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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Note

hope i’m not too late, but congratulations on getting 500 followers! i adore everything you’ve written so far, keep up the good work!

can i request an exes au with geto x f!reader? not too angsty, but whether they get back together or not is up to you 👀

You said "not too angsty" but my mind said "HIT EM RIGHT IN THE FEELS" and I don't know wHyYyYyY

Please forgive me, but this... this is the epitome of my "ex of Geto" feelings. It literally flowed out of me in two hours.

"Yes, But...": Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 2k

tw: FLUFF AND A LIL' BIT OF ANGST

The large envelope slides from his hands to yours, and you look at the package in confusion as you open the flap.

“You want to get out of here and start fresh,” Geto begins, lacing his fingers together. You find a phone, two banking cards, and two passports inside, which is more than what you asked for. “You’ll need that.” When you open the phone, you see various apps loaded on the device - most of which are foreign to you. “Open the banking app.”

You do as your ex tells you, and see the collection of numbers (six digits) and the single comma that will change your life. You look up at the man in awe, trying to catch his black gaze as he looks outside, not speaking.

“Su, I just needed a new passport, not all of this.”

“It should put you in a good place for a few months until you get a good job. I have a friend in the States that should be able to put you up in a nice house, all paid for, of course. There’s a private school nearby so you don’t have to drive Haru there and back, just walk. And there are--”

“Suguru,” you stop him mid-sentence, placing your hand on the table to try and reach him. “We don’t need all of this. My parents are willing to--”

“I’m not sending you back to them, y/n. I want you to be independent of anyone else,” he retorts, nostrils flaring at the mention of your family. You know his frustration with your relatives comes from an honest place.

They had treated you savagely after you married into the Geto family, calling you all kinds of names and not even attending the birth of their first grandson. You weren’t sure if it was the ties to the underground that set them off or the fact that the Geto family had brought in a considerable amount of wealth and fame to your lives. Either way, you were cut off from them until you divorced Suguru due to--

“Our flight leaves at ten o’clock tomorrow,” you whisper, and Suguru shifts in his seat, sighing. “Will you come to see Haru before we go?” There’s a long pause as your ex-husband weighs his options, but you know his choice before he speaks.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he finally answers.

_____________________________________________________________

Tickets in hand, you try to keep your composure as you watch your son hold on to his father for the last time. Your other hand is captured in Suguru’s large palm, and he squeezes your fingers tenderly as you walk to the security checkpoint. While you walk, he talks to your son in gentle tones, telling him to write to him about all of the amazing things he sees and does, as well as the friends he makes, and how daddy still loves him no matter where he goes.

When he finally lets Haru down and places his Inosuke backpack around his shoulders, you turn to Geto, expecting him to say something final, something meaningful. But he doesn’t, opting to pull you into a deep embrace and kissing all over your face. “Please stay safe. Call when you make it in.”

“I will,” you whisper, inhaling the scent of his cologne and reliving your life together in a brief flash. “I promise.”

“I love you, y/n.” You want to reply that you love him, too, that the separation wasn’t his fault - but you just nod. The feeling of tiny arms around your legs makes you look down, and you both see Haru wrapping himself around your legs, holding you two together earnestly. When he lets go, Suguru lets go, and you hoist the toddler into your arms.

“Say ‘see you later,” you tell the child and he slowly waves his hand at Suguru as you walk past the agent at the checkpoint. Haru doesn’t stop waving until he can no longer see Geto, and he also waves until he can no longer see you, finally dropping his hand to his side and wondering why he felt so empty.

_____________________________________________________________

“Today we learned about the rainbow,” Haru sings as he skips with you down the sidewalk.

“Oh, yeah?” you laugh, holding his hand as he swings back and forth.

“And we played in the dirt.” That explains the messy pants, you muse, rounding the corner to the back of your home and unlocking the fence before letting Haru run up the back porch and inside the house.

You lock the fence behind you and follow your son inside, thinking of all the things you had to do before his sixth birthday party the next day. Suguru said he would be sending a surprise - you begged him not to send the fake nichirin sword you already purchased and stowed away - so you’d have to accommodate for whatever he sent your way, which was bound to be lavish.

Among other things that he provided (a house, a car, preschool, an on-call babysitter if you wanted to go out, a nain rug you looked at once and said you liked but you weren’t sure about), Suguru also spoke to Haru every evening, which made you feel at ease. He hadn’t ceased to be in Haru’s life after you divorced, so this wasn’t out of the blue. Co-parenting with him was still easy and somewhat effortless, even thousands of miles away.

You’re still lost in thought when the doorbell rings, and Haru leaps down the stairs to answer it, despite telling him not to do that time and time again. Quickly, you sidestep the boy and open the door, forgetting to check the peephole first. If you had, it might have prevented the massive shock both you and Haru have at the sight of Suguru standing in the entryway.

“Suguru…” you whisper, and Haru immediately goes to hug his father, squeezing him tightly.

“Oh, look at you,” Suguru groans, leaning down to pick up his son. “You’ve gotten bigger since I last saw you, huh?”

“I’m two inches taller!” You shake your head at the toddler’s estimation, smiling, but still in shock. Your eyes roam over the man’s appearance. He looks just as you left him, with long hair and that gaze that could see into the deepest parts of your soul. It’s been a year, but nothing’s changed at all.

“Come on in,” you urge him, and he carries Haru inside, setting him down in the foyer. Haru dashes up the stairs to retrieve something, and you walk into the kitchen, Geto following you around and looking over his surroundings.

“It looks beautiful in here,” he murmurs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“You should see upstairs,” you reply. “That’s your son’s domain.” Suguru chuckles, then places his hands on the counter behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise both of you,” he shrugs and you sigh.

“There’s no guest bedroom.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he replies, and your first instinct is to balk at his suggestion and offer your bed. But you know Suguru’s considered his options already and would have gotten a hotel if he wanted to.

“Are your things--”

“In the car. I wanted to see if I was welcome first before I barged in with my stuff.” Haru reappears, holding up his drawing from school today.

“I drew this today! They told us to draw something we love,” your child smiles widely, showing his lack of a right front tooth. You peer over at the picture and see you - with a questionable hairstyle - Haru, and Geto holding hands in front of what you assume to be your house, and a grey… horse? cat? dog? off to the side. “And we have a cat. I named him Gojo after daddy’s friend.”

_____________________________________________________________

You hand Geto a pile of blankets and a pillow, hoping it would be enough to keep him warm on the couch. “You can turn the heat up downstairs if you need to,” you advise, and he nods, taking the offerings. He pauses in your bedroom, wanting to say something.

“Thank you,” he finally whispers, then walks away, leaving you in the room to contemplate your still brooding feelings for the man who walked into your home less than six hours ago.

“Wait,” you call out softly, and he returns, searching your face. “Did you get me that job at the museum?” you wonder, crossing your arms over your chest. “The head of the museum told me I came highly recommended for the Director of Curation position.”

“And if I did?” he wonders, angling his head to the left a little and frowning. You recognize his tell immediately and nod, biting the inside of your lip. “I promised to provide for you and Haru for as long as I’m alive. I’m not going to break that promise.”

Those words stay with you as you toss and turn in the bed hours later, trying to sleep. You’re failing miserably, you realize when you look at the clock, and you rise out of bed, padding downstairs to get some tea and calm down. You tiptoe past the hallway to the living room, hoping you wouldn’t wake Suguru as you heat up a cup of water.

You’ve almost succeeded in your mission when you hear a yawn and the familiar cracking of toes and ankles as Suguru walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Can’t sleep,” you explain and he nods, pulling a chamomile tea packet from the caddy by the cabinets. He rips open the packet and hands it to you, leaning against the counter as you dunk it in the cup and watch the color seep out.

“I still remember,” Suguru whispers, recalling the nights you spent awake while you were pregnant with Haru and how the tea was the only thing that could soothe you enough to sleep. He thumbs over to the living room and you follow, settling into the couch beside him. “Nightmares? Or just insomnia?”

“Insomnia,” you reply, and he motions for you to place your feet in his lap. He begins rubbing them methodically, taking his time on the soles as you lean into the arm of the couch and sigh.

“Remember when we used to watch Jeopardy before bed and you’d fall asleep mid-answer?” he chuckles, and you shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Those were some hard nights,” you reply, and he hums thoughtfully.

“I wonder where it all went wrong.”

You both knew where it went wrong. There was no privacy, no semblance of peace, nowhere you two could go without someone knowing everything and being in your business. And adding Haru to the mix made everything worse. The breaking point came when you were playing with him in the backyard and heard the sound of a shutter capturing your every move. Suguru broke the camera and the man’s arm, but the damage had been done. The only way you could escape the limelight was divorcing him and his name, then escaping somewhere where no one cared who you were or who you used to be. Here, you were just… y/n.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be the wife you wanted,” you whisper, and Suguru shakes his head.

“No, you were - are - the wife I want. I didn’t protect you enough. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Don’t,” you urge him, setting the un-sipped tea on the coffee table. “Don’t apologize.”

“Then I won’t,” he replies, pulling you closer. “But I have to confess something.”

“Say it.”

“My family bought property nearby. I’ll be stateside more often than not.” Geto smoothes a hand across your cheek, cupping your chin as you move onto his lap slowly.

“Haru will love that,” you breathe.

“But will you love that?” he wonders, ghosting his lips over yours.

“Yes, but--” He presses his lips to yours tenderly, cutting you off. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, feeling all of your shared love in that one kiss.

“Yes, but...?” he asks, pulling away and raising a brow.

“Was this your plan all along?” Suguru smiles, nipping at your bottom lip. His arm curls around your waist as he pins you beneath him, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“And if it was?”

“It’s definitely working.” Suguru hums in pleasure and continues to kiss you until you're at peace in his arms again, and fast asleep.

#getou suguru #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #getou x reader

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rocorambles · 4 years

Text

Thank You

Pairing: Mafia Boss Oikawa x Captive Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Rape/Non-con, Objectification, NSFW

Summary: Your husband is unable to settle his debts with the mafia and you pay the price

Requested by Anon

You wildly blink, adjusting to the light as your blindfold is removed. Your hands are tied behind you and you are petrified as a spiky haired man with green eyes firmly grips the back of your neck to hold you in place. Not that you have any urge to run away. Not with a room of heavily armed men surrounding you with guns out in the open and no hesitation to use them. You flinch when you remember the smell of gunpowder in your home just minutes ago. Your teeth are chattering in fear as you turn your attention to the man sitting in front of you. Maybe in a different context you might have found him handsome, but now trembling before him, his smile seems too sharp, there’s a malicious glint in his eyes as he studies you, and you just feel like prey.

“Hmm she’s a pretty little thing, but this doesn’t look like the money I’m owed or the stupid man who made the deal with us,” he says as he finally gets up and circles around you.

“She’s his wife. He didn’t have the money, so Matsukawa suggested we keep her until he settles his debt.” Your captor holds you steady as Oikawa plays with your hair, holds your jaw and turns your face left and right, and makes you open your mouth before roughly shoving two of his fingers down your throat. Tears well in your eyes at being treated like livestock and you gag as he insistently keeps on pushing his fingers further and further until you begin to choke around the two intrusive digits. With a sigh he abruptly pulls his hand out and wipes your saliva all over your face. “Too bad she has a gag reflex, but I suppose I can train that out of her.”

The tears finally begin to fall as he rips the clothes off your body and leaves you stark naked in front of the entire room of men. He harshly kneads your breasts and cruelly twists your nipples before walking behind you to give a few firm smacks to your ass. You let out a broken cry when the same fingers that had just assaulted your mouth are crudely shoved into your unprepared pussy. Pain tears through you as the fingers are thrust in and out of your dry walls and you almost sob in relief when he quickly pulls them out.

“At least she’s tight. I can work with this. Not a bad choice, Mattsun.” A curly haired man in the back of the room gives a thumbs up and disgust coils in you at the fact that your life and your body is just a joke of no importance to these monsters. But you don’t have time to dwell on the hate swirling inside of you when a hand roughly squeezes your cheeks and forces you to look into chocolate brown eyes.

“Starting from today, you’re going to be my new plaything until your husband pays his debts to us. Be grateful we aren’t making you whore out for us. You’d at least be profitable that way. You’re lucky I happen to be looking for a new pretty toy. We had to get rid of my last one because someone got carried away when I let them borrow her.” He gives a pointed look to the curly haired man who just shrugs and smiles at his words. “Iwa-chan, bring her to my room and get her ready. I’ll take her for a test run tonight.” With that, he releases his grip on you and the man whose grip is still tight around your neck drags you with him through winding hallways and staircases before shoving you into a large, beautifully decorated bedroom. “Go shower and freshen up. A maid will be by with clothes for you.” You think you see a pang of pity in his eyes, but he leaves too quickly for you to be sure. Shakily, you do as he says and, now cleaned up, you wait, naked aside from the towel wrapped around you.

A knock echoes throughout the room and you stare in trepidation as a young girl walks in and drops off a bundle of fabric on the bed besides you before swiftly exiting before you even have a chance to exchange a single word. With shaky hands, you reach to examine the pile beside you and humiliation courses through you when you pick up the flimsy mix of lace and mesh in your hands. You slowly put it on and fresh tears cascade down your face when you see your reflection in the mirror. The babydoll is exquisite and you could imagine yourself happily wearing this for your husband on a special night together, but the thought of a stranger, a monster seeing you practically naked, with lace and mesh only accentuating your figure and providing no coverage has you dry heaving as panic hits you. You collapse onto the bed and try to steady your breathing when something hard digs into your back. Startled, you reach behind you and anxiety hits you even harder when you stare at the turquoise and white leather collar trimmed with delicate lace and decorated with dainty bows.

Your attention is so fixated on the object in your hand that you don’t notice the door quietly open and closing or the footsteps drawing nearer to you. Only when a hand plucks the collar from your quivering hands do you let out a startled gasp. “Let me help you put this on.” You despondently stare at the man in front of you as he wraps the accessory around your neck and you feel any hope extinguish inside of you at the sound of the buckle clicking shut.

“My name is Oikawa Tooru, but you’ll address me as master. Like I said before, you’ll be my plaything which means I expect your body to always be cleaned and stretched for me to use.” You feel so small as he talks down at you like you’re a pet he’s trying to train and you clench your eyes shut as he begins to strip in front of you. You feel yourself being pushed down on the bed and you tense at the feeling of a much larger figure hovering over you, strong thighs pushing your legs apart, and something hard pressing against your bare groin.

