. She spread out on all fours, her large belly hanging down and her blonde hair in her face, inwardly thankful she had been going to bed naked lately. Tears streamed from her blue eyes as she wailed and pushed, her butt and vagina high in the air. The baby's head tunneled roughly through her birth canal as she panted and moaned. Her legs shook with pain and cramps as Lena let out another roar of pain. As the head began to peek out of her, she felt the burning in her pussy that signaled the baby's crowning. "OOHH!! OOOHHH GOD!!" She yelled. "AAHHH IT HURTS!! IT'S BURNING!!!!" she cried and grabbed the top of the bed, pulling herself into a semi-squatting position, hoping gravity would help. Lena threw her head back and cried out loudly as she felt the head seem to split her vagina open. Bearing down, she pushed until the head was hanging out between her legs. Stopping only to pant and catch her breath, Lena reached down with her left hand and felt the baby's head. When another contraction hit, she squatted and groaned as she gave another push, and the baby dropped onto the carpet.

After spending a few minutes to rest, Lena looked down at the baby. Like before, it was a little girl, not attached, and not crying, but clearly alive. Lena held and hugged the baby against her chest, thinking rapidly. "It wasn't a nightmare, unless I'm having it again!" "What do I do??" "Do I dare fall asleep again??" Thinking back, Lena was convinced that giving birth this second time seemed more difficult and more painful than the first, but she was not sure. Realizing that she was exhausted and hungry, Lena placed the baby in the center of her bed and staggered to the kitchen. Her body after giving birth was sore and weak, but everything seemed to be over. She made a quick sandwich and collapsed on her sofa in the living room, lost in thought. As she ate silently, random questions popped into her head, and she decided that today, since it was early in the morning when she had given birth, she was going to experiment.

12 hours later, with night falling outside, Lena felt more confused than ever. After eating earlier, she had returned to her room and started touching and talking to the baby, in an attempt to get it to open its eyes, but it never did. Lena then tried to feed it, holding it up to one of her breasts, but nothing happened. On an upside, there was no diaper to change either, for the baby did not seem to have to poop or pee. If not for the breathing and it occasionally moving around, Lena would have sworn the baby was just a realistic looking doll. Tired, Lena decided to try one last experiment before she went to sleep. She had brought the baby into the living room and placed her on the sofa. Lena then returned to her bedroom, thinking that if she woke up on the sofa tomorrow, then it confirmed her theory about what was happening, assuming she could fall asleep will so many anxious thoughts in her head. However, as soon as her head hit the pillow, Lena drifted off immediately.

Lena turned and felt herself hit the floor. Snapping awake, she found herself lying in front of her sofa. She let out a soft scream and jumped to her feet. Rushing into her bedroom, she found her bed soaking wet, and only the pajamas she had worn to bed as part of her experiment. Trembling, she backed against the wall and slid down it onto the floor, burying her face in her hands. "It's true!" She thought. "Everytime I fall mysteriously pregnant, I give birth to a baby that will eventually become my new body!" "But, why?? And how??" "Am I cursed??"

Lena again did not go back to work. She decided to spend the day on the internet, searching for answers, ignoring a missed call from Marianne. Scouring the internet, she tried to determine if anyone else had ever been in her situation before, but she was unsuccessful. She had even posted her situation in a few forums on the deeper parts of internet, but only got responses telling her she had a vivid, or a sick imagination, and that her "ideas" would make a good story. Frustrated, Lena was getting ready to shut down her computer, before noticing the new email icon, and something clicked in her mind. She was reminded about that strange online contest she had taken, and realized that it was right after that when all these strange things had started happening to her. Lena accessed her search history and located the website where she had played the contest. She saw that message thanking her for playing and then found the information she had overlooked before. "Questions??" It said, with a phone number under it. Her heart racing, Lena grabbed her smartphone and called the number immediately!

After two rings, a kind female voice answered, telling Lena that she had called the helpline for the online contest. Lena told the woman everything that had happened since winning the contest, expecting the woman to hang up, laugh, or even tell her that she had no idea what Lena was talking about. However, to her surprise, the woman answered "Of course!" "What is happening to you is what you wished for." Lena fell silent confused. "I wish to live forever," the woman said as if she was reading it, then said with a giggle, "That wish has come true." "With each week, your body produces a brand new replacement, and once you give birth to it, it becomes your new body." "Constantly changing to a fresh body each week means you will never grow old and die." "Congratulations!!" Lena gasped in shock. "How do I make it stop??" She asked the woman. "Stop??" The voice repeated. "Why would you want to??" "Your wish is granted." "I didn't think that was serious," Lena yelled in a pleading voice. "Please, you have to help me!!" "It hurts to give birth every week" "I don't want this wish anymore!!" "Please get rid of it!" "That can't be done," the woman responded. "All granted wishes are final!" "Have a nice day!" With that, the woman hung up. Lena tossed her phone to the side and collapsed into her chair, crying. "I AM cursed!!" She blurted out!!

Lena called and quit her job, thinking that, in order to avoid awkward questions, she would have to find a job that allowed her to work from home. Three days later, she had accepted an online application for a work from home proofreader, which was similar to what she did before, but would allow her to avoid human contact and submit her work online. She was already showing another small pregnant bump by this time, and she absentmindedly rubbed it as she finished chores around the house. Though a part of her mind had subconsciously accepted her new life situation, Lena was still dismayed that she seemed to be stuck in this cycle of "rebirth" forever. She had continued to search the internet for any kind of hope or help, even going so far as to search for unusual births, frequent birth fetish sites, and even post about her situation in various birth related forums, but it seemed that her situation was unique, or else no one else had gone public with it. Her failure to find even a shred of hope caused her to fall into a kind of depression, and she only half-heartedly threw herself into her new work, knowing that she still needed money regardless.

After six days had passed, Lena was lying spread out on her sofa, her hand resting on her large belly as she read a romance novel, trying anything to help take her mind off things, when a knock at her door made her jump. Confused, Lena rose up and waddled to her front door, seeing Marianna through its small window. Lena opened the door, greeting her friend and former co-worker, who looked at Lena with concern. "Lena, what's been going on with you??" Marianne asked. "I haven't heard from you in days... you quit your job suddenly, and refuse to answer my calls or texts." "Are you ok??" Marianne looked Lena up and down, taking in the huge bump. "Lena, I didn't know you were that far along!" "Does all of this have to do with the baby, because I know that..." Marianne trailed off, for at the mention of the word baby, Lena burst into tears and fell into Marianne's arms, crying hysterically. "I'm... I'm not ok at all!" Lena sobbed, as Marianne held her. "Mari, I don't...know... what to do!!" For a while, Marianne just held her friend, listening to her crying, then looked into Lena's eyes, and asked, "When's the last time you left the house??"

An hour later, Marianna had driven the two of them to the park, thinking that some time out of the house would do Lena some good. As the two of them walked slowly through it, having the park mostly to themselves, Lena realized that Marianne insisting that she get out of the house was a good thing, for Lena began to somewhat feel better. "Lena, please talk to me," Marianna pleaded, a concerned expression on her face. As they continued their stroll, Lena shook her head, staring at the ground, and her protruding belly. "I want to tell you, but I don't think you'll believe me," She relied. "Tell me what??" Marianne asked, still looking at Lena with concern. When Lena did not respond, Marianne stopped her and the two of them stood in a large patch of grass in a deeper corner of the park. "Lena, you can tell me anything," Marianne said to her. "Remember, I'm a scifi and fantasy nut!" "Whatever it is, I'll believe you." Lena looked into her friend's face, thinking that if anyone in the entire world would believe her right now, it was Marianne. So, Lena took a deep breath, and told her everything: About taking the contest and making her wish, about how she had fallen pregnant without warning, how she had given birth twice already, about how she had discovered that she was giving birth to her own replacement bodies, and how she had found the help line for the contest, and how the woman over the phone had confirmed what Lena had suspected. Marianne listened to her friend intently, and when Lena finished, she was relieved that Marianne had not laughed at her or told her she was insane. "Unbelievable," Marianne gasped. "So, it's a curse, and it can't be undone??" Lena nodded somberly. "Mari, you gotta help me... I don't know what to do." Marianne hugged her friend, comforting her. "Of course, Lena, there must be something that we can do," she said, smiling. "We'll figure it out together!!" "I'll help you look deeper online, and I can discreetly make some inquiries with some friends who might be able to help." "We'll figure something out, I promise." Lena looked at Marianne, feeling the first bit of joy and hopefulness she had felt since this crazy situation had begun. It was a long shot, yes, but at this point, she needed any silver of hope that she could get. Lena sighed happily and let out a laugh, embracing her friend as much as she could, before a painful weight hit her hips.

Lena cried out in pain, nearly falling to the ground, if not for Marianne catching her. "Aagghh, it's coming!! Mari, it's coming!!" Lena cried, feeling the pressure in her lower abdomen. "Oh God, Lena, we've gotta get you to a hospital," Marianne responded, pulling out her phone to call an ambulance. Panting, Lena stopped her, grabbing Marianne's hand. "No.... no hospital!" Lena breathed. When Marianne stared into her face shocked, Lena shook her head. "How... will I... explain.... this?" "Too.... many.... questions..." Lena squealed as the pain worsened, and Marianne dropped her phone back into her purse. "Ok, back home then," she said. "Back home where it's more comfortable and private..." "There's.... no....time..." Lena said breathlessly. "It's... starting... to PUUUAAAAA!!" Lena let out a yell of agony as another contraction forced the baby painfully through her pelvis. "OOOHHH!! MARI, HELP ME, IT HURTS!!" Without another word, Marianne grabbed onto Lena and helped her over to a nearby park bench, thankful that this section of the park was currently deserted. As Lena moaned and cried, Marianne helped her onto the bench, taking off her bottoms, and positioning one of her legs to hang across the back of the bench, so that Lena was lying across it with her legs open. Lena screamed as she felt the burning and pressure in her vagina. "MARI, IT'S THERE! THE HEAD'S THERE!! IT BURNS!! OOOOWWWWW!!" Lena screamed as her pussy began to stretch around the head. Marianne moved in between Lena's legs, seeing the tip of the baby's head lodged in her small vagina. "Lena, honey, you're doing great!" Marianne coached. "Don't worry, I'll catch the baby when it comes out!" "It'll all be over soon!" "When you feel you need to, push!!" Lena screamed as the head emerged slowly, opening her wider and wider. "AAGGHH, IT HURTS!!" Lena yelled. "OH, PLEASE GET IT OUT!! MARI, PLEASE!!" As Lena begged and cried, Marianne rubbed her legs softly, watching as the head inched out. After another minute, the head fully emerged with a pop and a gush of fluids, causing Lena to gasp loudly. Marianne laughed and nodded in relief, looking into her friend's eyes. "One more push, Lena!!" She told her. "Just one more!"

45 minutes later, Marianne drove into the driveway of Lena's house, with Lena herself in the passenger seat, holding the baby girl that she had just given birth to in the park, weak and exhausted. Marianne got out of her car and then helped Lena slowly to her feet and guided her into her house. Lena lowered herself into her nearby armchair as Marianne took the baby from her and placed it onto the sofa. "That was intense, Lena," Marianne said to her. Lena nodded weakly at her friend and smiled softly at her. "Thank you for being there," Lena said quietly. "Is it always like that??" Marianne asked. Lena sat in quiet contemplation for a moment before saying hoarsely, "No, it seemed worse that time!" Lena stared at the baby lying over on the sofa, moving around timidly, lost in thought. Why did it seem like each time she gave birth, it felt worse?? Was it just her, or was it somehow because these bodies were technically giving birth after being a week old?? Lena watched as the baby continued to squirm silently. She did not think this baby was any bigger than the last two, so she did not understand. Would the next one be even worse? Lena noticed Marianne watching her, and gave her another weak smile, trying to assure her wordlessly that she was ok. "So, what happens now??" Marianne asked, looking around the room. Lena sighed and shook her head. "I don't know," she responded. "Everything that happens next just happens." "I fall asleep, and when I wake up, I'm somehow inside the baby's body, which is instantly the same age as when I fell asleep!" "I don't know why or how..." Marianne stared into her friend's face, clearly astonished. "So, wonder what would happen if someone was watching when you fell asleep?" She inquired. Lena just shook her head, too exhausted to think, though in a part of her mind, she wondered this too. "Lena, I'm gonna spend the night here," Marianne told her. "Maybe we can find out, and besides, I think you need me." "You shouldn't be alone during all this." Lena looked up into her friend's face, and simply nodded. "Okay," Marianne placed a hand on Lena's shoulder and squeezed it softly. "Alright, you rest for a while," she said comfortingly. "I'm just gonna run back to my place and pack a few things, ok??" Lena nodded and watched as Marianne walked back out the door. Lena was weary, and also hungry, so she eased out of her chair and made her way to her kitchen, finding a few cookies to munch on. Afterward, she went to her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh. She only wanted to rest, like Marianne told her to do, but within minutes, she was fast asleep.

Lena was jerked awake by a loud scream, and she rolled off the couch and onto the floor, disoriented. She got to her feet and ran into the bedroom, where she saw Marianne staring at a human skeleton wearing the clothes Lena had worn to the park earlier. Marianne was trembling with shock, and yelped again when she turned and saw Lena standing naked behind her. "Lena, it... it's TRUE!!" Marianne blurted out. "I believed you, of course, but seeing it for myself..." Lena placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know, Mari," Lena said. "I've been living it the past few weeks." After Lena had quickly thrown on some clothes, the two of them returned to the living room, where Marianne collapsed onto the couch Lena had awoken from minutes earlier. "Packing took longer than I thought," Marianna explained. "When I came back in, I saw you asleep on the couch, and I didn't think anything about it, so I thought you put the baby in the bedroom, and I decided to go in there, and that's when I saw..." She trailed off, looking shaken, and buried her face in her hands. Lena sat next to her and put her arms around her comfortingly. "It was me, but not anymore," Lena whispered. "I'm right here now, and I'm ok!" Marianne looked into her eyes. "Until the next time you give birth all over again, right?" She asked. Lena nodded, and her face fell. "Yeah, in about a week, I'll be doing it again," she responded. "I'm cursed!!" Marianne seemed to have calmed down, and she looked at Lena, seeming to examine her entire body. "I'm not taking away how difficult this situation is for you, Lena," she began, "But, if you look at this another way, you could call it a gift too." "I mean, you never die, and you're good as new each week..." Marianne faltered under the shocked and scathing look her friend was giving her. "Sorry, I know you didn't want this," she said. "Like I said in the park, I'll help you find a solution any way I can!"

As the day passed, the two of them talked, with Marianne asking question after question about Lena's predicament, clearly fascinated and curious about it. Lena explained as best she could, and the conversation even continued when the two of them realized they were starving, and Lena decided to cook something for the two of them. It was later in the evening, while the two of them ate spaghetti Lena had cooked up, when Marianne had proposed staying with Lena on a longer term basis. After thinking about it, and listening to Marianne explain how she should no longer be alone during all this, Lena agreed, and the two of them took a trip to Marianne's apartment, to pack up more long term items for her, including her laptop, which would be essential for Marianne to help research Lena's situation.

A few days later, the two of them had established a routine, with Marianne still going to work during the day, leaving Lena to do her own work, chores, research, and more importantly, rest for what was to come. Lena had already begun showing again, as predicted, and the two girls had agreed that they would continue to keep this entire situation secret from anyone else. As such, Lena once again rarely left the house, lest she run into anyone and be forced into answering awkward questions.  Lena had also flat out refused Marianne's suggestion that she go to a hospital the next time she was due to deliver, for the same reason.  She did not want to imagine what would happen if she transitioned into the new body while inside a hospital room.  Lena knew this would once again mean she would be giving birth at home, with Marianne as her midwife, and though she hated to put her friend through that again, it was necessary.  Lena therefore was very patient and accomadating when Marianne began to comment on her rapid pregnancy, insisted in touching her bump, and started making preparations.  After all, Lena thought, having someone make plans in advance, as well as just having someone with her, might be helpful.

Marianne had certainly done her research into birth.  Close to the end of the week, with Lena's belly large and protruding out, Marianne had transformed Lena's bedroom into a personal home birthing suite, complete with a birthing ball and even a small tub.  Marianne also insisted that Lena do nothing but rest as the time for her labor grew closer.  Lena appreciated all of the effort her friend was putting in for her, and was thankful that she had ultimately shared her secret with Marianne.  For the first time since this situation had begun, Lena found herself not so depressed, for Marianne seemed to be able to do anything she set her mind to, and that gave Lena hope that perhaps together, they could even find a way to get her out of this mess.

A day after Marianne had finished transforming Lena's room, Lena lay in bed, on her side, moaning loudly, as pain and pressure had started up inside her as she had slept.  She rubbed her huge belly as she cried loudly, which brought Marianne running into the room.  "It's started??" Marianne asked, coming over to the bed.  Lena nodded, her eyes shut.  "It hurts, Mari, oh God, it hurts!" She whined.  The contractions wracked her body, growing in intensity, and Marianne gently tried to help Lena up.  "Here, Lena, get on the birthing ball, it'll help," Marianne said gently, helping her friend waddle over to it.  As Lena sat and began rocking on the ball, she admitted inwardly that it did seem to help.  She rocked silently, her eyes closed, changing her rocking pattern with every movement.  Focusing on trying to change this every time helped to take Lena's mind off the pain.  Marianne stayed with her, massaging her back, holding her hand, and whispering consoling words to her.  Eventually, however, the pain became too much, and Lena screamed out! "I HAVE TO PUSH!!" she yelled, and cried as the weight of the baby pressed on her hips.  Marianne had, in advance, filled the tub in the room with warm water, and she now helped Lena slowly into this water, hoping that would ease the pain.  Lena sighed as she felt the water warm her entire body.  She still felt pain and pressure, but it was not as bad.  "Thanks, Mari," she breathed to her friend.  Marianne only shook her head, and then Lena said, "For everything!!"  Marianne was about to respond, telling Lena there was no other place she would rather be, when Lena let out a moan and thrashed around in the water.  "I FEEL IT COMING!!" Lena screeched.  "Push, Lena!!" Marianne coached.  Lena pushed and pushed, gripping the edges of the tub tightly.  Marianne rubbed Lena's legs while simultaneously holding them open.  "I already see the head, Lena," Marianne cried happily.  "You're doing great!!"  "Uuuuggghhhh," Lena groaned as she gave another push.  With the head hanging halfway out of her vagina, Lena threw her head back against the head of the tub, panting.  "I don't know how much longer I can do this," she breathed.  "You've got this, Lena," Marianne reassured her.  "Just a bit more!!"  Lena felt another contraction and began to push, then screamed and thrashed as the burning hit her vagina full force.  "AAAAHHH, IT'S CROWNING!!" Lena yelled, as Marianne tried to calm her down.  After another minute of Lena's screams echoing through the room, there was a loud splash as the baby emerged from her into the water.  As Lena collapsed in relief, Marianne lifted the baby out and placed her on the bed.  "You did it, Lena," Marianne cried happily.

Marianne had helped Lena to the bed and moved the baby to another bed on the other side of the room.  Lena fell asleep almost immediately, tired from giving birth, and Marianne was determined to watch everything until Lena woke up.  A few hours passed, with Marianne watching both her friend and the baby, and then suddenly, as she blinked, the baby was instantly a full grown Lena, with no signs of change.  For a moment, there were two sleeping Lenas in the room with her and then the one in Lena's original bed stopped breathing.  As Marianne continued to watch, an hour later, in another blink of an eye, the first Lena became a skeleton, still wearing the clothes she was wearing when she fell asleep, as the new naked Lena stirred.  Marianne was at a loss for words as her friend got up from the new bed and searched for something to wear.  When she finally found her voice again, Marianne said with an uncomfortable laugh, "Well, I guess we can keep all this stuff here, since we know you'll be needing it again in a week!"

It was two days later, the girls having gotten back to their routine, when Marianne had finally found something.  She had sent Lena's e-mail to a buddy of hers, and he had traced the location of its sender.  He sent this location information back to Marianne, along with assurances that he did not read the e-mail, nor did he want to know what was going on.  Marianne shared this information with Lena, who felt herself tremble with excitement.  "That's only several hours away from here by car," Lena exclaimed excitedly.  "I know," Marianne said.  "We can go and meet with whoever is in charge of that contest and convince him to lift the curse."  Lena's heart sank a little.  "But, that woman on the phone said the curse couldn't be reversed," Lena stated.  Marianne shook her head, still smiling.  "She probably told you that because it would be an inconvenience to do it," she responded.  "If he or she is face to face with you, we can force them to lift it, somehow."  "Don't worry!"  "Soon, it's all gonna work out fine, I just know it!"  As Lena throught to herself, wondering if she dared to get her hopes up, Marianne checked her watch.  "I have a busy workday today, but I'm off tomorrow," she said.  "We can go then!"

The next day, the two of them woke up early, had a quick breakfast, and then got in Marianne's car, to begin their five hour drive to the location in Marianne's information.  Lena already had a small bump again, which had motivated the girls to start their trip as quickly as possible.  As Marianne drove, Lena sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly rubbing her little belly as the two of them discussed what they would say to whoever they were about to meet.  Eventually, since they had very little information to go on, the girls exhausted this subject and began discussing other things, like what their future plans were.  Lena, hopeful that this curse would be gone soon, wished to pursue a career in writing.  Perhaps she would turn this experience into a story of some sort.  Marianne, meanwhile, did not seem  to have any future plans, having always mostly lived in the moment and had never really thought about it.  Eventually, after five hours, they stopped in front of what looked to be an old house, and Marianne confirmed from her notes that this was the location.

The two girls entered the house, finding the door unlocked.  They found themselves in a large open living room, with a few chairs placed around and a fireplace against the wall.  Sitting on top of the fireplace were several lit candles.  As the two girls looked around the room, they noticed that the place was lit only by various candles dotted around the room.  A grandfather clock stood in a corner, ticking softly, and a circle was drawn in the center of the room.  "Woah, what is this..." Marianne exclaimed, before a young dark haired man dressed in a dark cloak entered the room from a doorway in the opposite wall.  He looked at the girls, then said calmly, "You are Lena, one of my contest winners!"  "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME??" Lena  blurted out angrily.  "I didn't think you contest was real!"  "I granted your wish, Miss Lena," the man responded.  "It is quite real, and your wish was to live forever!"  "But, why did you make it happen like this??" Lena yelled, as she motioned to her small pregnant bump.  The man sighed.  "Because, it was the only way," he responded.  "I am a sorcerer, but my magic is limited."  "It can't extend life, but it can create a new one, for the act of conceiving is a process that already exists!"  "A bit of cloning magic, as well as soul transference, and life acceleration..."  "TAKE IT AWAY," Lena yelled.  "I don't want this wish anymore!!"  "Reverse the spell or curse or whatever you did!"  The sorcerer shook his head sadly.  "I'm sorry, there is no reverse spell or any way to stop or cancel my magic once applied."  "What I have given you is yours forever."  Lena gaped at the sorcerer, feeling as though her insides were falling.  She had hoped there was a way to undo this curse, but now, it seemed, there was not.  "I can't go on like this," Lena pleaded.  "Please, there must be something you can do!"  The sorceror shook his head apologetically, but Marianne spoke up.  "I have an idea," she said, and the other two looked at her.  "You said the spell could not be undone, but can it be moved or transferred??" The sorcerer stared at her.  "Yes, it can be, but I don't understand..."  "Then, give it to me instead," Marianne said, before looking at Lena and smiling slightly, as Lena gaped at her.  "Mari, what??" She said breathlessly.  "It's ok," Marianne answered.  "Remember when I said this could be a gift instead of a curse if you thought about it differently??"  "Well, I have thought about it, and for me, it would be a gift!"  She turned to the sorcerer.  "Can you do it??"  "I can," he reponded, nodding.  "Mari, I can't let you do this," Lena said to her friend.  "Lena, please, I want this," Marianne said.  "I found what was happening to you fascinating and amazing, even a dream come true."  "You don't want it, but I do, so we both win!"  "But, the birth... the pain..." Lena said, staring at Marianne in disbelief.  "I'm not worried about that, Marianne said happily.  "It's actually an experience I would treasure each time."  "Please, Lena, let me do this for you, and for me, ok??"  Lena sighed, and a tear ran down her cheek as a feeling of great relief flowed through her body.  "Ok, Mari," she said.  "Thank you!"

The sorcerer led the two girls down into a large basement room, with what looked like a large round pool in the center of it, filled with what looked like water.  He instructed the two of them to take off all their clothes and then both submerge themselves completely for 20 seconds, as he performed a ritual.  The girls did as they were asked and the two of them slowly walked down into the pool until they were both fully underwater.  After counting to twenty, Lena emerged from the pool and a splash, the sound of dripping water, and someone trying to catch their breath told her that Marianne had come out as well.  Looking over herself, Lena saw that the small baby bump was gone, her body back to its small petite form.  She looked over to see that Marianne now had a small bump, which she was clutching in one hand as she spluttered the water out of her mouth.  "Mari, look," Lena exclaimed, pointing at Marianne's belly.  "It worked!!"  "You're..."  "I'm pregnant!" Marianne said, happily, looking over herself and rubbing her belly.  "It is done," the sorcerer stated.  "The spell has been transferred."

As they drove back to Lena's house, the two girls talked happily, both having gotten what they wanted!  Lena was free, and never had to worry about giving birth again, short of actually having kids of her own someday.  Marianne, meanwhile, had taken the curse, or gift as she called it.  As Marianne giggled, driving happily, Lena stared at her.  "Mari, I'll never forget what you did for me," she said to her friend.  "Thank you so much!"  Marianne laughed.  "I should be thanking you, Lena," she responded, rubbing her belly.  "You've given me something special, and I can't wait to experience it."  Lena smiled.  "I was thinking," she began, "It might be good for you to have someone around that is experienced in this situation."  "Since your stuff is already at my house, and you'll need it soon, why don't you continue to hang around my place?"  "I can help you when it's time, and I enjoy your company!"  Lena patted her friend's belly, inwardly thinking that she'd be much happier delivering a baby every week than actually being the one giving birth.  Marianne smiled at her.  "You know what," she said.  "I think that's an excellent idea!"  "Let's start our new lives, together!!"

End!!

[cartierbin]

hey i’m new here, i read some of your works and !! OMG YOU’RE SO TALENTED , and also i just want you to ruin me buT i’m 100% bratty 🙄 soo , for the request, can i ask jeongin!dilf au pls :((

thank you sm baby. and lmao. I got you.

『 pairing — jeongin x reader

genre — smut, + a stressed, single father dilf!jeongin fucking his masseuse

word count — 1.687k 』

smut under the cut !

out of all the things jeongin could’ve done to take away his fatherly stress, a massage wasn’t one of them. no seriously. usually, an hour or two of hitting the punching bag or doing a couple of weight reps brought him to relaxation the way he needed. but with the mother of his twin daughters refusing to help out at all with them, he was stressed more than usual. and this kind of stressed caused him to be kind of desperate.

he was clicking around on his phone before he found the place. a massage therapy building that he somehow never noticed was that close to his house. on their website at least, they guaranteed that the service they give will bring him to the nirvana that he was looking for. he wasn’t going to second guess anything no— he needed this. he kisses his babies on their forehead before sending them off to his mother’s house for the night.

when he arrived at the building he gave the receptionist his name to which she exchanged confirmation of his paid visit. she nodded, sliding her swivel chair back and reaching into the room right beside her desk to give him a towel. “you can change it the room over there love”. he smiled and thanked her, more than glad to shed his clothing and hurry on with this. for some reason he felt kind of antsy, he could wait for his stress to become undone with all the knots in his muscles and back. but once he was finished you might as well couldve said you were unprepared for the appointment. you had your materials and the table ready yes, but you were nowhere near prepared to massage a gorgeous, five foot seven man with chiseled abs, a sharp jawline in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. he smiled sweetly when he entered, you tried your best to keep your attention off the chain that sat atop of his prominent collar bones and instead focus on the client at hand. but god, your stomach was churning.

