#is supposed to be in the we back in the mines shirt lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kingkat12 · 1 month

Text

seven minutes in heaven (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: foul language, alcohol, book-accurate Roman lol, (and he is such a brat???)

summary: you really, really hate Roman Godfrey. but what you hate most, is that he doesn't notice you at all.

word count: 4,502 (a/n: part two HERE!<3)

I didn't like Roman Godfrey— not one bit.

Everything about that spoiled brat was infuriating. All from the way he walked around as though he owned the town, to the way that he'd get a kick out of throwing tater tots at people. Fucking child. The amount of times I'd sat at the bleachers and watched him throw it at the cheerleaders, specifically aiming right down their shirts, made my blood boil.

Roman Godfrey believed that the world was his, including the people living in it. That's exactly why he dared to take such liberties.

I specifically hated the way he'd move his hair out of his green, green eyes, the look he'd give me after he tugged my hair in the hallway with a sneer, and his sadistic need to claim his conquests in the absolute weirdest ways known to man. If we are to believe Brooke Bluebell from the cheerleading team, he also had an affinity for poking girls with needles in public just for the sheer thrill of watching them squeal. Because who would tell him off, right? I wondered if he was familiar with the word 'no' at all.

After the needle-rumour spread, I made sure to keep a few meters between us at all times. There was no way in hell that he would get away with doing that to me, anyway.

And I would've stayed as far away from Roman as possible, had it been up to me. Sadly, my best friend at school was his cousin— just my luck. Letha, like the rest of the girls at school, was quite fond of Roman; since she was the oldest of the two, she somehow couldn't see that he had grown past the age of five, treating him as though he could do no wrong.

And this was why Roman was always invited whenever we would have study sessions at Letha's place. He would splay himself out on the bed, stretching out his long limbs, watching us as we worked and he lazed away.

God, how I hated him. I hated the way his hair was kissing his forehead when he laid like this in Letha's bed, the way he'd grin whenever he watched me erase a wrong answer, and the way his cologne would linger in my system several hours after he'd left.

Currently, we were supposed to be working on the half-year assignment everyone in our year had to do. Letha was sitting at her desk with her back turned to us as Roman and I sat on the bed, each with our own computer. My meter-rule to protect myself from any incoming needles was impossible to implement on Letha's tiny bed, and I let out a huff as Roman's knee touched mine. I prayed to every God in the universe that he didn't have a needle in his pockets somewhere— I was quite fond of my knees, and would very much like to keep them intact.

"Five hundred bucks," Roman tried, nudging me. "Do this assignment for me and it's yours."

I rolled my eyes, shifting further away from him on the bed. "Do your own shit,"

He proceeded to sneer, watching me with his big, green eyes. "Six hundred,"

"No,"

"Seven?"

"Suck it, Roman," I cracked my knuckles, doing my best to get back into the flow of writing the assignment. It was so damn hard to focus when Roman's incessant sighing continued, almost as though he was being forced to take his own life.

"Help me, then," he mumbled, moving closer to me. His leg was almost on top of mine, now. "How did you answer question b?" Roman leaned over me, his head now obstructing my view of my screen. In a flash of pure instincts, I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of his hair that was tickling my nose. I couldn't quite put my finger on exactly what it was that smelled so good— him or the shampoo?

I got yanked out of my state when Roman pulled away, typing away on his own laptop, finally inspired.

I couldn't help but sigh; I hated Roman. And I hated that he didn't notice me in the way I wanted him to. I hated the way he smiled, the way he'd so blatantly flirt with girls at any opportunity he'd get, and how my heart fluttered when he flirted with me once in a blue moon.

It only got worse when we were in chemistry class the next day, and Roman had caught me sitting all alone in the back. I wasn't sure what came over me and why I had allowed him to sit down next to me again— the last time had been an absolute catastrophe where he got the both of us kicked out for bickering too loudly, so I hoped it wouldn't be a repeat-situation. I really needed to make sure I was getting every drop of information out of class today, as we had a test coming up soon.

However, Roman was the absolute biggest distraction on earth. I knew this. He kept leaning over to draw crude drawings in my book, making me have to swat his hand away over and over; "Stop it!"

Roman huffed, leaning back against his chair with a bored expression on his face. "You're no fun," he whispered back.

And this was when it hit me— maybe I wasn't fun? Did he really think that of me?

... Maybe it was time to show him how fun I could be?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

When Letha mentioned a party happening this weekend and the fact that Roman would be joining, I couldn't help but feel a certain sense of dread— I knew what that would entail for him. He'd either disappear with a girl upstairs and/or get absolutely shitfaced, as always. And was I really going to put myself through seeing him disappear with someone else again just to prove I wasn't boring?

Yes— Yes, I was.

As I sipped my drink, I couldn't help but feel my hatred for Roman simmer and come to a boil— I hated how he had me doing the most ridiculous things known to man just to get a sliver of his attention. Why was a question I couldn't bring myself to answer.

As I stood in the kitchen with Letha, I spotted Roman passing by the door, laughing with a friend of his. My heart thumped hard as I let out a shaky breath; "Letha, I have to tell you something,"

She turned to me, a beer in her hand. "Don't tell me you've killed someone again? I don't have the energy to drag another body out of my car today,"

"Ha-ha," I mumbled; had this been any other instance, I would've thought it was funny... but not right before I was about to tell her why I had come tonight. I dreaded it; I knew she'd disapprove. But just as I opened my mouth, ready to put my friendship on the line, I caught Roman backtracking and appearing in the door again.

"Girls!" He walked over, looking tipsy as ever. Up close like this, Roman towered over the both of us, and I had to look up an unusual amount to meet his eyes. "I've been looking for you all over! They're playing seven minutes in heaven downstairs, wanna join?"

Had this been any other night, I would've given him an immediate no— but tonight was different. Tonight, I was fun. Shrugging, I glanced over at Letha to check her reaction.

"That's so childish," Letha mumbled, sipping her beer. "I don't know, and I'm sure grumpy over here isn't too keen on that either—"

"No, I'm in!" My words came out like a panicked squeal which immediately made my cheeks burn.

Roman seemed caught off guard by my reaction, but he eventually reached out to pat my shoulder, looking smug as ever. "There you go," he cooed, clearly teasing me. "Maybe you'll finally get laid or something!"

I was abruptly reminded of why I hated him so much in the first place. Swatting his hand off of me, I brushed my fingers over my shoulder where he had touched me, feeling a lingering burn. "If you think seven minutes is enough for everything that goes into sex, I think you need to lower that ego of yours,"

Letha bit back a smirk as Roman's lips parted in shock. Maybe the spoiled rich kid hadn't gotten a reality-check from his long list of women before? He eventually recovered from the diss, rolling his eyes; "Well, seven minutes with me can be more than enough. Need me to show you?"

Letha let out a loud snort, shuddering; "Ew, Roman! I've told you not to talk to my friends like that!"