You scream in pain as Oikawa completely enters you in one swift motion, brutally pushing past your dry, aching walls. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Your husband must have a pathetic dick if you’re married and still this tight. It’s like I’m fucking a virgin.” Guilt eats at you at the mention of your husband, but it’s quickly replaced by more agonized pain as Oikawa relentlessly shoves in and out of you. He’s so big and so rough. You’ve never felt this full before and you can swear he’s reaching your cervix with every thrust. You want to scream at him to slow down and let you adjust, but you bite your tongue and clench your fists as you accept the rapid pace, not wanting to anger him.

You vaguely hear an irritated tsk before a hand wraps itself around your throat and begins to squeeze. Your arms instinctively clutch at the wrist pushing down on you and your eyes shoot open as you silently plead at him with teary eyes to let you breathe. “That’s better. It’s not fun if you just lie there like an idiot. You’re so pretty when you cry and look so defeated,” he coos down at you. He removes his hand from your neck and you take deep gasps only to be choked by the moans forced out of you as he takes a nipple into his mouth and begins to circle your clit. You try to stifle your lewd sounds, but the hand stimulating your sensitive bud reaches up to warningly graze your throat and you let your mouth loll open as you let out cry after cry. You hate the way you can feel your nipples and clit harden in arousal and you cringe at the squelching sound of your juices flowing and easing the friction of Oikawa’s harsh movements, but there’s an undeniable surge of lust weaving through your veins.

It’s like your body has accepted defeat as it accommodates the girth inside of it and any pain you felt is morphing into a pleasure you’ve never felt before. Oikawa’s throbbing length reaches places inside of you your husband has never touched and your eyes roll at the feeling of Oikawa’s heavy balls slapping against your skin, further emphasizing just how deep he is inside of you. Something begins to build inside of you as your toes begin to twitch involuntarily, as the quivering muscles of your thighs begin to tighten, as your wet heat clenches around the cock inside of you. Your head tosses side by side and your fingers desperately clutch at the sheets beneath as you try to ground yourself, try to stop the overwhelming rise of something curling inside of you, yearning to be set free. But it’s no use and with just a few more harsh sucks, furious rubbing, and a couple of well aimed thrusts you come undone beneath him, wailing so loud he’s sure all his men can hear you.

You can’t see. There’s only darkness as your eyes roll all the way back and you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed by the trails of drool you feel seeping out of your wide open mouth as your body thrashes and twitches, riding out the powerful waves. You hear Oikawa groan as his pace speeds up and you brokenly moan as your sensitive body and spasming walls are stimulated beyond what they can handle. Pain bleeds into the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you just lie there, unable to do anything other than take it, fear and exhaustion tying you down. You’re silently thankful when you feel the stuttering of his hips and finally, Oikawa stills inside of you and you close your eyes in shame as you feel warm spurts paint your insides.

You try to push yourself further back into the bed as Oikawa leans down to hover over you and your body tenses so tightly at the feeling of his forehead brushing against yours that you think it might snap in half. But there’s nowhere to go and you silently sob at the twistedly tender action. “I’m going to enjoy having you as a pet. Don’t you think you should thank your master for making you feel so good?” He whispers so gently that your spent body instinctively relaxes despite the cruel implications of his words and your mouth opens without hesitation.

“Thank you, master.”

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyuu #oikawa x reader #oikawa #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu mafia #oikawa smut #haikyuu x reader #tw: noncon #tw: rape

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heliads · 4 years

Text

Forever

Based on this request: “you're dating and it's kinda the first night you spent together, so you wake up in each other's arms and he refuses to let you go. Then he keeps cuddling you and tells you how much he loves you and that he wants to be with you forever? 😊 Just some fluffy Bucky. And maybe his pov too.”

masterlist

Three months, two weeks, and four days.

That was exactly how long Bucky had known Y/N. It wasn’t that long of a time, at least not compared to the decades since he was born, but it was a good enough time to feel like it lasted for forever. Bucky doesn’t always have the best memory; sometimes, dreams feel more like reality and scraps of times from years long gone confuse themselves with what happened yesterday. This being said, Bucky clearly remembers every detail of the moment he first met you.

It had been a rainy day, the dismal chill familiar of foggy Octobers out in full force. The glass and concrete of the tall buildings around him were barely lighter than the dark gray sky, clouds pressing in around the tops of the skyscrapers. Bucky had shoved his hands into his pockets, the cold weight of his metal arm especially present in the freezing air.

Then, he had seen her. It seemed cliché, too imaginative for a supposedly stone-cold soldier such as himself, but the woman walking towards him looked like a ray of sunshine. She was dressed in a warm coat, flickers of a yellow dress darting out from underneath its folds. Her eyes shone despite the dimness of the day.

Bucky wasn’t used to speaking to civilians. He shouldn’t be, anyway. There are always spies dressed up as friends, malice hidden behind innocent smiles. Bucky should have kept walking, ignored the woman, and maybe even forgotten her in a few minutes once their shadows had passed each other by. Yet something in him told Bucky that leaving her behind would be the greatest mistake of his life.

He was preparing himself to open his mouth and speak when he saw the young man behind her. This man is in dark clothes, hood pulled up to hide his face. He draws out a small knife from his pocket, quickly cutting the strap on the woman’s purse before attempting to run past her and melt into the crowd to make his getaway. However, this man hadn’t intended on someone interfering with the theft, especially not someone who’d been trained in combat for the last 70 years.

Bucky moves quickly, with the dangerous efficiency of a deadly soldier. He steps to the side, blocking off the thief’s escape route. His metal arm flies out of his pocket to rap sharply on the man’s right hand, sending the knife clattering to the ground. Bucky’s right arm grabs the purse. The thief blinks up at him in terror, then takes off in a flash when he realizes Bucky isn’t looking for a fight. Or at least not now.

Bucky bends over to grab the knife, idly flipping it over in his hands. It’s cheap, probably purchased at some sporting goods store from the camping section. The thief most likely just needed the money, and so Bucky ignores the retreating man to hand the purse back to its grateful owner.

The woman beams at him. “Thank you so much! Oh, my name’s Y/N. By the way.” Her smile could light up the entire world. Bucky shifts slightly. “Bucky. I’m Bucky.” The woman ties the strap of her purse back to the bag and slings it over her shoulder, this time with slightly more care. “Well, I appreciate it, Bucky. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost my purse. I’m about to go into a pretty important meeting, and I would have needed my keys.” Bucky glances over his shoulder to make sure the thief isn’t coming back. “No problem.”

The woman smiles at him one last time, then moves forward to start heading on her way again. Before Bucky can back out of it, he calls out to the woman. “Wait, Y/N?” She walks back to him. “Yeah?” “Can I have your number? I know we just met and all, but-” She cuts him off with a grin. “Absolutely. Here it is.” She fishes out a pen and a slightly folded sticky note, scrawling out a series of digits onto it before handing the note back to him. “Thanks.” Bucky takes the note, looking from it to the departing woman. Did he really just do that?

It turns out asking Y/N for her number was one of the best things he ever did. He calls her soon after that first meeting, and she answers happily. Their first date is to a small restaurant in some corner of town, the second was walking through a park, and things just got even better from there. Bucky feels like he can finally let his guard down around her, and have a chance to be the smiling man he was before all the traumas of yesteryears had come crashing down around him.

The night is cold when he wakes. For a second, Bucky can’t remember where he is, and he jolts upright in a panic. His eyes feel clouded over, and he sits there, chest heaving, until the details slowly start piercing themselves back together again. There are faint patterns of moonlight dancing in through the thin, filmy curtains. The bedroom door is faded white, open just enough to let the air flow through the room. The blankets, now rumpled and in disarray, are wrapped around him in an effort to stay warm in the late January chill.

He’s in Y/N’s apartment. That’s right. They had arrived late last night, stumbling up the stairs due to a combination of alcohol and exhaustion from too many nights spent up until the early hours of the morning. This is Y/N’s apartment. It’s alright.

Y/N is lying next to him, starting to stir and sit up. He must have woken her. She looks up at him through eyes just starting to open, one hand unconsciously rubbing her face. “Nightmare?” Bucky just nods. “Yeah. Sorry to wake you.” Y/N flashes him a smile, bright despite the darkness of the night. “Don’t worry about it. Here, I’ll go make you some tea.” She starts to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but a sudden, unidentified panic hits him and Bucky reaches out an arm to stop her.

“Wait. Don’t go. Not now.” Y/N glances back at him. He must look troubled, because her eyes soften and she pulls the blankets back up around her, settling back into bed. “I can do that too. Is there anything you want to talk about? Something in the nightmare, maybe?” Bucky sighs, pulling Y/N close to him. “It’s one I’ve been having a lot recently. There’s some problem, you get hurt, it’s my fault. It’s like I see you die over and over again, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

Y/N reaches out to him, gently placing a hand against his cheek. Her palm feels cool against his skin. “I’m not going anywhere. That I can promise you. I know your work comes with all kinds of threats and dangers, but I know that as long as I have you I’ll be safe.” Bucky can’t help but think back to his nightmare again, and he finds he can’t look Y/N in the eyes. She notices this, and a slight line works its way into her brow.

“But that’s not exactly what happened this time, is it? You saw something different.” Bucky nods reluctantly. “I-” His voice breaks off. “I am not a good man. You know that, don’t you? If you knew half the things that I’ve done, that I’ve seen in my head, you wouldn’t-” Bucky finds he can’t finish his sentence. Y/N presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to be you, Bucky, a man with a good heart. Maybe things haven’t always made themselves easy for you, but all I ask is that you try. Try to be proud of yourself and accept that times won’t always be good.”

Bucky breathes out slowly. How is that despite everything, despite the monster he’s become, Y/N is still here? It had taken all of his courage to tell Y/N who he truly was, that he was the Winter Soldier who had murdered innocents. He couldn’t look her in the eyes as he said it, sure that he was about to hear the sound of her footsteps heading towards the door and carrying her out of his life, but she had stayed. She was the one thing he could count on.

That’s why tonight’s nightmare had scared him so much. Yes, there had been the usual assortment of HYDRA villains and tragic memories, but Y/N had been at the center of this dream. She had stood over him, a twisted smirk replacing her usual happy smile. She had laughed at him, asking why he had ever thought she would want to be with him. She deserved better, didn’t she? Even he knew that.

The worst part is that some part of Bucky’s mind believed it. Why would she stay, anyway? He could only promise her darkness. Yet he reaches out to her now, fingers curling around the loose fabric of her nightshirt. “Stay with me. Please.” Y/N tucks her head into the space beneath his chin. “I will. I’m not going anywhere, Bucky.”

Bucky stays there for a moment, breathing in and out, letting himself enjoy this one instance where he can be at peace. “I love you, Y/N. I hope you know that. You’re the only person who I think has ever understood me. I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t have you.” And it’s true- even on the stormiest of nights, she was there to usher in the light. When he needed to smile, to laugh, even, she was there. How did he ever get lucky enough to know her, to have her in his life?

Y/N smiles, and even in the darkness, he can almost see the happiness in her eyes. “I love you too, Bucky. Always have and always will. I think I knew that even when I first met you.” Bucky laughs quietly in spite of himself. “Forever. I always knew that there would be some girl who’d come around and I’d want to stay with them forever. I think you might be that girl.” He pulls Y/N closer to him, and cherishes the feeling of her arms around his. “I would be honored to be that girl. Only if you’ll stay with me forever too.” And he will.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader

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midnxghtsunwrites · 4 years

Text

GROUNDED

PAIRING —

william miller x black reader

SUMMARY —

You and Will have been through too much for you to abandon him at his darkest hour.

WARNINGS —

angst, fluff

"Baby, I'm sorry." Your voice was quiet as you rubbed the back of William's hand. His skin is rough and scarred against the pad of your thumb — a symbol of the hardships he's endured both during his service and after.

You'd stuck by his side all those years ago when he was in the brigade commandeered by Tom "Redfly" Davis. They were close — damn, you were all close. You were practically Tess's aunt, showing up at every birthday party and barbecue before Tom's divorce made way.

The years you've been with Will gave you clarity — into his struggle with PTSD and the emotional impact serving as a Special Force Operative had on him. He even taught you a thing or two, defense-wise, before he was caught in a situation in your local Publix — his arm wrapped around another man's throat because he hadn't moved his cart. That lead you to jump on his back and wrangle him back to reality.

He's a soldier in every sense of the word.

He'd gotten better after that incident — attending therapy sessions and doing more public speaking at military bases. It was better to keep his mind off of the terror and trauma from his years of fighting in a war.

He was doing better. And then Santiago just had to come along and convince him to join him for one last ride. Of course, you couldn't do much but support him — that's all he ever asked for. Your love and support. And you were hesitant to give it to him.

But, you did.

And he left for two weeks and returned with a bullet wound — another scar added to his shelf of souvenirs — and a dead captain.

The first night he came back was spent on the beachfront of your home, unable to hide the tears any longer. That night, he slept with his head over your heart, almost as if to make sure it was still beating.

You gave him his space for three days — to get his bearings and a handle on life.

You weren't surprised when he gathered you up one day and drove you to your spot. It was where you had your first date however many years ago — he'd paid for the meal and was a proper gentleman. Of course, you just had to give him your number and hope for the best. Immediately, you knew he was drawn back.

He'd just finished his first tour and the trauma was as strong as it was present — you didn't expect to get a call back after he dropped you home. You were at work when he did, though.

From then on, you and Will had been connected in a way no one really understood. But, it wasn't for them to understand. It's like a well-kept secret between two lovers.

Will's eyes are trained on your dainty fingers as you trace jagged waves along his tainted skin. Your touch could calm a storm, he always tells you. His back presses against the wall of the restaurant, a tattooed arm resting atop the back of his seat, and his other arm stretched across the cold metal table towards you.

Your fingers run up the inside of his wrist and trails the ink in his skin. It's his Force tattoo, faded against his fair skin from years of wearing it as a badge of honor. This isn't his only tattoo.

Just on his other arm is a tribute to a fallen soldier from his first tour. They were the closest friends each other had before Benny decided to join the army as well. It was by a miracle that he was put into the same regiment as his brother.

It didn't seem like much of a miracle when William's friend was blown to pieces on the field.

William lazily tips the neck of his beer bottle to his mouth as he shifts his gaze to the crease between your eyebrows — one that only appears when you're concentrated.

You're so taken with his marred skin littered with healed wounds that you jump slightly when he lifts his hand to take a hold of your own, removing your fingers from his forearm.

He raises your connected fingers and presses it to his lips. Your lips form a pout when you see the tears gathering in his eyes. As he draws your hand away, his gaze transfers to the bare ring finger on your left hand.

"I love you." He proclaims, as he rubs your ring metacarpal, "And I want to thank you for being patient with me. I know..." He sighs as he tries to find the right words to say. Finally, "I know it hasn't been easy being with someone so broken."

You want to stop him. You want to tell him that relationships aren't always easy. You want to tell him that he's not broken, just in pain. You want to tell him that you love him too. So much that it hurts.