“good evening are you yang jeongin?”. you spoke meekly, surprised that you could even get a word out with how ethereal he actually was. he nods. you used a hand to guide him to the massage table and he obliged, quite fond with the decor of the place. he appreciate the fact that it was dark and you allowed candles to scent and heat up the room. he also appreciate the soft red glow lights in the corners of the room, illuminating it in a rather sexy way. he pushed the unholy thoughts to the back of his mind and started getting comfortable, trying to remember that he came here for a massage and massage only. “do you have any music suggestions? I have a soft playlist if not”. the blonde haired man shook his head no while laying his head on his forearms, giving you a perfect view of the tricep muscles in his back. you gulped, positioning your oils on the tray right beside you. you rushed to press play on the music to keep your thoughts on your job.

you shifted the towel down a bit lower and started spilling the warm vanilla scented oil down the span of his back, which already drew him in. he loved the scent dearly. he also loved the way your warm hands applied pressure to the places he needed most. a serene feeling washes over him and he could feel himself relax almost immediately. you glide your hands up the length of his back and shoulders and knead the tension and knots away, you could’ve sworn you heard a soft groan from him in response. nevertheless you continued your ministrations, feeling for other knots that needed to be worked out. jeongin could safely say that he’s hardly ever felt this kind of relaxation before. maybe he should’ve came here sooner. he makes another small noise, one that was rather suggestive, one that had you internally crumbling above him.

“feels good?”. you hum, kneading out other small kinks with your thumbs. he hums and shakes his head yes, feeling quite blissful if he might say so himself. you giggle above him, “you know, the noises you’re making tells it all”. he speaks in choked breaths. “yeah it feels— good, damn— I wasn’t expecting this”. you roam your hands around his body covering it with oil, his tan skin glistens under the red lighting. “is this your first full body massage?”. he nods again. “my first massage ever. I don’t really do this. usually I work out but I’ve been stressed like hell. I need this”. he couldn’t see you and you know it, but you pout your lips anyway. “what’s got a gorgeous man like you so stressed?”. from above you could see his eyes closed, and a small dimple depressing into his cheek as he smiled, appreciating the compliment. “a lot actually. mainly the mother of my girls”. you squeeze another bit of oil into the palm of your hands and this time use them to work the muscles along his neck and arms. you were glad he was laying on his stomach, this mean he couldn’t see the surprised expression you were making.

“girls? you have kids?”. you ask awaiting an answer. to your surprise he nods his head. “yes two of them. they’re twins. lily and lana”. he groans again, making your heart pound that much harder. you distract yourself with conversation. “wow. twins?”. he nods. “you sound shocked”. “yeah I mean... you look like you’re way too young to be a dad. I guess I wasn’t expecting that”. you laugh a little. “I get that a lot”. your hands gradually moved to every part of his upper half, giving it the attention it craved. the fact that he was a dad surprised the hell out of you. he looked as though he was maybe 19, 20 maybe. either way it goes you already decided in your mind that he was an absolute dilf. you worked in silence for the time being, wallowing in the small sounds he made and trying to keep moisture from pooling between your legs in the process. now covered in oil and feeling hands move all around his body, jeongin didn’t know how much more of himself he could help. he was growing hard at the thought of your oily hands sliding up and down his cock. the massage was great. amazing even. but he needed something more. as you edged the towel down his waist he reached back and grabbed your wrist.

“before you continue, can you do me a favor?”. your mind spun at his question. “what is it?”. jeongin breathed. “you’re really good at your job and it’s working but I think I need something more— and I’ll pay you extra just to have if it you keep things confidential between us”. by now your heart was racing. you licked your lips, the room all of a sudden becoming much hotter. “what do you need?”.

“I need to fuck you”. you gulped at how straightforward he was. but the prompt wasn’t unwelcomed. you just didn’t know what to say. he sat up, feeling like maybe he went too far. “you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to I’m just really stressed and I need to take the edge off”. you chewed on the insides of your cheeks. “it’ll be confidential..right?”. he nods. “I won’t tell a soul”. truthfully you didn’t mind being used by him, only you didn’t know how to initiate things so you stood there awkwardly. “I don’t know what to do”. you spoke in a soft gentle voice, matching the vibe of the background music. he pulled you closer to him by the hem of your white masseuse coat, taking his fingers and unbuttoning the shirt you had underneath it. your voice vanished once his lips attached themselves to your nipples, suckling them obediently while groping the cheeks of your ass. you could only throw your head back and let air flow from your lips, the feeling of his soft lips on you was becoming indescribable. the more he sucked the more clothes he took off of you. your jacket was glided off your shoulders as well as your shirt and now he was working his hand around to the button of your pants. he refused to just shed your pants without feeling you first. so on that note his hand dipped into your panties and his fingers brush against your sopping wet lips. you gasp feeling them breach you, twisting and turning inside of you trying to feel the spot that made you make the most noise. they soon found what they were looking for eliciting unholy moans from your throat. “your moans are so fucking sexy”, he growled, becoming more animalistic in his ways, licking and biting your neck in lust.

his fingers moved at an excruciating pace in the ridges of your wet hole and you felt weaker at his touch. you were so clouded you hadn’t realize that he already snatched off your panties and you were fully nude, clinging against his oily body while he was finger fucking you into oblivion. the tent underneath the towel was evident, and he acted on it as soon as he felt his tip throbbing in need. he substitutes you on the table instead of himself, removing the towel around his waist and positioning you on your stomach. he pooled some oil in the palm of his hand and rubs it over your back and most importantly over the curve of your ass, watching your skin gleam before he tosses the now empty oil bottle on the floor. he uses his hand to feel your pussy lips from behind, sliding it in between your slit whilst pressing his wet lips against your ear. “just let me use you. I won’t be long”. he made his word his bond, using a veiny hand to grip the edge of the table for leverage and shoving his dick inside you just like that. you yelped, suddenly remembering that you had to keep your noises at a low volume. he sits up and grips the cheeks of your ass, watching the rolls in your backside become more prominent the more he fucked into you. “fuckk this is it”. he groaned now taking a slower pace just so he could hear your oily counterparts slap against each other. he threw his head back and licks his lips in daze, forgetting about his life’s troubles and focusing on the way your walls clenched around him so well. you bit the leather of the massage pillow trying to keep yourself from going insane.

he was riding your ass slow and steady, rocking his hips into your pussy and admiring how much he made you stutter over your words. his body was draped over yours and his hand wrapped around your neck, necklace sweeping along the nape, gifting you low groans and curse words into your ear every chance he got. the way the table creaked each time he thrusted was an ego booster. he smirks and tongue kisses your cheeks without a care in a world for what an oily mess you both were. “you’re going to make me fucking cum, you know that?” he exhaled in the darkest voice he could muster. your eyes drove to the back of your head as his dick drove deeper into you. his strokes were painfully slow but you enjoyed each and every one of them, the tip was hitting spots that you thought only your dildo at home could reach. fire stirred at the pit of your stomach. you could feel yourself gushing with each move of his waist and it was driving you up a wall.

“oh my god”. you whined weakly, making him throb harshly inside you. he took his time to softly kiss down the spine of your back and work his way back up again to the back of your neck. It felt quite nice actually, romantic if you will. he slides a free hand over to intertwine with yours, while his tongue licks the undersides of your neck before delicately kissing those places as well. his lips landed on yours unexpectedly and he kissed you so passionately and careful you could’ve mistaken him for being in love with you. he hastens his pace while his tongue roams your mouth almost as if it were searching for something. you didn’t know what to focus on more, his sloppy tongue kisses or your much needed orgasm that was a second away from rippling through your body. either way you weren’t prepared for them both. streams of white ran down your thighs and he felt it all and groaned much louder. when he felt himself get close he parted the cheeks of your ass just so he could see your pussy getting filled with his seed, unbeknownst to you that he had a thing for cream pies.

he didn’t even give you time to relapse from it, he takes your chin and lands another wet kiss on your lips with his body still hovering over your now exhausted one. “thank you so fucking much. I’ll be booking another appointment soon”.

[1kook]

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta​ for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.  

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock. 

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

[gukyi]

good luck charm | kth

summary: kim taehyung has nearly everything he’s ever dreamed of: an apartment in new york city, a lead role in an off-broadway play, and a best friend to share it with. but even still, there’s one thing missing—love. and when he goes on the hunt for it, he dots every i and crosses every t, leaves no stone unturned, but forgets to look at the person who could ever love him the most: you.

{friends to lovers!au, roommates!au, actor!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love word count: 11k a/n: a huge thank you to MK for commissioning me for this piece–i hope it’s everything you dreamed of!!!! these are tough times, but i hope this can serve as a distraction to everyone!! please stay safe and wash your hands! if you’re interested in commissioning me, check out this post! also, if the pictures are unclear, click on them for higher resolution!

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.”

You see a tuft of purple hair sticking out behind a basket of orange pansies, two nimble hands with long fingers fiddling with the stems. 

“I bet you say that to everyone,” you tease, as Namjoon peers out from where he’s hiding behind a shelf of flowers, greeting you with the same warm grin he always wears. 

Namjoon pauses, gaze tilting upwards as he corrects himself, “my favorite customer who’s about to confess to her best friend of four years with a bouquet arranged by yours truly?”

You roll your eyes, thankful that there’s nobody else inside this little flower shop. Not that you seem to have an issue exposing your entire life story to certain strangers, especially if they’ve got dimples and colored hair to match. Namjoon has always been something of an exception—perhaps he is one of the closest friends you have here in the city, where everything moves so quickly you barely have time to say hello to a new acquaintance. Namjoon and his flower shop are a respite, a safe haven in a bustling world, where time always seems to move slower than it does outside. 

“Don’t remind me, I’m sweating just thinking about it,” you tell him, trying to cover your nervousness with a laugh. 

“Ah, well how could I forget, when you came to me to arrange the perfect bouquet for tonight?” Namjoon says. He chops a wilting flower from its stem and places it behind his ear. Even though it’s a little sadder, a little less lively than its comrades, the bright yellow of the primrose complements his hair nicely, making him look even more ethereal, magical, than he already does. 

“Who else would I ask besides the best bouquet-maker in town?” You ask as Namjoon leads you to the counter, where various bouquets have been laid out in vases, ready for pick-up. It’s a secret garden here, all green and fresh and calm, a sharp contrast to the industrial machine outside. 

Namjoon heads to the back, a room behind a little wooden door that’s the slightest bit too short for him, so he has to bend down to avoid hitting his head (he still hits his head rather frequently, though), as you breathe in the scents of the flowers surrounding you, the roses and the daisies and everything in between. It’s not much, but it does calm the thick beating of your heart ever so slightly, and that’s enough. 

He emerges a minute or so later, banging his head on the way out. In his hands is one of the biggest bouquets you’ve ever laid eyes on, thick with some flowers you recognize but more you don’t. It’s breathtaking and gorgeous and impressive, all at once. 

“Namjoon, you know that I didn’t ask for this many flowers,” you chide as he plops the bouquet down onto the counter, clicking away at the ancient cash register to his left. 

“Consider it a good luck gift,” Namjoon tells you with a wink. 

You sigh, pulling out your card to pay him. “I could use all of the luck I could get.” The likelihood of tonight going more right than wrong is miniscule. But what else can you do, besides try? “What do they all mean?”

“Well, the daffodils represent honesty and truth. The red carnations mean love, obviously. So do the chrysanthemums. The baby’s breath is just for decoration, but it also means everlasting love. The gardenias are for secret love. And the freesia is just because I thought it went well with the bouquet,” Namjoon says expertly, pointing to each one as he tells you what it means. “I don’t know if Taehyung’s super up with his flower meanings, but I think that even the gesture will say more than enough. But if he is, this is just a bonus.”

“I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?” You say, the nerves overtaking you. You were hoping to just act calm and collected, thank Namjoon for the bouquet and be on with your lives, but even you can’t help but seek advice from him. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “If you think it’s going to go so badly, why have you planned so much?” He poses. “It’s normal to be nervous about this sort of thing—what if I mess up, what if he doesn’t feel the same way, what if he rejects me—but I think that, deep down inside of you, there’s a part that thinks that it will all be worth it. And I don’t know, maybe I’m just a sucker for happy endings, but I think that that’s the most important. The part of you that doesn’t want to spend the rest of its life thinking about what might have been.” Namjoon’s phone lights up next to him, his lockscreen a picture of him and another boy, shorter, but with the same dyed hair. The two look so happy together. He gazes down at it, exhales, and shuts his phone off. “Just my two cents.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, Kim Namjoon,” you tell him with a smile. Maybe you are nervous about the what ifs, nervous that this whole thing could blow up in your face, but is it so naive of you to listen to that whisper in your heart? The one that says, maybe he feels the same? “I wish you’d take your own advice, sometimes.”

“It’s different,” Namjoon murmurs to himself. “He and I… this is all we’ll ever be.”

“You don’t know unless you try,” you tell him. You know the feeling. Perhaps, if tonight goes well, it will encourage him to give it a shot himself. “You never know.” Namjoon looks up at you, smile wide but eyes sad. There’s clearly something more that he isn’t mentioning, but you won’t push it. You get it. How could you not? “What if he does feel the same?”

The bell above the door rings on your way out, fingers clenching onto a bouquet, praying and wishing and dreaming that maybe this will all be worth it, in the end.

Something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

When you return to your apartment, Kim Taehyung is slouched on your dinky loveseat, arm deep inside a six-month-old box of Frosted Flakes, as an episode of Jeopardy! plays on his laptop, his eyes empty and glazed over as he stares at Alex Trebek, wordless.

You nearly jump in shock, terrified that he’ll spot you and the enormous bouquet in your hands, terrified that he’ll ask you about it, terrified that your entire plan for tonight will get flushed down the toilet the moment you and him lock eyes. But it doesn’t, because Kim Taehyung doesn’t even acknowledge you when you walk in, for better or for worse, and you manage to stash the bouquet into a vase in your bedroom before rounding on your roommate, because something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

Kim Taehyung hates Frosted Flakes. The only reason they’re in your apartment to begin with is because Jungkook had brought them over one time when he was visiting, and even then they were stale. Now they’re extra stale. So stale that they make a hollow sound on your countertop when you tap them against the laminate. 

Kim Taehyung normally shuffles through Jeopardy! like it’s nobody’s business. He gets at least a quarter, if not half of the questions correct, and always earns more points than you. But he doesn’t even open his mouth when Alex Trebek says, “This Renaissance artist left Florence to serve as principal engineer for the Duke of Milan’s army” and you know that he knows it’s Leonardo Da Vinci. 

Kim Taehyung normally has plenty to say, especially to Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip, who currently resides in your living room. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has been your honorary second roommate ever since the two of you moved into this apartment four months ago. Taehyung made him a little museum placard that is framed and hanging on the wall above him, and he has an account on every social media website under the sun. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has more followers on Instagram than you do. But today, both he and Sawyer are silent and unmoving. 

“Tae?” You ask, treading over to the couch as he empties the box of Frosted Flakes into his stomach, finishing up the episode. “Is everything alright?”

“Mmrph,” he mumbles in response. You suppose that means he said fine, which means that no, everything is not alright. 

“What’s going on? You’re normally really excited the day of your shows,” you ask. At least he hasn’t entirely turned into a soulless hermit, and he moves his legs off of the couch so you can sit beside him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Taehyung says, louder. “I don’t know. I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?”

You smile softly, shaking your head as you reach a hand out, letting it rest in his lap before he takes your hand in his. “No, it’s not. Tonight’s a big deal, isn’t it? You must be under a lot of pressure to do well.”

“I’m just so worried that I’ll fuck it up and everyone will hate me forever,” Taehyung says, exasperated. It’s almost as if he’s tired with himself for being so negative. 

“You’re not gonna fuck it up and nobody is going to hate you. I’ll always love you, you know that,” you assure him. 

“Yeah, I know,” Taehyung says, but the worst part is that you’re not sure if he really does. 

“It’s okay to be nervous, and to worry. Tonight is really important. But you’re an incredible actor, and you’ve always been so good at what you do,” you tell him, thumb rubbing against the back of his hand softly. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.”

Taehyung lets his head rest on your own and the two of you sit together on the couch in silence, watching as the minutes on his laptop clock tick by. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and soft, firm underneath his chest. You wonder if he can hear yours. Hear how it’s picking up speed, hear how it beats only for him. 

“You always know what to say,” Taehyung tells you. “I wish I knew how to do that.”

You grin sadly to yourself, happy that the two of you are side by side so he doesn’t have to see your face. How could Taehyung tell you something like that? How could he, when every time you’re near him, you’re speechless?

You never really considered yourself to be a theater person when you were younger. You would fall asleep when you went to see plays with your parents or on a school field trip. You never made an effort to go see the performances that your school put on. You were one-hundred percent confident that you would go through all four years of university without seeing one of the fifteen different theater groups’ shows, not because you hated them, but because they never crossed your mind in the first place. 

And then, you met Kim Taehyung. 

You met Kim Taehyung halfway through your freshman year because the two of you were in the same Cinematography in the 1900’s class. And then, suddenly, you were eating the same shitty food in the dining hall after class ended at seven in the evening. And then, suddenly, you were studying together, spending nights watching Jeopardy! on his laptop when you didn’t feel like doing any work. And then, suddenly, Kim Taehyung mentioned in passing one day that he had a show that Friday, and would you like to come, it would really mean a lot to him, he thinks you’ll really like it. 

And then, suddenly, you were a theater person. 

That night was the first night Kim Taehyung had ever taken your breath away. And every performance, every night, every fucking moment after that, he never stopped.

Tonight is no exception. You can’t say that you’re super well-versed in theater fame and its technicalities, but you think that this may just be Taehyung’s best performance yet. Here, in this theater off of Sixth Avenue, to a crowd of two, perhaps three hundred people, Taehyung is nothing short of amazing. He never is. From the moment he steps on stage in a raggedy old flannel and jeans, eyes wide with dreams, he reels you in and makes sure that you won’t leave this theater, won’t leave here unscathed. But the fatal blow is halfway through, when he finally spots you in the third row, sees you staring up at him in wonder, and he smiles. 

There is so much that you wish you could tell him. 

After the show, you race back to your apartment, desperate to finish up the last of the preparations before he arrives, after taking off all of his makeup and his costumes, saying goodbye to all of his co-stars. Normally, you’d hang around, let him introduce you, but tonight is different. Special. 

[September 8th, 9:35PM]

You: Had to go home bc I’m planning a special something for the star of the night! Sorry I missed all of the fun afterwards You: Something very important to tell you

Taehyung: ohoho Taehyung: I wonder who that could be Taehyung: Coming soon. I have something to tell you too! ^^

You stare at the text as you grab the vase of flowers from your room, setting it up at your very unimpressive kitchen table. What could Taehyung possibly have to tell you? Other than perhaps a thanks for showing up (as if you weren’t going to). 

What if, that voice whispers. The part deep in your heart, the one that you wish would shut up sometimes. 

“No,” you say aloud, perhaps more for yourself than anyone else. “No. I have something to tell him. I have to tell him this.”

You never know, she says. He might. What are you waiting for?

You pull out all of the scented candles in the apartment, setting them up on the coffee table and on the windowsills. There’s a plate of macarons that you had purchased from the fancy bakery in Midtown sitting by the vase, a little treat for the two of you since your diets usually consist of premade Costco pasta and takeout. 

There is so much you want to tell him. So much to say, and no way to do it. It seems impossible. As the minutes tick by, as he gets closer and closer, you wonder if you even have the courage to open your mouth. It’s not as if this is life-changing news. It would be so easy, so easy to just pretend that this is nothing but a celebration of Taehyung’s very first major off-Broadway show, to push down the ache in your heart and tell that voice to stay quiet, if only for a little longer. You’ve lived like this for so long already. Who’s to say you can’t live like this forever?

Taehyung comes home as you’re flicking through late-night television show reruns and fiddling with a Rubix cube, anything to keep your mind occupied and your fingers busy. You hear as he fumbles with the lock—his key has always been a little bit off—and scramble to get everything ready, shutting your laptop and putting the Rubix cube on your designated Weird Stuff Shelf. The apartment smells like a hodgepodge of vanilla, flowers, cinnamon, and champagne, and the flowers are already starting to wilt slightly. But it’s now or never, really. 

Taehyung swings the door open with a grin and gasps in excitement when he sees you, standing in the hazy, flickering yellow light of the kitchen, surrounded by candles, with a plate of macarons and a vase of flowers on the table. 

“Oh my God!” He says, overjoyed, high off of the adrenaline from a successful show, eyes still sparking from the spotlight. “Y/N! What is all of this?”

“Just a little something from me to you,” you say awkwardly. You have no idea how to tell him. You’re not sure if you even will. “To celebrate.”

“Dare I say, this apartment has never looked better,” he tells you, beaming. He walks over to where you’re hovering by the kitchen table, knee deep in it all, admiring the sight before him. He leans over you, ever so slightly, as he takes in the scent of the flowers, the macarons sitting before him. And then he turns to you, the glow from the candles making his eyes warm and caramel-y, almost as if they’re shimmering in the light, and he says, “You did all of this for me?”

“Of course,” you tell him, because you would do this again and again if it means you could see him like this. If you could watch him burst through the front door for the rest of your goddamn life, watch as he comes home to you. “Tonight’s special.”

“It wouldn’t be without you,” he tells you honestly, candidly. He tells you that because he means it. You wish you could say the same things to him. “You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

It’s now or never. If he takes one step closer, turns to look at you one more time, you don’t know if you’ll still have the courage. You don’t know if you even have it right now, but tomorrow, when you wake up, you don’t want to regret this night. You don’t want to wonder what if, what might have been. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“I have something to tell you,” you breathe out, words heavy on your tongue. You can feel your heart seize up, almost like it’s holding its breath with you. 

“Right, you said that,” Taehyung says with a nod, stuffing a cherry macaron into his mouth. “I have something to tell you, too.”

“Do you want to go first?” You ask him. You just need a little more time. You just want to hear his voice once more. 

“Okay,” Taehyung says happily. “I got a girlfriend!” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Well. 

Okay. 

“Really?” You ask, trying to make it sound more like a Really? That’s great! and not a Really? I thought that we had something special. You don’t think that you’re doing a very good job.

“Yeah!” Taehyung says. He’s ecstatic. It tears your heart in two. “I mean, I know I’m just… a super, hopeless romantic and I fall in love with people when they hold the door open for me, but I’m really happy with her. It’s Ariel, actually, she played Lucy! Isn’t it funny how even though our characters never even officially met, we still found something there?”

“Yeah,” you say, emotionless. Taehyung is far too excited, far too joyous to notice. 

“I just—I wanted to tell you, because you’re my best friend and you deserve to know,” he says, breaking off half of the raspberry macaron and holding it out to you. “What did you want to tell me? Did you say it was important?”

“Oh, uh…” you fumble, shaking your head at the macaron. Your stomach has never felt smaller. It’s like there’s nothing left to say to him. “I think I’m getting transferred to another office.” It’s not news. Your job told you that last week. But it’s something, and it’s better than being honest. Anything is, at this point. “They might pay a little more.”

“Yay!” Taehyung says. “That’s great! Now, maybe we can fix up the lights in the kitchen. So they don’t read horror movie every time I try to make pasta at 2AM. I’m happy for you, you deserve it!”

You smile, putting on a brave face, just for him. “Me too.” You can’t muster up the strength to say anything else. 

Taehyung spends the rest of the night gobbling down the macarons and telling you all about Ariel, as you try desperately to tune him out. Even the sound of your own thoughts would be better than this. Anything. Anything. Eventually, after it’s long past midnight and Taehyung realizes he’ll need his sleep for the show tomorrow night, he bids you goodbye and sets off to his room, a bounce in his step.

You stand in the middle of your apartment. Even though it’s small, and even though you have him, it’s never felt emptier.

Namjoon always says that flowers don’t just need food and water to stay happy. They need love, they need to be surrounded by happiness. He says that they can feel it, that they react to it. That’s why he always tries to be happy when he’s working. Because he hates seeing the flowers so sad. He says they remind him of himself.

It’s no wonder why the flowers in the vase look even more wilted than before.

Here’s the thing: You had pretty much always known that it was going to hurt like this. There had always been that part of you, deep down inside, that knew that there was no way it wasn’t going to hurt like this. That knew that there was nothing you could do to stop it from hurting like this. 

And still, foolishly so, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, telling him would make it stop. You gave into this fantasy that, even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he let you down easy, even if he told you that he just wanted to be friends, it would be better. 

That’s the worst part of it all, really. The fact that you never even told him. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t. You never told him, and now, somehow, everything is even worse than before. 

The flowers have long been thrown out by now, tossed out after hardly a week, unable to stand the tension in the air, the emptiness that lingered far beyond that night. Still, you remembered to keep one, plucking it from the vase before it died of secondary sadness. Because even if they hurt you, even if they tear at your heartstrings one by one, you’ve always had this terrible habit of never letting go of what you love. You pressed the flower with an old college textbook, placed it into a thin little vase, meant for one flower only. A red carnation, to remind you of what you could have had. What might have been. 

Kim Taehyung is significantly less worried this time around as he prepares for the opening night of his latest play. He wakes up early and does some yoga in the living room, pushing all of the furniture to the walls so he has enough space to Downward Dog in peace. He watches a couple episodes of Jeopardy! as he eats the Pad Thai he Doordashed to your apartment, and gets half of the questions correct. Even from your bedroom, you can hear him talking to Sawyer. 

“I’m excited for tonight, Sawyer,” he says to him. “I don’t know, last time I did Shakespeare was sophomore year in college, I think? I was Mercutio. It was fun and I got to use a sword. Y/N came to that show, too. I annoyed her so much that night that she told me that she was glad Tybalt killed me, but we had a good time anyway.”

Sawyer doesn’t say anything back, because he is a Suspicious Floor Dip in your living room. But it’s so lovely to hear Taehyung’s voice again. 

“Do you think that Y/N’s been acting weird, lately?” Taehyung asks. “I just feel like—I feel like she and I aren’t as close these days. She works in her room a lot more and some days I don’t see her at all. Which is crazy, because we live together. My ex always said it was a little weird how I lived with my best friend who is also a girl. But I don’t think it is. Do you think I did something wrong?”

No, you wish you could say, leaning against your thin bedroom door as you hear Taehyung wonder aloud. Never, in a million years. It was me, you want to tell him. I got my hopes up and now I’m paying the price. It’s not you. It’s never you. 

“Yeah, I guess she’s just busier these days,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “She did get transferred to that new office a couple of months ago. But she’s still my best friend. I’ll never stop telling her that—she deserves to know that no matter what, she always has me.”

“Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Therapist, huh?” You interrupt, finally getting the nerve to open your door. Taehyung’s on his way out, all dressed, backpack on his shoulder. He has to be at the theater a few hours before the show begins, anyway. 

“He’s just so easy to talk to,” Taehyung jokes. “Did you… uh… did you hear that?”

“The part about being your best friend?” You ask with an eyebrow raise, making Taehyung smile. You don’t mention the other things you heard. You don’t think that would make things better. 

(You’re not sure what will, at this point. Telling him is off the table. You distantly wonder if it was ever on the table to begin with.)

“Just making sure you knew,” Taehyung says with a grin. “Don’t want you forgetting about that.”

“How could I?” You muse, and it makes him smile something fierce and makes you wish that things were different. 

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Taehyung says. He must know the answer, already. 

“Of course I am,” you tell him. “Who do you take me for?”

“I’ll look for you in the crowd, okay?” Taehyung says, a hand on the doorknob as he gets ready to leave. “Keep an eye out for me. Promise?”

It’s always been so hard to say no to him. 

“Promise,” you tell him. 

That night, you sit a little further back, shadowed by the mezzanine above you, but Taehyung finds you anyway. As he schmoozes his way through the storyline on stage, he sends a wink your way, a couple of the girls in the row in front of you giggling to each other when he does. You sort of wish he was really winking at them. That way, it would hurt a little less. 

Afterwards, you linger around in the lobby, waiting for him like you always have, like you always do, like you always will. You don’t have anything special waiting for him back at your apartment. There’s nothing left to tell him. 

You spot his head of soft, wavy brown hair far before he spots you, can make it out in a sea of cast members as they cheer for themselves, celebrating another successful opening show. Your face lights up when you see him, when you see that he sees you. This is how it has always been. This is how it should be—you find each other in the crowd, grinning as you congratulate him, as he introduces you to his cast members and then invites you to the afterparty. You spend the night together, high off of the adrenaline and just a little tipsy, before stumbling back to your apartment, basking in the afterglow. 

You want nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were. 

And then, you see her. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung shouts excitedly, and it takes all of your strength to not let your face fall as she comes into view, hand interlaced with Taehyung’s. “I knew you’d be here!”

“How could I not be?” You say, letting Taehyung wrap you in a one-armed hug rather than two. “You know me.”

“This is my girlfriend,” Taehyung introduces proudly, motioning to the pretty girl beside him as she waves at you good-naturedly. “Madison, this is my roommate and college best friend, Y/N.”