As they turned to each other, bickering like siblings, I gripped the counter behind me with all my strength. I was almost compelled to agree, to say yes to letting him have a go, and I had to bite down on my tongue to stop myself. After a few drinks, I knew I could get a little loose-lipped.

It didn't take long before we all made it downstairs, everyone spreading out on the couches and chairs scattered in the basement. Letha and I sat down on a few pillows on the floor, far away from Roman and his rumoured needles.

I felt my throat go dry every time the bottle spun around, landing on random people from school who later went into the empty closet nearby. But my attention was elsewhere; I watched as Roman put his arm around the girl next to him, whispering something into her ear which made her laugh. It made me want to slam my head into the wall behind me— I would rather pass out and bleed out than witness him picking up another girl again.

I swallowed hard as the people in the closet came back out and the bottle got spun again. The first person was picked; a girl with long, brown hair whom I remembered from history class; huge bitch. Holding my breath, I watched as the bottle got spun again— it eventually slowed down and pointed to Roman, which made the girl's friend group cheer as though they had won a million dollars. It felt like my heart was getting ripped out of my chest as Roman got up from the couch, grinning from ear to ear. The girl he had just had his arm around wasn't as happy, to say the least.

This whole display was making me sick. I bit the inside of my cheek as Roman closed the door to the closet and the previous drinks in my system threatened to come up. Everything about this was making me sick. I got up, taking hurried steps to the nearest bathroom, planting myself on my knees in front of the toilet just in case.

I heard a few knocks on the door before Letha stepped in, looking worried. "I told you not to drink that vodka crap," she mumbled, locking the door before she sat down next to me on the floor.

I felt my tears press on as I grew further nauseous. "Don't mind me," I breathed. "I just need a minute."

This only solidified my absolute and utter hate for Roman. Spoiled fucking brat— why did he have to make me feel this way? Why was my jealousy making me so sick and bitter?

Letha put her hand on my back in an attempt to soothe me; "Maybe I should drive you home?"

"No!" I said, fighting my gag reflex. "I need— I need to get out there again."

This only made Letha sigh, her hand now reaching for my hair to be ready. "You have a crush out there or something...? You know that you don't need this stupid game to get whichever guy you want, right?"

I did my best to get up from the floor without immediately falling back down. Of course she didn't understand.

"Seriously, hold on—" Letha grabbed my hand, holding me back from leaving the bathroom. Her eyes were just as green as Roman's, and up close like this, I could see all their similarities; the upward curve of their nose, the same full lips, and the exact same way of weaving their brows together in worry. "You don't need to do anything just because you want to prove Roman wrong," she said, squeezing my hand. "I know you came down here to make a point, but... do what's best for you, okay?"

"Okay," I mumbled, tugging at her hand. The seven minutes were almost up, and I wanted to see the look on that girl's face after she left the closet with Roman. I wanted to see the look of bliss in her eyes, the hint of red in her cheeks, and watch her inhale with soft, sharp breaths just like the rest of his girls always did. The best part of watching this, was imagining that the girl was me instead— that I was the one feeling euphoric, and not her. And on the other hand, the masochistic part of me wanted to feel my heart burn with jealousy and my chest tighten with the ache I had gotten so familiar with. "Let's go. Please."

My nausea dulled down as I sat back down on the floor, realizing Roman was back. Maybe it was good that I missed the moment they came out— maybe it was good for me to spare my psyche, just this once? As my eyes met Roman's across the room, I couldn't help but notice the dark satisfaction on display across his lips. It was almost as though he knew— or maybe it was the fact that I probably looked a little sick? Did he like the look of pain in my eyes? I was reminded of Brooke Bluebell and her needle story... how he liked imposing pain on girls he found to be vulnerable. The fucking needle thing would haunt me forever.

I barely noticed that the bottle had been spun again, and I was yanked out of my mind-storm when Letha nudged me. "You don't have to," she tried, nodding towards the bottle that was now pointing at me.

My eyes immediately moved from the bottle and straight to Roman, who seemed to grow further amused. There was no way in hell I would back down now— maybe this would change his outlook on me? I had to prove I was fun, after all. Shrugging, acting as though it was no big deal, I reached for the bottle, spinning it.

I couldn't help but ponder if someone up there in the sky was playing games with me when the bottle pointed at the one person I had hoped it would be.

The girl Roman had just been with protested; "What? That's against the rules! He can't go in two times in a row!—"

"Sure can," Roman shot in, watching my every movement like a hawk— something told me he was a little excited about this as well. He got up from the couch once more, walking up to me with confident strides, reaching out for my hand.

As I looked up at him, breath short and choppy, I couldn't pry my eyes away from his. I had always imagined what it would be like to look up at Roman from this angle, to see the sheer look of satisfaction on his face as I— Oh no, my mind was wandering again, wasn't it? I did my best not to shiver as I accepted his hand, feeling our fingers intertwine as he smoothly got me up from the floor.

I didn't even dare to look at Letha in this moment, knowing how she probably felt about it, but I really didn't have time to dwell on it— and it didn't take long before Roman closed the closet door behind us, pulling me back into the moment.

We were quiet for a few seconds, the sounds of our breathing filling the closet— I didn't know what to say or do. The beating of my heart was so loud that I could barely hear my own thoughts, and the light in the small room was dim and warm, making it a rather disorienting experience. It didn't take long before I felt my back hit the wall, letting out a little wince; the alcohol was definitely doing wonders for my balance.

Roman snorted at the sight, emitting a soft laugh; "Careful, there,"

I let out the breath I had been holding, happy that he had been the first one to say something. "It's the vodka," I mumbled, rubbing the part of my head that had hit the wall.

Roman hummed; "Typical,"

"What is?"

"That you can't handle your drinks,"

I wanted to smack him— that was allowed in seven minutes of heaven, right? "So what if I can't? It's not a big deal,"

"Sure," Roman said, nodding to himself. "You just need to be broken in or something."

I wasn't the biggest fan of his choice of words— I was also not a fan of the thought of Roman breaking me more than he had already done, all whilst being completely unaware of it. Choosing not to comment on it further, I switched the subject; "So when was the last time you didn't do anything with a girl in this game?"

He needed a few seconds to scour his brain; "Never, I think,"

Typical. "Even back in middle school?"

"... Definitely,"

I held back a rather large groan— I should've predicted this.

Roman caught onto my eventual silence; "And I reckon this is your first time playing?"

"... Yeah,"

"Okay, I see," Roman ran his fingers through his hair, the usual smirk returning. "You know what usually happens in here, or...?"

I rolled my eyes; "I'm not an idiot,"

"I know," Roman's voice got lower, breathier, as he took a step closer. There wasn't much room for more steps, actually— it was getting rather cramped up at this point. "But if there's anything you've always wanted to try out and haven't dared to, now's the time."

My breath hitched as I hoped the thumping of my heart wasn't loud enough for him to hear. There were many things I wanted to try out, sure, but not here.