But you don't. You wait for him to express his feelings. As long as you have to.

"You've been there for me, Y/N — even when no one else has. You've been helping me for so long that I feel..." He can't continue, instead choosing to look down at your connected hands.

Your finger rubs against his as you realize this, "It's okay, Will. You know you can talk to me."

Your words give him that gentle push — "I feel like I'm keeping you from your life, Y/N. You've had to deal with my trauma and I've been ignoring you and your feelings. I don't want to do that to you, baby. Not anymore. I wanna take care of you instead of it being the other way around."

Y/C/E meet blue as you lean back in interest. Your boyfriend couldn't be more wrong about how he thinks you feel. He's held you back from nothing — when you asked him to move to a new neighborhood, he packed up your bags and boxes and loaded the moving truck; when you asked him to stick by you when you went back to school, he helped you study and ace all off your exams to receive your degree; when you asked him to be there for you, he was. And you know he always will be.

With this in mind, you slide out of your side of the booth, your hand still intertwined with his. He watches you, carefully as you step off the platform on your side before stepping up on his. His legs are stretched along the seat, prompting you to plop yourself right down on his lap. His beautiful blue eyes stare up at you.

Instinctively, he plants his beer on the table and snakes his arms around your waist, keeping you in place. You can feel the bulge of his crotch on the right side of your thigh but restrain yourself — now isn't the time.

"You see that?" Your right hand presses against his chest while your left hand finds its place on his strong arm, right above his military tattoo. You refer to his instinct to hold you. "That is you taking care of me. That is you loving me more than I deserve. Baby," You search his eyes, his pupils dilating as he's overtaken with love, "You're my life. Don't think you've been ignoring me, Will. We just had to reduce that pain you've been living with. Because I'm not happy if you're not happy."

Reaching an arm around, you take his hand into yours and pulls it from your waist. His hand falls limp as he watches you draw him towards you. You rest the palm of his hand on your chest, right above your beating heart.

At the feeling of the organ beating against your chest, Will is brought back to earth. You keep him grounded and that's all he could ever ask of you.

"This is yours, Will. You own it. We've been through too much for you not to."

As you watch the thoughts swirl behind his expressive eyes, you're confused when he pulls his hand away from you. He reaches into his jeans pocket and emerges with a clasped fist. Hovering over the table palm down, he opens his hand and brings your attention to the rose gold ring — a significant contrast from the wooden surface it rests on.

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart is pounding against your ribcage.

He looks at it for a moment before tilting his head towards you, "Marry me."

"Will..."

"It’s been a long time coming, Y/N. We've been together for eight years — which I'm sure is seven years longer than what you wanted.”

He loves you, ardently, and now he finds the strength he was searching desperately for just the other day. "I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. With every fragmented piece of me that you've managed to put back together. And I'm forever grateful that you came into my life when I least expected you, but most needed you."

Now it's your turn for your heart to melt — you're growing weak at his words, eyes filling slowly with tears.

His eyes remain on you as you crane your neck to ogle the engagement band on the table. The center is oval shaped and sparkling under the dim lighting of the restaurant. It's beautiful, perfect even — more than you could've asked for.

He is more than you could've asked for.

"I'm done with this shit, babe." Will says as he sees an indecipherable look in your eye. Overthinking leads him to believe that you have doubts about his minimalistic proposal, "I'm completely retired. It's just us — no Pope, no Fish, no Benny, no —" He stops himself before he can say the name.

It's too soon.

The silence between you two is deafening as you're frozen in your spot.

All you can seem to release is his name — it's the only word on your tongue. The only sound you could muster.

He brushes a kinky curl from your forehead and stares up at you, awaiting an answer. Everything in you tells you to speak. To do something — anything.

It's only when Will's grip loosens around your waist that you're snapped back into reality. You'd only dreamed for this moment and now that it's here, your brain seemed to be malfunctioning. Instead of opening your mouth, you reach forward and with your index finger and thumb, you lift the beautiful ring from the table.

"Yes." The word is so quiet that you didn't even realize you said it. Speak up. "Yes, I'll marry you, Will. Christ, you didn't even have to ask."

This has to be the first time he's smiled since he came home. It's bright and amazing and nostalgic. White teeth wink at you as he wastes no time taking the ring from your fingers and sliding it on your digit, his eyes seeming to reflect the sparkle of the engagement band.

The kiss you two share is nothing grandiose. Your kisses rarely are — but they still hold a level of sensuality and passion that many can just wish for. Will runs his tongue along your bottom lip before capturing it in his warm beer-flavored mouth. You don't mind — he has good taste in alcohol.

For a moment, you two forget that you're in a public space. One where patrons are making their exit, but public nonetheless. You pull away when you feel the tears gather in your eyes. You love this man with your heart, mind, and soul — every part of you is overwhelmed with a wave of fervent endearment.

"Damn, I love you." Will exhales as he draws you into a homely embrace.

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bandaigaeru · 4 years

Text

gravitational pull - seo changbin

→genre: brief fake dating, childhood friends to weird enemies to fake lovers to real lovers →synopsis: he was a glimmering star of hope until he exploded, suspending your relationship into a seesawing gravity. →pairing: changbin x gender neutral reader →word count: 8.1k →warnings: hyunjins kinda mean at one point, mentions of alcohol

Mulch crunches beneath the adolescent shoes of your classmates. One intention is shared, in this playground warfare, and it’s to get a swing.

You disregard the heap rushing towards the ones closest, for your gaze is set on the far end of the swingset. And it is just within your reach. Your eyes narrow as you outstretch a palm, prepared to feel the coolness of the rusty chain.

The chain sways away from you beneath the harsh touch of another boy.

You stare at him with wide eyes, mouth fallen agape.

He smiles, the plastic seat dipping beneath his weight. “This one’s mine.”

A small shake in your tone as you return, “I was here first.”

“So? Everyone knows this is my swing.”

You slowly nod, taking small footsteps backwards. Hwang Hyunjin is bigger than you. And more accustomed with goons of friends. There’s no point in fighting.

Though as you start for the abandoned monkey bars (their vibrant red paint chipped to a sad haze) with blurry vision faulting your path, a voice booms over the rush between your ears.

You glance in the direction. A short boy sits in a stationary swing, smiling as though it is all he’s ever known. He waves you over.

Taking all of the precautions, you glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s talking to you. When you confirm, you drag your feet along the mulch.

You flinch when he stands, bringing guarding forearms to protect your face. The blow never comes.

“You can take my swing,” he says. You peek at him through your shield. His puffy cheeks are still indented with the smile. And his hands, not balled into a fist, lay calmly at his side.

You blink, slowly lowering your defense. “W-Why?”

He laughs, “That’s what friends are for. Duh.”

The laugh that trembles over your lips is shaky and foreign. You reach for the chain.

“I’ll push you!” he declares, rushing behind you as you steady yourself in the small seat.

He pulls you from the ground, the tips of your shoes trailing back amber woodchips.

The tip of your nose kisses the blue sky. Though, inevitably, the time comes when you must fall back to the earth. Steady hands push against your back, returning you to freedom. You find yourself grinning each time.

The next day, Changbin saves you the swing beside him. He waits until you are ready before kicking off on the ground. You swing in sync, sharing a few glances under the sun’s hugging rays.

It only takes a week before he’s begging his mother to arrange a playdate. And to your luck, he follows through with the promises, meeting you at your doorstep that Saturday. He guides you a block over to his house. He must be a good kid if his mother entrusted him with such a task, bringing two first-graders over. One returning home and one in need of a home away from home.

His mother is extremely nice, smiling at you each time you catch her eyes. She sets a plate of fruit on the coffee table while you and Changbin battle over the next Spongebob episode. His sister comes out of her room, too, asking you whether you prefer Barbies or Matchbox.

Elementary school passes like this. Recess is spent with his presence, as is lunch and gym and any class freetime. On the off days that it rains, barring you inside the school, you play Mancala. It’s totally civil. Not once does Changbin storm off when he loses. He merely shrugs and offers to set up the next round.

So unusual, though each time you find yourself smiling.

After an emotional graduation party—emotional for the teachers and family, you mean—he hands you a small piece of paper.

“What’s this?” you curiously look at him. His tie has loosened since the ceremony and his hair is ruffled by his father’s hand.

“My phone number. I won’t be in town this summer, but I still wanna keep touch with you.”

You smile down at the small digits. Neatly, you fold the post-it before slipping it into your pocket. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his touch as he wraps his arms around your waist. “I’m gonna miss you,” you announce, voice muffled by his shoulder.

“It’s only one summer,” he reassures. “Plus, I’ll bring you back something nice. A keychain or something.”

You laugh through the sting that stabs your body, nodding. One summer cannot mark the end of the world, you tell yourself as you watch his car drift over the hill leading into town.

ii.

On the first, dreaded, day of middle school, you scan the halls carefully. The new faces do not scare you as much as the lack of his does. Each call was sent to voicemail. And each time the dial sounded, you frantically returned the phone to the receiver. Maybe he had accidentally miswrote the number. Or maybe he was too busy to return your calls. Summer has that effect on people, you think, where you have so much fun you forget the things you used to do daily. Like a memory disorder.

You finally see him in the lunch line. A breath of fresh air invades your lungs as you rush over to him.

“Changbin! How was your summer? I called, but you never answered,” you grin, nudging his shoulder.

He does not shoot you a glance, nor does he send a glare. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued on his shoes. A sharp pain strikes your chest—that breath might have been poison.

You gently shove his shoulder again, forcing a shaky laugh as you continue, “Hello? Anyone in there?”

The boy in front of him spins on his heel. His eyes are cold, painful, as they meet yours. “Can’t you tell he doesn’t wanna talk to you?” Hyunjin scoffs. “Go somewhere else, dumbass.”

Hesitantly, you look to Changbin. Surely, he’ll defend you, right?

Right?

His eyes have traveled to the lunch menu, displayed on a TV in cheap font. Far away from this conversation.

You nod, looking back to Hyunjin. His abrasive eyes are still waiting for you, eagerly begging you to move on. “Sorry, then,” you murmur as you start for the bathroom that will become your haven.

Behind you, Hyunjin’s loud laugh taunts you. Hidden beneath it is a quieter one that stabs you in the chest. Something painful blurs your vision, twists your insides, and curls the corners of your lips as you try to fight it.

You were a fool to think he was different. Elementary promises should never be trusted.

Secondary school passes in dreary blinks. Watching Changbin run for class president. Bubbling in his name despite everything. Hearing Changbin got the lead role in Cinderella. Showing up despite the physics test you had to study for.

You wonder momentarily if Newton was behind this twisted feeling in your chest. Drawing you to him—like a moth to a flame. You even scan his sister’s Instagram from time to time, finding a picture of Changbin framed carefully beneath the stars, a twinkle in his eye.

You watch from afar as he accepts his diploma, a careful smile seated on your lips.

A bitter taste haunts your tongue as you pack for college.

“This is good for me,” you mutter to yourself. “I’ll be far, far away from him. I can move on.”

Some things are better left unsaid.

iii.

Awkward introductions replay in your memory as you get ready for your first college class. Seven fifteen, physics with Professor Kim. Denoted as one of the best in the country. Physicist and professor, respectively. It would be a lie to say he didn’t take part in your decision to attend this college. And the ocean, which is only a fifteen minute walk (that’s what the RA told you when you moved in).

You arrive with a hot americano precisely on time.

As you climb the lecture hall’s steps, your eyes drift among the sea of unfamiliar faces. One in particular sticks out—a glimmer of hope among the trenches. You raise a hand to wave, a smile quirking your lips. But, at the face directly next to him, you drift back.

Evidently, you didn’t move far enough.

You stand at the edge of the aisle, glancing down at the empty seat. “Hey, is this spot empty?”

Hope looks back at you with shock glazing his features. “Oh my God, Y/N! Of course. I didn’t know you decided to come here,” Minho smiles, tugging his notebook closer to allow you more room.

You pull out the chair, glancing at the boy on the other side of him. “I didn’t really tell anyone where I was going.”

He fills the silence with his tales of life, occasionally glancing at Changbin to see if he wants to add something. Each time, he is met with the boy’s indifferent profile. Mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though not once stopping to read one of the passing captions or like a picture.

Professor Kim claps, fizzling any remaining conversation. The syllabus fades in your mind as you wonder how Changbin’s summer went. Maybe he spent it with his sister. Or perhaps he accompanied a love interest to a string of dates.

This thought shoots a concoction of contradicting emotions through your heart. You return distracted eyes to Professor Kim just as he’s dismissing class, burying a content fist into the customly tailored pocket of his navy suit. Minho turns to you immediately, filling your ears with proposals to coffee and lunch and maybe you could come to the dorm later and catch up. Changbin’s ears perk up as he begs for Minho’s eyes.

For a split second, his eyes fall on you before they dart away.

“I need to get back to my dorm,” you announce when you can finally slip into Minho’s breaths of pause. “My roommate’s waiting.”

“Who’s your roommate? Maybe we know him.”

You fight a laugh when he finally glances back at Changbin, who has long since given up. “His name’s Yang Jeongin.”

iv.

While Minho is overly focused on you, begging you to tell him what happened after he moved in tenth grade, Changbin pretends you do not exist. When the conversations trail outside of the lecture hall, he clings to Minho’s side but does not speak. His eyes stay glued to the sidewalk. Or his textbook, whose cover he seems very invested in.

So when Professor Kim announces a project, your heart thumps a little too fast.

Minho grabs your arm, “Be my partner?”

Changbin kicks his leg. “Dude.”

He glances back at him, as though nothing he has said goes against him. “What? Just join our group.”

Changbin’s eyes find yours reluctantly. They ignite a spark in your fingertips as you reach for a pen. “Can I?”

You smile as your head twitches in a nod. “Of course.”

The plan is this: meet at the library on October 15th (a Saturday, you realize) at 1 P.M. “Expect to be there long, I wanna get this done ASAP,” Minho adds as he downs the rest of your americano.

When the day finally comes, despite your daily prayers that time would somehow freeze or somehow skip over the day, you leave your dorm right when you need to. Early October aids a brusque breeze, and you wrap your jacket around you as you approach the small crosswalk. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you dread the inevitable message.

Lee Minho [12:59 P.M.]: Sorry guys, I can’t make it. Mama Lee’s in town and wants to see her favorite son.

It’s too late to go home, you realize, when shoes scrape against the cement and a sigh penetrates the silence. “I cannot stand him,” the voice mutters behind you.

You turn to him, offering pitied condolences with a small smile. “Just the two of us, huh?”

He nods. “Guess so.”

A loud hum draws closer as his foot leans down for the asphalt. You look to the source, seeing a red car barreling down the street. You gasp, grabbing Changbin’s sleeve and tugging him back on the sidewalk. The horn echoes in the back of your head like an alarm.