“Taehyung talks about you non-stop,” Madison says with a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the love of your life’s new girlfriend? How else can you salvage this conversation when you already see it going terribly? “You both were really good tonight. I’m happy that I came.”

“Me too!” Taehyung grins. “Did you see me wink at you? I promised you I would.”

You nod, eyes desperately scanning the rest of the room, the rest of the people, the floor, anything to keep from watching as Madison drapes herself over Taehyung, intertwines their hands as she leans against him, like she can’t get enough of him. 

“Hey, do you want to come to the afterparty? It’s at Alex’s house, apparently he has this brownstone in Brooklyn all to himself, I’ve heard it’s gorgeous—”

“No, actually, I have a lot of work that I need to catch up on,” you interrupt. You don’t think you’d last five minutes there, where the only person you know is Taehyung, where he’s got a girlfriend on his arm the entire time. You aren’t even sure how you’re faring now, if you’re even  breathing, standing before him and his equally-gorgeous new partner. 

You just wish everything could go back to normal.

Taehyung’s brows furrow, disappointed. “Oh, you do? But—”

“Yeah, I’m just—I’m really sorry, Tae, you know I want to. But I should get going. It was really nice meeting you, Madison, I hope we can see each other again sometime—” You spew out a few more goodbyes and even more apologies as you rush towards the exit, turning away so you don’t have to see Taehyung calling after you. 

On the way back, you bump into Namjoon, who’s closing up shop for the day. He looks positively exhausted, always working diligently from morning to far past sunset every day, but he smiles when he sees you, setting aside his tired eyes to say hello. 

“Hey, Y/N, fancy seeing you here,” he greets. “How are you? How’d it go?” He gives you a sort of grin that means that he thinks it went super well. 

“Not great,” you tell him truthfully, because it’s late and you don’t feel like hiding things anymore. 

“Oh,” Namjoon says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he thinks that none of the things he has to say will go down very well. You know the feeling. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, even though it’s not. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Namjoon asks solemnly. 

You frown. “Do you really think we should both be having this conversation?” Namjoon has his own secrets, his dreams of a short boy with colored hair by his side. “You aren’t much better.”

“No, I’m not,” he muses to himself. “But it is a big deal, Y/N. Please don’t act like it isn’t. You love him, don’t you? Even if he doesn’t love you back.”

You love him. 

It’s not a secret anymore. 

You love him like the stars love the moon, surrounding her in their light, making sure she never gets lonely. You love him like an old Hollywood movie, film faded and worn, getting played once in a while to make sure you never forget where you started. You love him like a flower, carnations, daffodils, chrysanthemums, perking up when you’re around him and wilting when you’re not. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say with a sigh. Certainly, there are more important things to dwell on. You’re looking for a new job because being an office temp isn’t exactly what you were envisioning for your life. You want to start fixing up the bathroom, because the grout by the shower is starting to disintegrate. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip is a fire hazard. “I’m okay with just being friends.”

Namjoon smiles, and it’s so sad, but not with pity. It’s sad with I know, and sad with feeling, because he gets it, and that must be why you’re here, standing on the sidewalk at ten on a Friday night, underneath the street lamps as the city begins to open its eyes. “But when you have him the way you do, how can you be okay with any of it?”

Taehyung comes home late that night, and you only know because you’re running to the bathroom at the same time he fumbles with the door. He takes longer than usual, which means he’s drunk, and you can only hope and pray that he’s alone. You watch as he finally manages to unlock the door, stumbling inside, managing to turn on the main overhead lights in your apartment as he does. From where you’re peering at him from the darkness of the hallway, you can make out dark red, purple spots all along his skin. 

You pull the bathroom door almost shut, leaving it a little ajar so you can gaze out at him, watch as he pours himself a glass of water and downs the entire thing before he makes his way to the hallway, heading for his bedroom. From here, you see the way his hair is mussed, all fucked up from someone’s hands in it, see the marks up close, the way they line his neck, his jaw, his collarbones. He finds his way to his bedroom and shuts the door behind him as you stand, trapped in the bathroom, mad at him for not knowing but furious at yourself for being so ridiculous.

Love was never supposed to hurt like this. 

The next time that you attend one of Taehyung’s opening nights, you don’t stick around long afterwards. 

You were planning on it, of course, like you always do, because ever since college you’ve made a point to see him after a show, tell him all of the things you wish you could say to him all of the time, you were amazing, you were brilliant, you were perfect in every way. You even have a small bouquet of flowers in your hands, arranged by none other than Namjoon—a pity bouquet, an I hope that you two can still be friends bouquet—ready to give to him, ready to see them sitting on your kitchen table as a reminder. 

And then, you see the way he kisses her, overcome with joy, running on that post-show high. You see the way he pulls her into him and plants one on her, arms wrapped around each other as they celebrate, in their own special way. 

Suddenly, the flowers feel like dead weight in your hands. 

You manage to catch one of the few co-stars of Taehyung’s that you recognize, one who was in Our Lives with him. His name is Seokjin, and he’s gorgeous. Broadway material. Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony material. He stops to say hello to you, and you ask if he could give the bouquet to Taehyung, tell him it was from you. 

Seokjin’s nice. He doesn’t ask why, he just nods. It saves you the trouble of telling him. Nobody wants to listen to your sob story. He says goodbye to you, and that he hopes to see you again soon. You hope so too. 

You spend the night curled up in your room pretending that everything is fine. You don’t see Taehyung when he comes home, and you don’t see him the next day, either. 

It’s not as if you’ve started to avoid Taehyung entirely. You live together—it would be downright impressive if you didn’t see each other for a whole day. It’s just, sometimes he still—

“Y/N? Wanna order Pad Thai?”

“Hey, Y/N, they’re playing The Devil Wears Prada on Freeform, do you want to come watch with me?”

“Central Park is having a Dog Festival, do you wanna go together?”

And sometimes, you just can’t. The thought of spending time with him makes your heart ache, whether it be from not wanting to be too close, or from missing him terribly. Either way, you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to muster up the same courage you once had. 

Turning to look at the pressed carnation in the vase atop your dresser, you laugh to yourself. It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago you thought that you would finally be able to tell him, to open up your heart and let him look into it like a kaleidoscope. Hard to believe that there was once a time when you thought that maybe, just maybe, he loved you back. It feels like it was eons ago. Like it was another universe entirely. 

You know that it’s not right for you to do this to Taehyung. He’s still your best friend. He always will be. He has no idea. He’ll never know. 

But sometimes—

Sometimes he comes home love drunk, wasted on kisses, splotches of pink lip gloss decorating his skin. 

Sometimes he spends dinner telling you all about the date he went on, the amazing vodka shrimp linguine he had, as the two of you eat Kirkland spaghetti in your dinky apartment. 

Sometimes he tells you that you’re his best friend, and that he misses you. 

Being in love with Taehyung had always been easy. It was being best friends, and making sure to keep the feelings a secret, that was hard. 

Taehyung isn’t home tonight. You hadn’t asked him where he’d be. You didn’t think that it mattered. 

And you tell yourself, over and over again, that it doesn’t matter. That you don’t need to know where he is every second of every day. He’s got a life outside of what exists in your stuffy apartment, a whole world of people craning to see him. He has reviews written about him in  The New York Times and people lining up outside the theater for his autograph on their Playbill. There’s so much more to his life than what he has with you. 

It’s better this way, you tell yourself, even if it’s not. Even if every time you step into your apartment, glance over at the vase on the kitchen table, you are reminded that it’s worse. Every time you see a damn carnation, daffodil, chrysanthemum, you can’t help but wish that things were different. You’re even starting to avoid Namjoon. 

That night finds you at a small Italian restaurant in a tiny alley off of Ninth Street. You’ve never been, but it had good reviews on Yelp and you could do with spending some time alone, wallowing in your feelings somewhere other than your bedroom. You’re starting to feel suffocated just being there. It would be good for you to get out. 

It would be good for you to get out, because the apartment reeks of what ifs, of what could have beens, and you can’t spend more than five minutes inside without throwing yourself your own personal pity party. You hardly see Taehyung nowadays because you can’t bear looking into his eyes anymore. Everything is awful, and you wish that it wasn’t, but you don’t know what to do to fix it. 

But Fate seems to love doing that thing where it’s out to get you. From the moment you met Kim Taehyung, Fate decided that you would be her next target. That no moment with him would leave you unscathed. And tonight is no exception. 

It’s just your luck that, ten minutes after you’re seated, the bell above the door rings to signal another customer, and you look up to see Taehyung and his girlfriend strolling in, glowing under the warm yellow light. You’ve never been more thankful, in that moment, to be seated right beside the bathroom, just out of sight of the booth that the hostess leads them to. It’s terrible, and it’s terrible, and it’s terrible. You watch as they order two glasses of a fancy rosé and giggle as they cheers to their show, to their lives, and to themselves. They spend the evening in the light of a single exposed bulb above their head, laughing and smiling and talking. 

The craziest part is that once upon a time, that would have been you. You and Taehyung would have decided that the night was a restaurant day and not a stay-at-home-and-cook-meal day. You would have found a quaint little place on Yelp and gotten the cheapest food on the menu. Once upon a time, you looked like that. 

[April 17th, 7:34PM]

Taehyung: [image sent] Taehyung: MMMMM look at this yummy yummy fish that I had tonight!! Taehyung: We should go here sometime!! I think you’d like it hehe

You look down at your plate. The food in front of you tastes like ash. 

“Congrats,” you say when you hear Taehyung leaving his bedroom, feet padding against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Huh?” Taehyung asks, eyes wide. It’s almost as if he’s surprised to see you out here, sitting on the couch, answering emails. Like he can’t believe you’re in your own home. You can’t blame him. “What are you talking about?”

“The review on The New York Times,” you tell him distantly, switching over to the tab on your computer where you read it. There’s a picture at the top of Taehyung and his co-star, front and center, holding hands as they look off into the distance, staring into an unknown future. “It’s your first five star review, isn’t it? They even listed it as the Critic’s Pick.”

“Oh, I… uh,” he begins, “I haven’t seen it yet. Been too busy.”

Bitterly, you wonder why. Even when you two are further apart than you have ever been, even when he spends all day out of the apartment and you spend all day inside, even when you barely fucking see each other, you can’t help but click on the articles that mention him, scroll through every review that mentions his name. 

Things might be different now, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be proud of him. Of what he does. Of who he is. 

“Well, they said great things,” you tell him, sparing him the trouble of looking. “You deserve it.”

“You’re coming tonight, right? You have to, if the play is getting such good reviews,” Taehyung asks, an olive branch. You’ve spent so much time doing everything you can to keep your relationship as distant as possible, hiding in your bedroom and eating dinner at odd hours. But this is the one thing that you both can still hold onto. Taehyung’s shows, his performances, and you, in the audience, always finding his eyes. If everything else is in shambles, at least you will always have this. “I think you’d like it.”

“It sounds very Matrix-y.”

“Well,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “It sort of is. But it’s also about love. You’d like that, right?”

You suppose you’d like it a little more in another timeline.

Taehyung continues, barely giving himself time to catch his breath. “Basically, these two kids are playing this life-simulation game where every move they make directly corresponds with the actions of the characters they’re playing as. Cue me and Lancaster. And we meet, and slowly fall in love, over a series of chance encounters. You know, a coffee shop, the bank, a restaurant.”

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowed. 

“Why?” Taehyung’s eyes widen in concern, smile downturned ever so slightly as he takes in your expression. 

“I don’t know—” you begin. There’s just something about the storyline that rubs you the wrong way. “Maybe I’m just being cynical. But is it really possible for two people to find love like that? Through chance? Luck?”

Perhaps, Namjoon would say. You can hear his voice echoing in your head now. After all, wasn’t it luck that brought the two of you together?

You shake his thoughts away. Namjoon’s got his own set of problems—he’s in no position to be the wise one in this scenario.

Taehyung shrugs, as if he’d never given that a thought to begin with. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think that love can blossom anywhere. Just so long as you nurture it, water it and give it lots of sunlight. I just—I think that if you look hard enough, you can find love anywhere.”

You turn to face him, blinking up at him as you stare at each other, sitting on this damn couch in the middle of your apartment. Taehyung waxes poetic in front of you, tells you that if you just fucking look for love, you’ll find it. But he doesn’t know—and he never will. You’ve been looking for love for the past four years, you’ve been searching in all of the nooks and crannies of your body, and the only place you’ve ever found it has been in the deep pit of your heart, dusty and quiet and forgotten. Even now, staring into his eyes, scanning every bit of his irises for even a sliver of it, a spark, you come up empty. 

How could he say something like that, when he lives with you? When he looks at you while you’re eating takeout or sitting and watching a movie together. Does he just not see it? Or worse—does he know, and just refuse to say anything?

Suddenly, your body turns cold. It’s hard to believe that someone as hopelessly romantic can’t see what’s right in front of him. 

“I wish that was how it worked,” you say sourly, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. You snatch your laptop from the table and head into your room, leaving Taehyung alone on the couch, speechless.

He may be the one with flowers blooming in his heart, but you have been drowning for the past four years, and never have you felt further from the surface than right now. 

You don’t go to Taehyung’s opening show that night. 

Taehyung leaves to get ready at the theater at three in the afternoon, and you bid him goodbye before holing yourself up in your bedroom and keeping yourself busy. You start watching the newest season of Stranger Things and tidy up the knick knacks you have scattered all over the place. Anything to keep your mind occupied. 

Taehyung texts you during intermission.

[June 3rd, 8:55PM]

Taehyung: Hey are you here?

You don’t respond. 

By ten at night, you end up with the cleanest room you’ve had in years and half of the season left to watch. It’s not a great kind of busy. The red carnation atop your dresser stares into your soul and you nearly throw it out three different times. But it’s an okay kind of busy, because you don’t know if you could have beared to see Taehyung on stage tonight. See him dancing around with a beautiful girl on his arm, confessing his love for her and pulling her in for a kiss. 

Over the years, you have seen Taehyung kiss so many people. From the shy freshman boy cast next to him in a student-written play in college to the model-esque women on stage in an off-Broadway play with him. And it never used to hurt—not like this. You saw him lock lips with another and you supposed that that was just show business. 

But it’s not show business anymore. It stopped being show business that night, when he came home to an apartment lit up with candles, the sweet scent of macarons wafting through the air, and told you he had found someone. It hasn’t been show business since, not when Taehyung is looking for love and finds it everywhere except where you wish he would look most. 

Maybe you’re just being selfish. Taehyung doesn’t have to love you for you to love him. You knew that. You lived with that. He’s your best friend. He always will be. You can’t do anything to force him to love you back. You had always been fine with just being friends. 

But just—knowing that he doesn’t feel the same. Having that certainty rooted deep within you. That’s the part that hurts the most. 

Taehyung comes home earlier than he normally would on a day like this, catching you in the kitchen as you brew some chamomile tea, hoping that it will calm the waves that crash against the pier inside you. You turn to meet his eyes, and suddenly, you feel like you can’t see anything in them at all. 

“Why didn’t you come tonight?” He demands. “I looked for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“Here,” you tell him. “I was thinking maybe I would go tomorrow.”

“But you’re always at my opening show,” Taehyung says, like you don’t know that already. “Why didn’t you come? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” you tell him. You don’t think you’re drunk or tired enough for this conversation. At ten at night, you’re still cognizant, aware of what consequences this conversation might have when you wake up in the morning. 

“Then why weren’t you there? You know I need you there,” Taehyung pleads, coming up to you as you stand in your kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil.

“No, I didn’t know that,” you tell him firmly. You went to his opening shows because it was tradition. Not because it was necessary. 

“You’re my good luck charm, for god’s sake, Y/N,” Taehyung says, fists curled up at his sides. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to burst at the seams, like there are so many things he’s holding at the tip of his tongue. “I did such a shit job tonight without you there. I spent the entire first half of the show looking out into the crowd so much that Lancaster asked me if I had taken anything before we started.”

“That’s not my fault,” you tell him. “I didn’t know that you thought I was your good luck charm, or whatever.” And, because you’re bitter and petty and heartbroken, you add, “I would have thought that would be something your girlfriend is.”

Taehyung loses it. “What’s been going on with you, Y/N? Why are you being like this? Ever since my first show, I feel like we’re drifting further and further apart. You never want to spend time with me, you never want to come to my afterparties, you barely spare a glance at my girlfriends when I introduce them to you, and now, you’ve stopped coming to my shows. All of these things that I thought that we shared, ever since college. Tell me, Y/N, am I doing something wrong? Is there something that I’ve missed? Because it feels like we’re fucking strangers.”

The water finishes boiling, the kettle whistling on the stovetop as steam billows from the spout. “I’m not obligated to do any of those things, Taehyung,” you tell him harshly. “Just because we did them in college doesn’t mean I have to keep doing them now. What, did you think we’d still be doing that sort of stuff when we’re thirty? Forty, fifty? They were just college traditions.”

“‘College traditions’?” Taehyung asks, astounded. “Were all of those nights that we spent together just college traditions, too? Are we not allowed to do those things anymore? I miss you, Y/N. I hate not having you around and tonight was the worst it’s ever been. I don’t know what to do or say, I don’t know how to fix this, I don’t even fucking know what’s broken.”

“I just need space, Taehyung,” you tell him, hands gripping the edge of the countertop as you stare at the laminate, eyes tracing the lines to keep you from meeting his own. “I just need some time to myself, that’s all.”

“But why, Y/N?” Taehyung pleads, He reaches over to grab your hand, holds it in between the two of you like a lifeline. 

“‘Why?’” You echo angrily. “You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?” You tug your hand from his grasp. It’s clear you’re beating a dead horse. You wonder why you even tried in the first place. How naive you were, standing in the kitchen surrounded by scented candles and flowers and macarons, dreaming of a life with him by your side. Foolish. 

“Realized what?” 

“That I’m in love with you!” You shout, and the world goes silent. The kettle stops whistling, the water having evaporated into nothing, the packet of chamomile tea left, forgotten on the countertop. You stand there, breaths heavy, chest heaving, as you look at Taehyung, angry and mad and in love, all at once. 

“You’re what?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” you hiss. “I already know that you don’t feel the same.”

“Y/N, wait—”

“Goodnight, Taehyung.” You turn on your heels, storming into your bedroom and collapsing against the door. Finally, finally, finally, you let the tears wrack your body, sending shivers down your spine. There’s salt on your tongue and smudged liner beneath your eyes. 

You thought pressing flowers makes them last forever. But even the red carnation is starting to shrivel. 

Subject Title: New Project????

From Park, Seojoon, to me

Hi Taehyung,

You did a great job last night in Chance Card! Really proud of you for accomplishing so much. Pretty soon you’ll be on Broadway and be too big for a small manager like me. You’ll need an agent, and a publicist, and a stylist, and a dog-walker…

Anyway, just emailing to let you know that Hugo Cleveland reached out to me to see if you were interested in auditioning for his next play. He personally wanted to see if you liked the part, and would give you preference if you did want to audition. It’s called Cupid, and it’s another one of those modern-day retellings of an old tale. I thought you might like it. Attached is the script and a short description of the play. Let me know if you’d like to give it a shot! I think this might be the project that gets you onto Broadway!!

As always, contact me if you need anything at all.

Park

Taehyung, still in bed despite it being nearly noon, taps around on his phone, pulling up the description of the play. He hates reading PDFs on his phone, so he’ll check out the script on his laptop later. 

Cupid by Hugo Cleveland

Cupid chronicles the tale of the world’s most well known hopeless romantic—Cupid himself. Set in a world of magical realism, Cupid has the power to make two people fall in love with a single shot of his arrow, and spends his life walking around the city of New York, bow and arrow by his side. 

The only problem is that Cupid has no way to make people fall in love with him, because his magic operates under the assumption of soulmates—a single person meant for another. And as the years have gone by, he has searched and searched and searched over millennia, desperate to find love, but it’s almost as if everyone has soulmates except for him. 

Little does he know, he need look no further to find the person he shall spend the rest of his life with—not when his best friend has always been by his side. 

Taehyung glares at the description like it’s personally offended him. He knows that it’s just a coincidence that he happens to receive this email the morning after his fight with you, but he can’t help but feel like God is playing the world’s worst practical joke on him. 

Cursed with the memory of an actor, he replays last night in his head over and over and over again, looping the feed back and forth as your words echo in his mind. 

You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?

He never knew what he was supposed to be looking for. You were just friends, you had always been just friends. But then he looked out in the crowd and couldn’t see you anywhere, couldn’t make out your eyes even in a sea of hundreds like he always does, and it felt like there was more than just another audience member missing. He spent the rest of the evening getting his hopes up, thinking that maybe you’re just sitting somewhere else, maybe you put in colored contacts, maybe you’re hidden by some really buff guy in front of you. 

He missed you, last night. He’s been missing you a lot recently, missing the way the days you spent together would bleed into nights. Missing the way you wrap your arms around him and smother him in cuddles, missing the way you always remember his takeout order for the fifteen different restaurants you frequent. Missing the way he once thought that you could spend your whole lives together. 

Realized what?

He supposes that he has always been a bit foolish. All of his ex-girlfriends broke up with him, never the other way around. And while they all ended on good terms, they all said the same thing to him: it always seemed like his heart belonged to someone else. But he misread that, too. He just thought that he hadn’t found the right person, yet. He would keep searching until he did. 

That I’m in love with you!

The craziest thing about it all is that your confession didn’t even shock him that much. After the initial surprise wore off, it was almost as if the dust settled around you, the storm finally calming. Like finding the last puzzle piece after thinking it had been lost for days. Like feeling everything click into place.

Taehyung has been thinking a lot about last night, but his least favorite part is always this:

I already know that you don’t feel the same.

He wishes that he could have told you. He wishes that he could have been strong enough, could have realized what he had before it slipped through his fingertips. Wishes that he could have reached out and grabbed onto you and never let go. There’s nothing more that he wants to do than see you again. You live in the same tiny New York apartment, and you’ve never felt further away from him. 

Taehyung wills himself out of bed and washes his face, clearing away the leftover makeup and the sleep in his eyes. It’s a fresh start. It’s a new day. 

He sees you standing in the kitchen, making that tea that you had left forgotten last night. He catches your eyes for just a second before he loses them again, watches as you turn your back to him in a desperate attempt to avoid contact. 

“I got a new potential show to audition for,” he says loudly, breaking the silence. 

“That’s cool,” you say, emotionless. 

“Do you want to know what it’s about?”

You don’t respond. Taehyung takes this as a cue to continue. 

“It’s about a boy on a search for love,” Taehyung begins, rallying himself despite only being able to see your back. “And he goes out and sees all of these people falling in love and wants that for himself. And he wonders why nothing is sticking, why he can’t seem to fall in love with anybody. And then he realizes that the reason he can’t seem to fall in love with anyone else is because he’s already found his person.” A pause. He’s just summarizing a story, but this feels like a confession. “His best friend.”

You turn around sharply, tea sloshing in the cup in your hand. Taehyung inhales, then exhales. It’s now or never. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“Don’t you think I’d play this part well?” He asks. 

You shrug, closing your eyes and breathing heavy. He can tell that you’re holding something back, trying not to burst at the seams. “I’m not sure, Tae.”

“I think I would,” Taehyung tells you confidently. He takes a step closer to you, reaches over to take the cup of tea from your hands, placing it on the counter. “Because I’ve been doing it for so long, already.”

You gasp when he kisses you, a gust of air escaping your lips and immediately mixing with his, seize up at the feeling of his lips on yours. Immediately, Taehyung wonders if he’s overstepped a boundary, or two, or five, but then he feels you relax under his touch, feels you reach your hands up to cup his cheeks as you press against him insistently, drunk on the taste of his lips on your own. 

Taehyung’s kissed a lot of people in his day, but this one is different. He’s felt sparks, seen fireworks, but with you, it’s as if he’s sinking into a warm bath after a cold day. As if he’s returning to an apartment filled with the things he loves after a long day out. As if he’s coming home. 

All of these emotions, all of the little things tucked away in the corners of his soul, in the dark attic of his heart, come bubbling up to the surface, and all he can do is hope that you can feel them, swallow them up like wine, as you press your lips against his, grinning. 

Finally, you pull yourself away, almost as if you think you’ll get drunk if you keep going. 

“How long?” You ask. 

Taehyung shrugs. “I don’t know. A while now, definitely.”

“Really?”

“I think so,” Taehyung says. “I guess that I was wrong, what I said before about looking for love. I looked everywhere, I wanted to see it in every spark that was set my way, but I forgot the most important place. I should have known.” You curl into his touch, resting your head against his chest as his arms wrap around your waist. “How about you?”

“Forever,” you breathe out. “It started and it never stopped.”

Taehyung beams. The flowerbud in his heart had been shuttered for so long, hardly watered and never in the sun. And then suddenly, the curtains opened up and the clouds began to cry, and everything blossomed. You make him feel like he’s always home. You make him feel safe. 

You make him feel like a red carnation in bloom.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[fandom-collective-writers]

Fervor (Kenshin Uesugi x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Kenshin Uesugi x MC

Prompt: Sweaty

Warning: Smut!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 3,904

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsisterxotome​

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Sengoku or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

       Uesugi Kenshin was a god - really and truly. The air seemed to part for him as he swung his sword with inhuman ease, the movement so fluid, so graceful, so deadly it had her breath catching in her throat as she stared, rooted to the spot in awe. A primal part of her keened for him, attracted to the sheer power he wielded, and she swallowed and shook her head, banishing her mind of embarrassing thoughts of good genetic material.

       MC had originally come looking for Kenshin to tell him to take a break, but had quickly become distracted by how beautiful her lover was, completely in his element with Himezuru Ichimonji in hand. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck, making her shiver, and she knew it wasn’t just from the heat. It didn’t help that he was topless, the sleeves of his kimono pulled down to drape against his hakama. Every swing of his sword brought new coils of muscle into focus, the parts of his body moving in perfect sync through years of training and battle. 

       Her eyes followed a drop of sweat as it ran down his back, following the chiseled lines of his trapezius and spine. His skin wasn’t flawless - the pale expanses of his back and chest were littered with pearly scar tissue, some nearly faded while others shimmered in the sunlight - and her heart ached a little at the thought of what he had put himself through to earn so many. She knew, however, that he wore the marks like regalia, symbols of his prowess and battlefield dominance as the God of War.

       MC startled a little as mismatched eyes finally settled on her, pinning her in place with their differing colors and identical heat. Kenshin’s muscles rippled as he performed another slice that cut a leaf fluttering in the breeze in half, his eyes sending a silent signal as he did, and the intention behind his movements became unmistakable. He was trying to impress her, woo her, to make her melt so all she could think of was him, him, him...not that he really needed to anyway.

       Satisfied at having her undivided attention, he performed another few swings, the air separating with a series of whooshes beneath his blade. A final turn brought him to face her and she swallowed at the image staring her down. Sweat dripped down his arm as he lowered his sword, the heaving of his chest as he panted bringing her attention to his chiseled abs and pecs, and his eyes. Kenshin’s eyes were so heated they rivaled the summer heat, dark with sinful intent as he took one step closer then another, prowling towards her.

       Each breath became more of a struggle as he approached, never breaking eye contact once. It was like her body was forgetting how to function under his intensity. She didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing completely until a tightness in her chest forced her to inhale slowly, as if afraid to alert him to her presence. Kenshin stopped a few feet away, looking up at her from his place amongst the carefully manicured flowers and bushes. The raised floor of the hallway gave her a good foot of height on him, but she still felt like the prey here, her handsome predator staring at her like he would pounce at any moment. She had to admit, she would be lying if she said it didn’t excite her. He knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on her right now and he was enjoying it if the smirk she noticed pulling at the corner of his lips was anything to go by.

       Yes, he was very satisfied with himself.

       Swallowing, she summoned what little stability she had left to speak coherently. “I-I was wondering what you were doing out here.” 

       He hummed, an enticing purr that she could feel in her bones. MC doubted she would ever fully comprehend the depths of Kenshin’s effect on her, just as she would never know how she enraptured him in return. 

       “Practicing. Why? Is there something else you need me for?”

       Her already warm face grew hotter at the implication in his tone, and she had to avert her gaze from the suggestive raise of his pale brow. Normally, she would play along with his game, turning to putty in his lovingly molding hands as she let him worship her with whispered promises against flushed, sensitive skin, but today felt different. Today she wanted to play with him, have him begging for her as she loved him slowly. She wanted him to get a taste of how desperate he made her.

       “Not really,” she answered, giving him the most nonchalant look she could muster. “I think Sasuke was looking for you. Something about installing more crawl spaces in the ceiling. I’m going to get back to work now.” With that she turned on her heel and strode back down the hallway, not looking back to see his expression. 