It was almost as though Roman could sense how nervous I was; he bent down a little, getting on my level before he whispered; "I won't tell Letha,"

... Oh? Feeling his hot breath against my skin, how dangerously close he was, was almost too much for me. The way he said it made me even more conscious of what was happening; I hadn't even told Letha how crazy I was about Roman yet, and I knew she'd be against it.

However, I was being served my biggest dream on a silver platter. Maybe if I got this bit over with, my feelings would subside and go back to being purely hateful again?

"Okay..." I mustered up the courage, letting out a shaky breath before I opened my mouth to speak; "Could you maybe... kiss me, then?" My words came out barely louder than a whisper. "I've just had a really shitty night."

Roman's expression remained unchanged. "I'm sorry to hear that,"

"... No, you're not,"

"Okay, you might be right," He let out a soft laugh against my lips, and my eyes quickly darted down to his hands to check if he was holding a needle or not. One could never be sure... and this was how I knew my anxiety was through the roof.

"So... you want a kiss? That's all?" Roman asked, looking rather pleased with himself and the situation.

This was too nerve-wracking. I kept imagining that he would switch up and tell me no, that he would reject me somehow and make me the only girl at school he didn't want to do anything with— that would definitely make me hate him even more. In a flash moment of weakness (which I later blamed the alcohol for), I sighed; "Just... could you? Or am I asking for too much?"

Something about Roman's expression changed— he seemed to realize what I was actually asking for before I fully understood it myself. Not to make out, not to drown in one another, but the simplest of all things romance; affection. Something gentle, something sweet, just to check if he had a sliver of anything resembling that in his system.

"You like me, don't you?" Roman whispered, nudging his nose against mine, eyes rounding out as he heard my breath hitch at the simple gesture. "This is what all of this has been about?"

Doing my best to still my breathing and not faint, I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling. It was the smallest thing, yet it was a comfort in the midst of the conversation. "All of what?"

"Your anger," Roman let out a sigh, connecting our foreheads, closing his eyes as well. "You can't stand that you like me, can you?"

For some reason, I felt the urge to cry— I spent a few seconds pressing down the stream of tears that threatened to surface. Having someone say it out loud felt like a desperately needed release. "It's been a nightmare,"

Roman stilled, eventually letting out a hum which sent a shiver down my spine. "You know nothing about nightmares," he breathed against my lips. "If I tell Letha we fucked in here, you'll be living through your worst one."

For fuck's sake. I mumbled a curse as Roman laughed, clearly amused by the terrified look on my face. "No, I wouldn't do that," he teased, pulling away just a bit. "I'm not that bad, you know that, right?"

I huffed, not meeting his gaze anymore. Confessing to liking him had given him all the power over me in the world. "I don't know... You tend to be quite horrible,"

"And what horrible things do I do, may I ask?"

Oh, I was ready for this question— I had been ready for a while. "First of all, the fucking tater tots," I grumbled, meeting his amused eyes. "The fact that you pull my hair like you're five years old, you've drawn about a hundred dicks in my chemistry book, and the whole needle thing!"

"Needle thing?" Roman furrowed his brows— damn, he and Letha really had the same face, didn't they?

"Yeah, the needle thing! Brooke told us!" Something about the confusion on his face felt rather satisfactory; your turn. "You pricked her and her friend Rachel and just... laughed, or something!"

Remembering the incident, Roman burst out laughing. "Oh, that!" he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, that was fun, I can't lie. So, okay, maybe I'm a bit bad, but... you still like me." His eyes were sparkling with mischief, and I knew it could lead to no good. "You still want to kiss me, so you can't be too scared? Or maybe..." Roman's hand travelled up to my hair, tucking a strand behind my ear as he smirked. "Maybe you're just a massive masochist?"

"What? No!" My protests were quick and loud— I wondered what the people outside this closet thought we were doing. "Roman, just... Ugh, fuck this, I'm leaving."

As I reached for the door, Roman grabbed my hand with force I hadn't expected of him, pinning it above my head against the wall. Like this, he was even closer to me than he had been just under a minute ago, and my eyes went wide with the realization that I could physically feel his bottom lip against mine, not yet coming together in the kiss I so desperately craved.

"I'm not going to make this easy for you," he whispered, words slow and low. Something about this whole situation was so intense, I nearly gave in to a shiver. "Whatever this will be, you and I... won't be easy."

"There is no you and I," I mumbled, feeling my heart beat up against his chest. "We do this once, and then we forget it." Please.

Roman hummed, a cocky grin spreading across his plush, pink lips. "You think you'll be able to? I have a feeling you've wanted me for a while,"

Fuck's sake. I hated him even more when he was right. My gaze hardened as it met his, and I wondered how much time we had left. No matter how mad I was at him, I still wanted to kiss him, just once. This might be the only chance I'd ever get, and I was going to take it.

"Okay, then," Roman accepted my silence as an answer. Nudging my nose with his, he finally pressed his lips against mine with a softness I didn't know he had in him.

This was not what I had expected. Something about this kiss was shaking up my whole view of the world, along with my view of Roman. The most obnoxious guy with an unmatched arrogance could... kiss like this? Like he actually had a soul?

His lips moved against mine as though I was made of glass, and I felt his fingers intertwine with mine in the hand he was holding above my head. It sent shivers down my spine as my mind went haywire, wondering why he was being so careful with me. I brought my free hand up to cup his face, feeling how soft he was against my palm. I had expected him to be rough, aggressive... so what on earth was this?

Roman's arm snaked around my waist as he pulled me closer, and I let out a shaky breath against his lips— heat swirled in the pit of my stomach, feeling as though I was burning up from inside.

But just as it started to get heated, two knocks were heard at the door; Roman pulled away, a victorious smirk in place as though he had successfully proved his point. "Thirty seconds left," he said. "Now, convince me why I shouldn't tell Letha."

What? Still trying to catch my breath, I felt myself freeze up. How was I supposed to think clearly when I was in this state? Roman's hand slid out of mine, waiting for my answer; "So?"

"Just don't," I breathed, putting a hand on my chest to feel my heart— did all of this just happen? "Don't tell her."

"That's not good enough," His green eyes were drilling into mine, and it was clear that he wished to corner me. Sadist.

"I'll do your stupid assignment,"

"Nope,"

"I'll... fuck, Roman, I don't know!"

Roman snickered at my panic, fixing his hair, checking his clock; ten seconds left. "Fine, I'll be nice," he said, reaching out to swipe his thumb along the edge of my lip, wiping away some lipstick. "But you owe me."

Owe him? I wasn't the biggest fan of making a deal with the devil reincarnate in front of me. However, did I have any other choice? I let out a sigh of defeat; "... Fine,"

And this was when it truly hit me; I hated Roman Godfrey with all my heart— I hated the fact that he could make my heart flutter with the smallest gesture, that he could practically walk all over me with no remorse, and that he always looked so fucking good.