His eyes are wide when they find yours. “T-Thank you,” he stutters, cocking his head a little. As though, for the first time, he is taking in your appearance.

You realize your grip is still tight on his wrist and you let go, tensing up. “You’re welcome.”

In the library, you work in silence. As though nothing happened outside. As though your entire history lies merely within the timespan of a few weeks. Minho serving as the mutual friend to your forced, awkward friendship.

He shoots you a dizzying look as he turns his packet to you. “Can you look this over?”

The tip of your eraser taps a number. “This has to be meters per second, not centimeters per second.”

A small sigh tumbles over his bottom lip as he realizes, “That’s why the final answer looked so weird. Thank you.”

The corner of your lip must have an opposite gravity to it, because it curls upward without intent.

Returning to class the next Monday leaves the soft hint of a calm lavender in the air. You share a quick, almost childish, glance with Changbin before settling back into the tune of physics. Newtons and joules and all the fun things that make up energy.

The next few weeks pass with a quiet hum, one that hangs in the background and, if you lose sight of it, you’re scared you’ll lose it forever. It’s a time of your life where you will look back with a sigh and whisper, “How did I not realize how good I had it?”

At your peak, you fall onto your bed on a Friday night. Jeongin scribbles impatient homework answers while your eyes fall shut.

The storm of your phone blaring its tune awakes you.

Lee Minho calls to remind you that he expects you to arrive at his ‘rager of a birthday party.’ He tells you the address, enthusiastically repeating himself (like an auctioneer) as you try to find a pad of paper. Jeongin’s jumping up to fix his hair before you even hang up.

You’re really not sure what you expect as you drag your roommate in tow towards the destination. Though, when you feel the tremble of music and hear shouts from the lawn of the frat house, you somehow know you’re in the right place.

The foyer is packed with jumping bodies. Leaning on the stairs, a red solo cup in hand, is the man of the hour. His cheeks are dusted in a light coating of heat and, as you approach him, you notice that glitter brushes soft highlights along his cheekbones.

“Happy early birthday!” you shout over the music.

He dizzily turns to you and drags you towards his chest in a swift motion. “Y/N! Thank you for coming!”

You had no choice. It was either come to the party or admit yourself to Lee Minho’s terrifying grudge list.

Despite this, you return with a grin, “Of course!”

When he lets you go into the stale air, he shoves his cup into your hand. “Try some,” he nods.

You tip the plastic to your lips. As the liquid scrapes the back of your throat, you flinch back. “What is this?” Your face twists.

“Just vodka and Coke.”

You hastily return the cup to him and glance around. Jeongin has disappeared to a desolate corner, you presume. A spark of jealousy runs through your veins.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you find yourself asking Minho.

He points down a vacant hallway and tells you it’s the last door on your left. You thank him before scurrying in that direction.

Your knock echoes, though nothing returns. The pale wood feels cold against your cheek as you listen for any life inside. You find it safe to enter. Instantly, you press your palms against the cold marble. Identical eyes stare into each other in the mirror until your eyes slip to the pale, spotless basin. You stare into the milky dome absently, pondering why you feel so odd being here. And for a moment you forget where you are, lost in the dizzying world of your thoughts.

Until you hear the choked sob from behind the shower curtain.

It takes you by surprise. Hesitantly, you reach out for the navy shield.

“Ch-Changbin?” you stutter, staring down at the boy in a mess of shock.

His legs are drawn to his chest as trails of tears line his cheeks. He lets out a squeak as he looks up to you. Arms fall to his sides as he leans forward. Though, he appears to have no intention of stopping, surrendering himself to gravity.

Your hands find his shoulders merely moments before his nose slams into the porcelain. “Are you drunk?” you whisper.

Though, in return, he sobs. “I’m sorry.”

Something pierces your chest. Your lips part to say something, but the words are clogged in your throat.

“I was such an idiot,” he slurs, swaying gently.

“What’re you talking about?” you finally ask.

His balled fist slams against the tub. “You!” he shouts, face twisting as he releases another cry.

You flinch back.

“My mom always asks how you’re doing, no matter how many times I tell her. My sister still has a grudge. Hell, even Hwang Hyunjin thinks I’m an idiot and he’s the one who tricked me into leaving you!”

He leans his cheek against the wall, once again releasing a cry. Though, this one, he fights to hold back. It scalds the air in a whimper.

Quieter, he admits, “You were the only person I’ve ever felt safe with.”

You sigh, looking down at your shoes. Those days when you wondered what had gone wrong, staring up at your blank ceiling and trying to relive his smile as quiet tears fell to your pillow, wash down the drain.

He watches intently as you climb into the tub. You do not look at him as you slowly lean against the wall he rests his cheek on. Instead, you stare at the mahogany finish of the small cabinets. Regardless, you can feel his eyes burning holes into your cheek. In this cold porcelain cage, all you can hear is the distant thumping of music and the occasional sniffle from the boy beside you. You smile at the familiarity of it, returning you to your former years cozied up on a playground. No worries back then, you jealously note with a muted snicker.

“I missed you,” you finally say. Tears blur your vision, warping the defined lines of wood into a mess of color.

When you bring yourself to look at him, his eyes are closed. You lean a little closer to see if he’s sleeping. Reluctant lips part as he whispers, his breath hot and reeking of tequila, “I missed you too.”

vi.

One of the things you come to realize is that Changbin’s smile has never changed. There’s still that little indent where his cheeks fold over and each time he offers a glimpse at it you are returned to the days of the swing.

Thanks to the drunken night (half drunken night, you should say, since he had enough for both of you), Changbin has allowed a sneak peek back to his life. Strictly over text, though. You’re not sure why he’s never asked to meet up—maybe it’s too much too fast, you think—but you cannot find it in you to complain. He’s back after all these years and that seems to be enough.

So you endure it, texting him until the early hours of the morning and fascinating yourself over all of these things you have missed.

Seo Changbin [2:39 A.M.]: My sister and I went to the elementary school a couple of weeks ago.

Looking at your phone burns your eyes, as does the weird feeling in your chest.

Y/N [2:40 A.M.]: Really? Has it changed much?

Seo Changbin [2:40 A.M.]: The kids after us got all the cool playground equipment :(

Seo Changbin [2:40 A.M.]: I should take you there one day haha. I think that’d be fun.

You fight the giggle that wishes to flee, glancing up at a sleeping Jeongin for reassurance.

Waking up in the morning is aided with fleeting regrets, though beneath it you realize there is a small skip in your step. One that flares a heat in your face when you walk into the physics classroom and reach to meet Changbin’s eyes. And there, waiting, is his gaze and a small smile.

Maybe you have it bad for Seo Changbin, you think, as Professor Kim begins talking about Newton’s Third Law.

vii.

Yang Jeongin is broadcasting his homework onto the cheap projector he bought on Amazon for $50. “Isn’t it so cool?” he marvels as his red pen underlines a key part of his notes.

You absently nod, glaring at your textbook. Between the lines is a screaming thought that cascades a waterfall of forget towards your upcoming exam. You fail to notice your phone buzzing against your bed. Daydreams are dangerous like that.

“Y/N,” Jeongin’s voice finally snaps you out of it. You look to him, standing at the door and lazily holding the knob. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as you rush to take his spot. Before you can tug the door open, he presses a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful around him, please.”

You watch as he struts and flops down on his bed, opening a comic book above his head.

As you open the door, a little more hesitant than before the interaction with Jeongin, you smile.

Changbin is watching the end of your hall and playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. When he senses your presence, he finally breaks his trance and offers a smile. He keeps his voice low, “Can I talk to you?”

You nod, ignoring the annoying thump thump of your heart, “Sure. What’s up?”

“In private,” he adds, peeking over your head at Jeongin. Maintaining his hold on the comic book, though his eyes have drifted to you with a parental glare.

You shut the door behind you. His footsteps draw towards the common area, and you follow. There’s a silence draped over you until he abruptly stops in the middle of the hallway and turns to you. “I need you to pretend to date me.”

You blink. “W-What?”

He draws his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily before continuing, “I made a stupid bet and I kind of really need the money.”

A shroud of toughness hides your instant willingness to help. “What do I get out of this?”

His eyes radiate the innocence of a child. They draw you to a distant memory, one that you might have seen in a movie and forced into a memory, but you’re not sure. You were at his house after he broke his arm and he cried, those same eyes staring at you as he whined about how much it hurt. And how itchy his arm was beneath the cast.

Your heart softens, and you have to fight the crumbling beneath your feet.

“Whatever you want,” he assertively nods. “Seriously.”

You sigh. “Do you have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” he smiles, pulling you into a grateful hug. His hoodie smells vaguely of ramen with a hint of sealike cologne you might find in Lee Minho’s bathroom. You find yourself smiling as your hands rest on his back.

viii.

His hand, admittedly, feels a little odd in your hand. The last time you had held his hand was in second grade, when you went to the zoo on a field trip. Your class was already flooding into the bird exhibit with anticipation and exuberance. But you were crying your eyes out at the mere thought of seeing a parrot. (This unfounded fear is all thanks to Spongebob)

Changbin’s hand slipped into yours and slowly urged you in, mumbling that if you didn’t go you’d get stuck there forever. And then, he had whispered, the parrots might eat us alive. Even then, his hand was oddly clammy and a little sticky.

But now, as he guides you through the small neighborhood, you feel a calm mix of elation and awkwardness. Sure, this is groundbreaking material for you and your “small” crush on him. However, he’s not doing this because he likes you. He’s doing this because he needs some cash and you were a means of aiding him.

“Where are we going?” you ask, a cloud of your breath expanding from your lips. It’s only the beginning of November.

“You’ll see,” he glances over at you, a small smile painted on his pale cheeks.

There’s a small line of shrubs on your side of the sidewalk. Serving as a break in them is a metal archway, accompanied by a small wooden sign reading: Gyeonghwa Park. He turns into it, guiding you into the small fenced area. A two person swing set stands in the corner, absent seats trembling in the breeze. There’s a few wooden benches, though most are tainted in a layer of leaves.

“Ta-da,” he says, gesturing with his free arm at the small park.

You look around to the little duck statue in the corner. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are we here again?” you turn to him. His hand burns against your skin like a constant reminder.

“I can’t take you to our playground, so I thought we could settle for here as our first fake date,” he smiles. “Plus, we need couple pictures and I think this works well.”

You’re grateful for the breeze that dashes pink across your cheeks, disguising the heat that has rushed to them at his words. “R-Right,” you stutter.

He takes a seat on a leafless bench and slips his phone from his pocket. As you reluctantly sit beside him, you watch as he sends texts to his friends. Nothing regarding you, you presume, but when he feels your eyes he quickly closes the chat.

The pictures are poised carefully, his arm resting on the top of the bench behind you, your head tilted towards his as you smile. Without warning, he presses his lips to your cheek as the shutter clicks. You try not to make your flinch obvious.

He pulls back, smiling slightly as he inquires, “Should we kiss to seal the deal?”

Fire poisons your veins as you stare back at him. The invisible mark his lips had left sizzles in the air. “Do you think we should?” you whisper.

He shrugs. “It’ll make it a bit more believable. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, though.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Kiss me.”

The corners of his lips upturn a little further, sending a shiver down your spine—though maybe it was just the wind. He readjusts his phone, glancing to assure you’re both in frame, before leaning in. At first, his lips merely wander in the air before yours, as though he is thinking about the best way to do this. But then, confident lips press against yours. His touch melts away the numbness in your fingers, the shiver of the cold. In this moment of freedom, you wonder if he had ever wondered what your lips tasted like. Because you sure have.

ix.

Each of your fake dates is constructed with careful attention to detail. A trip to the movies (seeing a film you had mentioned wanting to see very briefly over text). A study ‘date’ that didn’t really feel romantic, though he brought you an americano and a fancy pen he stole from his dad’s work.

But your date today is very special. The diner is filled to the brim with hungry college students and elderly couples. In the back, bunched up against the upholstery, are Changbin’s friends. They throw their heads back to laugh as one tells a stupid joke. Changbin leads you down the aisle slowly. He squeezes your hand, whispering over his shoulder, “Thank you, again, for doing this. It means a lot.”

You smile against your will,“That’s what friends are for.”

As you approach, the new and familiar faces turn to you. Some hold smiles, others hold gaping lips.

“I didn’t think you actually found someone willing to date you,” a boy marvels.

“Let alone Y/N! How come I didn’t know you were dating?” Minho shouts, garnering certain harsh looks from neighboring booths.

A glimmering smile finds your lips as you slide into the booth beside him, “You never asked.”

He scoffs. “Am I supposed to ask when anything life-changing happens?”

Changbin files in beside you, sighing, “Not necessarily, but you talk a lot.”

“How long have you been dating?” a boy across from you asks. His cheeks are dusted with light freckles, and a friendly smile paints across his lips.

“Nearly two months,” you glance at Changbin, who nods. The finer details, he stressed, must be known like the back of your hand. A single hair out of place could be the end.

“Are you serious?” Minho booms. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted. Even his eyebrows raise in awe, scratching dull wrinkles across his forehead.

“You do talk a lot,” you mumble.

Before Minho can have the chance to shout profanities aiding his awe, another boy sighs. “Shut up and congratulate them, okay? This is karma for laughing at him when he wanted in on the bet.”

“Thank you, Chan,” Changbin smiles, wrapping an adept arm around your shoulder. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder.

As the night unfolds, queued by digging questions and the occasional groan from Minho, you nearly forget that this is an act. That when Changbin presses a kiss to your forehead it’s not real.

Outside of the diner, as his friends disperse into their means of transportation, he cups your cheeks and presses a soft kiss to your lips. When he parts, there’s a small smile and a gloss hanging over his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers.

He promises to pick you up at five. All that remains is the reward, you realize. A simple favor has brought you here, waiting impatiently for his knock on your door. Your heart beats harshly against your chest.

“Why are you even messing with him?” Jeongin mutters, stirring his ramen with the tips of his chopsticks.

You glance up at him, sighing, “I’m not messing with him. I’m doing him a favor.”

“Yeah, but, why? He’s an asshole, Y/N,” he shakes his head. As he shoves the steaming noodles into his mouth, he hisses at the heat and tilts his head to the side.

You watch him as he gulps down water.

At your prolonged silence, he adds, “When is he supposed to pick you up?”

You tap your phone screen, illuminating the time. “Five minutes ago.”

Jeongin drowns his harsh words with more noodles. Though, in between bites, he says, “Maybe he’s standing you up.”

The thought has crossed your mind, though a hollow in your chest wants to believe he wouldn’t do that. Friends, if that’s what you are, don’t do that.