       His little performance had charmed her, that was for certain, but that didn’t mean she had to give in to him every time. Kenshin could come get what he wanted from her outright...is what she thought at least. In reality, MC hadn’t taken more than a dozen paces before she was swept off her feet and pinned against the wall, a hot mouth dominating hers as an even hotter body pressed flush against her own. 

       Kenshin’s tongue quickly found its way between lips parted in surprise, tangling with her own in a passionate dance of frustration and unrestrained lust. He swallowed her soft moan, answering with his own deeper croon. “Lies,” he hissed when the need for air became too prominent. “You need me. I can feel it.”

       “Do I?” she shot back innocently, trying and failing to restrain the tiny smirk that pulled at the corner of her lips. “I think I’m okay right now.”

       A snarl tore from him as he hefted her over his shoulder, thundering down the hall as he headed towards their shared room. Briefly, she wondered if she’d just bitten off more than she could chew, but a second later she was landing on a futon with a god of a man kissing the living daylights out of her.  

       “Admit that you want me,” he purred, leaving a burning trail in his wake as he trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck. MC mewled when his mouth attached to her skin, biting and sucking in what was sure to be quite the hickey later on. His hands went to her obi, pulling at it until it loosened around her waist enough that he could pull her kimono open, and his mouth left several more marks on her neck, in places that she wouldn’t be able to cover easily, before traveling downwards to lap at her collarbones. 

       Still, despite how good it felt and how much she wanted to moan and cry for him, her lips remained firmly shut, much to her lover’s displeasure. Clicking his tongue, Kenshin pulled away from her to undo the last ties holding his hakama around his hips and she averted her eyes as the clothing rustled to the floor, biting her lip. 

       “Look at me,” he husked, his body settling on top of hers and his hands pinning her above her head as she writhed beneath him. “Look at how much you affect me.”

       The heat of his naked body on top of hers only stoked the fire in the pit of her stomach and she almost gave in and spoke the words she knew he wanted to hear. Instead, she bit her lip and dug her fingernails into her palm, trying to ground herself as his erection rutted against her clothed core, his hips settling between her legs. 

       She cried out when his hand grabbed a breast, rolling the soft flesh in his palm as his mouth attached to the nipple of the other. Her hands strained against his strong hold, desperate to tangle her fingers in his pale hair as he bit and sucked, rolling her nipple between his fingers. Kenshin’s moans against the sensitive flesh only made it worse, his eyelashes tickling her skin as he closed his eyes in rapture at her taste. 

       Releasing her wrists, he wrapped an arm around her waist, his teeth and tongue continuing to lavish her breasts while his other hand ghosted down her body. Fingers trailed up her calf, pushing her kimono apart, before tickling across the supple flesh of her inner thigh. MC shuddered when his hand cupped her through her undergarments, rubbing her through the cloth barrier. 

       “So wet for me already,” he chuckled, kissing the spot above her racing heart as his skillful fingers pulled the cloth away and exposed her to the heated air. “I know your body better than my own, my love.” Yet Kenshin refused to touch what was his, leaving her to whine helplessly as his hand stroked her thigh. She tried tilting her hips in a way that would bring his fingers into contact with where she needed them most, but they danced away as he chuckled at her desperation. 

       “I’ll give you what you want,” he husked, “but first you have to answer my question. Why deny me, love?”

       “I-ahh!” Her answer cut off on a cry as a finger brushed teasingly against her clit, her head thrown back as her body shuddered.

       “Go on,” he purred against her throat, sucking at her pulse point. 

       “You have me wrapped around your finger,” MC managed, biting her lip. He made a curious noise and she continued, “I’m so in love with you, it practically only takes a smile from you to bring me to my knees. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who’s this desperate.”

       Kenshin was silent for a heartbeat, and she wondered if he’d understood, if he was angry, until teeth dug into the juncture of her neck and shoulder and he pinched her clit hard. Her back arched and she cried out as his tongue laved against the shell of her ear, his breath fanning against the sensitive area as he spoke. 

       “That’s where you’re wrong. You see…” A long finger slipped smoothly inside of her, parting her velvet walls as it curled in a come hither motion. Gasping at the intrusion, she ground her hips against his hand as he thrust the finger in and out of her. She could cry it felt so good, partially relieving the ache that had begun to build from the moment she’d seen him in the courtyard.

       When he pulled away from her neck to gaze down at her, her eyes widened at the sheer yearning in his expression. His pale cheeks were colored a beautiful red, lips parted around husky pants, and eyes hazed by lust and need. “I’m always desperate for you,” he moaned, hips rutting against her leg in time with his finger. The bare cock humping against her thigh only served to make her wetter and she whimpered as a second finger joined the first within her. “So many times, when I caught another man looking at you, I just wanted to bend you over in front of everyone and show them who you belong to.”

       The feral possessiveness in his voice made her core squeeze around his fingers and he groaned in her ear, the deep sound sending shivers down her spine. Kenshin’s gaze left her face to peer at where his fingers still plunged inside of her relentlessly and she briefly wondered what he was thinking as an amused smile curled at the corners of his lips.

       “But…” Flipping their positions, he settled her on top of him, and MC blinked down at him as he smirked expectantly and said, “I’ll let you do as you wish. Show me I’m yours.”

       It took her a second to realize the extent of his words, but once she did a flustered blush broke across her cheeks and down her neck. It wasn’t as if they had never been in this position before, but it had never lasted long, Kenshin’s insatiable hunger quickly taking control. She wasn’t about to let that happen so easily this time though. No, if he wanted her to show him he belonged to her then that’s exactly what she would do.

       Feeling his erection prod her dripping core, she rolled her hips down against him and pushed him back so he was lying flat on the futon. Kenshin moaned, the deep sound music to her ears, and his hands moved to her hips, grinding her harder even as his hips bucked up into her. She could feel him trying to aim himself inside of her but evaded each thrust, his cock slipping through her heat over and over.

       MC could tell he was starting to become exasperated by it, brow pinching and breath coming in short pants as he tried and failed to impale her on his cock with each upward thrust. “Let me in,” he demanded, teeth gritting. A particularly intimate roll of her hips had his head falling back beautifully and she took advantage of the pale, exposed column of his throat, leaning forward so she lay with her breasts pressed against his chest as her fingers flicked his nipples. 

       “How badly do you want me?” she murmured against his ear, leaving her own marks on his neck as she kissed and nipped. 

       “So badly that if you don’t sit on my cock right now I can’t be held accountable for my actions,” he growled back.

       “Hmm? I thought you said I could do what I want?” Another roll of her hips made him hiss, the head of his cock catching on her entrance before slipping away again. Kenshin’s grip on her hips tightened, and she knew he could easily hold her still enough to thrust into her, but he didn’t.

       “You can,” he grunted, “but I’m so hard it hurts.” The angle of his grinds changed and she gasped at the sudden stimulation against her clit, arching her chest against his as he looked up at her through half-lidded eyes. “Please, I need you. Let me be inside of you.”

       His begging made something release inside of her and MC suddenly felt so empty, like she would implode if she didn’t have him that instant. Reaching between them, she wrapped her fingers around his cock, feeling the velvety firmness throb under her palm, and coaxed it into position against her entrance. Both of them moaned in relief as her hips sunk down on him, her core welcoming the intrusion as it sucked him deeper into the comfort of her warmth. 

       “That’s it,” he grunted as she took him in deeper. “Just like that. Such a good girl. You feel so good.”

       After making love with Kenshin for so long she needed little time to adjust to his impressive length and began to roll her hips, her pace increasing with a little coaxing and directing from him. He leaned up to capture her lips in a messy kiss as she bounced on top of him, moaning as a hand dove into the hair at the back of her head, effectively holding her in place as he devoured her mouth.

       A purposeful squeeze of her inner muscles received a violent buck from him in return, nails digging into her skin as he grunted, “Do that again and you'll regret it.”

       She giggled softly, pressing her lips to his neck as she continued to work him in and out of her tight heat, his praises encouraging her to move against him harder, faster. She squeaked when his hands grabbed her ass hard, forcing himself deeper into her as a muscle jumped in his neck. 

       “So close, ahh...Keep going...keep going, just like that. Yes, yes, yes,” his voice deepened with pleasure and she watched his beautiful eyes close in bliss, lips parted and head tilted back. So enraptured by how angelic he looked in the throws of passion, MC didn’t notice the hand that slipped between them until it was too late, an unexpected push to her clit drawing a scream from her throat as her core clenched hard around him, her sudden climax knocking the breath out of her. 

       She heard him grunt something about how tight she was before a pleasured moan vibrated through his chest and his release painted her walls white, warmth shooting deep inside of her and making her shiver against him.

       He held her still as he continued to thrust up into her shallowly, working his seed deeper into her, and the aftershocks made her whimper. All she wanted to do was curl up against him and bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking, but it seemed Kenshin had other ideas, a hungry glint in his eyes as he peered down at her, limp against his chest.

       “We’re not finished yet,” he panted.

       MC had just enough time to gasp before she was suddenly flipped over onto the futon, a god humping his still-hard cock between her legs and his mouth sucking at her breast. She cried out from the sudden overstimulation, the engorged head of his cock hitting her swollen clit as his length slipped through her soaked heat, drenching himself in their combined releases as it dripped from her.

       “Please, Kenshin,” she cried, arms wrapping around his back to pull him closer as her legs instinctively moved to wrap around his hips. Despite having just climaxed, she wanted more, needed more of him, never having enough of this man who had devoted himself to her so wholeheartedly.

       “What is it?” he murmured in her ear, “Say it and I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

       “Fuck me, please!” she cried, eyes closed tight against the tears of pleasure that blurred her vision. “I’m all yours! I need you! Only you!” She would never know how much he adored hearing those words, how they made every part of his body and soul sing with delight and pride, how they made him want to prove it to her over and over and over again until everyone knew that she was his and he was hers and anyone that challenged that would meet his wrath.

       Grabbing her legs and throwing them over his shoulders, he speared into her, making her scream as her sensitive core spasmed around him. Stars danced across her vision as Kenshin immediately set an inhumane pace and all she could do was hang on for the ride. Through her half-lidded gaze, she could see how beautiful he looked like this, porcelain cheeks flushed with need and blue and green eyes hazed with desire as he panted like a wild beast, claiming her animalistically.

       A calloused hand grabbed one of her bouncing breasts roughly and she mewled as he pinched her nipple, twisting and pulling as he continued to rut into her. “Scream for me more,” he ordered, voice low and dangerous. “Tell me who you belong to again, loud enough that the whole castle can hear you.”

       Maybe MC would be embarrassed by it later but all she cared about right now was fulfilling that order, of letting him know how good he was making her feel. “Kenshin!” she screamed, begging for more. “Please- ahh! -keep going! Don’t...Don’t stop! It feels-ngh! S-So good!”

       “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

       She sobbed when he suddenly pulled out without warning, the absence leaving her feeling unbearably empty. Flipping her over onto all fours, Kenshin grabbed her hips and sheathed himself inside of her dripping core once more. A cry broke from her lips at the depth he reached with the new position, his fingers digging into her skin as her tight walls squeezed him. Hot lips graced her shoulders as he leaned over her, his chest meeting her back as he moaned wantonly in her ear. “You’re so tight, my love. Your body wants me so badly.” A shudder wracked her form as he pulled back for a hard thrust, resuming his previous pace.

       It was all too much for her. With each thrust, she felt his cock kiss her cervix, sending shockwaves through her overstimulated body. The pain it brought melded with the pleasure, her hands fisting in the futon and her face pressed into the sheets as she cried out for him until her throat was raw and all she could think of was her lover’s name.

       As for Kenshin, each thrust felt like heaven, his balls slapping against her ass as he firmly reestablished his claim over her. It was getting increasingly harder to pull out, her walls clamping down on him and threatening to send him over the edge and milk him for all he was worth at any moment. His hands shifted from their grip on her waist, one grabbing her breast while the other snaked between her legs, circling her clit teasingly. “Do you want to come?” he panted in her ear, jaw clenching on a particularly tight thrust.

       “Yes! Yes, please, Kenshin!”

       He chuckled breathlessly, closing his eyes and burying his face against her shoulder. “Then come.”

       His fingers pressed down on her clit hard as his other hand pinched her nipple and the stimulation sending her into her second climax of the evening. His name tore from her on a scream as he growled his release into her skin, teeth lodging in her shoulder as her walls squeezed around him like a vice. 

       Kenshin’s hips continued to move throughout his orgasm, drawing out both their pleasure as he released inside of her again and found absolute bliss in her body. Her whole body felt wrapped in his intense heat, beads of sweat rolling down her skin as her lover held her weak body against his in an iron grip.

       His body slumped on top of hers as they slowly calmed down from their high, his warmth seeping around where he was still buried inside of her. Kissing her shoulder, Kenshin rolled her onto her side, sweaty body curling around hers. Even though it was so hot, the heat of his body didn’t bother her in the slightest, making her feel loved and protected as he held her close. 

       “Have I convinced you of how desperate I am for you?” he husked, brushing strands of hair away from her forehead as he littered her face with soft kisses.

       “Yeah,” she panted, reaching back to cup his face in her palm. Turning her head to look back at him, MC placed a tender kiss against his cheek. “I love you, Kenshin.”

       He smiled dazzlingly as he nuzzled his face into her hair, replying, “I love you more.”

       Closing her eyes, she smiled, enjoying his ministrations as his fingers started kneading her pleasantly tired body. “Mmm, I don’t know. I really love you a lot. It’s kind of crazy how much.”

       “Want to bet?” he offered, his hands massaging her bruised hips.

       “Actually, I think I need a bath.” A slight squeeze of her inner muscles around his limp cock had him gasping as you looked back at him, smirking. “Care to join me?”

       He licked his lips, heat and hunger already alight in his blue and green eyes. “It would be my pleasure.”

[tata-is-the-name]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 12)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER. 

CHAPTER 11

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Protectiveness for his child of surprise may be the only thing that could get a witcher confessing to a midget with all of his pent up aggression and kept up feelings that he has been dealing since day one because he knew he wasn’t just protecting Cirilla. Deep inside, he was also protecting you from the wicked that lurks throughout the continent; trying hard to wipe you out of their dimension by hook or by crook. One kiss is all it takes for all the frustration to stop...or maybe not?

Warnings: Slight angst? MEAN Geralt. Sweet Geralt too. Soft Geralt too. (It’s kind of a tough contrast don’t you think? HAHAHA!) Jaskier feeling...things that shouldn’t be felt. Uh-oh. Reader being frustrated and infuriated. Cirilla being a sweetheart! Modern references included! 

Words: 7,1k

A/N: Smut will come in Chapter 14 and 15. Yes, two chapters for the filth! Because...Why not?! (*frustrated potato*) I THINK TUMBLR IS ACTING UP. I SEE FICS WHERE I’M TAGGED BUT I AM NOT INFORMED. ALSO, I CAN’T INCLUDE PICS OR GIFS FROM MY LAPTOP! *angry growls* I’m lucky because i’ve had my banners and other gifs in my drafts last night and Tumblr is acting up today! 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Your days have been quite a torture. A mix of embarrassment and full blown flusters when Geralt was around. It was simply a slip of the moment as you were too enamored by the witcher and his succulent lips that you oh-so-idiotically swerved when you could've went straight for the target instead.

Yet, here you were. Torturing yourself by taunting the witcher the day after the time you've began your self-assuring tease by telling Geralt what you've been feeling since the day you've arrived.

Now, you were being punished? Or probably suffering from a serious case of insomnia and the idea of missing his presence because the witcher wasn't around and it has already been days.

What if he gets hurt? You mindlessly talked to your alter ego, receiving a response that he's a tough one and a pretty skillful swordsman, so worrying about it like a wife does to her husband who was a soldier can be toned down to the slightest.

God, those lips. You were an idiotic potato for even doing the first move and eventually failing as you do so; like a five year old giving her crush a kiss. Well, pretty much five year old were more confident than you in this condition.

Warm palms spread through your shoulder, giving you a fright as you sat back and your tushie fell to the ground with a soft thud; with Kolby giving you those scary smile of his that made you want to pat his head but today, it seems like you weren't in the mood and that there was something bothering you with your thoughts wandering about Geralt. The witcher himself and only him.

You were acting like a clingy girlfriend when you both weren't lovers at all. Maybe, being delusional and creating fan-fics about your celebrity crushes back at your apartment wasn't enough that you even had to think that Geralt would want to be with you forever like how such happy endings in stories must have been.

What if he was just one horny man who wanted to hulk-smash because you were different than his flock of felines?

Well, it wasn't like you weren't acting the same way like a toey teenager when he hauled you closer to his chest; giving him the heart eyes.

Why must he be a white-haired hunk of a man who knew how to fight and knew magic? Even skillful with his sword?

"Oh---Geralt!" you shrieked out of the blue, the body heat of Jaskier's presence radiating beside you as he sat crouched with a crooked smile, "I must say, you're quite obsessed with the witcher since that awfully intimate moment you've had in the bathing room,"

You ignored the teasing tone he omitted and went on to shooting a question you've been bothering him since the day Geralt was out and about, "Where's Geralt?" hence, the bard could already hear the tiny whines for the presence of the witcher and he couldn't help but scoff.

"You're hurting my poor heart for asking Geralt when it's actually a pretty handsome bard in front of you,"

Your lips instantaneously jutted out in a sad pout, exhaling a long sigh as you shifted your legs into a criss-cross position; staring into space, "I need Geralt," pause and another sigh, "---I miss Geralt,"

The sudden strong yearning was becoming worse each day without Geralt around. It felt incomplete, unsatisfying and utterly frustrating that he wasn't with you, nor can you even sleep without feeling those fingers of his raking your hair even though it was only done one time.

Heck, you were worried that maybe Geralt used magic within you when you've taken your slumber because the feelings you have for him was turning insufferable, irksome when you want something but has never been given and utmost round the bend.

All you wanted and ever asked for was Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. In which, confused the bard because you've become too attached after the Djinn incident.

"This is certainly a huge relationship development if you're finding him that miserably all the time," Jaskier stated the obvious, his laugh sounding disturbed because of your new personality that he'd noticed; or maybe you were one of those types of women?

Though, what baffles him the most is that there are days where you actually don't try to find him; like you were being just you and not one needy lady whom asks for only the witcher when he'll be coming home. Just the timid, naive small rat he knew.

There were also strange instances whenever you sleep back in Geralt's chambers; as he was writing another new epic he'd ought to create, the bard heard you whimpering and sobbing like you were in pain when it was already two in the morning.

He'd wanted to check up on you. Though, he was quite doubtful because a woman deserves whatever space and respect; thinking that maybe you were spending some wonderful time with yourself and had the pleasant time to take it while Geralt wasn't around.  But, your whimpers were something else. It was a mixture of pain and distress.

Therefore, Jaskier tried to ignore your hushed outcries, although he could technically hear it from the other side of the room. The draft of his epic now forgotten as he fidgeted; he went on with dipping the tip of his feather on the ink and write nothing on his piece of parchment.

After hearing those nightly weeps of yours, the bard never left your side. Especially when you were alone in the morning, thinking that you were having a mental breakdown and actually just missing the witcher.

He could do just that. Distract you with his talkative self and so he did.

"A witcher needs to do what he always does," the bard reassured, waving off Kolby who tried sniffing his ear.

You've snapped out of your stupor, giving the bard a stink eye as he was wailing his arms around to wave Kolby away from assaulting his face, "I thought you were his travel companion? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be protecting him as well?"

Jaskier continued his bellyaching, "You naughty Hirikka!" he scolded the doe-eyed Hirikka; the creature abruptly planting his tushie on the ground as he growled at the bard as the toubadour mockingly growled back as well, a sharp bark coming from the Hirikka, "---What? With a lute? Kill beasts with my singing?"

"Then, what are you even here for?" you deadpanned. Voice all nonplussed as you apathetically gave the bard your gaze.

Jaskier made a fuss, shifting on his crouched position and turned to completely give you his full attention, giving you back a stinky lour, "How rude of you! I wonder why the djinn has never sent you home!"

You had your cheeks hollowed looking like a chipmunk as you ignored his whingeing, "What if he dies?"

Jaskier was fighting off the feeling of  rolling his eyes for your worry. Geralt has dealt with lots of beasts already and his current hunt wouldn't earn him a sweat as he'd already killed a lot of its kind, "He never does. Cease the worry. He can kill beasts even when he sleeps," the bard gave an abrupt pause, gesturing with his finger as he pointed it to you to add more effect as you tried to understand his point, "---Unless, if its you he's sleeping with then we all die from the beast! Cirilla and I know how his senses are disappointing because you're like the silver to his...his...monster?"

"He isn't a monster, Jaskier." you blankly pressed.

"Who even said he was?" he gave you a guileless shrug of his shoulders. Jaskier clicked his tongue, pretty blue eyes fixated on you as it twinkled along the sunny day while you sat in the middle of their living room, "---Besides, he's hunting down a bruxa for the whole week. My dagger won't be useful for the darn beast,"

A Bruxa. You hummed to yourself in understanding; remembering that Geralt has told stories about the monster. It was a type of vampire that takes on the appearance of a dark-haired, young woman whose natural form is that of a large black bat, with sharp fangs and claws. Technically, their form of vampires weren't all glitz and glimmer that they glitter against the sunlight nor are they rich dudes that were bloody pale, attractive and screams like a banshee.

"You have a dagger?" you grilled the bard. He gave you a nod and a laid-back answer, "Well, Geralt has given me one; taught me how to use it too,"

Jaskier hasn't left your side from the moment you woke up. He had been keeping you company like an injured person. It kept you cynical because it even got to the point of following you where ever you may go; which made you skeptical about his whole tailing the midget while Geralt wasn't around.

But, you were thankful. It got you distracted by not noticing that heavy, rattling feeling inside your chest.

"Smile!" you aimed the camera of your cellphone at the appalled trouvère who had his eyeballs popping out of his eye sockets as he was struck dumb, arms crossed in front of him, shielding himself from your digital phone.

Stifling titters wanted to come out of your lips when you've received a scared bard by aiming your camera at him. Jaskier tried peeking to see your guffawing self treating him as a laughing stock. He cocked his head to the side in suspicion as he heard a loud 'click', dropping his arms to the side as he gave a frown because you were giggling back at him.

"What's that?" you've both sat on the dining table; close to each other. He'd scooted closer, trying to see what were you doing as you continued to tap on your phone that still had no time nor date listed. "A phone," you simply said; focused on the phone at hand as Jaskier's curiosity got the best of him, grasping nothing but the idea that your so called phone was out of this world and utterly magnificent when you've showed him the picture you've taken. The kaleidoscope of colors complimenting each picture which fascinated him.

"Is it a weapon?" he asked out of the blue, too absorbed by the phone on your hand as you've felt Jaskier lean in close, his hair touching yours as you were too concentrated with the thing you had in your hand.

Jaskier coincidentally raised his line of vision to look at your face. It was thoroughly unintentional especially when he'd seem to never break his eyes away from you; like he'd seen something worth to be stared at.

He didn't mean to outstare all of a sudden.

"I can throw it at your head, though my phone might be the one breaking rather than your head," you sent a harmless bon mot, being all smiles as you've sent a teasing jest.

Tranquil silence. Totally impossible for the bard to achieve with his chatty mouth. You've given him a look which was entirely a flicker of pure impeccability when you've lately realized that he was staring at you with a twinkle of his pretty ocean blue eyes.

The bard awkwardly cleared his throat, his face suddenly feeling warm when you've taken the time to look into his eyes. "Jaskier," he clicked his tongue and swallowed the ticklish feeling down his throat and avoided those eyes of yours while he'd pulled back from how the proximity was enough to remember Geralt who would tell him to 'fuck off.' for at least a thousand times, "Would you mind if I record your songs?"

He blinked back in curiosity. Record. Jaskier didn't know what it meant, "What? I cannot fathom whatever it is you're saying, rat---"

You've given him a wide grin, beaming before him with a twinkle of your eyes. "Just play your lute for me, will ya'?"

Thus, Jaskier did in a fraction of a second; like a demand from the queen. He did, surprisingly.  

A distraction was best at the weird pain that spreads through your chest; along the valley of your breasts because of the realization that Geralt wasn't around. Your nightly weeps needed to have explanations because feeling the scorching pain that radiates off the symbol wasn't normal.

Including the thirst you had for the witcher himself; craving for his touches and existence. Alarming you that what you wanted from him wasn't just profound affection but also his virility as well and even a part of his soul.

The princess of Cintra was bored to  tears. She'd pleaded and gave you the puppy eyes; thoroughly begging to wander through the woods and catching fireflies. Hearing something familiar that actually existed just like the same ones in earth amazed you because it was something that you've never get to see ever because of pollution and its habitat being endangered with the year you were in.

Apparently, you've followed her orders. Cirilla didn't want Jaskier to come because it's a bonding that only you and Cirilla should experience. Despite of how pushy he was, worried that Geralt would get mad at him for even letting you wander in the woods all by yourselves. He eventually agreed with a sigh and a bothered expression; telling you both that when the frog croaks in chorus, it was time to go home.

You've wondered, imagining how their frogs actually croak in chorus. Yet, having to experience it was rather much different than imagining as you've seen the whole scene unfold before you. A captivating sigh that had you cooing in the middle of the woods as there were balls of light that blinked within the thone ground like Christmas lights twinkling in the 25th of December.

It was beautiful.

Cirilla seemed to be rather used to it as she explained how it was already the croak of the night, her feet never leaving the ground as she was joyously catching a firefly that glowed with the frogs, swinging her jar till one was captured, "Is everything okay, Y/N? Oh! A firefly!" she excitedly mussed, giving you a glance and noticed that your expressions were twisted in a way that says you weren't comfortable.

You've given your symbol a caress; trying to relieve the utter worry and fury that was spreading through your chest with no reason. Why were you mad? At whom? on what? Also, the uncomfortable feeling came with knowing that Geralt already came home. He was finally home.

Howbeit, you didn't know why your intuitions tell you that he was finally home.

"Yes. It's just that...Geralt's home," you hesitatingly spoke, shaking your head to wash away the sensations as you honestly told the beaming Ashen child, "---and I feel worried even though I should be excited that he's already home,"

Cirilla was unaware of your worried face as she went on with the jests, "Told you he likes you---!" the princess teased, laughing when she'd caught a glimpse of your flustered face; remembering the awful kiss you've done back in the bath room when you were with Geralt, "---Midget."

"Not you too, Cirilla." your face was burning in a trail of blush. You've quietly shrieked as she'd gave a teasing poke on your side; making you jump, "I was just playing with you!"

All was done and everyone was left satisfied. For the princess, that was what she felt. Great elation by having what she wanted all the time. Except for you, who appeared to be in a discordance when you took your trek back home.

The witcher was back earlier than he expected to. Unexpectedly running into some of the royal guards of Kaedwen and creating a skirmish with the knights who disturbed his peace after killing the bruxa he'd been hunting.

They had reasons for their disturbance. Conniving reasons just for him to agree for the favors that he has been asked to do; or wishes from a royal command that Geralt never accedes.

Bargains of giving enough coins that would last him for half a year, the cost of token higher than the previous deal which included women, coins and ale.

He was done with that lifestyle. Well, before you came around; that is.

The witcher was as stubborn as how the townspeople have been saying. They've came to the point of calling him a monster for butchering their fellow men in which Geralt never gave a damn about it because they were destined to die anyway by what evil they've chose to have.

He didn't need people giving him another moniker. He wouldn't let it live down if he'll have one but with just another city he'd tried to save. Some of the children and women they've abducted were homeless, taken in force or had slave contracts; saying they were owned by noblemen paying for their life despite of how they didn't want to agree in the first place.

The Butcher of Kaedwen? Blaviken? What else did he needed to do and have all those infamous monikers created for him?

Until, the men mentioned and threatened to kidnap a small woman who Tybalt had stabbed on the hip that made Geralt jump on his horse because he'd also heard them draw their swords; ought to bring bloodshed when the witcher never complies.

Hence, which is why he was now in the base of their home. All exhausted, droopy, worried and furious because you and Cirilla weren't home when he'd arrived. His temper rising off the roof.

Jaskier has received a sharp cuss from him and an intense rebuke from the witcher who came fully in Bruxa blood and a little bit splashes of human blood which answered the bard's question that a Bruxa hasn't been the only thing he'd encountered on the way home.

You promised Jaskier that you'll be back as soon as possible. However, it took you both an hour after the frogs have croaked in the night and a scary witcher who wore his all black armor and had a peevish expression on his face which explains the heavy feeling dropped on your chest; doubling more when you'd seen the impetuosity radiating off the brawny man.