However, at the end of the day, what I hated most... was how much I wanted him.

(a/n: click to read part two HERE!<333)

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard

226 notes · View notes

starkeygirlposts · 1 month

Text

Goosebumps In My Sleeve CH 4.

So sorry part 4 had taken me so long. I hope you enjoy it! Please read the excerpt at the end and leave feedback! My request/ask box is also open!

Summary: You've been dating Rafe Cameron for 3 years, and one day Ward and your mom tell you they're getting married.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Trigger warnings: stepcest, drugs, pregnancy, swearing, pregnancy, no smut in this chapter, strong depictions of abortion and aftermath of abortion, swearing, domestic violence, idk what else lol

18+ mdni

PREVIOUS PART

His lips break apart from yours but his forehead rests against your own as he breathes deeply and takes your hands in his.

“Rafe, look at me.” You request, tightening your fists and finally his head breaks away from yours, but he doesn’t give you much room to crane your neck up to meet his eyes, but when you do you see a softness you’ve been missing for over a year. You can see the boy you loved at sixteen hidden behind his dark glazed eyes and you hope it isn’t your mind playing tricks on you. You find your fingers absentmindedly ghost up his chest to find both of his cheeks, cradling his face to lure his attention to what you’re about to say.

You lock eyes with him and silently plead quietly telling him “...We need to give Pope the cross.” You breathe deeply, knowing he’s surely about to cut you off so you hastily continue, closing your eyes, "I know you think this is the only way! - But it…it isn’t!” You tell him, your nerves wound tight, bracing for him to lose it. But he doesn’t. He’s staring at you and you start to wonder if he was even listening. But then his nostrils flare with an inhale and he closes his eyes before speaking.

“Alright. Yeah, alright, alright. We give it back…say we give it back. How, how am I supposed to protect you with nothing, Y/N? You want a roof over your pretty head?” He asks you the question laced with trickery, his fingers ghosting to brush your hair out of your eyes before continuing "With what money? You got some secret stash you haven’t told me about? Once we leave, my dad will drain every account. I can’t just walk into the bank and take that money. My accounts are all in his name. You think I haven’t thought this through in my head? You think he did anything before thinking about something like this? There’s a reason nothing is mine, Y/N. This is the only way, baby.” He tells you, the reality clouding your mind and you start to shake your head, feel like you’re panicking, your heart racing and bile turning up in your gut. You can’t help but cringe and close your eyes to revel in disbelief before tugging him closer to you by the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips. You can’t afford to lose him this far in. You know you have a good argument, but even so, he’s right. How were you supposed to get anywhere with pennies in your pockets? The world stops for a moment and you call his name again, his eyes locked in on yours and you drag his face close to yours.

Your lips ghost his, his nose brushing yours while you murmur “You know where the gold is, don’t you? Ward took you to the Bahamas.” You tell him, and all he wants is to kiss you. To hush your pretty mouth with his. His eyes are alternating between your own, your lips, back to your button nose, and he’s everywhere all at once. He scoffs and starts to shake his head because you just dont get it do you?

“It - It’s more than enough, Rafe. Isn’t stealing from your father better than stealing from someone who’s done nothing to deserve it?” You ask quietly, practically begging and you hope he sees this the same way you do. He doesn’t answer you, so you add “If you don’t want to do this for me, do it for her.” You blink cautiously, searching him for the flip of the switch. But his eyes flutter closed, heavy with tears and he only listens. "She doesn’t deserve a thief for a father, Rafe. Please…you have to do better for her.” You beg with a shaky breath and he opens his eyes back to look at you with such uncertainty as your words weigh heavy. After what feels like an eternity, he moves closer to you and quietly says “He’d tell them I killed Peterkin.” You can feel him shutting down, palms trying to pry your hands off of him before you shake his head slightly trying to get him to focus. But before you can say anything, Sarah’s voice cuts through the air and you almost forgot she was there.

Her voice is quiet, the moment tense “I’ll tell them he’s lying. I - I’ll help you…whatever you need from me…I’ll do it. Just return the cross to Pope, Rafe.” You look behind him to meet eyes with her and she nods gently, stepping back while Rafe begins to turn his body to face his sister. His body os suddenly tense again, your hands flying out to catch him and stop him from straying too far. But you’re not quick enough, your boyfriends words flying hot out of his mouth.

“You - You think I believe you?” He sneers, and you quickly reach out grip onto his bicep, trying to drag him back to you before he can move any steps closer to her. His arm flexes, the muscles under your palm firm and corded, anger bubbling there.

“Rafe! RafeRafeRafe.” You tumble out, desperate. “She means it, babe. She does! I - I believe her!" You say, and he turns his head incredulously, brows shot up to glance at you and laugh, void of humor. He’s looking at you like you’ve betrayed him and he thinks maybe you have. Incredulously, he asks; “What’s she ever done for you to make you believe her? Come on baby, I know you’re smarter than that.” He tells you, turning his body to meet you halfway. “You tried to drown her, Rafe.” You level with him, "I think the playing field is even. You can be angry but this is your best chance to do better.”

He breathes deeply and grips the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb, eyes clenching shut trying to gather himself. Your hand tightens around his arm, not realizing your nails are digging craters into his skin.

He’s nodding his head tauntingly, “Do better…me, do better.” He scoffs. "What happens when she changes her mind? In a week…in a month…in a year? You ready to live every day like..” Sarah cuts him off by quickly rushing out “I promise! I want the same thing you do. I want to be free of dad, too.” She says shyly, looking at you while she says it. “I also want better for my niece than what we had.” She says, and it makes you want to cry. You can’t help the hitch in your breath at her statement, because god…so do you.

“Rafe please...” You beg him, tugging his hand with yours and you can see the struggle in his mind. Your heart races because this decision decides so much more than just one thing. It also decides so many things for you and the baby inside you.

He huffs, defeated when he finally looks at you and almost silently says “Okay."

THREE MONTHS EARLIER (THEN)

Your body is rigid as you realize two things.

One, you don’t need to feel unsafe. You are unsafe.

Two, the exact thing you’d been dreading, the idea that you tried to push out of your mind over and over rather than manifesting to fruition had come true.

You couldn’t trust him.

He’d chosen his father again, even though you’d been holding out hope - praying that the idea of his own flesh and blood might be enough to finally cut the tie. No such luck though as Rafe stands next to you, and you no longer feel the warm comfort of his body but instead an ice cold hardness as he extends his hand to you, offering you to take it. You can’t help but look at it, regretfully following the raised cords of his veins running up his forearm, past his bicep and up to his face. Your cheeks are stained with tears, your eyes pleading and you can’t believe that this is actually happening. You glance over to your mom who stands with Ward, her body wrapped in his arms like he’s trying to console her. You can’t help the humorless laugh combines with a sob that escapes your lips as you look at them and then back to Rafe. You ignore his outstretched limb, instead getting onto your own two feet.