Seconds drift into minutes. And minutes turn into an hour. Jeongin’s gone through three more ramen cups. Your lips ache as you nervously bite them, jumping for your phone at each notification.

At half past six, Jeongin rests into your bed beside you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he wraps a cautious arm around your shoulder.

Though, you do not feel anything aside from the irritation blurring your eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks. These simple words open the floodgate.

xi.

His eyes avert yours as though they had never known you in the first place. Minho doesn’t say anything when you lower yourself in the seat beside him. Instead, he cautiously slips you a small note. Large, scratchy words read: are you okay?

You crumble the note in your palm before tucking it into your bag. He does not bother you for the rest of class. Class travels by in grueling moments. Professor Kim’s voice seems slowed, stripped of any tone. When he finally dismisses class, warning that the semester is ending soon, you haphazardly shove your things into your bag and leave.

Over your shoulder, you hear a low smack and Minho mutter, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

It hurts to admit, given that you had known from the beginning, but Seo Changbin used you. Though, despite the anger you should be feeling, you can only find yourself wondering what he needed the money so badly for.

Back at the dorm, Jeongin silently pulls a piece of cake from the small fridge and hands it to you. “Here,” he mumbles. “My friend made it for you.”

You look up at him. “Why?” Your voice is raw from desuetude, crackles like an old radio.

Jeongin bites his lip, eyes slipping to your comforter. “I told him you were having a rough time. Plus, he knows Changbin, so he knows the story.”

You take the paper plate in your fingertips, dragging it toward you. You poke the delicacy with the tip of your fork. “What’s the story?”

A sigh slips past his lips. “That you guys dated and you broke up. That’s all Changbin told them.”

You nod. He must’ve gotten the money and thrown you away.

Your phone buzzes against the mattress. Jeongin leans over to check who it is. When his eyes meet yours again, he informs, “It’s just Minho.”

So you allow yourself to look at your phone.

Lee Minho [9:20 A.M.]: I’m outside your dorm. Let me in please.

You look up to the door, though your energy is below zero. Jeongin grabs your phone, reading the message, before going to answer the door.

“Hey, Jeongin,” Minho pushes past him. He sits at the foot of your bed. “What happened?”

You blink, eyes staring into his absently. “What?”

“With Changbin. Tell me what happened, please. He won’t tell us anything and I’m starting to get worried for both of you. He’s never this quiet and you’re never this sulky,” he reluctantly rests his hand on your knee.

You look at Jeongin, who stands there with arms against his chest. He shrugs, silently telling you it’s up to you.

You sigh. “Where do I start?”

“The beginning, preferably.”

“I think I fell in love with him, but I can’t tell you when. Maybe it was when we were kids. Maybe it was at the party when he apologized,” you slowly say. The words do not feel like yours. A small pit rumbles in your stomach, begging you to continue. “He wanted a favor, to pretend to date him for that bet you guys made. I didn’t ask why he needed the money or why I should do this for him, given all he did to me. I just went with it. And things were great, as far as fake relationships go.”

In your break of silence, you find yourself smiling at all the fake dates. You wonder if the pictures still live in his phone or if he discarded them the moment he got rid of you.

“So you guys faked the whole thing?” Minho’s eyebrows furrow.

You nod. “He was supposed to pick me up on Saturday, but he stood me up. And now we’re here.”

Minho blinks. “Either Changbin’s a good actor or he’s a fucking asshole.”

“It’s the latter,” Jeongin announces as he crosses to his bed.

Minho shakes his head. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t tell him what I said,” you rush. “About loving him or anything.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

After he leaves, Jeongin loudly sighs. “I knew you were in love with him.”

You look at him, slowly nodding, “I didn’t really make an effort to hide it.”

xii.

There are tears irritating your skin as you pull yourself out of bed. Surviving off of Felix’s cake and Jeongin’s ramen cups is less than attractive, but you cannot build enough will to leave your dorm. You ask Minho to take notes in physics for you and he quickly obliges, no questions asked.

Changbin, still, plagues your mind like venom. Each time you think maybe a nap is in order, you shut your eyes and see his smile. Or you’ll think of his lips on yours as he smiles into the kiss. Your eyes shoot open, chest rising heavily. Even when you stare at your ceiling too long, your brain deems it a screen for a memory to play. Casted like Jeongin’s cheap projector.

There was this once, in fourth grade when you grew bored of the swings so you relocated to the plastic blue tunnel. He blocked off one end while you took the other. On hotter days, you’d lay on top of the tunnel. One day, he looked at you across the plastic and asked, “Do you ever think we’ll be grown ups far away from each other?”

You shook your head so confidently. “No. We’re gonna live together. Like roommates.”

Jeongin comes home from his classes with a cup of coffee. He sets it on your nightstand as he whispers, “I’m spending the night at Chan’s tonight. Call me if you need anything.”

You take a sip of the americano. “Thanks, have fun.”

In his wake is a dreaded silence that reminds you of Changbin’s laugh. Time has only plagued it with a dash of depth.

Your phone buzzes. Hesitantly, you roll over and grab it. The metal is cold against your fingers.

Lee Minho [4:29 P.M.]: Hey, I need you to come to the beach. There’s something I want to show you.

The thing that tipped you over the edge when looking for a college was the beach. As you carefully scouted, the grains of sand kept drawing you back. It’s ironic as you realize that you haven’t been once, despite its proximity. You can already feel the bitter cold against your cheeks as you rise from your bed. Dots of dizziness scatter across your eyes.

The mid November air is cooler than you expected as you step out of the complex. You shove balled fists deeper into your hoodie pocket.

The walk to the beach is shorter than you had expected, only passing ten minutes. You see Minho waiting on the wooden slats leading to the sand. He jumps to preserve his heat.

“Hey,” you call out to him.

He looks to you, daring to unveil a pale hand as he waves. When you’re closer he says, “It’s fucking cold out here.”

You nod, looking out onto the vacant sand. Huddled like a speck of trash is a small figure.

“Why’d you want to meet out here?” you return to look at him, a piercing cold slashing your heart at the realization.

His face softens as he glances out towards the black speck in the sand. “Well, he wanted to meet you here but he wasn’t sure if you’d come if he texted. So he dragged me out here.”

You find yourself laughing. “And you agreed?”

“I didn’t know it was negative twenty out here,” he mutters. “So go and talk to him so I can get back in my car.”

You smile. Your heart thunders against your chest and, even though you know you shouldn’t, your feet move towards the small figure. He tugs you in, time and time again.

You glance over your shoulder when you reach him. Minho’s already gone, as though his presence was merely a ghost. You squat next to Changbin, wrapping your arms around your knees.

He looks at you, though you keep focused on the pale water. Brushing up on the sand, pulling back into the ocean.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You nod. “You always say that.”

“I really am,” he admits. “I know you probably think I’m an asshole, reasonably so, but I really am sorry for everything.”

You finally look at him. “What’d you need the money for?”

He’s taken aback. He had expected more of a heartbreaking confession, a perspective he had not once explored. “Music equipment,” he says. “It’s really for me, Chan, and Jisung.”

You nod, looking back at the water. “I was just a ragdoll so you could get that.”

“Not really,” he whispers. “It was kinda a double positive for me.”

Furrowed eyebrows turn back to him.

“I got the money,” he starts, “and I also got the luxury of pretending to be yours.”

You blink. Your voice is small, barely audible over a gust of wind, “What?”

“Every time I did something stupid that got in between us, I always knew I’d find my way back to you. I was the tide and you were the moon, reaching out and tugging me back into reality. Time and time again, as we’ve come to understand,” he nods, glancing at his red fingers, bitten by the air.

You stare at him. “So why do you keep pushing me away?”

He shrugs. “There was always the fear that you didn’t want to bring me back.”

You scoff, remembering your childhood and the way he kept drawing you closer. You shake your head, words failing you.

“So truly, I am so sorry. You still have your end of the deal, you know. You get whatever you want. You can tell me to fuck off and I’ll go home. Sure, I’d be a little heartbroken, but-”

You cut him off, “Why would I ever do that?”

“Because I treat you like shit to fuel this stupid ideology that you don’t hate me,” he admits. “Even when I don’t try to be, I’m a selfish asshole. I only kissed you because I wanted to, not because of the stupid pictures for the bet. I only asked you for the favor because I wanted to paint this stupid little picture in my head. I only stood you up because I couldn’t bring myself to face you and admit that my stupid fantasy was over.”

“That’s not selfish,” you say. “That’s just very Seo Changbin of you.”

“I really cannot tell if you hate my guts or not,” he sighs, picking up a handful of sand and watching as it trickles down again.

You shake your head. “Minho didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

You look back at the empty space where the ghost once stood. A sigh of a distant nostalgia slips from your lips—the times you’ve pictured this moment over and over in your daydreams. However, you did not imagine the bitter bite of the wind nipping at your cheeks. “That I’m in love with you.”

“You what?” he gawks, leaning a bit closer. As though his ears deceive him.

Your eyes return to his as you nod. “I love you. I probably have since we were kids. That’s the only reason I agreed to your favor. Because I, too, wanted to be a little selfish.”

His lips slowly curl up into a smile as he releases an abrasive laugh. “How much did Minho pay you to say that?”

“He didn’t. I’m being completely honest. Why else would I be here if I wasn’t stupidly in love with you, huh?”

“Really?”

“Yes, now can we speed this up? It’s fucking cold out here.”

He presses his lips against yours. You expect them to mold against yours like they had in previous weeks, but now they are fiery. It sends tingles down your spine as he cups your cheek. With those internal feelings finally suspended from your body, you can sigh a breath of relief.

You wonder if younger you would be proud.

xiii.

“Are you guys actually dating now or are you just fucking with us again?” one of Changbin’s friends, Jisung, asks as you slide into the same booth as a few weeks ago.

“They are,” Minho intervenes. “I watched them confess and everything. Like a minister.”

“Bullshit,” you mutter. “You went back to your car as soon as I got there.”

Changbin’s laugh tickles against your ear as he scoots in next to you.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t revoke the award,” the freckled boy, who you’ve now concluded is Felix, observes.

“Why?” Jisung asks, bringing the straw of his soda to his lips.

“Because we would have had to give it right back.”

His friends are very welcoming of you, despite the deception that marked your first greeting. Chan catches you in the parking lot as Changbin and Jisung fight over the extra mint the server placed on the table.

“I just want you to know,” he starts with a smile, “that he really loves you. It’s not a front, I promise.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you ask, “Those are suspicious words. How should I trust you?”

“Because he talks about you all the time. I know more about your childhood than I know about mine. Plus, he’s written three songs about you and we don’t even have the equipment to record anything yet.”

You laugh, “You’re in luck, then.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’ll find out.”

Changbin returns to your side, a sullen scowl pressed against his lips as he watches Jisung pop the mint into his mouth. Chan dismisses himself to attend to Felix attempting to teach Minho a taekwondo move.

You look over at Changbin, “You’ve written songs about me?”

His eyes widen, “No? Why would I ever do that?”

A giggle bubbles up from your stomach as you shake your head, starting off to his car. Behind you, he repeats the same question urgently.

xiv.

Seo Changbin is like a pest that flies around your head, begging your attention at all moments of the day. He invited you over to his dorm so you could study together, though when you arrived with your textbook and notes, he appeared offended.

“What?” you asked as you settled on his bed, fluffing pillows before leaning against them.

“Studying doesn’t mean studying, it means cuddling,” he pouted.

It’s lucky for him that Minho isn’t home because if he ever heard those words falling from his lips, he’d never hear the end of it.

So that’s why you’re laying your head on his pillow, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you read over your notes.

“What’s the formula for Newton’s law of universal gravitation?” you quiz him when you feel his arms start to loosen with the temptation of sleep.

He hums, “I don’t know. You’re the one with the strong magnetic force. Shouldn’t they call it Y/N’s law of universal gravitation?”

You sigh, setting the spiral notebook on his nightstand before you turn in his arms to face him. The hint of a smile already greets you. You press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “What’s your grade in physics?”

He looks up at the ceiling as he pretends to think. “38.”

“What?” you hiss, pulling back away from him as though he has an illness you didn’t know about.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he whines, pulling you back. “I only signed up for the class because it reminded me of you.”

You smile. “Why?”

He shyly pouts, “I may have gone out of my way to hear about you when we were in high school.”

“And you never thought to apologize?” you counter, your smile still reigning.

“You looked like you were doing fine without me,” he shyly admits.

“Changbin,” you shake your head. “I had no friends after Minho moved. I chased after you, thinking maybe something would happen.”

He closes his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t see me in Cinderella.”

“I saw you in Cinderella,” you laugh.

He throws his head back and whines. “The pants they put me in were two sizes too big.”

The memory of him standing on stage and having to hold up his pants, disguising it by having his hands on his hips, brings another laugh to the air. “Did they really not have any clothespins or anything?”

“No!” he exclaims, looking back into your eyes. “Fucking Hyunjin was hoarding them all!”

You feel the vibrations of your laugh against the pillow. It’s good being like this, having him tethered close.

He’s in the middle of saying something, probably further pursuing his complaints about high school or Hyunjin, but you do not care. You press your lips against his. A moment of stillness, thanks to his shock, before he kisses you back.

The only word to describe this feeling brewing in your stomach: bliss. Pure, hot bliss.

You hope gravity will keep you grounded here.

130 notes · View notes

juminly · 4 years

Text

Sweet Dreams

Pairing: Theodorus Van Gogh x Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: mutual masturbation, semi-clothed sex, grinding, fingering, biting, praise, sleepy sex, domestic fluff.