Geralt heavily marched to meet you midway along the meadow; with Jaskier motioning something behind the witcher with his hands like a cat clawing and slicing his throat with his thumb when you couldn't understand what he wanted to say.

"Geralt---" the princess started, reading his rigid posture and instantly knowing what his current thoughts were. But, she was cut-off by a seething, curt query start of his interrogation.

This wasn't what you expected from him. Your imagination was that you'll try and get a hug out from the witcher himself, thankful that he'd arrived safely and with complete limbs; not this. Not an angered, bloody Geralt who had his nose flaring.

You were rooted on the ground; your mouth closing once he'd started to act volatile after a week of not seeing him.

"Where have you wandered in the forest in this wild hour of the night, Ciri? Y/N?"

Ah. Y/N. Not midget, but Y/N. You were now Y/N to him. Well, that kind of hurt. You didn't know that hearing him say your name in such fiery stung your heart; such sudden frustration riling your patience. The concern and melancholic desire to see him changing into ire.

You've shut your mouth, a forced small tremble of your lips turning into a guileless smile. Tilting your chin and realizing he was pretty much taller and utterly intimidating when mad. Those amber eyes of his that swirl in unfamiliar ferocity for wandering around the woods.

The witcher couldn't help it. After meeting some of the royal guards, his protectiveness took over as he traveled all the way home in haste to check his family if they were safe.

Especially you as he'd heard one of the cavaliers threaten to abduct you soon.

The naive pretense you've wanted to use through his anger wavered when you've heard your voice faintly quiver, "She's--She's with me, she's safe, Geralt. We were just catching fireflies or whatever this is called in your world---"

Albeit, it seemed like the witcher had a closed mind and didn't want to hear your explanations as he cut you off with a seething truth; his amber eyes blazing as his jaw was clenched so tight, "You think you can protect her?"

You swallowed the hurt for the truth that was sent out in the open, catching you off-guard by the harsh statement that was bound to be told because you were saved twice; like a princess who needed rescuing all the darn time.

Thus, it added more stones to the weight dragging your heart to the ground.

"I--I--" a pathetic stutter has been uttered before the angered witcher seemed to have lost his temper and lashed out on you. He was chirlish and brusque as he does so; like how everyone pointed him out to be and this was the first time you've seen the witcher acting the way he is now, "You can't because you also need saving," pause. "---Your rash behavior can get the both of you dying!"

The latter shook his head in thwart, his gaze burning you in a way that made you want to turn into dust.

"It was fucking dangerous out there!"

The more he gnarled felt like he was blaming you on whatever caused his life to turn the way it is; even the desire for Cirilla to wander in the woods to catch fireflies was all on you to be brought on your shoulders. You huffed out a shaky breath, disbelieving the way he was throwing his surly attitude towards you made you puff your cheeks in utter vexation; wanting nothing but to scream back at the witcher.

Jaskier has managed to saunter towards where Cirilla is, her eyes completely panic-stricken by Geralt's rage; watching between the both of you and seeming to want to step in between but it seems like there were also other issues as well that made you both angry at each other. Matters that should be truly said and not be kept on the inside.

"Ciri, come with me." the bard hushed, catching the princess by the arm and dragging her away till he brought her to the door way, around a hundred meters away from the pair as the both of you tried to withstand each other's glares.

She struggled against his hold, "But, Jaskier! It was my fault! It's not Y/N's fault. Why is she being scolded when I should be the one who must be? Geralt shouldn't be mad at her! What if he---"

"He won't hurt her physically, Princess. He never does. When did he ever hurt us no matter how irking we are? You know Geralt more than anyone in this world,"

Kolby was howling inside their home, his instincts knowing that there was something happening which added more noise to the argument you had with the butcher of Blaviken; shaking the night with your kept frustrations against each other.

"---He just knows how to ruin everything with his teetering, strong feelings. He isn't the best at expressing it but you know the lout knows how to care," he went on, trying to dispel her fears for the both of you, thinking that you would eventually hurt each other with heart-breaking words, "---He'll deal with it. Come on now,"

Jaskier ushered the princess to come inside. She was hesitant at first, giving you both glances before he pulled her in; giving you both the space that is needed. The bard knew that Geralt won't start talking in a sensible manner when they're around. He wouldn't try and open his heart with people hearing what he wanted to truly say.

Your eyes started to cloud, the sensitivity of yourself beginning to take over. One fact about you was that you didn't like people yelling like you were an idiot; as well as people who were mad at you for something you've done which adds more regret to the grief, "I know I'm useless. You didn't need to yell it out loud." you deadpanned, biting the insides of your lips; trying hard not to start sobbing because you've already felt the familiar tremble.

"---You know I would spare my life just for hers because she's a princess, Geralt." your voice got the best of you, quaking in a way that got the witcher knowing that you were in the midst of crying; but somehow reluctant to break down because of his doing, "---Is this how badly you want to kick me out of your house?"

You've blinked and try to ignore the warmth pooling around your eyes, never giving him the opportunity to see right through you before you've snapped your eyes back up to the witcher who had a grimace as he stared you down. The twinkle of your eyes that was an epitome of stars in the night was now loosing its gleam and it was because of him. He'd done something wrong again; like how he was used to. Mistakes that seem to go along with his name.

Geralt had his nose scrunched; having another set of his internal battles within himself as he watched you pour out your anger at him like he'd done to you. Sharing each other's frustration since the days prior that you weren't there for each other.

Your weeping at night. He'd knew. The witcher felt what you were feeling every damn night even though he wasn't with you and he didn't know why.

"I've had Ciri close to me! You know I wouldn't let her get hurt by anyone especially from the people of Nilfgaard!" Your raving was ceaseless; impulsively bringing out pasts you heard from Cirilla and Jaskier as they've tried to tell you important things that should be avoided or was evident of danger. They were the only ones who were openly alarming you about them and never the witcher.

"How did you know about that?" Geralt's scowl grew tighter, his question sounding like a vibrating snarl that warned you he was utterly vexed.

"Because your surprise child and Jaskier had the respect to tell me what's happening in this world you're in!"

You've felt yourself choking from the hysteria raging in your veins, angrily snapping at the witcher who also appeared to be in total dismay as his scowl turned into a frown; his gaze solely on you alone, never leaving your sight. Fists were tightened on either side of you, wanting to throw things out of madness for how rude he was when you remembered how he'd wanted to kiss you back at that certain day.

He was confusing you by how he was acting tonight which also left you enraged for his complicated hot and cold demeanor.

"I don't even know where I am! What this dimension is called! Nor do I know people! Who's bad or who's good! I don't know your map or any of your kingdom!"

"You don't need to know any of that!" because the more you knew about the continent, the more it can bring darkness to you. He'd thought that keeping some things within the family was better because he didn't want you to get involved by whatever problems they may bring.

The witcher wanted you to himself. He wants to protect you from any cruelty that the continent may offer because you were his little secret.

You were his midget. His.

You've roughly bit your lips, fighting the urge for the first tear to fall; howbeit, it was a traitor as you rolled your eyes and avoided his amber peepers searching through the emotions that you oh-so wanted to convey. But, all that was evident was disappointment, anger, sadness and grief because of expecting something that wasn't supposed to be expected from a monster-slayer.

Perhaps, hoping to see through what his good heart could offer was too delusional for you.

"---Don't worry, witcher. The princess comes first before I do. I know that and it should be as well. Thanks for making me come to my senses that I'm useless and a burden for you! I'll leave tomorrow morning so your baggage of having someone needed protecting would lessen on your shoulders," you kept a straight face, blankly looking away as inscrutable as possible; not giving him the benefit of seeing you mourning for the stab of your heart.

Mayhaps, wishing for the fondness to be reciprocated by a witcher was too much of a dream for you. Definitely too high to achieve nor hoped for.

Geralt deeply growled, his forehead creased like he was hurting. You've never seen the pain that spread through his face, letting the emotion he's been keeping to himself burst like he was showing vulnerability.

He didn't like it when you've deadpanned and called him a witcher. It sounded too cold and distant, like he was made to only be seen as a witcher to you, a stranger, a mutated human who slaughters beasts and nothing else.

"Don't call me that!" he snarled, invading the space you've had and your forehead was now in line with his massive chest. You peered up at him with the same ire pooling through your peepers, your gaze hostile as you spoke with thick sarcasm.

"Aren't you a witcher? What do you want me to call you, then? Your job description changed now?"

Geralt roughly breathed out of his nose, his broad shoulders going up and down as he was controlling those emotions that he had which always seemed to be stronger and uncontrollable. He narrowed his blazing amber eyes, genuinely staring into you as he kept his hands to himself; on either side of him. Wanting nothing but to grab onto your face and make you believe that he was earnest about not wanting to be called that when it came to you.

"Don't...Don't make it sound like I'm just a trifling matter to you,"

You scoffed out of the blue for his wishes that he suddenly seem to want, "But, aren't I also just a trifling matter to you, witcher? Or do you want to be called in full name? Geralt of Rivia? Is that your full name? Oh! Maybe, the butcher of Blaviken, then?"

The sound of you calling him witcher felt so distant because he knew that, for you; he was Geralt and not a witcher who people see him as a mutant who kills beasts. To you, he was more than human and less than a witcher. In your mind, he was Geralt. Only Geralt and nothing else because he was a man whom you see that had a good heart and hearing you call him with his monikers was shattering his stronghold.

"No!" he suddenly groaned out of the blue. You gave him the death stare, stepping a foot away from the man himself as his presence was too bewitching in the rage of fire that you both cast upon each other tonight, "What do you mean no?!"

"No," the witcher hoarsely repeated, snapping his head to the side as he gravelly spat out profanities out of those mouth that you've been dying to kiss.

"---Fuck! Don't."

You shook your head in utter disappointment. Your face in a baffling twist, "Are you a broken record or something? no? don't, what?"

He had his share of breaths; seeming to be straightening his thoughts before lowly muttering out his next words, his jaw still clenched as he turned his head to see those eyes waving the white flag like he was submitting and wanted all the anger to just vanish.

"Don't spare your life for anyone, midget." it was straight to the point, giving you what he wanted you to hear.

Yet, because of his unstable attitude; you've chose to weigh down the options as to what his words meant. Choosing the platonic sense of a thought before you even smash your heart into pieces by praying that he meant something more.

"But, she's a princess---"

"---Because you are also important,"

You could see the anger dissipating from his glowing eyes; shifting into such ire that also had a hint of dithering and abrupt acquiescence. Your heart skipped a beat when his words echoed inside your heated head.

'Because you are also important,' Howbeit, your assertion for the truth had you turning his words into the chaste part of options.

"Cirilla is more important than me, Geralt. She's your child of surprise. You know I would risk my life for her. No one would really care for my death anyway. I'm probably already dead for my family back in earth," you scorned, huffing out a breath that hitched when he started giving you the doubts again.

The witcher appeared to be more frustrated as time goes by, your denial making it all too difficult for him to explain, "I.....care!" he prolonged the simplicity in his words, his teeth showing as he gritted and deeply snarled, "I do care, midget. I care about you!"

"Ah." you impassively muttered, eyes vacant as there was a void hidden behind those peepers of yours, "---you mean that because I'm your responsibility. Noted." and a simple shrug of your shoulders was enough to draw a stressed-out growl from the man who kept your heart on the line, always.

"Fuck--no! Not that!"

A simple shake of your head and a chance to leave his presence was all it could take for Geralt to grab onto your wrists, surprising you to say the least. His hold on you was tight, never letting go as you tried and uselessly battled with his strength.

You skeptically sent him a sharp look as he appeared to be groaning out deep within those sturdy chest of his that was still clothed in armor, "Let go, Geralt. I swear to God, if you don't let go and use magic or your Harry Potter slash witcher styled---Wingardium Levi-O-sa on me---!"

"You know I will never do that!" he fumed, his expressions telling you that he was offended by even thinking he would hurt you in any way, disregarding your modern references that he simply couldn't understand. Therefore, Geralt carried on with his kept feelings and raved.

"You...You are important to me! I care because you're you..."

You've exhaled a huff of frustration, never believing his words that was always been said whenever he was caught up in a moment.

"You're speaking in riddles that I couldn't comprehend, my lord." a mock of his accent made you done for. The deathless struggle you've tried to escape in his hold; both hands prying him away but he was utterly stronger than you imagined him to be.

You were utmost naive that it was making him want to just kiss you hard for you to understand his feelings.

The witcher breathed fire. Features thoroughly livid for your naivity and denial, "You're too fucking blind and too naive!" he barked, completely infuriated for your nonsense.

You loudly whined as you tried wrenching his hand away. It was better to escape his presence because you could sense that the more you stayed, the more you would forgive this man in a heartbeat with his words that seem to confuse you.

It took one more struggle and a stumble of your own foot for how forcibly you were trying to get away his hold that Geralt swiftly hung that arm he holds; slipping it around his broad shoulders, catching you completely off-guard as he leaned down entirely to your height; your eyes bulging out of your eye sockets for his surprising gesture.

"Witcher---!!!"

However, those flamed words were forgotten as you've felt those pillowy, succulent lips of his fall onto yours in a feathery touch that got your insides growing wild.

Your eyes were all open, soul flying out of its chambers when you've felt his warm lips falling in between yours. A fluttering connection of both bodies that got your body turning rigid before he'd tried to snap you out of your shock and softly kissed tips of your lower lip, his fingers gently grabbing onto the side of your face; thumb falling into the tip of your chin to chide you into kissing him back.

He hoped he wasn't just imagining things; thoroughly thinking that what he felt about you can somehow also be reciprocated and that it wasn't just him.

You've eventually given a satisfied sigh and fluttered your eyes closed, entirely giving into what your heart desires; molding your vermillion to his with a soft pucker of your lips and your other hand falling onto the side of his chiseled face that got a low grumble of his chest out of him from the tender touch of your fingers he'd anticipated to feel.

You were finally kissing Geralt and your heart seemed to be flying out of its cage.

The kiss was how you imagined it to be. Soft and candied like a precised choreography dance that was satisfying for both of your beings; yet aching for more. Your breath hitched when you've felt the tip of his luscious tongue caress your lips in a way that got the warmth pooling in your stomach turn wild.

You've snapped your eyes open and broke the kiss before it escalated further; hardly pulling away with a faint smooch that got you wanting another.

It was definitely difficult to believe. Before the witcher could even flutter his eyes open, you've timidly puckered; your face boiling in such a high temperature as you reach for his lips, planting another chaste kiss that got Geralt in a small beam that you were blinded with; finding your actions adorable as if you were timid of kissing him.

So, it was real. You've kissed him again and he let you. The feelings were actually true.

He was met with those ingenuous flicker inside your eyes as you stared back at him, a sheepish smile and a coy twinkle of your eyes got him sighing; breathing in your delectable scent and never believing you actually felt the same way, "I am...done leaving people," Geralt breathed through his nose, whispering sweet and soft nothings that got your heart twerking inside your chest.

The latter tenderly leaned his forehead against yours; eyelids shut closed as he deeply murmured. The anger simmering out of the way once he'd gotten to kiss those lips that he wanted to have a taste since the day he'd felt something for you, "---Nor am I done being left by people who are important to me,"

You felt his gentle fingers graze your chin, the dimples of his nose tickling yours; urging for just another harmless kiss that tells you it all isn't a dream you've forged to create.

"Forgive me," he gravelly whispered, hearing your thoughts as to how you wanted to be kissed; though, it was just Geralt and his self that couldn't get enough of you.

The witcher planted another uncluttered kiss to the tips of your vermillion, catching your breath away as you blinked repeatedly to get a hold of yourself when he'd pulled away with a mischievous grin, "I...didn't mean to yell,"

You've bit your lips; trying to fight yourself from squealing hard at what just happened, feeling your toes tickling your bashful heart. You took a glimpse of those amber eyes that held a roguish gaze to it, "You're...You're mean!" was all you managed to say, eyes downcast and your nose scrunched from being utterly cringe; feeling his soft lips still lingering.

Oh dear, you weren't going to sleep without squealing for the next couple of hours.

"I know," his dashing face was filled of remorse. You've given him a blink of surprise, astounded by his sheer admission towards being a big meanie for yelling at you.

A soft narrow of your eyes was the only thing he'd receive and he did the same way, his amber eyes bright and free from pique as he cocked his head to the side, a dubious impression from how you were still giving him that hostile but shy gaze of yours.

"You're still mad," the ivory-haired witcher straightened his back as he stated as a matter of fact with that rough baritone timbre of his voice. You ungracefully cleared your throat for the second time; his gaze heavy on you and it was making your heart turn wild.

"And the night is dark, Geralt." was enough for Geralt of Rivia to trail behind you like a guilty puppy as you hurriedly jogged back to their house; your nose scrunched to the extent as you delicately held onto your lips in which the witcher has kissed; your face burning from the blush that wanted you squealing out loud.

"---Utterly mad." he scoffed to himself as he groaned in regret, rolling his eyes from how you were brushing him aside.

Geralt tailed behind with a frown on his face, "Forgive me, midget." he repeated in a stern but clearer tone, utterly bothered by how you were disregarding him after all he confessed.

The door to their house were sprightly shut closed when Jaskier and Cirilla left the hatch ajar. It was Jaskier's idea to eavesdrop over the both of you and much to say, he'd already awaited for this moment to happen because of the tension that seemed palpable by everyone who surrounded you both.

"That's character development right out there, Cirilla." the bard peeked out of the small opening, watching how Geralt has leaned down to give you the kiss that was bound to happen.

Cirilla moved away from the doorway, an incredulous haze of her eyes as she had her hands on her hips, "I thought Geralt didn't know romance, Bard?"

Jaskier didn't back down from her sassy gestures and also did the same as he began to reason out, standing away from the door way when he'd heard Geralt asking you for forgiveness. The princess of Cintra has a smug look on her face, teasing the bard, "Some people improve when it's been a long time since his heartbreak---Stop judging me like that!"

He'd seen you walk back to the house, a fathomless cringe carving your features which looked like you were constipated as the witcher jogged up from behind, calling you out in the middle of the night. Jaskier was quick to shut the door closed for the second time, hauling an arm around Cirilla as he pulled her wrists till she was crouching with the bard and Kolby, acting like they were playing Knucklebones and not snooping over you and Geralt, "---Also, act like you didn't see them kiss!"

Y’ALL ARE PROLLY WAITING FOR CHAPTER 14 AND 15 NOW. 😂😂 (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, bb. Please do check your settings. 🥰 Thank you!)

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​​ @himarisolace​​ @barkingbullfrog​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​​ @vania-marie​​ @spookypeachx​​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​ @nympeth​​ @amirahiddleston​​ @gabethelobster​​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​ @melaninstylezz​​ @psychosupernatural​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ @tapismyforte​​ @chook007​​ @covid-donotenter​​ @winter-moons​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @silverkitten547​​ @angelofthorr  @carrieannewaywardson

[saharamae21]

Under My Spell (October Challenge - Day 4) - Topper Imagine

Hey guys. I’m doing an October writing challenge - an imagine a day! Each will be supernatural, horror, or fall themed!! Here’s day two!

My challenge is subject to change prompts and orders as I see fit!!! (I’m using a number generator - not going in order)  The list I posted is simply a rough outline.

Word Count : 1583 Words

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You had been in love with him for years, but he only ever saw Sarah Cameron. No matter what you did and what you didn’t do, nothing mattered. It didn’t matter that you had spent your whole life in the Outer Banks. Or that your parents were rich and you came from a prominent family. Nothing you did could compare to the kook princess in his eyes. You were living a one sided love.

After 6 years of crushing on Topper Thornton, you had finally had enough. Even though Sarah was happily dating John B, Topper still wouldn’t look your way. Was it that you weren’t pretty enough? Or that your family didn’t have as much monetary value as the Camerons? Was that your older brother wasn’t his best friend like hers was? You just couldn’t figure it out.

That night you laid in bed, endlessly scrolling through social media. You had done a pretty decent job of getting your mind off of Topper, but then his picture popped up on your feed. It was a picture of him and Rafe at the beach. He was shirtless as the sun shone down on the two. You stared at it for a second before double tapping the screen and moving past it. You sighed, knowing that he never liked your pictures. What could you do to get his attention? You were willing to try anything at this point. Maybe that’s why when the only advertisement popped up, you clicked on it.

The post showed a picture of this strange pink liquid. It was being advertised as a love potion. You couldn’t help but to wonder if it would actually you and at this point you were desperate. After six years of pining after this boy, you just wanted to see what it would be like. You added the potion to your cart and bought it for fun, not believing it would actually work.

A few days later, a package waited outside your door. You picked it up carefully and opened it. Inside the box laid a small vial filled with pink liquid. You read the instructions carefully and slipped it into your bag. You had no faith in the small purchase you had made, but it wouldn’t hurt to try right?

That night you walked into the Cameron household. Rafe greeted you at the door with a small smirk. You had dressed especially nice tonight and he was aware of it. You could feel his eyes following you as you walked away. You wanted nothing to do with him though. You spotted Topper from across the room and smiled, trying to find the confidence to walk up to him and start a conversation. You gripped the tiny vial in your hand tightly and wondered if this was a good idea or not. It was now or never though.

“Hey, Top!” you said, flashing him a smile. He looked at you and returned your grin. He asked you if you wanted a drink and you gladly accepted. You patiently waited for the right time to slip the potion into his drink, but the right moment never came.

Finally, a few hours into the party, you managed to pour the potion into his drink. You instantly felt guilt as he downed his liquid. You regret ever doing anything, but there was no obvious effect from your action. You waited and waited, but it didn’t work. Nothing was happening.

You went home that night, feeling relieved that nothing bad had happened. Maybe this was for the best. Topper Thornton would never be into you like that and you couldn’t force him to be. Maybe it was time to just get over Topper, but that was easier said than done.

The next morning you woke up to your phone going off. The alarm you had set disturbed every ounce of sleep you had and ruined the morning. You cursed as you shut it off and stared at the ceiling. You didn’t feel like doing anything with your day, but you knew you couldn’t just lay in bed. You forced yourself up and got into some casual clothes. You greeted your parents as you walked down the steps and to the front door, telling them you were heading to the beach. Just as you opened the front door though, Topper appeared. He looked like he was about to knock, but you had caught him red handed.

“Hey, y/n. Can we talk?” he asked. You nodded and followed him outside. He fiddled with his hands nervously as he looked for the right words to express what he was feeling. “Ever since last night, I can’t get you off my mind.”

Your jaw dropped at his worlds. A bad feeling began to well up in your stomach as you looked at the boy in front of you. This could not be happening. You had been waiting for this moment forever, but now that it was happening, everything felt wrong.

“Are you serious?” you asked him. Even though you knew that this was wrong, you wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Yeah,” he said. He smiled at you with that perfect grin. Your knees almost went weak at the sight. “The way you smiled at me yesterday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I honestly just can’t get you out of my head. Want to go grab something for lunch?”

“Yeah,” you said before even thinking about it. Every sense of right and wrong was gone as he asked you out. The excitement in you completely dispersed the horribleness of your reality. It made you forget all about what you had done to get here.

Lunch was amazing and so was walking around the beach afterwards. You loved the feeling of his hand in yours. You were so distracted by the whole situation to realize how wrong everything was. That distraction didn’t last though. As hours turned into days and days turned into weeks, you began to see how badly you had messed up. Topper was a new person, only focused on you. It’s almost as if nothing else mattered to him other than you. This was an obsession not love.

The first time you noticed it was when he began to get clingy. He didn’t want to be without you by his side. You were supposed to go to a family dinner with some friends, but he insisted on being with you. He almost got upset when you told him you had to go. Then there was the change in his future. Everyone knew that Topper wanted to go to Chapel Hill for college and eventually move back to the OBX, but then he started talking about you and him getting married and settling down. Everything was happening way too fast. Then there was his behavior. Top used to be the life of the party. He loved being around his friends, but now he only wanted to be with you. You wanted the old Topper back, even if he wanted nothing to do with you.

You grabbed your phone after getting home one night. You searched and searched until you finally found the website you bought the potion from. There had to be a reversal. You needed there to be. Luckily, there was one. It warned you that once you use this potion, the effects of the previous one would wear off and you could never use another one on that person ever again. You knew what had to be done. You ordered it right away and waited for it to arrive.

When the box came, you opened it and invited Topper over. When he got there, you asked if he wanted some lemonade. Then when you were grabbing him a glass, you poured the new potion into it. You smiled at him as you handed the glass over to him. He drank the contents, but nothing changed. You knew that it would take a little bit before he was back to normal, but you were ready.

After he left you wondered what you two would be like the next time you saw him. You wondered if he would go back to forgetting you ever existed or not. You knew one thing though, nothing would ever be the same.

The next morning, Topper paid you a visit. He smiled at you like he had done the past few weeks, but there were layers behind it. It had depth and emotion to it.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been so crazy the past few weeks,” he said. He chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I think since I’ve liked you for so long, I went a little overboard.” “You what?” you asked as he confessed to you.

“Ever since Sarah, I didn’t think I would date again, but you were always so sweet to me. Asking if I needed anything or someone to talk to, I guess I started to really fall for you,” he said. Your heart rate began to rapidly increase with every word. “So when you said yes when I asked you on a date, I dived in a little too fast. It was almost like I was under a spell or something. Can we start over?”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you said, smiling at him. You knew you should be honest with him, but you didn’t want to risk ruining the moment. You would tell him about the potion… Eventually.

______________________________________________

Tag List : @justcallmesams @jellyfishbeansontoast @prejudic3 @queenieloveswriting @jjtheangel @infinitydols @simpingforrudypankowonly @waywardbarbie @outerbankslut @outerbongs @ilovejjmaybank @beth-winchester21 

Tagging people who seemed interested : @jiaraendgame @maybanksbaby @rudyypankow @tomhardybby @crxstalreeds @mayraki

[avengersassemble-fics]

Fine Line

Bucky Barnes x Reader

post-endgame :’(

Summary: The world continued on after the Blip. Some people held onto their memories and some people moved on with their lives. Despite the loss and heaviness of the world around them, five years passed and people kept living. But when the snap was reversed, the Blipped returned to lives that had continued without them. Some families were reunited, and some Blipped came back to empty homes and broken families. Through that loss, seeking someone who understands how their feeling may not be the worse idea as the Blipped try to navigate a world that’s different than what they remember.

part 01/?? “fire and ice”

word count 4.5k

an: um..... yeah..... sorry HAHA oop. angst and sadness sorry. lemme know what you think or else I won't know to continue this. also....the title haha c:

For a lot of people, the blip brought back loved ones and injured broken hearts. Families were repaired and friends reunited with one another. But for some (or a lot of people) they were put back into a life that had moved on without them. In some cases, significant others moved on and started lives with others, friends suddenly weren’t around, family members passed during the years they were gone - for a lot of people it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows when they came back from being blipped. Although little to no time had passed for them, five years passed for the world. It still continued on its axis along with everyone on it.

Being blipped back into existence and then with the outcome of what life was left for you, it was like a rug had been pulled out from your feet. The man you were supposed to be marrying (married to?) had moved on with his life a couple years after your wiping. So for you to return in the same spot of the living room you shared with him, right in front of him and his new wife with their several month old son, wasn’t an ideal way to be thrusted back into life. It was painful to have to watch him love another, but what could be done? He started a family without you, and it took you a couple weeks before you moved back in with your parents. At least they were still around.

Their New Jersey home felt foreign to you now, though they did welcome you back with open arms. They always would, you didn’t doubt it, but the glaring reality of your life was still weighing on your shoulders. Your parents watched you fall into a pit of despair and didn’t know how to help you. You didn’t know how to help you. Most days you sat there and fiddled with the engagement ring on your finger. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to remove it even though it didn’t mean as much now. Not to Derek at least. Or maybe not in the way you had looked at it.

Taking residence in the bedroom you grew up in was distracting to say the least. You were often reminded of the life you once had while living under this roof. Before Derek, before the blip, before all of this. Here you sat in the desk chair in front of your computer with your chin rested on your knee, just scrolling aimlessly through Facebook. You ignored the unopened messages of friends and family reaching out, as they also had traces of messages from the past five years as well, and you couldn’t bring yourself to read them. You didn’t know what you were searching for, if you were even looking for anything, but you scrolled nonetheless.

Your finger hovered over the trackpad when one article caught your eye. It was about ways of coping with returning after being blipped. In the dark, and in your three day of old sweats, you decided this was the time to click on the link. Intrigued you pulled the laptop closer and started to read through it.