You’re irate, shaking with anger and fear. “Y - You can’t make me do this! Any of you. I’m going to go live with Dad.” You shake your head and say, and your mother’s eyes widen before Ward interjects.

“Y/N, do you really think I’m going to allow the Cameron name to have incestuous ties to it? Do you have any idea what would become of any of this?” He outstretches his arms to motion around him. “You can try to go and live with your father, but regardless of where you’re living, you will not be doing it with a child.” He states matter of factly and you blubber on another sob before begging. “Please, don’t make me do this…” You plead, not caring how humiliating it may be to beg a man who didn’t care about you, but what choice do you have? When your own boyfriend - the father of the baby in your belly couldn’t stand up for you.

Ward looks beside you at Rafe and stoically says “I’m trusting you to see this followed through, son.” You glance over at Rafe to see him nod curtly and you can’t help but crinkle your eyes and scoff. Fucking pathetic. "This is insane! Rafe! Say something!” You shriek, and you don’t know how you’re not dreaming…or having a nightmare. He doesn’t deserve the title of father. Reality socks you right in the face in that moment - that you truly had no one. But you had the baby under your heart and that baby didn’t have anyone except you. Not even the other person responsible for their existence.

It’s a flash of motion before you’re kicking against his body as he throws you as gently as he can into the passenger seat of his truck. The entire time, your clawing at his arms, hurling curses at him. You can’t help but scream when he slams the door on you and tells you not to move. You grab the door handle without thinking and throw it open, dropping to your feet on the ground and shoving at his chest with your hands, telling him to “get the fuck away from you”, but his hands fly back onto your biceps, pushing you back against the open truck. He tilts his head down to yours to try to press his lips to yours, and fortunately you have enough sense to push against him with your chest and you spit in his face. You’re breathing heavily, crying now and twisting in his grasp as you mumble out a quiet and defeated “How can you do this to me?”

It’s then that he truly looks at you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, too repulsed by his inability to be a man. So you let your resolve wilt and your shoulders slump as your body racks with tears.

He cautiously and carefully helps you back into the truck, your will crumbling as you continue to sob.

You watch with hatred and try to calm your breathing by taking deep audible gasps to see him round the front of the truck and climb into the drivers seat. He looks over at you and you start in immediately. He doesn’t even have his buckle on before you tell him how disgusting he is.

“You’re such a pig.” You say, tiredly. "You can cum inside me but then you knock me up and now this is your call too?” You seeth, not breaking your gaze on him. You reach out, taking his hand in your own and tugging it to land on your stomach. “You’re going to make me kill our baby?” Your insides feel like they’re on fire, a burning in your gut and you don’t plan on stopping.

He’s watching you back before tugging his hand back to land on the center console, throwing the truck into reverse.

“You’re a pussy and I can’t believe I ever let you have mine. I regret ever even meeting you.”

“I won't even call you a man, you’re not a man. You couldn’t even stand up for me. You’re so fucking pathetic."

“Gonna let your daddy make every decision for you? When are you gonna grow up?"

The entire car ride is filled with nothing but your own insults, and you wish he’d fight back, say something. But you’re tired - so tired but you’re so betrayed and you really don’t think you’ve ever felt this much hatred toward another person. It makes you sick, bile filling your esophagus. He tricked you over and over, and you were stupid enough to believe it each time.

“I fucking hate you and I regret ever loving you.” He finally looks over to you, and you meet his stare to say

"I will never forgive you for this."

He’s barreling into the parking lot, throwing the truck into park before reaching over to grip your jaw in his hand. He shakes you to look at him, and you swear there’s steam coming off of you as your eyes meet his. His breath is fanning down your face as he covers your lips with his own, kissing you with such force that you’re not able to push him off, so instead you groan in reject, before biting his lip. He pulls back like you stabbed him and your palm connects hard with his cheek in a cracking slap. His eyes are dark and he finally says something.

“We’re going in there and we’re going to make everyone believe you had an abortion. Kay?” He searches your eyes before asking again, “Okay?” He asks, head tilted as if he’s trying to hear your answer and your lip wiggles up in repulse. You don’t know if you heard him correctly. You surely couldn’t have. How could he deceive you like this?

“W - What?” You ask, confused. “What the fuck does that mean, Rafe?” You ask again, and he pulls your face back to his again and kisses you once more, but this time you don’t have the will to fight back. So you go limp in his hands, your body trembles from nerves. His hands find your shoulders to steady you before breaking apart from your lips and muttering a gentle “I’m so sorry, baby."

You can’t help but bring your hands up to his chest to shove him off of you and ask again “What the fuck do you mean?! What the fuck are you saying?!” You’re shouting at him and hot tears spring back to your eyes as you swat his hands away that are trying to find you. “No! No! NO! Don’t fucking touch me! What are you saying?” You’re trembling with full sobs now, screaming and crying at the same time, because he can not be doing this to you. “What the fuck?” You shout, eyes blown wide.

His face is contorted in emotional turmoil as he hastily grabs your hands to hold in his, tugging you closer to him and you don’t fight him when he tucks your head under his chin, pulling you closer to him.

“Baby girl…please take a breath. They needed to believe it. You needed to believe it, I couldn’t have made myself drive here if you didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, baby. You’re okay, please tell me you’re okay.” His own voice is shaky now, eyes rolling over you while rocking you without being totally aware he’s doing it, the both of you crying. You’re so numb, you don’t even have the ability to form words together to say anything to him, but you’re so checked out at this point that whatever you could have mustered up wouldn’t have done what you’re feeling any justice anyway.

You’re sickened by this entire thing, by him, by yourself, by your mother, Ward…and you quickly shove Rafe away from you before throwing the car door open to retch into the parking lot. You’re scrambling to get out as fast as you can, throwing yourself out to bend over. You’re faintly aware of Rafe suddenly next to you, quickly gathering your hair behind you, grabbing your arm to steady you as he whispers in your ear “I’ve got you.”

----

Your hand was in Rafe’s, your side close by his as the two of you walk back through the threshold to Tanneyhill, both of you silent when you were met with Ward and your mother, standing clearly waiting for you to return. You couldn’t meet your mothers eyes, so instead you looked to Ward who was only looking at his son before stepping forward and grabbing him by the shoulders tightly, his palm holding the back of his head. Your hand still tightly gripped in his, Rafe stood stoically, not returning his father’s embrace, and you glanced up to see his eyes staring straight ahead, emotionless. The two of you had been through hell tonight, mentally and emotionally drained, the bother of fake emotions too much to even try to facade.

“You’re okay, son.” Ward says to Rafe, kissing the side of his head and you think you’re going to vomit again. You can’t help but tug on Rafe’s hand when your mother approaches you. You don’t dare to look at her, instead keeping your eyes trained on Rafe, your heart clenching when you see tears stream down his cheeks and you hear him tell Ward “I’m not okay dad, She’s not okay.” He states it matter of factly but your step father is quick to brush him off, telling him he is okay, that he’s fine, that he’s going to feel differently in the morning. It’s then that you choke on a sob on its way out of your mouth, because how can this man be so okay after the idea that you’d just murdered his first grandchild. That he’d forced you to have your baby torn out of your body, the baby that was made out of love between you and his son. It makes you positively sick and you’re truly not sure how you're managing to stand on your feet.