Summary: Theodorus is finally home and he has missed you, his wife, so much. He couldn’t wait until you woke up to shower him with the love that he craved and desperately needed. A/N: Another small contribution to Kinktober and my submission for Theo’s Route Countdown Party hosted by @delicateikemenmemes . –♥– “Princess…” Your lover calls out to you in your dreams. His voice seemed like a distant memory yet so real, you could feel his breath tickling the shell of your ear and the yearning dripping from his voice. You knew he wasn’t there, this was just a fabrication of your deepest of thoughts, your subconscious materializing your desires into semblances that felt too real. “I need you… Love… Please, wake up.” With a chaste kiss pressed on your shoulder, soft lips careened solemnly over the silk of your skin, your heart fluttering under the verity that this dream-like illusion had to you would gladly succumb to. Gentle traces of love painted over the canvas of your figure, reminiscent of the comfort of dusk in loving arms, light nips awakening the softest of blemishes before reaching your nape. Opening your eyes, you blinked them blearily… this felt so familiar. This happened so many times before. A pattern of your quotidian, one of the many seeds of happiness that bloomed in your heart. You were not met by the sight of him, yet, all your senses welcomed him. At last, my love has come along... Theo was finally back… The scent of his worn-off cologne tinged with the forlorn sweetness of whiskey that you sampled from his lips. The scales had been tipping in favour of your fatigue, your eyes falling shut before a silent moan caught in your throat and he suckled on the tender skin of your neck. “Theo…” you mumbled, coming to the realization that this wasn’t one of your frequent dreams of your lover. He was finally back from those dreadful trips… They only felt so dreary when he had to spend so much time away from you. You sighed softly as you let your train thoughts pull you away further away into the lands of unconsciousness that you fought to leave. The less time you spent together, the more you longed for him, ached for him and felt an emptiness that no one could fill, a thirst that nothing could quench but… him. However, it was all worth it. Seeing the look of satisfaction on his handsome visage as he recounted to you all that he had achieved, going leaps and bounds closer to making his passion, his dreams come true by helping others fulfill their own. “Yes, darling… I’m here.” He was now the man that pouted for a sliver of your attention, who demanded the love he earned as your husband and reciprocated the care he so abundantly gave you in his own dismorphed way. As your slumber threatened to steal you away from him, the smooth brush of his knuckles tracing the curve of your thighs was a gentle declaration of war in tandem with the kisses that he painted over each and every vertebrae his lips could touch, with veneration that could only belong to him. Fervent hums of your name were the only melody Theodorus would ever chant in the darkest hours of the night. “I’m sorry to wake you, princess…” he whispered apologetically, halting the cascade of kisses on your back momentarily to utter those words, his emotions brimming in every syllable, emotions that he would usually painstakingly try to mask and contain, even hide. He didn’t have to. Not with you. “I missed you…” a despondent declaration that he muttered willingly, laden with fervour that was deepened by your mutual absence. “I missed you too, baby… Welcome home, Theo.” The corner of your lips twisted into a smile of utter delight. Nothing could ever compare to the happiness that this man brought to your life. He was everything to you and you reminded yourself, every single day, that he had opened his heart to you when he had intended to keep it locked for as long as he could… before the key became your most prized possession. “I never thought that I would ache to hear those words…” he exhaled heavily, the huskiness of his voice mirroring the sleepiness of your own. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, mijn liefje. Every gallery we went to, every person I’ve spoken to… I just wanted to see you. I just wanted you to be there. You’ve made it so hard for me to be away from you…” A deep sigh streaked with an ache that mirrored your own escaped his lips while you listened avidly to his confessional rumination. “I don’t know what to do with you… Being here… with you is the only place where I feel… whole.” If only you had more energy to requite his affections as he just had… You didn’t even have to turn around and look behind you to see those cerulean orbs, waves of crystal blue water hardened by ardour and longing. “I… I told you, Theo..” You yawned as quietly as you could manage, squealing as you arched your back, stretching it a bit in an attempt to shake off the stiffness of your drowse. “I love you… and.. You can do whatever you want with me.” A small shiver coursed through, inciting a low chuckle from your husband as his hand reached your hip, his index hooked around the waistband of your navy satin shorts, tugging on the fabric tentatively, the silent gesture filled with much promise. “You sound so exhausted, Theo… you need to…...you need rest.” “I actually did sleep like shit…”. he grumbled as he nuzzled your neck, inhaling sharply before breathing out shakily, the warm air eliciting a tingling sensation starting from your nape and slowly coursing through the length of your body. “I‘ve barely been able to get a few hours in.” In other words, your husband was trying to tell you that he couldn’t sleep well without having you near, cuddled in his arms, your head resting on his chest or even when he would nestle himself in your embrace. That’s how it always was. That’s how it always will be. “I’ll make it better, baby.” A sleepy promise but one that you would make sure to keep.

“I want you to… Please.” Your haughty lover pleaded with gruff murmurs, his hunger for you so tangible, the slight tremble of his arm didn’t go unnoticed as he wound it under your waist, pulling you to him, your bodies finally flush against each other, his hand snaking down your satin camisole, tracing his calloused fingers over your stomach up to your chest before enveloping one of your breasts, the cold metal of his ring sending a sweet chill on your warmed skin as it brushed your sensitive bead. “I want to be inside you, love… feel your sweet cunt tighten…” he groaned at the thought as his hips finally met yours, the hard imprint of his cock pressed against your behind while he tended to your breast, caressing the bottom of your soft mound with pendular strokes “...suck me in while I fill you up so good.” Heavens, you’ve missed him so much but the damned demon of sloth had possessed you and Theodorus was your devilish angel rousing you from his hold while gracing you with his love under the guise of his own selfish whims. Winding your fingers around the back of his palm, you lead him to the warmth of your mouth, your tongue gliding over the length of his index and middle finger before sucking on the tips, swirling around them lazily. You smiled as a low shaky chuckle resounded in his chest, his relief was so palpable and you were more than willing to give him more. “You always take such good care of me, don’t you, baby girl?” You absently nodded in agreement but he knew that you agreed without having to do or say anything. There was nothing you wanted more than to take care of your man. In that moment. “Suck it like you mean it, baby…” You gleefully complied, the silence of your room mixed with your husband’s loud breathing, his chest heaving against your back as you pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth, circling the length of his digits with your wet muscle. “Godverdomme… I wish your mouth was on my cock right now.” You rocked your hips back and forth, grinding against your love with innocent purpose as he did the same, relishing in any friction he could get from you while he began pumping his fingers in and out of your mouth, mimicking the same rhythm your bodies followed. Reaching behind you, you traced the V line of his lower abdomen… God, you wanted to lick your way down those taut muscles as you felt them contract under your nimbleness. You smiled sleepily at the power that you held over your lover, even in the drowsy state that you were in. Pushing down his boxers, you finally freed his aching cock, Theo hissing sharply as you wrapped your fingers around his girth and thumbing at his slit, allowing more of the precum oozing from his tip to slide down his length. With bated breath, your lover ran his tongue to draw a long strip over the shell of your ear. “You’re going to be a good little Hondje and give me exactly what I need, my princess?” You keened in response at the evident contradiction in his tone, the dominance he failed to exude as his emotions caught up to him. The answer was obvious and your body would do all the talking, and his would too. Grinding back against him, needy groans were all you could hear as he readied your body for his taking. Each roll of your hips, each touch and every stroke was a silent vow to consume you as he searched for signs and probed your body in all the right places. The embers of your burning desire would soon go aflame. Just as he was making sure you were ready for him, you would have to do the same. You began squeezing your palm and releasing in alternation, rubbing small circles around and over the head of cock, feeling him shiver behind you as he finally pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a resounding pop, sliding his arms over the curves of your waist and bringing his hand under your shorts and between your thighs. “No underwear, hm?” You didn’t even bother to reply to his teasing tone, he knew very well why you were not wearing any underwear, waiting for this exact moment to take place. Without wasting a moment and pushing your folds apart, Theodorus traced the length of your core, feeling the ghost of a pulsating with the newfound attention, an ache growing in your core in anticipation as he covered you with the slickness of your own mouth. “I love you so much…” He whispered huskily in your ear before ensnaring your earlobe between his teeth, feeling the tip of his fangs poke your flesh. “You drive me absolutely mad, mijn lieftse…” You closed your eyes, imagining how enthralling your husband looked as they protrude past his blood slicken lips. Wet with your blood. The thought alone had more of your desire pooling at your core while Theo dragged his fingers up and down your core, the lingering strokes on your clit making you squeeze his cock in your palm, his ragged gasp blessing your ears as you began pumping his length at an unsteady pace. “How many times did you touch yourself when you were gone, Theo...” you croaked as teasingly as you could, your voice betraying you as it cracked, the kindling heat of pleasure troubling your senses. “More times than I could count…” An animalistic growl drawing out of him as his hips rocked against your palm in subdued haste as he fucked the softness you offered. The fingers that brushed the weight of your breasts were now circling around your nipple, brushing over it with teasing strokes as it hardened under his willful ministrations. “Too.. many… times..” the occasional squeeze on his cock made his words falter on the tip of his tongue, stuttering in a manner that made you want to see him, feel him and hear him completely fall apart. “I’ll just have to make it up to you...” You vowed lovingly, wishing that you could see the expression on his but he had you imprisoned in his grasp, not giving you a chance to turn around but only writhe from the onslaught on your core. Your eyes fell shut, imagining how you would tease yourself with his hard cock between your legs, glossing it with your essence as he called you out for the naughty Hondje that you truly were before he plunged deep inside you. “It’s good to be home, baby girl...” He sucked on your earlobe gently, feeling his lips form a smirk as he made you squeal by pinching your sensitive nipple before massaging and squeezing the breast in his grasp with a little too much force, which you didn’t mind. “You’re still not ready....” he reminded you as he gently teased your entrance, probing it with the tip of his index. Bringing his attention back to your neck, Theo bestowed wet kisses along the column of your throat, latching on to your delicate skin with deep sucks and nips which he smoothed over and over with his tongue. His love and affection were abundant yet the pleasure he gave you was teasing and merciless all the same, as it had always been. Yet, you know… it was all for you. He wanted to enjoy himself with you. “Not yet… But I will be… soon. ” Shaking your head as a mewl escaped from you, Theo began rubbing tight circles over your sensitive nub, your body responding to him in kind, always at his beck and call. “I’m almost there… Ahh, yes, Theo… right there!” The pad of his coated fingers shocked your body as they settled in a dizzying oscillating motion, painfully slow yet enough to lure you into an ephemeral trance, teetering in the ebb and flow of the building release. You continued to do the same, inviting him with your palm to the edge that he sought, twisting your wrist and pumping his aching cock, smearing it with more of his essence that dripped from him, the grunts falling from his lips enough to spur you on. Finally slipping not only one, but two fingers inside your aching core, he scissored them as your walls clench needily around him, the quivering of your legs becoming more visible, the lazy rock of your hips growing faster as you chase for the love that Theo was so willing to give. “No need for introductions, Theo…” You cried out as your body began to writhe in his embrace, his arm growing even tighter around your waist, making even harder to breathe. Sucking almost desperately on the crook of your neck, his hips rolled against you in a more urgent yet stammering pace, the friction was clearly not enough. He needed more and so did you. “It’s… enough… I can take it, Theo...” you whined beseechingly. “Hmm.. Just a little more, princess.” He croaked painfully, stubbornly prolonging the bittersweetness of your desire. “I want you dripping for me.” He wasn’t teasing you, applying the right amount of pressure that you needed on your clit with his thumb while he inserted a third finger inside you, stretching you even wider, yet the fullness was nothing near how he felt inside you. “One of the many things I love about you… You’re always so ready for me…” His tactfulness was a testament to the urgency that had been tamed by your imminent slumber yet the pleasure of your impending climax had your brain swimming. Dragging the tip of his fingers along the walls of your walls, he slowly removed them from inside you and you whined loudly in frustration, your cunt clenching against the nothingness that your husband had caused and had yet to fill. “Theo… Please… I’ve had enough… Just put it in.” Your lust finally broke through the remnant languidness of your body. Your impatience won, taking reign of your impulsive actions while you and your husband allowed your instincts to overwhelm you. Pulling down your shorts slightly, you wriggled out of the smooth piece of satin, parted your thighs and arched your back while pushing your butt on Theo, hearing him grunt as he slid his cockhead between your drenched folds before settling at your entrance. “I’m happy to be home with you, my love...” A loving whisper mixed with a snarl, the tip of his fangs digged into the sweet spot in the crook of your neck, an euphoric shock coursing through your being as his hips finally snapped forward, his cock sinking into you with ease. Wanton moans of his name and rough groans echoed in your moonlit room as he sheathed himself fully, your warmth sucked him into the slice of heaven that you shared… even better than what you could the pure bliss of the sweetest of dreams. –♥– For some reason, this fic is not appearing in the tags so if you liked this fic, every reblog is appreciated!!

Please feel free to leave comments/feedback!💜 Masterlist

Tagging @shhhlikeme @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @nafeary @cinnatwisted @nad-zeta @mariahambleton @sadshaxk @raymiazaki @simulationone @stehkotori @waffleareniceandfluffy 💜

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus van gogh #ikemen vampire smut #theodorus van gogh #Theo's route countdown party #ikevam theo #ikevamp smut #theodorus van gogh smut #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikevamp theo x reader #ikemen vampire theodorus x reader #kinktober #ikemen vampire kinktober #ikevamp kinktober #ikevamp theo smut

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

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Cake Thief (Marcus Pike x F!Reader)

Cake thief

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Fluff, tooth rottening fluff, a little spice

Word count: 2,023

Summary: You’d been thinking about that last piece all day especially how crappy of a day it’s been.

Notes: Inspired by a favorite cupcake show that’s in my area and because Marcus Pike is just the sweetest.

Shit show that’s what you’d call it. The whole damn day from missing the morning goodbye kiss from Marcus to someone stealing your lunch and now soaked to the bone from an early evening downpour. Sure you could’ve waited the storm out in your car. But all you wanted now is a nice hot shower, fluffy pajama’s, Marcus’s arms wrapped around you and the last piece of decadent red velvet cake from your favorite place.

Shuffling through the door dropping purse and keys on the end table behind the couch, carefully shrugging out of your soaked jacket to not soak the carpet and carrying it towards the small laundry space. Kicking your kitten heels off while adding to the jacket your black dress trousers, and burgundy wrap tunic blouse a favorite that you wanted off to show Marcus. But that’ll have to wait for another time as a shiver runs down your spine rain drops cooling your skin when the air conditioning kicks on. Cursing the rotten luck you’ve managed to acquire today while bending to scoop up your heels and head towards the bedroom. Nice hot shower calling your name only pausing long enough to grab up one of Marcus’s dress shirt’s and a pair of panties before heading towards the bathroom.

Getting the water to the perfect temperature before stripping your under garments off and stepping under the warm spray. Soft moan leaving your lips the steam enveloping you in a welcoming hug. Heating your chilled skin and chasing away the shivers, hot water soothing out the tightness in your shoulders from your crappy day. Wishing and not for the first time that Marcus would’ve beating you home.

Foolish though you know since most nights he’s always late given the importance of his job with the FBI. Remembering your best, scratch that ex best friend snorting at you when in great detail you explained Marcus’s job. Never feeling so much anger in your life towards another human being. Sure at the time it’d been only three months into the relationship and Marcus brought his work home some nights. What hurt the most were snide little comments she’d make on how he didn’t have a real job at the FBI. Just played with art the whole time, wanna be artist she’d called him. Most of all when she started to question his true intent, that he’s damaged goods, divorced and coming out of another failed relationship. If there’s one thing you learned about DC it’s that gossip floats around like yesterdays trash.

Finding out through the gossip channel that Matty boosted about how she’s just a couple more pushes away from getting her hands on Marcus. Alluding to the fact she felt you weren’t his type, not thin enough and in her opinion not pretty enough to keep a man like Marcus Pike interested. Needless to say one snowy afternoon your iced caramel macchiato happen to find itself poured down the front of Matty’s body. To this day two years later the memory still made you giggle more than it should.