Have you returned from the blip and life around you seems to feel different? Maybe empty? Are you struggling with your self worth?

It was like it was speaking to you and you found yourself nodding your head along with each question. You were all of these things, but the things they were recommending made your face fall once more. Maybe you were stubborn, but the thought of confronting people face to face made your stomach churn. You were about to click out of the article when the last recommendation made you stop.

Maybe you feel you can’t talk to those around you about what you’re feeling. And that’s okay. But maybe this website can help you.

There was a link and the website was called hoolablip.com It was a bit tongue in cheek but you still found yourself following that link instead. What popped up was a webpage that allowed you to create a profile, and chat with those who were going through the same thing as you were: returning to a life that left them behind.

You bit your lip and hovered over the sign up link. You had avoided your family, friends, the even idea of therapy, but you felt like you were going stir crazy not having someone to talk to about it. This. Your life. Everything. So you impulsively clicked the button, and began to fill out the questions linked to it. You picked a screen name, inputted a basic bio, and filled out some of the questions. It was simple enough of a process, and soon you were on your very own homepage, but suddenly very unaware of what to do now.

There was a message option and you clicked on that, and went over the words in your head.

What brings you to hoolablip.com? Be as brief or detailed as you’d like. Your message will be sent to a random active user.

Hm. It was a start you guessed. So you slowly typed out a message.

You: I’m not sure where to really start with this. I can’t talk to my family, my friends wonder where I am but I don’t know where I am either. So… I’m here. Writing to a complete stranger in the hopes maybe someone out there can understand what I’m going through, or feeling. Or maybe tell me what I’m feeling because most days I don’t know myself.

You hovered over your keyboard, unsure of how much to express in just this one message. Or what to even include as far as your personal information. But you just let the words come out.

My name is (Y/N), and I was blipped three months before I was supposed to marry my college sweetheart. When we came back, if that’s the right way to describe it, I was right back in the living room of the townhome we shared. But it wasn’t my home anymore. The inside changed, and there was a new family there. His family. I can’t seem to forget the shock on his face, and his wife’s face when I just appeared there. It was an awkward conversation to have in the middle of their home. And I can’t shake it. His wife is lovely, their baby is beautiful, but I still can’t shake it. As selfish as that may sound.

As you typed you didn’t realize the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away.

I’m not sure how to end this off. So maybe this should be it for now. Maybe it finds someone.

And then you hit send. The tension you had felt like it disappeared when you hit send. You sat back in your chair and looked over the message once more before going back to scroll aimlessly through Facebook. There were a number of posts from your friends about their lives. Outings with pictures attached, videos, the same old thing. You rested your chin in the palm of your hand when the sound of a little ding rang through the speakers.

On the tab you had written that long message was a little number one. You got a message back. Oh god, someone had read your message. In the dark you were taken back, and slowly went back to the tab to see a little chat box that wasn’t there before waiting to be open.

The username attached to it was ominous, but the red notification made you open the chat either way. You lingered over the fact their message was equally as long, and you read it over.

LoneWolf17: I can assure you that you aren’t the only one who has no idea what to do besides seek solace from strangers. I think it may be easier for us to open up to someone we don’t know, rather than to those around us.

Deep. That was really deep.

LoneWolf17: I think I can imagine how it must feel to be back in a place that isn’t home anymore. But I can’t imagine how it must feel for you to have to accept the fact he started a life with someone when it was promised to be you. You aren’t selfish. You’re human. And you’re hurt. My name is James. I don’t know what I’m doing here really. I don’t think I have a right to be upset about my best friend leaving me behind to have the simple life he always wanted, but then another part of me thinks that it fucking sucks. He was the only one who believed the best in me when no one else did. He fought for me when everyone else doubted me. We always said we’d stand with one another until the end of the line, but I guess his was finer than mine was.

You had to take a deep breath after that. Though he wasn’t clear on the details, James was hurt by his best friend. And here you were complaining about your love life being in shambles. He still appeared to be online, so you typed up a response.

You: You may be right about it being easier to talk to a stranger than the people around us. Especially when I guess this is the place for all of us who were blipped. Maybe we get each other. I suddenly feel pretty obtuse for complaining about my love life when you lost your best friend, but I appreciate you saying it’s okay to be hurt. I think that’s all I know how to be right now. What do you mean he left you behind for the simple life, if I can ask?

And then you hit send. You didn’t know if your message was good, but you were far out of your comfort zone here. You watched your screen to see two little check marks appear and after a few moments his little picture started to type. You found yourself biting at your nails in anticipation of his next message.

LoneWolf17: It’s a confusing and long story, but he got the girl he always wanted and the life he dreamed of. I won’t be able to see him anymore, though.

You raised a brow, and typed another reply.

You: Does he not live here anymore? Not that I know where here is..

You saw his bubbles pop back up almost immediately. And then another message appeared.

LoneWolf17: Haha yeah something like that. Here being New York.

You: Oh, you’re nearby.

LoneWolf17: Oh yeah? You’re in the city too?

You: Oh no, not since.. Well. You know. I’m in Jersey right now until I can get back on my feet.

LoneWolf17: I see, but not too far still.

You: Haha not too far.

You had migrated with your laptop to your bed, and rested your back against some pillows to watch the screen again. You wondered if you were boring (“dry” you think was a term thrown around now), but you smiled a bit when another message popped up on your screen.

LoneWolf17: So what’s your plan? To get back on your feet?

You: Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. Wallowing in my self pity has been on my to-do list for the last few weeks. I’m not too sure where to start.

LoneWolf17: Well this is a start, isn’t it?

You read over his message once, twice, then three times as you pondered his words. So you settled on this for a reply.

You: You seem to be a man of many insights, James.

His bubble moved again in an immediate response, and then his message appeared just as quickly.

LoneWolf17: Call me Bucky.

- - - - - - - - - -

Over the course of the next week you found yourself checking the website for more messages from your mysterious pen pal, who you called Bucky. Your conversations were casual but they were enough for you to come to your senses. Just a little bit that was. You had enough energy to get out of bed and shower and change. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a start.

Your parents seemed to notice when one day you even ate a bit of breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and toast. They were little nibbles, but it was enough for some pressure to leave their hearts. You tried to ignore their stares as you carried the piece of toast back to your self proclaimed cave and even opened the blinds to let sunlight in.

That’s where you perched yourself most days and looked out the window to watch people, cars, anything pass by the suburban home you hid in. Each day you searched for something in the faces that passed by, but always came up empty handed. If your frustrations grew enough you’d pour over the exhaustive amount of literature that was packed away in the boxes around you.

You had graduated from NYU with a major in english literature studies with a minor in creative writing. You were on your way to receiving your PhD when everything happened. Though you were still awarded it “in lieu of extenuating circumstances” it felt wrong that you had it. You never really finished the work for it. It felt like a handout, and it stayed in a frame in the boxes as well. There was something you were looking for, and you grazed the spines of each book looking at the titles over and over. . .

There. You pulled the red colored (and heavy) book out and flipped through it. Overlooking the notes and highlights that grazed the pages, you came to a page that was left untouched. You ghosted your fingers over the words and looked at your laptop. You carefully sat down in the desk chair and pushed the lid open and found yourself writing another message to your mysterious pen pal, Bucky.

You: I’ve found myself looking at the people who pass by my window to see if they hold some kind of answer to the questions I have, but they just continue on not having a care in the world. It made me think if it’ll be like that for us again. I brought myself to fish out this old college literature book I had to study for hours and hours on end, and I thought about sharing this with you. It just seems to fit the world right now, from my eyes at least.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

You wondered if it sounded too cliche, or if it was too bleak. But it was one of your favorite poems, and now it made a little more sense in today’s world. Your world. You didn’t know if it would strike a chord with him like it did with you, but you sent it either way. It had been a few days since you heard from your chat buddy, and though he wasn’t online you knew he’d get it at some point. You heard your sisters arrival downstairs and braced yourself for her impromptu plan to get you out of the house.

Bucky Barnes was walking side by side his friend Sam Wilson, not really paying much attention to what he was saying to him. There was a chill in the air as the sun had lowered hours before. He didn’t know where Sam was leading him this late at night, but Bucky didn’t question it too much. His mind had drifted once again to the subject that Sam and him never really spoke about. To Steve.

He thought with time it was going to get easier to accept what Steve had chosen for himself. When he told him he was taking all the stupid with him, he didn’t mean to literally fucking take all of it. But how could he even really be mad at his best friend? Steve always wanted that life, and he always wanted it with Peggy. Maybe he was angry at Steve, or maybe he was angry that he never got to make the decision for himself.

“Are you listening to me?” Sam asked him randomly.

“Not really,” Bucky replied, which earned a grumble from the man on his side.

“At least you’re honest,” Sam replied, before stopping in his tracks which made Bucky turn to him, “this is it.”

“What-” Bucky turned to look at the bustling building Sam was motioning to, and raised a brow, “what makes you think this is the place to get intel?”

“Well if you were listening to me in the first place, you would know the lead is an upper east side socialite,” Sam patted his shoulder and started down the alleyway. Bucky grumbled a bit and followed in his steps towards a line that had formed for this nightclub-esque building. Sam cut the line and seemed to have a few words with the bouncer, who let them right in. It was going to be a long night.

The music that pumped through the building made his shoes vibrate, but he followed Sam’s lead through coat check and then around the corner which opened up to a large, vibrant party. To say Bucky was out of his comfort zone was an understatement. He was 10,000 miles out of his comfort zone. The looks he got from people made him cast his eyes down and back to Sam who was leading him further into this mess. It wasn’t until they were literally in the middle of the room did Sam turn to him and clap him on both of his shoulders.

“I’m going to go upstairs, you keep an eye out down here,” Sam had to nearly yell over the music, and with one final slap to his arm, he was gone. Bucky glared at his back as he walked away from him and looked around for a bar. He needed a drink, not that it would do anything for him, he just had to get away from this crowd. The bodies that jumped and knocked against him made him push his way through the crowd a little faster. Oh Sam was going to pay for this one day.

When he finally made it to the bar he gripped the wood edge and pressed himself into it. Resting his arms on the counter and stared at the back of the bartender, trying to see if he could gauge her attention.

“It’s no use,” a voice said next to him, which caused him to glance at his side to the person who was casually talking to him, “I’ve been trying to get her attention for 10 minutes.”

The woman who spoke to him had her eyes trained on the woman behind the counter, not looking his way once while she spoke. Though the lights flashed around the room, there was little to no emotion in her irises. So Bucky turned back to the bartender and waved his hand, which she seemed to catch from the corner of her eye. The bartender did a double take on him and Bucky hid the grin from his face when she headed over. He glanced at the woman beside him whose mouth fell open then quickly closed and watched as the bartender came over to take his order.

“I’ll take a rum and coke,” Bucky ordered and then nodded at the woman beside him, “and whatever she wants too.”

The woman glanced at him as he reached for a couple of bills from his pocket, and looked back at the bartender, “Make that three of those.”

The bartender nodded and turned away from them to make the drinks. Though silence fell over them, it was fine with Bucky. When the bartender came back with all three drinks she spaced them out evenly between them, and gave Bucky another sweet smile. Bucky forced one back, picking up one of the glasses as the woman on his side picked up one of the other ones. Bucky took a generous sip and watched as the woman completely downed one of the drinks and left the empty cup on the counter.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to be here either,” Bucky called out over the music. That when she finally met his gaze and shook her head.

“My sister insisted on dragging me out,” she said to him, and then picked up the other glass and nodded at him as she backed away, “thank you.”

Bucky offered a nod back but she was gone in the crowd not a moment later. He let out a little humph, and turned back to the crowd, his eyes going over the crowd. It was going to be a long night if Sam didn’t get what he needed soon.

- - - - - - - - - -

By the time Bucky had gotten back to his apartment in Brooklyn, he was ready to wash the day's endeavours off of him. It was late, very late, and he could smell the alcohol and smoke on his clothes. He removed his coat and scarf and kicked his boots off and reached for his phone in his pocket. Though technology was still new to him, he was enjoying it a bit.

On his way to his bedroom he swiped through some notifications when his finger landed on an email notification. In the short amount the preview showed him, he could see there was a new message from you. He didn’t know why he frantically opened the webpage, but he did. He rested himself on the edge of his bed and read over the typed words in the palm of his hand, mumbling out loud the poem word for word. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he thought of what to say, and began to type his thoughts.

LoneWolf17: I don’t think I’ve ever read something that spoke to me like that did. How we let our emotions control us even though they could destroy everything around us. So you studied literature way back when? You never told me.

And then he sent it. Though your picture wasn’t illuminated like you were online, he still had solace that you’d see it. It comforted him in a way that you weren’t online, maybe you were doing something for yourself, it seemed you were doing more than just “sulking around” as you liked to call it.

There wasn’t a lot he knew about you, just like you didn’t know a lot about him. But he let you call him Bucky, and you didn’t seem to realize who it was you were speaking with, and a part of him was grateful for that. As Bucky stripped from his clothing and got into his shower, his mind wandered to what he did know about you.

Your picture was one of the sample photos the website lets you pick from, a little penguin, so he of course didn’t know what you looked liked or sounded like, but you sounded smart and insightful. But you were so casual about it that it made him smile a lot when he read your messages. You were also careful and hurting, like him. He knew the story, but he felt he didn’t know your story, if that makes sense. You were funny too, you made him laugh a lot. The times the two of you spent chatting together over the last week was almost like a breath of fresh air for him. He didn’t talk about Steve (minus his name of course) with anyone but you.

When he was done perusing his own thoughts and turned the water off, he reached for a towel to wrap himself in and stepped out and into the steam filled bathroom. He tied the towel carefully around his waist and used his hand to wipe away at the hazy mirror and took in his appearance. He still donned the long hair and beard, and frowned at himself in the mirror. He tried not to let the weight in his shoulder bring him down, and instead went to his bedroom to change.

Bucky grabbed his phone again as he settled onto the bed once more, pulling his shirt down his chest as he saw another new message from you. Now you were online, and he read over your message quickly.

You: Welcome to the wonderful world of Robert Frost. It breaks my heart a bit that you felt the same way about the poem as I did, but then again I’m happy to see you have good taste in poetry.

Bucky chuckled at your sentiment, and scrolled down to the bottom of your message.

You: I was towards the end of my program to receive my Phd in english lit studies, minor in creative writing. I mean they gave me the doctorate but it’s tucked away in these boxes. I don’t feel like I truly earned it, y’know?

LoneWolf17: Don’t let your heart break for me, doll, like you said - I’m just a man of many insights. And my insight is thinking you should still be proud of the work you put into that degree, especially if you were so close to the finish line before the blip. What did you need to do to complete it?”

You: I just had my research to finish.

LoneWolf17: So then why don’t you do it now? For yourself?

His question made you stop and think. Bucky seemed to have a way of doing that to you. As you thought about what he said, Bucky sat staring at his phone wondering if he may have said the wrong thing. But his tensions eased when you typed back

You: I can think about it, man of many insights.

Bucky chuckled to himself, and looked at the time on the top of his phone. It was late, and he could feel the dryness in his eyes when your little bubbles started to move again, he eagerly awaited another message from you when your message popped up again.

You: I hate to end our conversation so soon, but I think I drank a little too much tonight. I think it may be time for me to hit the hay.

LoneWolf17: Is that why you’re so agreeable tonight? You should definitely get some rest.

You: Haha, very funny.

LoneWolf17: Goodnight (Y/N).

You: Goodnight, Bucky.

Bucky watched as your little picture went from glowing to dark, and felt relieved that you were taking yourself to bed. Bucky stood and set his phone down on the table by his bed and then got under the covers, using his flesh arm to rest under his head as he stared at the ceiling. Bucky found himself for the first time in months drifting off to sleep with no thought of his friend, instead he thought about the words of the poem you sent him.

Maybe signing up for that website was a good thing after all.

[redrebecca]

A Mendes Movie Night

(not my gif)

Because halloween without watching a scary film isn’t halloween, at least, not to Shawn.

A/N: So the amazing @fourtristattoos is doing this writing festival and I needed to sort myself out and write something, so here we are. Feedback is always appreciated, have a good day!

Words: 2.6k

*

You had to admit, Shawn had done well with this one. Unbeknownst to you, he had spent his day off last week walking around Toronto and scouring review websites to find a cafe that the two of you could visit regularly. It had your seal of approval the second you stepped inside. It was a small place hidden away a bit further down the street than you usually ventured. 

Shawn smiled at you as you took another bite of your pastry, holding back a laugh as he watched small pieces flake down the front of your jumper despite your best efforts to stop them. He was sure that if it hadn’t been for the small ding in his jean pocket he would’ve continued to stare at you. Tearing his eyes away, he glanced at the notification 

Mum: Your dad and sister are out tonight. Come over and watch a film with me later?

“Hey. Mendes are you even listening?” It took a rather firm nudge under the table for him to pull his eyes away from his phone and back to you. 

“Sorry, I got a text.” He said whilst passing his phone to you so you could also read the message. 

You did feel a slight pang of disappointment, after all you had been looking forward to a night full of cuddling, blankets and, well, Shawn. But you shook the feeling away, remembering that essay you needed to finish and a distraction (Shawn) free evening would be a perfect opportunity to get it out of the way.

“Yeh that’s fine, do you want me to make you something to eat before you go or is Karen cooking?” Knowing that if Shawn was visiting, his mum would definitely be cooking, you instead focused on what you could eat - the new chinese takeaway down the street looked like a great contender. Your food filled thoughts were interrupted by Shawn’s hand taking and gently squeezing yours.

“You’re coming with me.”

You shook your head and focused on your interlocked hands. “She asked you, not me.” In your periphery, you could see Shawn dip his head, trying to match your eye level. Before you could stop yourself, you let your eyes drift back to his, his lips curving into a soft smile in return.

“You’re always invited, you know that.” Not knowing how to bring up what you really wanted to say, you hummed and diverted your attention to your half eaten croissant, which had caught your eye the second you walked into the cafe. You felt his stare on you after you took a bite of your food. 

You took a moment to finish your mouthful before you spoke. “What?” Shawn kept his eyes on you for a little longer. When his stare became slightly unnerving, you reached forward for the handle of your mug, deciding that you might as well use the time (and your latte) to get the small pieces of pastry from your teeth.

“Why don’t you want to go?” At first, his question threw you a little. You swallowed.

“I have an essay I need to finish for class.” At his facial expression that screamed I really don't believe you, you continued “And you haven't seen your Mum in ages and I don’t want to interrupt anything.” You scanned his face for his reaction. When he nodded slowly and picked up his phone before presumably replying to Karen, you let out a tiny sigh of relief. He bought it. 

“Now,” He said, his voice unmistakably clearer than earlier. You watched as he set his phone down next to his cup and leant towards you, arms crossed and elbows planted on the table. His eyes narrowed. “Tell me the real reason you don’t want to go.” You bit your lip, hard, to stop yourself from groaning. Of course, whilst creating your plan, you’d forgotten to consider the fact that to Shawn, no matter how convincing you thought you were, you were as transparent as a pane of glass, if not more. 

You quickly surrendered your act, knowing you wouldn’t fool him. “When I said I'd never watch a horror film with your Mum again, I meant it.” A mix of emotions crossed his face, satisfaction that he was right about his suspicions and also an air of displeasure that he was right.

“Last time wasn’t that bad.” He protested.

“Shawn, I couldn't sleep for three nights, and neither could you if I remember correctly.” He opened and closed his mouth, but no argument he could formulate was going to be able to neutralise that statement. “Listen, when we get home I’ll bake her that cake she loves and you can give Karen it and tell her I’m sorry and that I-” During your rambling, you hadn’t noticed the buzz of Shawn’s phone or that he had picked it up and read the text.

“You can tell her yourself.” He said, stopping you mid sentence. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you didn’t catch onto what he meant.

“What?” He looked at you hesitantly, as if he was unsure of what your reaction would be. Which from past experiences, was never a good sign. You tilted your head and eyed him. “What did you do?” Shawn gulped

“I asked her if you could come,” Your eyes widened and his averted them. “And she said yes.” 

“Shawn!” You whisper-yelled across the table, keeping in mind that you were in a relatively quiet cafe, not in the comfort of any form of privacy. “What the hell?”

“Look I’m sorry, but if I have to suffer scary movie night with my Mum, you do as well.” You shook your head at him in disbelief and sat back in your chair. 

“Always so romantic.” You said sarcastically, knocking his ankle with your boot clad foot under the table. He yelped and glared at you whilst you blew him a kiss. “I love you very much, but I’m not going.”

*

“This isn’t a good idea.” You mumbled from underneath the scarf you had flung on before leaving your house. The box that held the still-warm chocolate cake was clutched in your hands as you and Shawn approached the front porch of the Mendes household. Shawn tugged his hand from his pocket to knock on the door.

“So it hasn’t changed since you last said it, which was, what? Three minutes ago?” He smirked when your response was once again muffled by the scarf. He cupped your cheeks and pushed the fabric down from your nose to your chin with his thumbs before he lifted an eyebrow, prompting you to speak. 

“Be cheeky once more, I dare you.” His smirk widened at your challenging stare.

“Or what? Are you gonna go home and leave me?” The sarcasm in his voice made you want to scream, but you bit it back knowing that a reaction like that would make his cockiness even more insufferable - which was not what you wanted. So instead you swatted his hands away and took a step back from him.

“You know what Mendes, I might just do that.” To your surprise, his smirk turned into a grin. A big toothy grin, that in other circumstances, you loved to see. But in this one, it meant he had found a loophole that was good enough to catch you out. In other words, checkmate.

“Well, I hope you wore your comfortable shoes because it’s a long walk back to Toronto.” At your, no doubt, confused expression, he jiggled his jacket pocket and you groaned when you heard the sound of clinking. “I have the car keys.” Before you could even think of a response, you were interrupted by the hollow click of the door. The warmth of Karen’s smile, and the house, was all you needed to forget the situation and rush inside, with Shawn at your heels. 

“I’m just gonna take the food out of the oven, you two can go through and make yourselves comfortable if you like.” Karen said before rushing off to the kitchen, leaving you and Shawn in the hall. You unzipped your coat and then your boots, purposefully avoiding Shawn’s looks or not-so-discreetly dodging him when he moved to ‘accidentally’ brush his hand on your arm. Whether there was a pout on his lips or not, you were confident he had got the message - you weren’t happy with him. After hanging your scarf next to your coat, you made your way to the living room. You did try to give Shawn a wide berth, but the size of the corridor and the length of Shawn’s ridiculously long limbs meant that when he reached out to grab your elbow, there wasn’t much you could do.

“Hey, c’mon you’ll be okay.” He murmured as he tugged you closer to him, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over your cheek. You nodded and stepped into his arms, which without a moment of hesitation, tightened around you. The wool of his knitted jumper was scratchy against your skin and was probably leaving a strange mark on your cheek as you pressed yourself closer to him. “You know, if you get scared, you can just hold my hand. I promise I'll protect you.” For what seemed to be the 100th time that night, you groaned and lifted your head from his chest. 

“I hate you.” He hummed and leant down to leave a kiss on your nose.

“I love you too honey. Now let’s go and grab the blankets from my room.” He walked towards the stairs, looking back at you when you didn’t follow.

“The one with the monkeys on?” You grinned remembering the collections of blankets, that in your opinion, Shawn had owned for a bit too long. He smiled at your laugh.

“You bet.” Instead of going up the stairs like you expected him to, he stood perfectly still, never taking his eyes off you. The only thing that changed was the smile that was slowly but surely becoming a grin.

“What?” You asked warily.

“Race you!” Before you could take a step in his direction he was bounding up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

*

The movie had been playing for about 30 minutes. Well, that’s how long you had counted on Shawn’s watch since it started. Deciding from the opening scene that this movie definitely wasn’t for you, you’d spent the last half hour fiddling with his fingers, the rings on his fingers, the sleeve of his sweater and the clasp on his watch (The one you’d tried on about 10 minutes in. That was before you had remembered Shawn telling you how much he had bought it for. It was fair to say you were quick to slide it back onto his wrist after that particular recollection). 

Admittedly, by one hour and five minutes you were getting bored of doing - to put it simply - nothing. At some point you had tugged a bit too hard at one of the loose threads on Shawn’s jumper and had panicked, fearing that it would all unravel at your fingertips if you tried to fix it - therefore leaving you with one less distraction. And eventually you had estimated the individual cost of the pieces of his jewelry, none of which you would consider to be a sensible price to pay, so you had concluded it was probably best if you kept your popcorn grease covered fingers far, far away from them. So you had ended up staring at the wall and reminiscing about how nice Karen’s roast dinner was, because damn that woman could cook.

However it was during your stare-at-the-wall thoughts that you realised that you hadn’t noticed Shawn jump. Not even once. Did that mean it wasn’t that scary? 

Soon enough you had convinced yourself that you were going to watch the movie. After all, your momma didn’t raise a quitter, and it wasn��t real - a statement that had been mentioned many times in your inner pep talk. Taking a deep breath, you turned your head towards the screen and reached for some popcorn out of the bowl in Shawn’s lap.

*

1 jump scare. 

That was all it took to break down your facade. 

One moment you had been sitting calmly, silently amazed that you had managed to keep your composure for so long, and then the next, you have your face hidden in the crook of Shawn’s neck with his arm anchoring you next to him with your heartbeat pounding so loudly you were confident that Shawn could hear it never mind feel it.

“You okay honey?” He whispered into your ear, running his hand up and down your thigh in an attempt to calm your racing pulse.

“I’m scared.” You said against his neck. He didn’t move for at least a minute after the words left your mouth so you assumed he hadn’t heard them. That was until you felt his fingers interlock with yours. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. 

“There’s only 20 minutes left. Can you wait that long?” You slowly nodded and moved your head so your cheek was pressed to his chest instead of his neck. You nodded and closed your eyes as he began to play with your hair.

*

“Okay bye! Love you both!” Karen shouted from the front door as you and Shawn walked towards the car. You both turned to wave goodbye as she closed the door before quickly returning to cuddling into each other as another gust of wind blew past you.

“I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight.”

“Neither am I.” You replied. Shawn stopped walking and stared at you, a look of disbelief on his face.

“What do you mean? You watched two minutes of it!” 

“I watched more than two minutes!” 

“You didn’t watch enough to give you nightmares.” He argued back.

“No you idiot, I meant that if you aren’t gonna get to sleep I doubt I will either.” You dipped your chin so your scarf covered your nose and cheeks as another burst of freezing cold wind made you shiver. You peered up at Shawn from under your hood to see he was smirking at you. He sauntered closer to you.

“What are you suggesting we’re gonna do?” He said and you could actually hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut up, I didn’t mean that. I meant that when you can’t sleep you get whiny and then I can’t get to sleep either.” 

“I do not get whiny.”

“You do.” 

“No I don’t” Quickly realising where the conversation would head if you continued, you walked towards the car.

“C’mon Shawn, it’s freezing.” You tugged on the door handle. “Open the car.” 

He held the keys up and swung them around his index finger. “Take it back.” Your eyebrows furrowed. “Say that I don’t get ‘whiny’” He mimicked your voice in the way he knew you couldn’t stand. If it were warmer, you would refuse. But you weren’t so sure you could last too long in the wind - frostbite slowly becoming one of your concerns as your fingers on the handle turned a strange colour.

“Fine, you don’t whine.” He waited for a second before he nodded his approval and pressed the button on his keys. The hollow click was all you needed to hear before you swung the car door open.

“You just turn into a crybaby.”

“Hey!”

[allmightyneed]

Villain!All Might (Smite)x reader. part 2/20

link to part 1  

You pass weeks in a distracted, miserable state. Two, three, a month. Longer. At first, you chalk it up to the huge secret you now have to keep. A secret that feels as big as All Might himself. By a complete accident of time and place, you’ve come into possession of valuable intel on the most wanted criminal in Japan, possibly the world. Every day, you consider spilling the details to your best friend, who you also happen to work with. But how would you possibly bring it up?

“Oh, hey Kiko, guess what, I met a guy! Yeah… he’s super hot, tall, bit of a dark side. His name? I’m not sure, but professionally he goes by All Might.”

You can only imagine the confusion and disgust that would elicit. Even from Kiko, who usually tries to support your decisions, no matter how bad. The knowledge itself needles at you too, day after day. This information about his quirk could be the key to capturing him or bringing him down— forget using it to advance your own career. You could go to the police with this, you could go to Endeavor’s hero agency. You could change things. You could save lives. To your shame, that guilt isn’t strong enough to betray All Might’s confidence. He had trusted you. The number one villain trusted you with his secret identity, and apparently still does, because he hasn’t hunted you down and executed you. (Yet.)