Your both crying now when you feel your mothers warm hands on each of your cheeks, pulling your face to look at her. Finally, you meet her eyes and you just truly can’t. How the woman who birthed you was about to console you over the thought of not being able to do the same to your own child. It was sick, twisted, horrific. She pulls your body into hers and you fight as much as you can, which isn’t much. Your hand is being strangled by Rafe’s grip, but you’re squeezing back just as tightly because it’s the only thing keeping your body upright and your mind knowing that it’s not real. That it didn’t really happen - not what they’re thinking.

“You did the right thing, baby. Thank you.” Your mother tells your eyebrows furrow in regret and upset, your body pulling back, desperately trying to wiggle out of her grasp, her hands around your shoulders. You’re grunting and blubbering in frustration so deep it feels like you’re suffocating. You manage to look over the arm wrapped beside your face to see Rafe staring at you with the same defeat in his eyes that you feel in your own. “I love you.” You gargle out, voice thick with sadness. You don’t care what your mom or Ward have to say or think about it but you tell him again, but this time adding his name at the end. “I love you Rafe.” And you finally manage to shove your mother off of you, her feet stumbling back and she calls your name. You look at her and tell her “I hate you. You’re a disgusting excuse for a mother and you will never hear me call you that again. Looking at you makes me sick. I hope one day you feel the pain I feel inside of me right now, because you deserve it and so much more.” Your sneering, your top lip curled up in disgust as you spit through your teeth, finally looking over to your step father.

You take a deep breath before saying “I love your son more than you will ever be able to imagine that you love him. You choosing to deprive him of that love shows how disgusting of a father you are."

You take a deep breath and close your eyes tightly, tears streaming down as you tearfully add

"He would have been the best dad.” You nearly choke on your sob as you say the words, your voice raised an octave through the pain of the tears shaking through your body. You’re watching your boyfriend as you say it and the cringe on his mouth and look in his eyes hurt you worse than you expect. His usual demeanor, his nature to protect and defend is void, leaving a vulnerable boy who you don't recognize, and it physically hurts to watch him like this. Imagining the alternative outcome of tonight was too close, the idea that your uterus could be working to evict his baby right now all too real and Rafe immediately starts to sob. Your nerves are wound so tightly together, you’re shaking.

Ward is emotionless, still holding Rafe to his body, too emotionally spent to try to relent. But somehow he manages to tell you “It’s okay” and “I love you so much”, and his heart is swelling in his chest but his stomach is wound up in knots just like yours. What do you have to lose now? To everyone else, they’ve kept you from each other, forced you to become strangers, and now evacuate your body of the one thing it did right.

THREE MONTHS LATER (NOW)

You’re sat in the middle seat of Limbrey’s truck, Rafe in the drivers seat and Sarah in the passenger. It’s quiet, your bags and Pope’s cross in the bed. Sarah texted John B to set up a meeting point to meet the Pogues to return the heirloom, and the tension is turning unease in your gut.

You break the silence by taking a deep breath and grabbing Sarah’s hand and quietly muttering “You don’t know what we’ve been through. What he’s been through.” You say regretfully, shutting your eyes in remorse before continuing, wanting to tell her everything. You hadn’t been able to confide in anyone and it was exhausting.

“I told you that your father thinks the baby is gone. He found out about her and his first thought was to take her away from us.” You say, tears unable to be kept at bay. Her hand squeezes yours and Rafe calls your name.

You tense, continuing. “No, Rafe. She needs to know.” You say, not bothering to look at him.

“Rafe drove to that clinic at 10 o clock at night and he paid people off so that they would lie and say they aborted a baby. They gave me papers that had details on what to look for in the adult diapers I would've had to wear that would have been the remains of our baby. Can you imagine what that was like? Sitting in a room where we found out I was 11 weeks pregnant and know that I was there so that the result of the love between me and your brother could be taken out of me just because your father and my mother said so?" You scoff before continuing.

"11 weeks is past the time they can give you a pill to terminate a pregnancy. I would have had to have her physically removed from my body." You furrow your brows because it's painful to talk about, but it's your reality. Rafe is silent next to you, so you sneak your hand over to his thigh to give him a reassuring squeeze. You know this isn't easy for him to relive. "I don’t know how to come back from that. We don’t know how to come back from that.” You tell her, your hand squeezing the life from hers.

She’s looking at you in horror, maybe even disbelief and it's then that Rafe's hand moves from under yours to snake around your waist and palm your belly. His fingers clutch at you in reassurance and protection as you glance down and cover it with your own before breathing in deeply.

“So Sarah, please help me understand...because I don’t know how we’re supposed to be okay anymore."

----

Please interact! It’s pretty much the sole reason we as writers continue to write. I’d love to hear from you guys what you’d like to see in this story via ask box/requests. I will answer any and all submissions! NOTE that I will NOT add you to the tag list if you are only commenting to add to the list.

Please repost, and leave a comment so I know you like the story!

See y’all soon!

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron pregnant #dark!rafe cameron #obx rafe #drew starkey x reader #toxic!rafe cameron

158 notes · View notes

talesofesther · 3 months

Text

what once was mine | ch 8

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: Yes, this is long overdue and I'm sorry for the long wait; but now it's finally here and I hope you can enjoy it, we're nearing the end :'). If it's been too long since you've read the other chapters, I'd maybe recommend checking them out again because we're picking it up right where we left off. The next chapters will be posted soon <3. Also, Mobius plays cupid here and we love him for it lol.

Masterlist | Read ch 7 here

You kept your head down as you walked, not particularly looking at where you were going. Rogue tears were falling onto TVA's hallways with each step you took, a hand covered your mouth to stifle the sobs. The sight of your rapidly moving shoes became more unfocused by the second.

You needed an out, you needed to breathe. And you didn't care that the bathroom you rushed into was a communal one, you slammed the door shut behind you and turned the lock, praying that the stalls were empty.

Silence hung in the air, the only sound being your heavy breathing. Gulping back a massive lump in your throat, you leaned back against the closed door. The smooth wood was cold, feeling going past the fabric of your shirt and raising goosebumps on your skin. With the back of your hand, you tried drying your tears.

Would this be it? Were you truly broken beyond repair?

You wanted to shout apologies in the air; for the Loki you'd just found, he deserved it, he did nothing wrong; for yourself, for the bruised heart beating in your chest that you'd promised to mend.

Part of you also wanted to berate yourself for being overly sentimental and utterly incapable of processing your feelings. For being stuck in this limbo.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, feeling them dampening, fingers shaking.