Soaping up the loofa and starting to wash your soft curves remembering the shock in those sinful brown eyes of Marcus’s when you explained what happened. How he spent the rest of the night reassuring you and maybe even himself that your the woman he wanted. Those thoughts cause a delicious shiver of a different kind to slide down your spine. Rushing through the rest of your shower hoping by the time you’ve dried off and dressed Marcus would’ve come home.

Lost in your thoughts, shower covering most of the sounds coming from the living room as the man in question drops his keys besides yours. Relieved sigh leaving his lips at finally getting home. First real smile tugs at the corner of his mouth hearing the shower run. Sure it’s only been ten hours since he saw you last but it didn’t stop the need to hold you from stealing over him. Normally going to join but he hears the water shut off signally you’ll be joining him soon. Instead he heads towards the kitchen to pull fixings for dinner out. Spying the last slice of red velvet cake he debates with himself for the better part of five minutes before pulling the piece from the cold confines of the refrigerator. Slowly licking his lips while opening the plastic container, fragrant sweet cream cheese frosting hitting his taste buds before a single morsel.

He wastes no time grabbing a fork to dig in moaning around the fluffy red velvet cake and metal tines of the fork. Back pressing against the counter now, eyes having closed in bliss. Not knowing you’ve come from the bathroom, his dark blue dress shirt covering your plush body. Steps halting when you find him enjoying your last slice. Part of you wanting to snatch it from his hands scolding him for taking what’s yours. However, you’ve learned to share after all and Marcus did deserve to have a sweet treat. With those thoughts combined with a very erotic idea, you glance down unbuttoning a few more to expose your cleavage.

Hands coming to rest on your wide hips one jutting out and clearing your throat trying to hide the smirk when Marcus jumps. His eyes fly open and wide to stare at you. “Whatch ya eaten there Marcus?” Brow lifting, watching as he licks those sinful lips, Adams apple bobbing with a hard swallow. Itching to run your mouth over the tanned skin take in his scent, drowning in those warm chocolate pools still shocked wide.

“Last piece of cake,” knowing it useless to lie. Recovering himself, trailing his eyes over your body slowly, voice deep with barely hidden arousal at seeing you in his shirt. Normally not a possessive man but there’s something about seeing you in his shirt which brings out a feral need in him. “Want a bite?”

Capturing your bottom witnessing the heat flaring to life while trying to keep the smirk from becoming full blown. You take a step closer, “You know that’s my last piece Marcus I’d been looking forward to it all day long. Especially after the shit show of a day I had.”

Warm smile slides over the very kissable lips, not matching the desire swimming just beneath his veins. “I’m sorry sweetheart had no idea your day sucked.” Scooping up another bite and holding it towards you, “You know I’ll always share.”

“How sweet of you,” closing the distance between you. Mouth opening to wrap your lips around the fork while keeping eye contact with Marcus. Slowly pulling back, taking the moist cake and sweet frosting into the heated cavern of your mouth. Soft moan sounding from deep within your chest as you savor each decadent flavor bursting on your tongue. Licking your lips to catch the smallest of crumbs, “Mind if I have another bite?”

Swallowing harshly, struck mute for a moment. “Of course baby…” swallowing his tongue on the last word with a swipe of your finger through the cream cheese frosting. Watching with peaked interest as that single digit makes its way towards your mouth. Pink tongue coming out to lick a good portion off eyes closing to savor the sweetness. Wrapping your lips around the tip to suck off what’s left. Watching transfixed by the erotic sight your presenting him. Room in those normally loose dress pants becoming a high commodity with each moan vibrating through your chest.

“Hmm not bad,” full blown smirk gracing your lips passion filled eyes opening to stare at him. “But it’s missing something.”

“That would be?” Intrigued by your words, Marcus reacts first. Container placed on the table beside you, reaching to wrap an arm around your waist. Pulling you flush against his chest white dress shirt wrinkling with you pressed together so intimately. “Before you answer that, have I told you how beautiful you look in my clothes?”

Shaking your head one hand comes up to draw patterns on his tie before wrapping it around your hand to give a little tug. “No you’ve never said,” looking up through your lashes. Admiring the way his chocolate browns deepen to almost pitch with every tug on his tie. Only broken when you feel cool sticky fingers brush over your throat head tipping back to give him access. Soft lips following the sweet trail he’s painted on your skin eliciting whimpers from you throat. “Is…” swallowing hard trying to form words to speak. “Is this what you mean by sharing, Cake Thief?”

“Cake Thief huh?” Drawing his nose up the column of your throat to that little spot just behind your ear. Nibbling softly smirk tugging at his lips hearing another whimper sound from your mouth.

Nodding trying to keep from giving yourself away, “Yup you stole my last piece of cake.” With much difficulty you pull back from his questing lips that threaten to draw another moan from your willing body. Eyes locking then diverting when his hand comes up with another bite held carefully between thumb and forefinger.

“Ah but how can you call me a thief when I’m sharing?” Bringing his fingers to your mouth, opening enough so he can place the divine morsel on your tongue.

Lips closing around his forefinger to suck the last bit of frosting off. Swallowing the bite before nibbling, laving your tongue over the rough pad then sucking gently. Watching him gulp down a breath of air when you let go with a wet pop. “Hmm you have me there love but you’ll have to make it up to me somehow. Especially since someone forgot our goodbye kiss this morning.”

Wrapping his free hand around the back of your neck, fingers gently massaging your skin, “That I will apology for and correct right now.” Slanting his mouth over yours stealing your breath with the tender kiss. Teasing the seam of your mouth till you part your lips, inviting his tongue in to tangle with yours.

Tasting the sweet cream cheese from the warm cavern of your mouth making a deep groan ramble from his chest. Tightening the arm around your plush waist to pull you closer, counters edge bitting into his back but he could care less with you in his arms. Devouring your mouth, expertly dragging another whimper out, biting your bottom lip too sooth with the flat of his tongue causing a gasp to exist. Taking advantage and thrusting his tongue against yours. Drinking from your mouth as a thirsty man searching for water. Wanting to draw out more sounds that never fail to drive him crazy with desire.

Your own hands shooting up to card through those soft locks. Tugging to angle his head just right taking in a bit of air, noses bumping as you take over the kiss. Returning the nip to his tongue getting a hiss in response and a tightening of his grip on your thick waist. Knowing those nimble fingers leave behind bruises only heightens your arousal and want for this man. Air or lack there of becomes needed and you pull away, resting foreheads together as you both gasp to fill your burning lungs.

“Apology accepted,” mumbling the words against his skin. Occupying your lips with tasting his jawline, nibbling a path down to the collars edge. Brushing your nose against his ear, “There’s a way you can make it up to me for stealing my cake.”

Hands drop down to cup your plush ass, giving a squeeze to hear you moan in his ear. Vibrating through his whole body, “And that would be?”

“Be my canvas and let me paint you with the last of the frosting?” Biting the lobe before pulling back to stare at him. “What do ya say Cake Thief?” Mischief making your eyes dance while watching him.

Smirking sliding over his lips, “You’ve got twenty seconds to grab the cake and run sweetheart. Because,” seeing you arch a brow at his words, higher when he pauses to ghost his lips over yours. “If I catch you I’ll be eating you instead of that cake.”

#Marcus Pike x F!Reader #Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader #pedro pascal character's #Pedro Pascal Character's fiction

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ahkaahshi · 4 years

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1:32 AM [hirugami sachirou x reader]

pairing: hirugami sachirou x fem reader

genre: fluff with sprinkles of angst

warning(s): descriptions of catastrophic thinking/anxiety, brief mentions of death, swearing

word count: 2.5k

overview: when hirugami’s old habits of rumination come back to haunt him, there’s only one person who can bring him peace

By the time it’s 1:32 AM, Hirugami has spent no less than a half hour staring at the digitized numbers of the alarm clock cutting through the darkness, watching the precious seconds and minutes of sleep tick away before his eyes. A strange haze hangs over him, and it’s as if his ears have been stuffed with cotton, amplifying all the thoughts pounding against his skull. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence in his head, during which he can hear the leaves whispering in the breeze outside of his window, and he thinks he’s finally falling asleep, but the quietude is painfully temporary.

With a heavy sigh, he turns on his back and stares up at the ceiling, giving his thoughts a moment to surface individually, like bubbles rising to meet the daylight shining down on a body of water.

When will what I do ever be enough?

Did I really choose the right path in life?

Would I still feel this way if my life had played out differently?

When will these thoughts stop?

Rumination is nothing new to him. Despite being able to keep the habit tucked away for a majority of his high school years with both yours and Hoshiumi’s help, he finds that it often comes back to haunt him at the most unexpected times. His week at work had been as smooth as it could be given he was a busy veterinarian, yet he’d felt a knot of something—uncertainty?—forming within him over the course of the past few days. Where it had originated from he had no clue, but it was proving to be a formidable opponent now, in the late hours of the evening while the rest of the neighborhood slept.

The journal on his bedside table catches his attention, and as much as he knows he should take a moment to pen down his troubles in an attempt to put them to rest, his hands feel too heavy to move. Just making the simple trip from his chest to the table feels like the most effortful task in the universe. He does, however, find the strength and motivation to reach for his phone lying beside him where he’d tossed it in agony after realizing he was using it far too long after bedtime.

His eyelids instinctively narrow at the sudden influx of light that spills onto his face from the screen when he turns it on, even though the brightness is at its lowest setting. Lazy drags of his fingertips find him face to face with your smiling contact photo, and sluggish taps compose a more to-the-point text message than he usually sends asking if you’re still awake. Gray dots appearing, then promptly disappearing along the bottom of his screen proves that you are—and in an instant, he’s answering a call from you.

“What’s up, Sachi?” you ask, voice more chipper than he’d expect at this hour.

“Nothin’ much,” he lies with a yawn. Hearing his voice weighted so heavily with fatigue makes your heart sink in your chest. “What’re you up to?”

He can hear rustling through the phone as you readjust the blankets ensconcing you to pull them up to your shoulders again. Gazing at your glowing computer screen, you respond, “Just watching a movie,” before asking, “Everything okay?”

“Just having trouble getting to sleep, is all,” he explains, the words leaving his mouth in another exasperated groan, “So, I thought I’d talk to my favorite person if she was still awake.”

Jokingly, you comment, “I won’t tell Kourai you said that, yeah?”

He chuckles. “Thanks.”

A comfortable moment of silence passes, during which you shuffle your feet beneath the covers to warm them up and he allows his eyelids to flutter shut so he can focus his full attention on the sound of your voice when you speak again. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Don’t you get tired of it, (f/n)?”

“Of what, baby?”

“Of listening to me talk myself in circles when I’m like this and hearing about the same issues over and over again?”

Though there’s a hint of irritation laced in his tone, you know it’s directed at himself rather than at you. “Sachi, you can talk about whatever you want as much as you want. I know how much you keep to yourself, so it’s okay. I just want to help, since I know how exhausting it must be for you to deal with.” There’s a short pause, and you know from experience that his mind is most likely distorting your words, forming them into daggers he sinks into his own heart. “I promise, it’s okay to talk to me about it. Trust me.”

He blinks slowly, takes a deep breath, and agrees, “Okay.”

Pursing your lips, you glance around the darkness of your room until your eyes settle on the bag you’d already packed, ready to take to his house for your scheduled weekend visits. “Would it help if you could see my face?” you wonder, your mouth curling up into a small grin regardless of the fact that he can’t see it.

“Well,” he hums, dragging his long fingers through his chestnut brown hair, “you know I’d never turn down the opportunity to see my gorgeous girlfriend, but you’ll have to give me a minute to touch up my makeup.”

With a snicker, you retort, “You’ll have plenty of time to pull yourself together if I just come over instead.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, sweetheart. Not at this ungodly hour.”

“And you didn’t,” you reaffirm, “but I want to, so, will you let me visit a whole—” you interrupt yourself to check the time before continuing—“eight and a half hours earlier than we’d originally planned?”

“I would love that,” is his answer given without hesitation despite his initial, intrusive thought of being burdensome to you by allowing you to drive over so early in the morning.

And even though he feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into the spiral of negative ideas swirling around him like the raging waters of a whirlpool, he doesn’t regret accepting your invitation when you arrive about twenty minutes later. Upon opening the door to your car for you, he’s greeted by your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close for a tight hug that instantly engulfs him in a warm feeling of comfort that he can’t liken to anything else he’s ever felt before from anyone else. He holds your body flush against his—even after he’s felt your grip loosen in a signal to pull away that then tightens once more at realizing he’s not quite finished yet—and acknowledges the guilt that suddenly rises within him.

How could I ever want to know how things could’ve been different when I have her?

“Thanks for coming,” he whispers, craning his neck to press a kiss to yours before finally releasing you and slinging your bag over his shoulder. The wave of cold air that rushes between your bodies at their separation nearly makes you reach for him again, but you settle for latching onto his hand instead while the two of you make your way up to his apartment. “You made it here in record time, speed racer.”

Chuckling, you joke, “Drove like I was answering a booty call.”

“I’m truly flattered.”

The gentle smile across his lips has your heart skipping a beat in your chest but doesn’t hide the fatigue clearly present on his handsome features. His hand on your back gently ushers you inside the familiar warmth of his home when he unlocks the door, and you make a beeline to his bedroom once you’ve kicked off your shoes. A look of amusement glimmers in his eyes at how quickly you settle yourself down in his bed and bury yourself under his comforter and blankets.

As he climbs into bed beside you, your hands move to the sides of his face to pull him towards you for a gentle kiss. “What’s going on, Sachi?” you murmur after your lips part. He sits on the mattress beside you, and the sinking of the bed naturally draws you closer to one another until your arms are wrapped around his torso and his draped over your shoulders.

“Just the usual,” he sighs, fingers absentmindedly grazing the fabric of your sweater, “You know, the whole wondering if I’ve done everything right bit. My mind just loves reminding me of my mistakes and going through how I could’ve handled things differently, even if the thing in question happened, like, five years ago.”

You hum understandingly and nod, focusing on his words to keep yourself awake—which is a challenge when his body feels like a lullaby.

“I’m still hung up over that dog we couldn’t save last month. Every day, I find myself thinking of the moment when his heartbeat just… stopped. And the look in his owner’s eyes when I told her he hadn’t made it. And I just wonder, what could I have done differently to keep him alive?”

He swallows thickly and breathes out a somewhat frustrated sigh. “And I replay the arguments I’ve had with people—and with you—in my head, wondering what I could’ve done to prevent them. But I know that hindsight’s twenty-twenty and that if I’d have known the answer or what was to come beforehand then it never would’ve happened to begin with. It’s so frustrating because I know this, I’ve been able to accept mistakes and let them go, yet I still beat myself up really badly over things every now and then.”