Maybe he can’t. Your analytical mind spins theories in the absence of more definitive information. Maybe that muscle form takes a lot out of him, energy-wise. Maybe it’s too hard to maintain for long, and that’s why he sometimes disappears for days and weeks on end. And what about that whole coughing up blood thing?

By the third week, you’re using what little spare time you can find at work cobbling together a timeline of every documented All Might incident, closing in on a thousand entries in a hidden spreadsheet on your computer, and you’re only up to what most subject matter experts would consider the midway point of his active period. You haven’t found any patterns yet, nothing definitive, though as a foreigner yourself, his mysterious stint in America raises so many questions. 

“Hey!” A chipper voice and a knock-knock on your cubicle divider make you close the spreadsheet. You turn and see Kiko there, smiling and curious. 

“Hey!” 

“Whatcha working on?” 

“Oh, you know.” You wave your hand airily. “Nothing, really, just some busywork for Mr. Shimada.”

“Well, come on! It’s team lunch today.”

“Aw, really?”

“Yes. And you can’t skip. You’re looking too skinny.” That couldn’t be true, but the accusation reminds you of All Might, how he looked like he never got enough to eat. At least, one version of him. Kiko is sweet to be worried about you. She’s always so kind and considerate, always making sure you don’t bury yourself in your work, inviting you to lunch and for midday walks to get some sunlight. 

“Okay, okay. I’m not trying to get out of it.” You lock your computer screen and collect your jacket from the back of your chair. It will be nice to get a break outside of the office for sure. Given the sensitive nature of your work, your building is a secure one, with no windows and checkpoints to get in and out. Other than a few cultural holdouts, the workplace bears little resemblance to a traditional Japanese office, having adopted some more western practices, like cubicles and excessive use of PowerPoint. “Have you heard back from the Licensing Bureau?”

Kiko heaves a big sigh, which tells you that she hasn’t. “I thought I would last week at the latest, but nothing.”

You follow her into the elevator. “That’s weird. Don’t they usually send confirmation or denial pretty promptly?”

“Most petitioners receive the news right after their test.” She shrugs, throwing you a little smile as she precedes you into the lobby. “Guess I’m special.”

“Of course you are,” you laugh, rolling your eyes a little, but you mean it. She has pure hearted intentions about becoming a part-time volunteer hero. Discussion about the intricacies of Licensing Bureau policies and mailing schedules continues all the way to the barbecue restaurant where together you conclude, that her unusual quirk must be holding up their decision. It makes sense. Reanimation, her ability to create a zombie from a dead body, is dangerous and powerful, and is rightfully quite closely controlled. It’s also very much at odds with her sunny, happy personality. She rarely brings it up, but you know she regrets not having a more standard type of quirk. She’s also one of the few people who know about your quirk and has been a steadfast guardian of the secret.

Nothing much happens at the team lunch. Office gossip, rehashing the latest news, etc. Though, you do find out from Mr. Kawada, your supervisor, that you are one of two analysts who have been selected to support and consult on a new account the firm is taking on. So exclusive that you aren’t even allowed to know who the client is yet. You act grateful, mustering as much enthusiasm as you can— it’s a great opportunity— but inwardly, you’re daydreaming about All Might. That’s been happening more and more. 

When you get back to the office after lunch, you’re roped into a meeting with Mr. Kawada, and Mr. Shimada and the rest of the team leads. You know you should be paying attention but you zone out through most of it, replaying that fateful night in your head. 

A couple days later, the obsession reaches a critical level. You have to find him. Not as an analyst, not to bring him to justice. You just have to see him, and you don’t quite understand why, but it’s a need, a hunger that grows sharper and more potent each day. 

Riding the train to work, you start searching in your web browser. ‘All Might’. Too much noise. News articles from twenty different sources all about the same recent attacks clog the entire first page of results. When you get into the office, you go through the motions, sitting down at your workstation, logging in, all on autopilot. 

The only thing you can think about is All Might. As time has passed, you try harder and harder to keep fresh that image in your mind of how he looked in his other form. The skinny one, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. He hadn’t been any less intense like that. 

You refine your searches, hitting wall after wall of no results or way too many. A passing coworker’s idol-themed lanyard catches your eye; you finally hit on an idea: ‘All Might fan club’. That gets you something. You navigate to the first result, an outdated page with a garish background and little animated pixel version of All Might in the corner of the screen. Dancing. you have to admit it’s kind of cute. Suddenly, loud sound plays through your computer’s speakers. 

“I am on a website! I am on a website!” It’s All Might’s voice— his villain voice, which has people in other cubicles peeking over the dividers at you to find the source of the noise. Panicking, you close the tab. Then, after making sure your computer’s volume is muted, you find your way back to that same page. Sure enough, there’s a link at the top titled I LOVE TO MEET MY FANS. Following it brings you to a listing of a mailing address and… yes. A phone number. 

Heart racing, you copy it down on a sticky note, tuck it in your purse and, before it can register in your mind as a bad idea, slip out of the office. 

The train back to your home stop is nearly empty in the middle of the day. A few tourists, old people, some kids playing hooky. 

You turn your phone over and over. It said he loves to meet his fans… what fans? Doesn’t everyone hate him? Maybe that’s how you should open the conversation. Hey Mr. All Might, I know you’re universally reviled but I thought I’d hit you up anyway. The idea makes you snort-laugh. No. Just keep it simple.

You: hi.

A few seconds later, during which you stare at your phone, the three ‘typing’ dots appear. Then go away, with no message coming through. Could this really be him? Or is it just some weirdo’s phone number? Some otaku impersonating All Might on the internet. Not like you are in any position to be accusing someone of obsession.

You: this is the girl you met in the alley. You pause for a second, thinking of how you could signal to him who you are. He might meet a lot of girls in alleys. 

You: I saw you shrink.

A moment later, he replies with your name. Shock hits you; you click the screen off, black then click it on again. Your name is still there.

Him: I tHOUT I told =you to standstill and bee silent. 

It’s him. With lots of typos, but it’s him.

Oh, god. What are you doing? 

You don’t reply again until you get inside your apartment. Standing just inside the front door, with your shoes still on, you write out three versions of a witty retort, and erase each one. Stupid. What are you even trying to get out of this? 

You: I think people deserve to know who you really are. 

Nothing. Nothing for an unbearable minute that feels like another week gone by.

You: I’m going to the media. 

You’re not. You don’t know why you just told him that.

The three dots appear and disappear, again, with no new text. You watch the screen for what seems like an eternity, still standing in your entryway with your purse on your shoulder. 

And then there’s a thundering knock on the door.

Link to part 3

[fandom-collective-writers]

Stupid (Shaw x MC)

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Shaw x MC

Prompt: lost in the woods, ghost stories

Warning: Smut!!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 5,227

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsister​/@lordsisterxotome (Click here to support me on ko-fi!<3)

Disclaimer: I do not own Mr. Love Queen’s Choice or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: I meant to post this a few days ago, buuuttt life happens. I got caught up doing all the major work for a group project and then I was too exhausted to write at night. 

       “Stupid Shaw with his stupid ghost stories and stupid voice and stupid handsome face and-” Streams of confused insults muttered past her lips as MC continued to stomp down the trail, a mantra to ward off the instinctual anxiety rising in her chest. Why had she ever agreed to come up here with him? Oh yeah, because she was weak for that voice he used when he teased her. She could see him in her mind’s eye right now, that smirk and those glittering golden eyes as he accused her of being too scared to go up the haunted mountain in the middle of the night. Why, oh why, did she have to be so easily persuaded? 

       Shaking her head, MC wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the light coat she had decided to wear. She’d chosen it in favor of looking cute rather than taking a more practical coat for the chilly autumn night, pairing it with a button-up, skirt, and thick leggings. Yet another stupid decision on her part. Always so, so stupid when it came to him. Shaw hadn’t even noticed what she was wearing, only rolling his eyes and complaining about her being late

       Now she just wanted to go home and wrap herself up in a blanket burrito, smothering all the pain and heartache away with fleecy softness and too much ice cream. If only she could find the end of the trail then it wouldn’t be far to the bus stop at the foot of the mountain, and then she could start to pretend that she hadn’t left her heart further up the mountain, in the hands of a boy who cared nothing for it except as a toy to amuse himself with for a time.

       A gasp escaped her lips as her foot skidded on a slippery part of the trail, the sound too loud in the eerie stillness of the forest. Thus far, she’d managed to keep her fear at bay, held back by the anger burning in her chest and the uncomfortable heat prickling at the corners of her eyes. It was easy to ignore the tales of tragedy and bloodshed that Shaw had told her made this mountain famous when she felt she could have wrestled a bear and won through sheer fury. Now though that energy was starting to wear off, the back of her neck prickling and her mind confusing the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears for the rustle of things lurking in the bushes.

       Taking deep breaths and forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, MC tried to reason with herself. Ghosts weren’t real, she and Shaw were the only ones on the mountain, and the bus stop wasn’t far. But she had seen too many crime cases from late night crime shows to feel at ease in the woods in the middle of the night. Not when she was basically setting herself up to be shanked or kidnapped or any number of horrible things. It was different when she was with Shaw; he had his evol to protect them, but she didn’t have anything to defend herself with, hadn’t even thought about it when she had stormed away from him and left him at the top of the mountain to do god knows what.

       It didn’t help that it seemed the weather was taking a turn for the worse. When they had arrived, it had been a clear night, the light of the moon and stars plenty to see by, but storm clouds had started rolling in soon after their fight, the rumbles of thunder increasing with each passing minute and threatening to open up on her.

       It seemed like she was making nothing but bad decisions tonight. Great.

       Another few minutes of walking and the anxiety in MC’s chest only grew. She should have reached the end of the trail by now. Had she managed to take a wrong fork in the path somewhere? Followed another trail she hadn’t noticed when they were walking up the mountain?

       A knot was rising in her throat, but she swallowed, forcing her panic back down even as her steps quickened. She hated that she had put herself in this situation, that she’d been dumb enough to get lost, but more than that she hated herself for wanting Shaw in this moment. Deep in her heart, all she wanted was his bold, smirking presence at her side, guiding her along with playful words that sent sparks through her chest and made her smile despite herself. She wanted the feeling of safety he brought when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, when he looked at her like they had some shared secret only they knew.

       Maybe she regretted yelling at him a little bit, but it was nothing he didn’t deserve after the non-stop teasing and mocking she’d received since the start of the evening. Usually MC could handle his snark, but something in her had snapped tonight, overwhelmed and embarrassed at having her feelings made a joke by this man. It made her feel foolish for ever letting herself be intrigued by him in the first place. She wanted to think she had better self-preservation than that when Shaw’s entire demeanor screamed bad boy trouble.

       ‘Forget it! It’s over; I hate you!’ The look on his face when she’d said those words though-

       Wait.

       Her steps stopped abruptly, sending a slight scattering of loose dirt and stones down the slope of the trail.

       She’d broken up with him? Vaguely the words cycled through her mind, the argument sparked by a jab too far from Shaw replaying in hurtful loops. In her angered haze, she hadn’t realized she’d said those words and now she was paying the price, her hand reaching to grip her shirt above her aching heart, heavy with fresh pain. Panic choked her soft whisper of his name, the tears rising so suddenly that a couple slipped down her cheeks. Squeezing her eyes shut, MC took deep breaths, shaking away the momentary hysteria and biting back the sobs and whimpers that threatened to escape.

       As much as she hated to consider it...maybe it was for the best. Whatever Shaw felt for her, it wasn’t nearly what she felt for him. Once upon a time, she had been attracted to that nonchalant, sassy attitude; it had been refreshing, heart-pounding. Now it only served to make her doubt herself, planting insecurities in her mind about things she’d once felt confident about and making her wonder if she wasn’t worth the effort of a real relationship. 

       Maybe this was a good thing, a signal that she needed to take a step back and take a look at herself and the person she’d become by committing to this relationship. Would she like that person? Or would she realize just what a mistake it had been to follow the boy with lavender hair and smelled of storms and faint cigarette smoke? Could she return to the person she had been before him?

       As great as it was to be coming to these realizations in the woods in the middle of the night, a sudden snap from nearby reminded her that she could soul-search just as well from the safety of her apartment where there were locked doors. She startled, breath catching in her chest as a cold sweat broke out on her back. Every instinct was telling her to run and stay put at the same time, heart pounding in her ears even as she listened for movement, wide eyes straining through the gloom in vain.

       What was probably only a few seconds felt like hours as she waited for something to jump out at her. Maybe it was just an animal? Yeah, an animal would make sense. Please, please, please just be an animal.

       The rustling came again, louder this time, and MC decided she didn’t want to stick around to find out if it really was an animal or not. Her feet slid over the loose dirt and rocks as she flew down the trail, fueled by fear and adrenaline. Rushing and thumping filled her ears, creating unseen, unheard pursuers in her mind as she ran faster, nearly tripping on exposed tree roots and tumbling down the path in her haste. 

       A face appeared in her mind’s eye, a familiar sharp chin, smirking lips, and teasing eyes making her heart and soul cry out for the one person she wished was here right now. What if she never saw him again? Never sorted things out? Had he ever cared for her as she cared for him? 

       She could feel the presence closing in at her back now, legs pumping harder despite the burn in her muscles. One name came to her, waiting to be screamed as she opened her mouth. A hand wrapped around her wrist, her feet scrabbling as she was pulled back abruptly, and her shriek of her lover’s name echoed through the trees, clawing at her attacker with her free hand as she struggled. Every nerve in her body was alight with fear, not even bothering to take a look at her pursuer as she aimed for eyes, throat, ears, anywhere that might distract them enough to release her and give her enough time to escape.

       “MC!!” 

       She froze at the sound of her name spoken in her ear, trembling as she finally opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed and looked up into the face of the man holding her.

       “It’s me. Just me. Relax.” 

       Even in the dark, he was so close she could make out his wide eyes, shining with an emotion she couldn’t place, at least on his face. The warmth of his body radiated against hers as he tugged her closer, a familiar mix of ozone and smoke filling her nose.

       “S-Shaw?” she whispered shakily, legs beginning to tremble. Her heart was still pounding too fast in her chest, but the panic was already starting to dissipate, leaving relief in its wake.

       “Yeah, it’s me, baby. Shh, I’ve got you now.”

       She let him pull her shaking form into his arms, sagging against his chest as he tucked her head under his jaw. “Shaw.” His name was all she could think to say, her mind scrambled as her fingers reached to curl into the soft leather of his jacket. “Shaw!”

       “I know,” he sighed, and she thought she could feel him trembling a little too, but he pulled away before she could be sure. He frowned as he looked at her, a strange, wavering annoyance written across his face. “Are you okay?”

       She nodded, not trusting herself not to sob if she opened her mouth.

       “Good.” His grip on her shoulders tightened and a second later he was shouting, shaking her. “What were you thinking, dumbass?! Running away from me in the middle of the night! How stupid can you get?!”

       She flinched, stuttering his name before he cut her off with a, “Shut up!” 

       “Did you ever think about what could have happened if I hadn’t found you? Huh?!”

       “N-No, but-”

       “Of course you didn’t! You never think about the danger you put yourself in! You just waltz right in and cause trouble for everyone else in the process!”

       Gritting her teeth, MC began to struggle in his hold, his fingers digging too tight into her arms. The relief she had felt at his arrival disappeared under a wave of anger rising from the pit of her stomach, bringing enraged tears to her eyes as she placed her hands against his chest and pushed. “Let go of me, Shaw!”

       “Why?” he scoffed at her attempts to break his hold. “So you can go tumbling down the mountain and break your neck? So you can fall right into some pervert’s campsite?”

       “So what?!” She struggled harder, cursing the way her bottom lip trembled and her voice broke. Glaring him in the eye, she spat, “Like you would even care!” 

       Above, lightning cracked across the sky, followed a second later by booming thunder.

       With a snarl, Shaw dove down to catch her lips in a hard kiss, a shiver traveling down her spine as his breath fanned across her face. He was so close now she could see in his eyes all the emotion he’d tried so desperately to hide, all his pain and fear clear in their amber depths. 

       “How dare you act like I wouldn’t,” he breathed against her lips, and even though he wasn’t shouting anymore, the intensity and sincerity with which the words were spoken was enough to rattle everything she had believed he’d felt about her. 

       “Never, ever run away from me like that again.” His hand traveled up her arm, rough as it smoothed across her shoulder and up her neck before cradling her cheek in his palm. “Never say those words to me again.” His voice was tight, choked, and she winced when his forehead knocked against hers. “You have no idea how I felt.”

       “Shaw?” She licked her lips, not missing the way his eyes dropped to the movement. “Were you-?”

       “No!” he answered, too quickly, too harshly, catching his lip between his teeth as he half-glared at her, relief and need eroding the anger and exasperation he was desperately trying to hold on to. “Shut up!” His mouth slammed against hers again, his tongue diving between her parted lips to dominate her mouth.

       MC could barely keep up as he backed her against a tree, a flurry of teeth and tongue and hands. Automatically, she tried to kiss him back, but she was so conflicted right now she could barely manage to slant her lips against his properly, her gasps of his name cut off in his unrelenting assault on her mouth.

       His knee moved between her legs, parting them, and she gasped, jerking, when his fingers reached under her skirt and stroked her through the crotch of the thick tights she was wearing. Her body thrilled at the unfamiliar touch, arousal beginning to dampen her panties, but disquiet still gnawed at the back of her mind, making her reluctant to give in to his ministrations. Instinctively, she tried to shy away from the touch, but Shaw’s arm around her waist held her pinned against him, unable to do much more than squirm as his strokes turned harder, more insistent.

       They had never been physical before. Sure, he’d teased her, making her blush with his implied indecencies, but they had never gone farther than kissing and the occasional grope from Shaw at inappropriate moments. He had never done anything that pushed her to sleep with him or made her feel uncomfortable, and she’d appreciated him for that as she herself didn’t have anywhere near the experience he undoubtedly did, but it was all too easy to let feelings of being unwanted, of being unattractive, grow and wrap their sharp thorns around her heart and mind whenever she saw him flirting with other women, his hands on their waists or too close to the short hems of their dresses. It made her doubt whether they were ever really a couple to begin with or if it was just her own innocence and foolishness making her get ahead of herself.

       For so long, she’d thought he hadn’t wanted her, hadn’t cared for her, and those negative feelings had overflown tonight, but now she didn’t know what to think. 

       Grabbing the hand that had left her covered core in favor of slipping beneath her blouse, she managed to say, “Shaw, wait, what are you-?”

       “I need to feel you,” he actually pleaded, surprising her with the desperation in his tone. Releasing his jacket, MC took his face in her hands, making him look at her as she brushed his hair out of his eyes. Those gorgeous golden pools that had entranced her so many times shone suspiciously now as he looked at her like it would be the last time he ever saw her, drinking in her features with an intensity that took her breath away. “Please,” he whispered. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out as she watched the panic flare openly in his gaze, his breath catching in a small gasp.

       It shook her more than anything to see the boy she loved like this, her heart wanting nothing more than to wrap herself around him and take back all of her harsh words, to promise to never run from him again and give him everything he wanted, even though her mind was more reluctant.

       Biting her lip, she nodded. She couldn’t kid herself that she hadn’t wanted him. Whatever happened after this, whatever they were after this, she would deal with it and try not to regret it in the long run. 

       Shaw’s eyes closed and his head dropped to her shoulder as he sighed, “Thank you.” Her hands reached to comb soothing fingers through his hair, but she yelped, her grip tightening on the locks, when his teeth suddenly sunk into the side of her neck, abusing and sucking the skin as his grip around her waist tightened. 

       Calloused fingers made her shiver as they brushed the soft skin of her stomach, traveling up her ribcage and leaving goosebumps in their wake. A second later the appendages found the edge of her bra and slipped beneath without an ounce of hesitation to fondle the soft flesh of her breast, teasing the nipple with cold fingers. Mewling, she squirmed and arched into him as his touch sent pangs of heat straight to her core, trying and failing to close her legs around his knee.

       “Does that feel good, baby?” Shaw whispered hotly against the soft spot beneath her ear, his tongue dragging against the edge of her jaw. The soft, scared boy that had clung to her a moment ago had disappeared, buried beneath lust and need and a fighting attitude, and the change startled MC for a heartbeat before she realized it just made her want to embrace him more, take in both the vulnerable Shaw and the egotistical Shaw.

       “Yes!” she admitted, whimpering when his hand left her breast only to screech a moment later his hands gripped the edges of her blouse and tore it apart, buttons landing somewhere in the grass. “Shaw!”

       “I’ll buy you a new one,” he said offhandedly, before hooking his thumb under the center of her bra and tugging it up over her breasts. She gasped as they spilled into the cool night air, nipples hardening immediately, and moved to cover herself, but one of Shaw’s hands grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. 

       “Don’t hide from me,” he chided, glinting eyes sinful as they peered up at her from her heaving breasts. “Your body is going to know me and me alone by the time I’m finished.”

       A cry left her lips, too loud in the quiet of the forest, as his hot mouth encased a nipple, his free hand busying itself with its twin as he moaned and sucked and rolled the bud between his teeth and tongue. She had never felt anything like it before, the sensation heady and addictive, and she bucked against his knee when it moved up to make contact with her crotch. The heat growing in the pit of her stomach made her long for him and she wanted more.

       “Mmm, you’re so responsive to me,” Shaw hummed against her breast, now wet with his saliva. She squeaked when his hand gave the opposite breast a harsh squeeze, glaring down at him as he chuckled, “So cute.”

       Whining his name, she ground against his knee as he moved it over her clothed core again, desperate for some kind of friction no matter how muffled. She had already soaked through her panties, leaving the cotton to rub against her sensitive folds uncomfortably with each drag of his knee. 

       “Shaw, please!” she urged, tugging him up by his lapels for a messy kiss. 

       He smirked against her lips, more of his usual cockiness returning. “Please what?” he asked too innocently, punctuating his words with a nip to her bottom lip. “What do you want me to do to you?”

       Half-pouting, half-glaring, she bit her lip, little tears of pleasure beaded at the corners of her eyes. He seemed taken aback a little, eyes widening as he looked away from her and clicked his tongue. She couldn’t make out the pink spreading across his cheeks in the dark. “Fine! I’ll take pity on you tonight, but don’t expect mercy from me next time,” he grumbled. 

       MC blinked. There was going to be a next time? She didn’t have time to dwell on that little note any longer as his hand released her wrists and moved to the crotch of her tights. A low whistle reached her ears as he took in the mess she’d made on his pant leg, a wet patch on the dark material.

       “Shit,” he cursed lowly, feeling his cock jump within the confines of his pants. “You’re so fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you yet.”

       “D-Don’t - SHAW!” she screamed as he tore her tights open, outraged that he’d ruined yet another piece of her clothing in the same night. “Why do you keep ruining my clothes?!”

       “You don’t need them right now,” he shrugged, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make sure to take your mind off it.” 

       “But - hah!” Her protests cut off when he tugged her panties aside to stroke two fingers through her wet folds. Throwing her head back at the contact, she ground her hips into his hand, clapping a hand over her mouth to contain the embarrassing noises that threatened to escape.

       “It’s so dark, but I can see you glistening,” Shaw murmured, his voice awed and teasing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance up at her, shocked by the raw hunger and lust in his gaze. “Go ahead and try to stay quiet, I dare you. I’m going to make you scream for me.”

       She cried into her palm as a digit sunk inside of her, the sensation foreign and strange but not entirely unpleasant. Her velvet walls clenched around the intrusion, the calloused pad reaching deeper than her own fingers ever could. Despite the strangeness of it, it did little to quell the need suffusing her body, only succeeding in fanning the flames of her longing for more of him.

       “So tight around just one finger,” he hummed, letting her bury her free hand in his disheveled hair as he started to thrust the digit in and out of her. “Too tight...Don’t tell me you’re still a virgin?”

       Her eyes widened, jaw opening and closing a couple of times in broken answers before she huffed and looked away from the lengthening smirk on his face, her cheeks hot. 

       “You want me to take your first time out here in the middle of the woods?” She didn’t dare look at him for fear her heart might give out at the sheer sin painted across his face. His grip on her thigh tightened, another finger joining the first and making her shudder. “You want to lose your innocence to someone like me?”

       “Shaw, please-!” she whimpered, voice trembling as it became ever harder to stay quiet.

       “Answer me, love. How many times have you thought of me taking you like this, fucking you on my fingers?”

       “I...mm...I don’t know!”

       “Do you want my cock? Want me to make you come apart on my dick?”

       “Yes! God, yes!” Her hand dropped away from her mouth in favor of joining the other already tangled in his hair, forcing him to look up at her as she pleaded, “Please, Shaw! Please, please fuck me!”

       Surging up, he captured her lips in a heady kiss, passionate and needing but not without a surprising edge of tenderness. Thus far, his affections had been wild, frantic, almost as if he was afraid she would change her mind and push him away. Now, MC realized how wanted she felt, heart warm in her chest.

       She peeked down curiously as she felt him shuffle against her, a shiver of excitement traveling down her spine as she heard the jingle of his belt being undone. It was hard to see in the dark and with his mouth still hungrily devouring hers, but she felt the weight of his erection spring up against her hip, another wave of arousal soaking her folds as her lover moaned at the friction and ground against her.

       They broke away from the kiss panting, a string of saliva connecting swollen lips, and she watched through half-lidded eyes as he slipped a condom out of his pocket. He wasted no time in tearing the package open and rolling the rubber over his straining length, ignoring her wide, questioning gaze as he straightened and hoisted her leg over his hip. She squeaked at the feeling of his cock sliding through her wet folds, hot and hard as the tip caught on her neglected clit. The pleasure it sent through her was intense, nearly sending her into a mini-climax as she whined and clawed at him.

       “Are you ready?” he murmured, mouthing at the marks he’d left on her neck to distract her from the press of the engorged head at her entrance. 

       Swallowing, she nodded. “Yes.”

       She felt him take a deep breath and a heartbeat later she gasped as the head of his cock burrowed inside of her, her body tensing at size of the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers. Shaw groaned into the crook of her neck, fingers digging into her hips to resist the urge to simply hilt himself roughly inside of her. “You have to relax, baby girl.”

       “Trying-!” she squeaked, burying her face deeper into his shoulder. 

       “Look at me, love,” he murmured into her ear after a second. Tilting her head back against the tree trunk, she felt her heart stutter at the raw look in his eyes, more love and wild protectiveness there than she had ever thought possible for him. “I’m going to imprint myself inside of you,” he promised, tone too sweet for the filth of his words. “Going to drill into this tight little pussy until no other man can ever satisfy you.”

       His lips fell upon hers, swallowing her pained whimper as he finally pushed passed her maidenhead and forced his way deeper into her tight heat until he had bottomed out. Shaw kissed away the few tears that escaped her tightly shut eyes, staying perfectly still despite the raging urge in his lower gut to fuck her raw until she was ruined for all other men.

       The pain of having her hymen broken and the stretch of his impressive girth inside her created a throbbing burn deep in her stomach, nearly enough to make her push him away, but she endured it in favor of the underlying pleasure she could sense beneath the discomfort, a bubble rapidly expanding as her body accepted him.

       “So fucking tight,” he hissed, panting. “I’m going to lose control sooner than you’re ready for if you keep squeezing me like that.”

       “Please…!” The leg over his hip pulled him closer, her hands clutching him tighter. The pain had all but disappeared now, leaving sheer need for him in its place. “Please, move!”

       Shaw didn’t need any further encouragement, nor did he start out slow. Pulling back until only the tip was left inside of her, he slammed back in hard, drawing a scream from her as electric pleasure raced throughout her body, suffusing each cell. Her hips moved to meet his thrusts, trying to reciprocate, but he shoved her back against the tree, leaving her helpless to do much more than writhe against him as he continued to pound into her.

       The grunts and growls that fell from his lips warmed her skin as he panted into her neck, making her weak and threatening to send her crumpling between him and the tree trunk. Before she could though, his hand wrapped around her other thigh, hoisting both legs around his waist now. His thrusts intensified, turning feral as her fingers clawed at him through the thick fabric of his jacket and he hit deeper, dragging against her walls with each ferocious drive into her dripping core. 

       His lips captured hers in a messy kiss, swallowing her mewls and cries as he pressed closer, working his cock even deeper inside of her. “Don’t go,” he panted, moving to kiss her again. That uncharacteristic vulnerability was back, making his voice raw, hoarse, and it gave her pause in the throes of her pleasure, shaky fingers moving to brush his cheeks. “You can’t go.”