His touch had been like a bonfire on a cold night—a strange metaphor, given the fact his skin was usually colder than yours; yet it held truth—it enveloped your heart in a warm and familiar embrace, the most blissful kind of pain. It hurt, you couldn't quite place why, but it did.

Maybe it was the fear of knowing you wouldn't be able to live through another loss.

There were telltales of a steady rhythm thudding beneath your skin and through your veins; the ghosts of it tickled your fingertips and called out your name. His heartbeat, as real as you'd pleaded for in countless sleepless nights.

And when you finally held it in your hands again…

'But you're not him.'

You regretted it, probably as soon as the words left your mouth. Because… they were a lie. A lie you told yourself for fear of losing him, again.

Yet now, you couldn't help but feel like you just did.

─── ·❆· ───

Thor had once told Loki about the red string of fate—when the god of thunder had been strangely obsessed with Midgardian folklore in his teenage years. A red string that connected soulmates, it could stretch and bend as the two souls drifted apart and then met again, however, it would never break.

Now, as Loki heard your steps getting further and further away from him, he couldn't help but hear a snap.

Maybe he was the one who fucked it up, maybe it was his fault. You weren't his to have or to lose anyway. As much as he wished you were.

Loki stood awkwardly by your desk; he felt almost as if he was invading just because this was your space and, as you'd just made abundantly clear, you wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

He took advantage of your secluded nook to brush off the tear tracks on his cheeks—he didn't need anyone asking questions he barely knew the answers to—before running a hand through his hair, straightening the collar of his jacket, and taking a deep, hopefully steadying, breath.

For the first time, he felt utterly lost, without a north to guide him. He stalled by neatly organizing the mess that was your desk, thinking maybe you'd have a change of heart and come back to him. He stacked documents, organized pencils, and even folded a cardigan of yours that was hanging on the back of your chair.

Loki stalled the longest he could, until there was nothing more to tidy and no hope left. When you didn't come back, he walked up to the elevator, and now stared at the many buttons without knowing which to press. Truth be told, his mind was miles away; focused on the feeling of your soft skin against his and the sweet perfume of your shampoo. Would he ever get to feel you so close again?

"Hold it, please," Mobius called from a few steps away, hurriedly walking towards Loki. The god extended a hand to hold the doors open for him.

Mobius skipped into the elevator with a big sigh, clutching a rather large stack of documents to his chest. "Thanks," he breathed, shooting a glance at Loki. A beat passed and he did a double take, with a frown as he looked Loki over, who still glared at the buttons in front of him, all puffy eyes and pouty lips. "… What happened?" Mobius' voice held the tone of someone who probably already knew the answer he'd get. He reached past Loki and pressed the button that led to the cafeteria—a coffee break couldn't hurt.

For long seconds, Loki kept silent, contemplating whether to lie or be honest. He felt too drained to come up with a lie. "I… believe I messed it up."

Mobius didn't need names. He raised a hand to pat Loki's shoulder. "She'll come around, buddy."

Loki's eyebrows softened, he had a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips as his eyes welled up with tears again. It stung, bitterly. Perhaps he was never destined for happy endings. It was okay, he decided, he'd be okay with loving you from afar; so long as he got to love you at all. He already counted his lucky stars that the slim odds were in his favor and he got to meet you. "I don't think she will."

The weight of his words didn't go unnoticed by Mobius, who turned to Loki with a rather bewildered expression. "You really do like her… Don't you?"

Loki lowered his head, lips parting in a futile attempt to try and word his feelings. All he managed was a defeated sigh as he brought a hand up to rub one of his eyes. That was answer enough.

─── ·❆· ───

It's been a week. Or at least what would be the equivalent of a week in the TVA. You didn't know if you were the one avoiding Loki or if he was the one avoiding you. But you haven't seen each other ever since you said those hurtful words to him.

Your spoon clicked against the ceramic of your mug, stirring a coffee that had probably already gone cold. You stared off into space, watching from a secluded corner table as a few of your colleagues walked by with their own coffees, yet not actually seeing it. Your mind was elsewhere, drifting between what-ifs.

It's been like this, for this past week. Your mind mostly numb, stuck on auto-pilot. You couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop missing him; his presence had become such a constant in your life these past couple of months that now that you didn't have it, a part of you felt hollow and empty. There was always a vacant chair beside you that left you feeling perpetually cold and alone.

The last few nights had been more sleepless than not, guilt ate away at your insides and kept you from diving into deep slumber. You wondered if the few grimaced smiles you received from your colleagues today were because you'd forgotten to hide the faint dark circles under your eyes.

"Good morning sunshine," Mobius slid into the chair next to you, placing his steaming mug on the table along with a single donut on a small plate. He took a momentary glance at you and his smile dropped a tad, "or maybe not so good."

You tried giving your friend a decent smile but you could tell by the look on his face that it didn't reach your eyes.

"I'll probably regret asking," Mobius pulled his chair closer, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, "but what's wrong?"

You've never liked it when people asked you that question, it made you wish that your problems really were simple enough to be put into words. You avoided his eyes, something akin to shame and timidness twisting your stomach. "I'm- I'm not sure," a frown came to your brows, as if you were finally seeing past the fog. You shook your head softly, "I think I messed up."

"So I keep hearing," Mobius sighed. It wasn't condescending, no; it just looked like he was in on a secret you didn't know.

"I'm just… I'm so scared, Mobius." There was a sway to your voice that wasn't there before, with your heart on your mouth beating as raw as the wound you'd carried for so long. "I'm-" You hesitated, words heavy as you closed your eyes briefly. "I'm scared, and I'm still so confused."

You could feel the familiar sting of tears building behind your eyes. "I've wanted him back for so long, and seeing him again like this, it just-" Your lips hovered, trembling. You felt a warm touch landing on one of your hands, reassuring. You squeezed Mobius' fingers in gratitude. "… Now I have memories with him that only I've lived, and part of me still doesn't know what to think, what to do. And if I ever were to lose him again, I- I don't think I could…"

With a gentle nod, Mobius took hold of both your hands, he spoke slowly, "I understand… Well, maybe I don't," he chuckled, and when a small and genuine smile crept onto your lips, a proud glint came to his eyes. "But don't you think that, sometimes, we complicate things too much?" He asked, voice tender and drowning out the increasing hustle and bustle of TVA's cafeteria.

"You got him back." Mobius gave your hands a gentle shake to accentuate his words, voice low yet dripping with hope and excitement; "Yeah, maybe he comes from a little before you two met, but it's still the same Loki." He tilted his head with a tight smile, urging you to take his words to heart. "The one thing you wanted ever since you got here, don't you see how lucky you are? Maybe you should just let yourself be happy about that for a change."

For long seconds that felt like hours, you stayed silent, only feeling the bruising beating of your heart against your ribs. The air left your lungs and you had trouble pulling it back in.

He was right, wasn't he?