Moving away from him slightly so you can look up at him, into his weary but kind and welcoming gaze, you place your hands on his shoulders and give him a small smile. “Baby,” you say with an affectionate squeeze to his muscles, “these shoulders of yours are so strong, but they’re meant for carrying backpacks, me when I want a piggyback ride, or any kids we may or may not have in the future; not the weight of the world.”

He tilts his head to the side so he can lower his cheek onto one of your hands, spreading heat across your skin. With the way he’s watching you so intently, you can tell how much he values your words as well as the fact that you’re here, sitting in front of him instead of gazing at him through a screen.

Slowly, speaking as the thoughts enter your mind, you assure him, “It’s okay to fuck up. How would we learn if we didn’t?” You stroke his cheek with your thumb before your fingers move to his head of waves tousled haphazardly from whatever restless sleep he’d been able to get.

“Just remind yourself of the way you usually deal with mistakes. Acknowledge them, say yeah, that happened, and it sucked ass, but I’ll do better next time, and let go of them. I mean, I know it’s way, way easier said than done, but you’re really good at it. Remember all those times in high school I came to you, freaking out over the smallest things that I’d done? Who am I kidding? I still do that; but, anyway, it’s always been you who’s helped me. Give yourself the same permission to mess up.”

Your boyfriend of many years heaves a deep sigh as he lets the truth of your statements pass through his internal filter that does a fine job, unfortunately, in this case, of sifting through only the ideas he wants to believe. Though they’re met with initial resistance that only manifests as a defense mechanism, all your words manage to remain after the process like the smallest pieces of gold hidden amongst layers and layers of sediment.

Taking your hand in his, you tell him, “There aren’t really any right or wrong decisions, and I know you know that. They’re just choices you make. Mistakes are gonna happen no matter what, but you’re gonna be okay. I know you, Hirugami Sachirou, and I know how strong and determined you are. You can do what you set your mind to and with that smile on your face some people find annoying—” the grin in question appears on his lips, making you laugh—“Yeah, that one. So, get it into that big brain of yours that you’re doing your best or I’ll have to rough you up a bit.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

“As you should be.”

In an instant, the heavy layers of worry that had restricted him before unravel at your definitive statement, and he’s laughing while he pulls you into his arms once more. As always, his laughter is contagious, and it’s not long before you’re doing the same, body shaking against his. “Don’t unleash your wrath on me, baby; I’ll listen, I promise. And I’ll make your favorite for breakfast tomorrow,” he concedes with a teasing tone, a yawn whisking some of his words away.

“We have a deal,” you chirp, “Now, let’s go to sleep. It’s way past your bedtime, gramps.”

He complains, “You callin’ me old?” as your bodies sink down onto the soft mattress, his head pausing in its natural course towards your chest so it can hover above yours. “’Cause I found more gray hairs than I’d like to admit when I was doing my hair yesterday, so I’m actually really self-conscious about it.”

Sticking out your lower lip in a sympathetic pout, you comment, “I said you were old, but I didn’t say that you weren’t hot.”

“So, I’ve still got it, huh?”

“You’re basically a silver fox.”

A soft hum of contentment rumbles against your lips when he presses his to them to shower you with a few, affectionate kisses. Eventually, he pulls away and pecks your chin on his way to your neck, where he nestles his head as your arms readjust to accommodate his body coming to rest against yours. “Thanks, (f/n),” he mumbles, voice suddenly heavy and lethargic compared to how it had been moments earlier, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Your fingers card through his hair softly as he takes a deep breath and slides his palm along the back of your thigh to coax it around his waist so he can move his body even closer to yours. While the two of you lie together, surrounded in warmth, feeling the gentle beating of each other’s hearts against your bodies, Hirugami finds he has nothing left to worry about—no thoughts left to disturb him. And, because his mind is finally quiet and still, the ruminating beast within him quelled by your honest words and gentle touch, sleep finally comes just as easily to him as loving you does.

when night falls masterlist

when night falls taglist (send an ask to be added!)

@why-aminot-dead, @yamagucji, @toutorii, @shibayamasbae, @tsukkisbean, @devlovesiwa-channn, @captain-shittykawa, @ghblh, @postsfromthe6, @omibaby, @deerixiie, @oikawoahh, @stormlights

#haikyuu x reader #hirugami x reader #x reader #reader insert #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hirugami sachirou x reader #fran writes hq!!#ahkaahshi//wnf

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nic0a · 2 years

Photo

 I got inspired by a friend who’s really good at drawing how they feel at the moment and I wanted to try it out. I’ve also been kinda tired of doing pretty much only fanart for many years and on top of that, I haven’t really drawn much lately. Partly because my computer is acting up and partly because I’ve been spending more time going out and being social on my free time outside of pottery classes lately. I used to spend almost all of my freetime alone in my room watching anime while drawing characters from said anime. That was the only time I was being my true self, I lived wearing a mask in front of everyone to the point that I didn’t know who I was. I did that for over 4 years until one day someone at the dorm at my school asked to hang out after I got back early from visiting home and that was the day I dropped the mask. I only put it back on during that summer when I was temporarily back in front of two computer screens next to each other, alone. After summer was over, I no longer felt the need of spending hours upon hours drawing in front of a screen. I still love art, but now that I have a group of friends that are basically found family at this point, I don’t feel the need to use it as a way to kill time. I’m now starting to find the me that was absent during all this time that I spent alone. Despite that, I still kinda miss being able to spend hours on my art. After a whole month of not making a single digital drawing, I finally whipped up this in a couple hours while charging my social battery. However, this piece is more about my current mental state surrounding my identity and social life than this little backstory. It’s been a lot lately with new friends, my artblock, a new fp and my dysphoria. I can’t really explain this with words, but I hope things will get better. It probably will, because I did what I thought would never happen; I dropped the mask. this probably won’t get as much recognition as my fanart would, but I decided to do this anyways. This mental state might even be outdated by the time my queue reaches this post. I’m at least making this post in october, might probably not post until spring because my queue is still packed from the couple months of summer that I spent only drawing.

#art #my art #original art #glitch #self portrait #kinda i guess #ventcore #aesthetic art #vintage #vhs glitch #vhs art #vent art #artists on tumblr

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bts-hyperfixation · 4 years

Text

Don't you believe in love?

Taken from this prompt list

<2000 words

Taehyung had always been a romantic. Ever since he was young, he dreamed of having the love they talked about in his favourite songs. Love that rushed you off your feet, love that consumed your every waking moment, love that was all you needed. Unfortunately, throughout the 20+ years of his life, this love had managed to evade his clutches. He thought he’d found it once. She’d been beautiful, everything he thought love would look like. Her laugh had sounded like bells; however, it was usually aimed at him not with him. Love at first sight had blinded him to the fact that maybe it didn’t work both ways, and she hadn’t taken his dramatic confession particularly well. Still he remained hopeful that the one was still out there.

Following the long-awaited release of his mixtape, Taehyung fell into a bit of a slump. Pouring his heart into something meant so much to him and finally having feedback on it had been more emotionally taxing than he had thought. The record represented his soul in its barest form and now he just found himself scrolling through reviews to see what others thought of it, of him. Most of the comments had been glowing indictments of his voice and character, but he found himself focused on the negative. Some mocked the way he sang of love, calling him naive in his beliefs that love was everything. The other members had tried to cheer him up, saying that the critics must be jealous of the way his brain works. Sometimes it's easier to tear others down than to focus on your own faults.

After words failed to rouse Taehyung’s usually sunny disposition, Jimin decided it was time for a distraction. He settled on clubbing, the only way to get Tae to loosen up was dancing, it had never failed him. Tae dragged himself around the dorm, getting ready for a night out he was sure he didn’t want but forcing himself for Jimin, he would do anything for Jimin. The pair make it to a club in the centre of Seoul a little before 11pm. The venue is filled to the brim with sweaty writhing bodies as the latest dance track booms through the speaker system. Jimin pulls him straight over to the bar at the far end of the room, ordering them six shots each. Taehyung eyes them wearily, but Jimin just grabs one and thrusts it in his direction. Resigned to his fate Tae downs the bitter liquid. The new warmth provides little relief for the aching in his chest. Ever since the release nothing had been able to fill the empty feeling he had been left with. Reporters calling him naïve about romance had left a nasty taste in his mouth. As inexperienced as he was with love, Tae knew what he should feel when it came along. Downing the remainder of the shots, he turned to scope out the room. That’s when he saw you. It was like his vision narrowed and there was a spotlight directly centred on you. He watched as your hips swayed to the beat and you laughed with your friends. A mere glimpse of you had him captivated. He handed his last empty shot glass to Jimin and made an excuse before making a beeline across the room to where you were dancing.

“Excuse me?” he taps your shoulder to get your attention and you turn to face him.

“Yes” you gaze up at him through long eyelashes and he thinks he might melt.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just saw you from by the bar and I think… I think I might die if you don’t dance with me” you giggle at his words, and he thinks it might be the most beautiful sound in the world. You tell your friends where you are going and take his hand. He pulls you as close as he can, unsure of how he got lucky enough for you to say yes. The two of you spend the rest of the night drinking and dancing together. The lights have come on in the club before you even realise how long you’d spent together. Jimin and your friends are long gone. Each checked with you before they left but you assured them you were okay and off they went.

“Can I walk you home?” Taehyung asks timidly.

“Sure” you respond before leading the way. You walk in comfortable silence for a couple of blocks, enjoying each-others company, your hands occasionally knocking together. Around halfway you finally buck up the courage to do something about it. “Hold my hand?” you ask, and he does. It feels like electricity passes between your grasped palms. His thumb traces little patterns over the back of your hand, you can’t help but bite your lip as each circle adds to you growing arousal. The way Taehyung affected you felt like magic.

“I think… I’ve been waiting all my life for you” his whisper is so quiet you almost miss it. You glance up to see him already staring at you. “Is that crazy?” you shake your head a little unable to think of the words to show you were feeling exactly the same way. Your heart stills as his lips crash messily into yours. His hands roam up and down the bare skin of your back, exposed by the deep cut of your dress. The contact makes you shiver before coming to your senses.

“Tae I should tell you… I’m a virgin.” You meet his eyes but find yourself unable to tell what he is thinking. “Please don’t think I don’t want this; I just need you to know before we go any further. His lips meet your again briefly.

“Me too.” He mumbles against your lips. The question in your eyes must’ve been evident in your eyes when you pull away from him. “I’m a virgin too” he clarifies “but I want this, I want you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything” you take a hold of his hand again and start running in the direction of your home. He chuckles as he struggles to keep up with your new speed.

You reach your house in no time. Now reduced to a fumbling ball of limbs as he tries to unzip your dress as you attempt to remove his shirt, all while stealing kisses, refusing to be separated for more than a moment. By the time you reach your bedroom you are fully undressed. Nothing separating you from each-other prying eyes. Tae pushes you back onto the bed, admiring your naked form.

“Beautiful” he breaths before joining you. His lips trail down your neck and over your chest. He finally stops when he comes to your pubic mound “Are you sure? I would wait forever for you if you want me to?” you shake your head and smile.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He returns your smile with his own boxy grin before diving into your dripping folds. His tongue drags unceremoniously along your slit, causing a wave of arousal to flow through you. His haste displays his inexperience, but you can’t bring yourself to care as pleasure overwhelms you. Your hands travel down to intertwine in his long brown locks. His eyes lock on yours as he sucks at your clit, watching each little reaction, adjusting to account for what seems to cause the most excitement. When you moan, he realises he was wrong about what the most beautiful sound in the world was. Seeing you writhe underneath him causes his cock to throb painfully, he decides right then he wants nothing more than to please you forever.

“Tae…” your moans are a little breathless as you feel the building pleasure in your stomach. A sensation you had only managed to cause yourself before now. You clench around his tongue trying to fight off the oncoming orgasm, just for him to replace the muscle with a finger. The digit curves perfectly against your sweet spot and you unravel, but that doesn’t stop him. Another finger finds its way inside you as he pumps carefully, prepping you. His mouth makes its way back up your body. His tongue laving briefly against your nipples before reaching his goal and connecting his lips back to yours. The taste of yourself on him is intoxicating, it makes you moan into his open mouth. You feel his dick throb against your leg at the new stimulation. You gasp and reach down for him. Once holding him you realise you have no idea where to go from there. He chuckles a little before removing his hand from between you folds and showing you how he liked to be rubbed, you quickly find a rhythm using your own juices from Tae’s hand as lubricant. He becomes a panting mess on top of you as you bring him close to his end.

“I need you now…” he pants removing your hand before he spills too early, “where are your condoms?” you point to your bedside draw, and watch him blush a little as he finds you vibrator hidden next to a stash of condoms. You giggle a little at his reaction and sit up a little. He rips the small plastic packet open and pinches the top of the latex. You move to help him put it on, but he stops you. “If you help this is going to be over a lot quicker than either of us want” he carefully rolls the material down his cock as you watch, getting a little antsy as he takes his time. As soon as he is finished, he pulls you back into his arms, adjusting himself against the headboard of your bed. Your lean up on to your knees so he can position himself underneath you. It takes a few attempts as you struggle to take him in at first, but once he is you lower yourself down at an agonisingly slow pace. He inhales through gritted teeth. The desperation is evident on his face as he focuses on not thrusting the rest of the way into you. Once you reach the base you feel uncomfortably full. It takes you a minute to adjust to the feeling, so you busy yourself with marking the pretty blemish free skin along Taehyungs collarbones. You watch in awe as little purple marks begin to bloom. Slowly you start to bounce in Taehyung’s lap as the pain fades into a strange pleasure. His eyes are screwed shut as you become more confident, moving faster and faster. His hand snakes in between your bodies to fumble with your clit, you grind yourself forward onto his hand, showing him how you like to be touched. It doesn’t take long after this for the familiar twist of an orgasm to reappear in your stomach. A few more thrusts has you melting into him, your sweaty body collapse against his front as he continues pumping himself inside of you, chasing his own finish. After he comes you untangle yourself from his limbs, suddenly feeling very cold from the loss. You make your way to the bathroom to clean yourself off. When you return you find Taehyung putting his clothes back on. You can’t help the disappointment rising in your chest at the prospect of him leaving.

“Aren’t you staying?” your voice is timid, worried you’ll scare him away.

“I will stay for as long as you want me to” he replies moving to take you back into his arms

“Stay with me forever.” He chuckles his agreement and moves to get back into your bed.

“Hold me?” he opens his arms wide and beckons you to him, you slip into his arms, content to never move again.

Masterlist

Other requests from these prompts

#bts fic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts #taehyung smut #v smut #kim taehyung smut #maknae line smut

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