       She opened her mouth to respond, but a hard grind to her clit left her incoherent, unable to form the words to reply on her tongue. Her mind was beginning to fuzz over, turning white at the edges.

       “Promise!” he cried, demanding and pleading all at once as his grip on her tightened. “Promise you won’t go!”

       “I-I promise! Ahh!! Oh god, Shaw! I’m-!” She screamed his name as her orgasm washed over her, enveloping her in mind-numbing pleasure as she spasmed around his plunging cock. The intensity had her scrabbling her purchase, legs wrapping tighter around him for some kind of stability. 

       He wasn’t far behind. With a few more frantic thrusts into her, Shaw groaned, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as his body shuddered and he released into the condom. Still entwined, they sank to the ground together, mixed up in each other’s climax and unable to let go even if they wanted to.

       MC didn’t know what to say now, how to put the feeling of how full her heart felt into words. So instead she took to caressing the porcelain skin of his face in her hands, kissing his closed eyes, the corners of his lips. She was surprised when the stroke of her thumbs across his cheek bones came away damp.

       Heartbeats passed and he pulled back, flaccid cock slipping out of her. She stared at him as he shuffled, disposing of the condom and tucking himself back into his pants. What happened now? 

       “Come on,” he grunted, offering her a hand up on shaky legs. He pulled her along a few steps, stumbling after him, before kneeling and grabbing her by the backs of her knees, pulling her onto his back.

       “Where are we going?” she whispered, afraid to break this sense of intimacy that remained even despite the growing awkwardness of the situation. 

       “I’m taking you back to my place so we can do it again,” he said, turning to look at her from the corner of one amber eye. “You deserved better than to have had your virginity taken in the middle of the woods.”

       Biting back the idiotical wide grin that threatened to take over her face, MC buried her face against his shoulder and nodded. Maybe all the decisions she’d made concerning him weren’t so stupid after all because she knew that she would move heaven and earth for this boy, no matter what came between them.

[moondustaeil]

secret taste, jjh

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ⋅ secret taste

⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀  chapter 1

⠀ about  

⋅  genre : non-idol au. mainly romance + smut (additionally : fluff , angst)

⋅  characters : Jung Jaehyun x reader (other nct members)

⋅  word of warning : a whole bunch of sexual themes , cursing , idk

⋅  word count : 1.6k (short I know, but I’m working on another fic too -get excited!!- , chapter 2 will be longer)

⠀ ⠀

⠀ summary

⋅  to provide creative content on a YouTube channel, Jung Jaehyun and y/n are invited together with a bunch of other strangers to test out objects. Unlike the useless gadgets you can buy on the home-shopping channel, they are given the opportunity to test out the most sensual lifestyle products together.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ chapters

⋅  intro , chapter 1 (you’re here)

⠀ ⠀

Kink test: What’s your BDSM role?

‘Are you a master, dom? A slave, sub? Here’s a quick kink quiz with 15 questions that tests out your BDSM roles. It’s just for fun, you know yourself best.’

You looked at the starting page of the website for another few seconds, your eyes scanning the words once again to make sure you didn’t read any of them wrong. But even after reading it nearly three times, the words were still the same. Inexperienced or not, it wasn’t hard to understand the difference between dom and sub, and nearly the entire world understood what the word kink meant. 

Apparently, Jaehyun was on the same website as you were, judging by the startled response he suddenly gave. Probably a normal response seeing the situation people had thrown you in without clear explanation. You could hear a couple of clicks coming from his side, indicating that he had started the test and was already answering questions, or that he closed the tab in case he didn’t want to be involved in things like this.

Without thinking more about it, you moved the cursor to start and gave it a silent click, feeling embarrassed to let people hear how you were going to do this. Expectations were something you didn’t have with this sort of test. After all the intro mentioned that the test was made just for fun, so the outcome probably wouldn’t be trustworthy even if you answered the questions honestly. 

The test started off with a rather innocent question, soft and innocent in its own sinful way, asking you what you would like the most out of the four possible answers it gave you. The options were sexually tinted, but vague enough to give you hope that all of the questions would be like this. But when after answering, it directed you to the second one, you widened your eyes a little bit, eyes shifting to Jaehyun to see what kind of facial expression he had while doing the test. Jaehyun seemed focused, no segment of shock or surprise on his face which made you suspect that instead of doing the test, he was playing games, or he was too kinky to be bothered by any of the stated options.

“Just go with the vaguest answer” Jaehyun whispered over to you when you least expected him to speak up, he had seemed so immersed in whatever he was doing. Your secretive looks weren’t that much of a secret after all. You hummed in response, unable to find a proper answer. It was awkward to sit there, both of you next to each other while taking a BDSM test. Luckily the cameras weren’t capturing this, otherwise, the whole world would have ended up seeing your half-shocked, half-embarrassed state. 

With each new question that you had to answer, you glanced at your partner. Presuming he would chime in again to give you advice about how to answer or maybe give you judging eyes, judging eyes without knowing what your answers were. 

“This would so be you, question six:  I scare other people when…” Jaehyun started, trying to hold in a small laugh as he looked over at you and already imagined which one you’d pick out of the four options. He started to read them out loud, three of them being about sex aside from the second one. After reading out the different options, he repeated the second one. “I jump out and say boo” he said, this time the small chuckle leaving his lips. You gave no reaction. As much as you thought Jaehyun didn’t know you well enough to judge the answer you would give, he was right when he said that. You kept in your mind, that once you were at question six, to choose one of the other options to prove Jaehyun wrong.

After the little teasing comment, it was Jaehyun who stole the glances you usually would give him. Glancing with his eyes towards you, in a non-judging way, neither in a comical way, it was as like he was trying to read you. Read you, your thoughts but also your answers. Luckily the answers of the test weren’t able to be found on your face, but the embarrassment was. He enjoyed the sight of you like that, a little bit flustered, a whole lot awkward and weirded out.

The rest of the questionnaire was filled in, not a word being spoken between you two. After sharing some more glances through the latter half of the quiz, they stopped when the end was nearing even if the questions were getting less detailed. The awkwardness just wouldn’t leave the room, inwardly you cursed and wished you had never taken this unknown opportunity.

“kinkster”

When you suddenly heard some word being mumbled from Jaehyun, you looked up at him, forgetting about your own test results to look at him. You thought you had heard what he said, but then again you weren’t sure if you had, maybe by now your mind was just making you have your final verdict over him a little too fast.

Jaehyun was an attractive man, his looks were to melt for, his personality so far seemed to leave a good impression. And you were positive he would have girls lining up just to have a conversation with him. Your mind had classified him as someone who didn’t have a lover, but simply enjoyed a pleasing onetime rendezvous in his bedroom with some random person. In the end, you knew that you couldn’t judge whatever he was, couldn’t judge by looks and if you would then you would get mixed up. His different aspects made a one-word label hard to paste, so labelless it would be for now. 

The laptops were taken away from you without any result explanation, they just claimed they had needed the information for future purposes and to see how you and Jaehyun would function as partners. It had been all you two had to come in for today, it was almost as if the staff was satisfied when they sent you two separate ways to home again. They didn’t care they left you two confused like that.

“See you next time” Was all that Jaehyun said as the two of you parted ways outside the building, the way outside had been quiet aside from agreeing on how confusing it was that they made you take the test. Luckily the conversation didn’t go any deeper in on the test than that, you weren’t ready for yet another awkward moment. You gave him a small wave as he was the one to drive off first, instead of waving back, he just flashed you a genuine smile with the usual set of dimples on each side of his cheeks.

That night at your home, curiosity took over. The first few hours you had tried to distract yourself by making yourself food, taking a shower, changing into comfortable clothes. But as it grew later, so grew your desire to know about kinks, about sexual things that never rang a bell to you before.

It was time to spend some time on the internet. Not to be a stalker and search for things like Jaehyun’s social media, but instead doing some research about things that you read in the BDSM test. Your internet history had started out pretty soft, but as time went by, the dirty things were on top of the list.

the last hour

⋅ pornhub

⋅ bondage

⋅ masochism

⋅ breeding kink

⋅ impact play

⋅ pet play

today

⋅ dirty talk

⋅ sexual roleplay

⋅ edging

⋅ dom sub relationship

⠀

You had no idea how you had honestly had been able to stay on the internet for roughly three hours, only researching sexual things instead of social media or random things you would usually occupy yourself with. Even more confusing was that you had ended up on a website that everyone knew, pornhub. You didn’t know how you and many others knew the website without even watching its content. But tonight it had sparked your interest, especially after researching those things and sometimes reading about what the kinks consisted of. 

Once you ended up on pornhub, you were greeted by the black display, orange detailing and along with that, many thumbnails revealing sexual images. The titles just as sinful as the thumbnails, how could someone in one short title explain the entire video? Your cursor hovered over one of the titles as you were reading it but accidentally you moved your hand, and instead of a still thumbnail, it was a small preview of what you’d see if you actually clicked.

“your cock belongs inside me” You murmured instead of repeating the words in your head like you had planned to. You had to be quiet, you didn’t want anyone to catch you in the act of looking things up. Your eyes skimmed over the girl in the burgundy red bralette who was riding a guy, barely one second later, the girl was naked, her pierced boobs getting groped and by the way they moved, things had seemingly gotten heated real quick. “Oh shit” you said and quickly moved the mouse from the thumbnail, sighing in relief once the fragment turned into the still image again.

678k views, 80% of green thumbs or likes, whatever they might be. But not from you, you were done with the unholy part of the internet for today. Without closing the tabs, you shortly pressed the off button for your laptop to go in standby mode. You placed the laptop next to you, to occupy the empty space in bed next to you and then laid down, your eyes closing. It took a lot to forget about the things you had read and seen and even when you were falling asleep, all that you thought about were those things.

This was going to be interesting.

[i-guess-im-a-fanfic-writer-now]

TITLE OF POST (because tumblr is a nightmare): A better life (Chapter 16, Avengers x reader)

——

hey, so posting on the tungle dot hell website is now a nightmare because things have been changed in a very very extremely immeasurably stupid way,,, i will not be having a consistent posting schedule anytime soon

so here’s chapter 16, and if you think “this writer has no idea what they’re doing” at any point, that’s accurate, i don’t plot things, my brain just makes me write things spontaneously, and i like plants and started thinking about them while writing and obviously had to write that in

i hope you enjoy this fuckery, and if you like it, please say something or signal it to me in one way or another, i hope you’re all doing okay with life right now, and if you’re stuck with shitty relatives, you’re doing great, time is irrelevant but i hope you have a good,,, day??? time

chapter 16:

A few hours after falling asleep, you woke up. Though you did wake up with a feeling of dread, this time, you didn’t exactly wake up from a nightmare. Maybe it was just from anxiety. When you checked your phone though, there were half a dozen notifications on your phone. Peter had messaged a few times, and he seemed to be getting worried from not getting any response from you. One of the messages was your mother, again. You responded to her first, wanting to get it out of the way immediately. She only wanted to know what was happening, and didn’t care about how you were actually doing, and honestly, you just wanted to be able to stay at the Tower for longer, avoiding her as much as possible.

You pulled the covers tighter over yourself and replied to Peter. He didn’t answer, which made sense: it was dark in the room, and it seemed to be night at that point. He’d probably be asleep already.

After staying motionless in bed for some time, you got up, dragging one of the blankets with you and placing it over your shoulders and head like a cape. You wrapped yourself in it like a bat in its wings. Or like a dramatic vampire with their cape. Still in complete darkness, you walked over through the door and left the room.

The silence was so deep, you could hear your own breathing.

The thought of anyone’s reaction to you walking through the hall in the dead of night, a blanket dramatically draped over you, made you chuckle quietly.

When you got to the kitchen, you put the kettle on to make tea. After getting hot water and putting the sachet in, you went over to the wall-sized windows in the area with the couches.

There was something about this common room that was interesting during the night. You could see the stars through the window, and you were completely alone, drinking tea, looking through the window. There’s a feeling to being in a normally crowded place once it’s empty. This wasn’t eerie - in fact, it was somehow almost calming.

The sight of stars gave you some hope. Your past was.. something, but your future would be okay. You’d be okay. And you’d be with the Avengers, and Tony Stark had already proven that you could trust him with how he reacted when he found out. He was already doing things to try and help you, and everyone else here had been nice to you so far.

*Maybe I do have a chance,* you thought, *at happiness. Maybe I’ll have a family that doesn’t make me feel like shit. Even though we’re not actually related by blood.*

You walked over to a couch that faced the window and lowered yourself into it.

You opened your eyes to see the light of the rising sun shining onto you. You didn’t remember putting your tea mug on the floor, or falling asleep at any point. The room was still quiet, and you thought no one would be there.

When you got up, after grabbing your already nearly cold mug, you noticed Clint was up early for some reason. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air and he say on the kitchen counter, his head in his hands. You approached him. The coffee machine was still going. It was a miracle it still worked, really, with how much he used it daily.

You put your mug on the table, and touched his arm lightly to attract his attention so you’d be able to converse in sign language.

“Hey.. you know that if you have a headache, you probably shouldn’t be drinking that much coffee, right?

“Oh, Y/N, hey! What’re you doing here?” He looked even more exhausted than he did usually.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m tired. You?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.”

He nodded and you briefly smiled at each other.

“So, why are you out? You been here all night?”

“I’m not sure, actually? I just woke up at some point. Came here. It’s nice at night, you know?”

“Yeah, it is.”

After a long pause, you started to turn away from him to go to your room with your mug, but you noticed him signing before looking away.

“Care to share what’s been bothering you?” After seeing your confused expression, he continued. “I mean, your reaction to me asking about your family when Tony dragged us over to have food. I haven’t forgotten that, you know. Your face does that thing when you get taken by surprise by something. Your reaction to Tony grabbing your arm. To touch in general, really. Wanda and Pietro mentioned you seeming off the other day.”

You stayed silent as a knot formed in your stomach.

“Talk to me. Please.”

“It’s okay.”

He shook his head and got off the counter.

You hesitated, watching him get closer. “My relatives can be intense. That’s it.” You started fidgeting with your fingers.

”Explain.”

You were the one to shake your head this time.

“Are you being hurt?”

There was a slight pause.

“Stop.” Your heart dropped, and the last thing you wanted was to seem rude, especially to Clint, who taught you so much since you got here, who spent so much time with you, but this was just too much.

He stopped pressing, and you grabbed your mug and left the room in a hurry, hiding in yours immediately.

*God, now he knows. I’m so stupid.*

It took you a few minutes to calm yourself down at least a bit, and then you picked a book off the shelf behind the couch in your room. You started reading, though you were having a hard time concentrating on the words on the pages because of the signed conversation you just had with Clint. What would he do now that he knew? Maybe he’d go to Tony and ask him what to do, and he’d tell him to not force it, that he knows, that he’s doing something to change your situation. Or maybe he’d go talk to Wanda and Pietro and tell them. Maybe everyone would find out. Did everyone already have suspicions about it?

*I’m sure as hell not going back out there.. guess I’ll have to wait and see what happens... I really hope he just tells mister Stark and no one else.*

You let out a sigh accompanied by a small “aaaaaa” noise, trying to release some pent up anxiety, and then immediately flung yourself onto the side of the couch in front of the tv in the room, sitting up on the armrest like a gargoyle, remote in hand. You turned the tv on, settling on a gardening channel after a few minutes of clicking and looking around.

“Maybe I should get some plants in my room”, you whispered to yourself.

A few minutes of staring emptily at the screen while thinking convinced you: you need houseplants. Well, for your room. This led to you questioning whether anyone else on the floor has plants in their room. Plants can be really helpful, because when you have a really hard time taking care of yourself, taking care of something that isn’t you can be helpful. It gives you a reason to keep going. Plants are usually easier to care for: when something’s wring, they show it, and it’s relatively easy to determine. And plants make the air better.

*Maybe everyone here should have at least one plant*, you thought.

Somehow, once you came out of your thinking, an hour passed.

You left the room, having completely forgotten the conversation you had with Clint earlier, now fully distracted by the one thing on your mind: getting a plant, or several plants. Probably several. And asking Tony if anyone had a plant. Maybe to suggest every person should have at least one.

You went to the kitchen, trying to find Tony. Thor and a pasty white man whose hair fell to his shoulders were having an intense conversation, standing beside the kitchen table. You walked closer to them, unsure yet determined to get what you wanted. Thor quiets down and puts his hand up in front of him, prompting the other man to go quiet after following Thor’s gaze, which was now upon you.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you?” He smiles.

“Hi, I’m okay, you?”

He replies positively, which lets you ask your question.

“Do you know where Mister Stark is? Also - this might sound weird - but do you have a plant in your room? Like, here. At the Tower. You know.”

He looks puzzled, but goes with it. “I think he’s down at his workshop place? In the basement, perhaps? If not, he might be in the lab, with Bruce Banner. I don’t have a plant, why do you ask?”

“Thank you! Oh, I was just, I, um, I was watching a gardening channel, and then remembered that plants better the air quality, and - you know, plant things, and stuff”, you finish off your sentence, fearing you’d be unable to continue without talking about plants for half an hour, and not wanting to bother him with it.

The dark haired man stared at you in disbelief, probably offended you hadn’t mentioned his presence. “Sorry, I noticed you, I’m just thinking about plants, and if I get distracted right now I’ll get distracted for the rest of the day and completely forget what I’m thinking, and if that happens, I’ll remember it in the dead of night and that would be a disaster for my already freestyle sleep schedule”, you addressed him.

He raised his eyebrows as an amused expression appeared on his face. “Y/N, is it? Loki. Of Asgard.” At this introduction, you mumbled something along the lines of a polite *nice to meet you*. “So, Y/N, tell me, where might you be from? Although, no, go find Stark and talk about... plants? But later, I want to get to know you. You wouldn’t mind that, would you? We’ll have a nice chat.”

Thor looked at him and then you, with a face that could only be described as the reaction of someone being presented with a bad idea.

You did a quick, awkward thumbs up, not knowing exactly how to answer to any of this, and quickly walked over to the lift, pressing the button and leaving the floor as the two men resumed their animated conversation.

You’d decided on checking in for Tony at the lab first, since it was quicker to get to there than to the workshop, which was all the way down and then some.

He wasn’t there, though Bruce Banner was. The two of you met before, but never actually had a conversation: he was in a quiet, reflective mood when you first met, on the first night you stayed in the Tower.

After a short conversation and him focusing really hard on his scientific research, he said something along the lines of “see you later”, and you took that as your time to leave, still in search of Tony.

You went down to his workshop, finally getting there after a few stops on random floors where people got onto the lift. You were super uncomfortable, not sure how to react to strangers, so you just didn’t react, keeping your gaze to the floor and staying in the corner.

There he was, staring intently at a piece of a new suit, looking to be deep in thought.

You softly knocked at the door to the actual workshop, hoping it would get his attention. When it didn’t, you pushed the door ever so slightly, trying to communicate without intruding too much. That’s when he noticed you, and he seemed as if he had just come out of a sort of trance.

“Oh hey, Y/N, listen, I’m having a problem with this suit, been standing here practically frozen for an hour pr two, not sure, time barely happens here, you mind helping me with the execution an idea?”

You agreed to help and he immediately started describing the problem to you. Though you still couldn’t take your mind off of plants, you tried to help out, and at some point while you were speaking about a way to make his idea possible, he whispered “ah-ha! precisely, thank you!!”

A few minutes later - a few minutes that passed by as you stood awkwardly and Tony asked his robots to hand him instruments and other objects - he was done with one part of the idea. He suddenly turned to you.

“So what’s up? What’s got you going all the way down here?”

“Yeah, okay, so, um, this might sound weird or stupid, but-“, you started.

“Nope. Impossible. Because I’ll most probably be curious. Weird is the best. Go ahead, with what you were gonna say, but please don’t say that something you’re thinking is stupid, right? It’s all good.”

“Okay... right, um, so, I was thinking - I was watching a gardening show, and it got me thinking - plants!”

He nodded.

“Um, I, sorry, I’m kind of, uh, I don’t know”. You take a slight pause. “Words aren’t working right because I just really like plants and sometimes it gets difficult to express what I want to say and the words just don’t go to my brain, and right now it’s because I’m... I’m not sure what emotion this is but it’s like, the opposite of frustrated, though I am frustrated with myself for my inability to communicate, and I’m sorry because now I’m rambling and I’m gonna stop for a minute or two and gather my brain.”

You take a deep breath, later noticing Tony is smiling.

“That is such a mood. Take your time. Happens to everyone. I think. Maybe. I don’t know, actually. Right, plants. What about plants? Oh! Do you want plants? In your room?”

Your face lit up. “Yeah! That. Like, the benefits plants can bring to the air quality and health in general, be it physical or mental, they’re pretty cool, and I, um, I was thinking, maybe everyone should have at least one plant in their room? I don’t know. Like, plants!! You know?”

“Hell yeah!!! We could definitely do that, might help some people, right! Do you have any suggestions? Like, plant suggestions?”

The part of you that’s practically completely obsessed with plants starts rapid-fire listing off names of plants with enthusiasm, prompting Tony to react in a “whoa whoa wait” way, which is perfectly understandable. Sometimes you can’t even keep up with how quickly your brain might be going. Other times, your thinking is painfully slow and everything is boring. It occurs to you that brains are incredibly weird.

You continue listing plants, speaking slower this time, but still with a whole lot of enthusiasm. He seems to take all you say into his brain, trying to remember it.

“Do you want to go right now?” he asks suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“Do you want to go right now? Plant haul. Let’s get these plants. In the similar fashion of saying “let’s get this bread”, you know. So do you want to go right now? To the plant stores.”

“I’d love to!!!”

“Fantastic!!! Let’s go!!!” He walks over to the door, exits, and holds it open for you, and then the two of you reach the lift.

“Nat’s a cactus with a pink flower on top”, he casually states, with a hint of humour in his voice, as the doors of the lift close. You smile.

[the-clocktower]

Hey, CW! I love your blog and personally apologize that you were forced into making it (I feel that on many levels), but, uh, quick question... how bad are you at web design because this design is awful and I'm sorry. The body text is a poor font choice for readability, the tag color is the same as the background, everything blends in FAR too much, there's no visuals whatsoever which is fine, maybe, if the colors differed, but you NEED a background of #4d0066 and an off-white text and also

Danny waited patiently after explaining his plan clearly and concisely, giving his friends the time that they needed to think everything over before deciding. He gave them twelve seconds, which, really, that was plenty of time. “So? C’mon, let’s get to work! CW is only gonna be distracted so long.”

“No, no, no, back up here. You stole their laptop- They have a laptop?” Tucker looked some mixture of delighted and confused, Danny feeling a surge of empathy for the same exact feelings he had gone through when discovering the laptop and subsequently the blog that CW had actually made (an event shortly followed by Danny being forced to sit down and finish his homework). “And you want to… what do you want to do?”

“Change their blog, duh. I mean, look- Here, let me show you what it looks like right now.” Danny, still in his ghost form, flew over to Sam’s large and ridiculously extravagant bed before letting himself fall and bounce a couple times before settling, making sure he was stable before pulling the borrowed laptop out of his backpack.

Sam and Tucker were quick to settle on either side of him, both of them making similar noises of disgust and horror once Danny brought up the correct blog, which, thank you, honestly. CW finally made a blog and apparently knew nothing about design.

“Jesus… I feel like I might actually cry over this- Did they use the same color for the text and background- What is this font- Danny. Danny, I can’t- I’m having an attack.” Tucker dramatically clutched his heart and fell backwards as he ‘died,’ Danny snorting as he turned to Sam.

“Well… it could definitely use some work,” Sam admitted, taking the laptop and getting to the customization screen in a few short clicks. “There, now if anything happens, they can blame me and you won’t have to go around pouting at being yelled at.”

“I don’t pout,” Danny muttered, leaning up against Sam as Tucker scrambled and moved to sit on Sam’s other side so she was now in the middle, laptop easily reachable by all of them. “Okay, so, that background color has got to go first. Like. Now.”

“No, no, we need a title for this blog first,” Tucker argued, leaning over to jab a finger at the screen. “Look at that empty space. It’s making me cry, Danny.”

“Boys, boys, settle down,” Sam made a clicking noise with her tongue, clicking around on the screen before bringing up a list of themes - free ones, Danny noticed. Honestly, disgustingly rich and she still searched for whatever was free or cheapest, which… fair. “We’re changing this blog theme, first. It’s disgusting.”

The three were silent as they scrolled through the choices, communicating in grunts, mutters, and disgusted noises. Danny was almost sure they wouldn’t actually get anywhere before he was jabbing the screen hard enough to move it, “There. That one. It’s perfect-”

“We are not giving him a Miraculous Ladybug themed blog, Danny,” Sam sighed, Danny offended at how Jazz the tone she used was. “We’re all better than that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tucker snorted, finally shaking his head. “Forget it, colors and title first, then blog. At least with colors we’ll know what we’re looking for better, right?”

“Alright, alright,” Sam groaned. “Colors and title first. What should we use for a title? I don’t know enough about them to choose anything good.”

Danny blinked as the two turned to look at him, panicking for a moment before blurting out the first thing that came to mind. The looks only turned into confused frowns and baffled expressions, which, okay, fair, since Danny had spoken in Latin.

Clearing his throat, he spoke it more clearly, giving a shrug, “Pulvis et umbra sumus. It’s something I learned when they were helping me with Latin, it just means we are but dust and shadow.”

Sam and Tucker went quiet, shared a look, and then nodded together before Sam was typing it in with a quiet, “Fitting.” It really was, when Danny thought about it, so, there. That was one thing done. “Okay, next up is title font.”

Clicking open the options, Tucker was half-shouting at once, “Comic Sans! Sam, we gotta give him Comic Sans-”

“No, no, choose that Grumpy one, now that is perfect.” Plus CW’s reaction would be hilarious.

“What? No- Comic Sans!”

“But Tuck, c’mon, the pun-”

“Both of you shut up,” Sam snapped, glaring at the two of them almost at once which was actually impressive, if Danny had to admit to it. “We’re giving them 1785 Baskerville.”

Danny and Tucker were both quiet, sharing a long look before Tucker decided he wanted to become a ghost ahead of schedule, “Boo, you goth.” He was shoved off the bed for his troubles, something which Danny managed to not laugh at if only so he wasn’t shoved off as well.

Once Tucker crawled back onto the bed they got back to designing, arguing over colors (“Oh my God, it should not be taking this long to have a sample color just pick something!”), font choices (“No, screw you both, we’re going to use Google Fonts like a normal family we are not having another fight over this!”), and which theme they should go with (“You know what? Screw it- Screw it! We’re just going to use the Tumblr Official theme like heathens and edit that!”)

It was taking longer than Danny thought it would, but slowly and surely the blog was coming together, Tucker having firmly taken over once it got to the actual coding part of the website, which was how they ended up with transparent textures to go with their background color (“Aw, but, guys, c’mon, this texture looks like stars! How cool is that!”), a transparent texture for the posts themselves (“I know you like your stars, Danny, but it won’t work with the font color and look, the parchment fits, don’t you think?”), and even a cooler looking blog title (“You know what? Here, no, we’ll put a text-shadow command on the title- There. That looks pretty cool, don’t you think?”)

There were a few hiccups along the way in choices (“No, no, make his avatar shape a square, because… you know. He’s such a square.”), but at the end they had a nice blog that really had taken way too long and Danny was half-certain that CW was about to show up and yell at them any second.

“You know,” Sam said at the very end, “This is still kind of a boring looking blog, everything considered. We could have gone way more crazy with all of this.”

“I mean… yeah, I guess so,” Danny admitted, closing the laptop and carefully putting it back in his bag. “But I didn’t want to like, you know, really make something crazy, I guess. I mean… Their blog sucked, but it’s still their blog, you know?” Danny shrugged, floating off the bed and giving a light stretch. “Dunno, just figured I’d tweak it a little to fit them better instead of having them waste time on it. You know, show off that wise old mentor who cares and has everything together and stuff thing.”

Danny barely even finished before a pillow being thrown at his face, Tucker laughing as Sam booed him. “You’re too nice! Get that sickeningly sweet attitude out of my room!” She was grinning even as she ‘yelled’ at him, Danny rolling his eyes with a laugh as he did as told.

Not even half an hour later and Danny was back where he started, laptop returned to its proper place and back open and waiting.

It was the latest ask that he saw in the inbox that had him pausing, Danny reading through the ask and unable to help himself whatsoever as he snickered before clicking the ask to respond.

you know what asker? you’re absolutely right so lets try this out

-Danny

            [Story and blog re-design by ibelieveinahappilyeverafter.]