Maybe you could allow yourself to be happy after all this time. Maybe you could finally go to where your heart had been trying to lead you to. Maybe you really did get a second chance.

Yet, like freefalling into a frozen lake, the last words you'd said to him came rushing back. "I hurt him, Mobius." You winced at the memory, at the desolate look that had painted Loki's eyes as soon as you uttered the words.

'But you're not him.'

Oh, you couldn't have been more wrong then. Because when he looks at you with that same shine to his gentle eyes that had captivated you since the first time you'd met him on the grounds of New Asgard, when his voice takes on that special tone that's kept for you only, when he touches you with the same delicacy you'd always known, when he has the same bashful smile, laughs at the same jokes, drinks the same tea. How could he not be your Loki?

"It was the last thing I wanted, and it happened, and now I- I don't know if there's a way back from-"

"Listen to me," Mobius cut you off before you could go downhill into a pity party, "he's miserable, okay?" He spoke matter-of-factly, to which you only raised your eyebrows. "I'm serious, you should've seen him this morning, looked like a kicked puppy. Trust me when I tell you you're hurting him more by staying away." He added with a smirk; "and you two are killing me with all this 'will they, won't they'."

A small laugh escaped you as you raised a hand to dry your eyes and squeezed Mobius' ones with the other in a gesture that you hoped conveyed the immense gratitude you felt for him.

You missed Loki. You missed him so much it felt like a part of your soul had been torn out.

"Do you have any idea of where he is right now?"

─── ·❆· ───

You stepped into the smoked glass doorway as if you were walking a tightrope that might snap at any second. You held your breath as you went through, eyes closed, and hands clammy.

A familiarity lay heavy in the cold and fresh air, it has brought you peace many times before. The frozen grass crunched beneath your feet and the rustling of leaves did little to drown out the loud beating of your heart. You didn't need to open your eyes to know where you were, but you did anyway.

The clearing was the same as it's always been, with a few trees on both of the far sides, a clean and starry night sky that adorned the beginnings of the spectacle that was the northern lights, and finally, the lonely wooden bench in the middle.

Loki sat on the far right side of the bench you once shared. The night was cold and he only wore a simple dress shirt, for a second you wondered if he was not cold, before remembering his origins.

The moment feelt intimate, precious. You wondered if he knew you were there and chose to stay silent, or if he was too lost in his own what-ifs. You wondered if he's missed you as much as you missed him.

Your feet were glued to the ground, you noticed. Hands closed tightly into fists and mouth dry. A part of you remained so afraid still, as if, now that you're here, it might be too late.

From afar, you admired how Loki's hair flowed effortlessly with the breeze, coming loose from behind his ears and making you wish to run your fingers through it. He had his left hand lying beside him, fingertips touching the wood of the bench; as if reaching for something, someone, who's not there.

You caught it then, how, with the corner of his eye, he finally noticed your presence. You caught it by how his shoulders immediately tensed up and he looked straight ahead as if bracing for something.

No turning back now. You took the first step towards him.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ch 9 coming soon.

I no longer make taglists. You can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I've posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

183 notes · View notes

cuubism · 4 months

Note

I tried to be creative for a hurt/comfort thing but you know what, I'm a very predictable creature of habit who likes what I like lol

A go-to headcanon of mine for canon or human au is that Hob's love language is providing food just as like, a caretaking thing. But of course Dream interprets it as Hob thinking he's ugly for being so skinny. 🥺

🤘five-and-dimes

@five-and-dimes this slots in well with math au so it had to be math au ☺️

"Dream?"

Dream doesn't realize he's drifted off mentally until Hob calls his name. It's possible he's called it more than once and Dream didn't hear. It must be some special level of dysfunction to be able to get so distracted during sex. All week he has thought about Hob, watched the play of his hands on his keyboard and wished they were on his skin, watched the flex of his arms as he ties his hair back, studied his mouth as he chewed on the end of a pen. Now he is here, and yet he's not. Here.

"Are you alright?" Hob continues when Dream just kind of keeps staring at him. "You're like. Not with me at all. I don't know where you are."

Dream doesn't know where Dream is either. Technically he is lying in bed with Hob kneeling between his thighs, and they haven't even gotten fully undressed yet. Hob's hands are still resting lightly on his hips, thumbs hooked under the waistband of his jeans. Dream is suddenly aware of just how sharp his hipbones are when he lies like that, the jut of bone visible through his skin.

He pushes himself up to sitting, dislodging Hob's hands. "I am fine."

"Sure," Hob says, not wholly convinced. "Long day I guess?"

Dream hums noncommittally.

"Want to watch a movie instead?"

"Yes," Dream says, though still distracted, "very well."

Hob moves away to grab his shirt, and Dream watches the flex of his shoulders, the strength of his back and bend of his neck. And he wants, and for a moment he considers saying, no, come back, I want-- but when Hob turns back to him it dies in his throat.

He puts on his own shirt, and Hob pulls him close, lets him settle between his legs, his back to Hob's chest, as he takes his laptop from the nightstand. "I heard about this one, supposed to be using maths to solve time travel. Figured we could watch and you could tell me all the ways they're wrong and stupid."

Hob knows him too well. "You have no confidence that the maths could be correct?" he says.

"Do you?"

"...No," Dream admits, and Hob laughs.

"It'd be no fun if it was right, anyway. Your commentary makes it way more entertaining."

Dream leans back in his arms as Hob boots up the movie, and then it feels easy again, comfortable again, as they fall back into their familiar pattern.

He doesn't know what was wrong with him before.

Dream likes to steal Hob's sweatshirts. He runs cold, but often forgets to bring extra layers with him when he goes places. Or perhaps he is intentionally forgetting to bring his own, so he can steal Hob's. Hob never seems to mind, after all.

And Hob's clothes are not so different in size to his own, they are almost the same height. Hob has broader shoulders than he does, but Dream never feels like he is swimming in Hob's clothes.

Except for now.

He's studying the way the sleeves of Hob's sweatshirt lie on his wrists, comparing it to the way they had looked on Hob's wrists when he had worn the same sweatshirt just this morning, before Dream had stolen it. Have his wrists always been this narrow? The jut of the ulna so sharp where the hem of the sleeve hangs? Has he always looked this bony, when contrasted with soft fabric?

"Hey, love, you hungry? I made you something."

Hob is standing before him, holding a bowl. He places it down on the table before Dream.

"Made me something?" Dream echoes.

"Dinner," Hob says. "You didn't eat anything today."

Did he? Perhaps not. He often doesn't, at least not until Hob reminds him. Which he often does.

"It's green curry," Hob says, pushing the bowl closer to him as if trying to tempt him to take a treat. "One of your favorites?"

Dream does not know if he is really hungry, but Hob is a good cook and besides, it will make him happy if Dream eats it, so he takes it.

Seeming satisfied, Hob gets his own bowl and sits down across from him, tucking in as Dream starts delicately picking at pieces of green bean and pepper, small spoonfuls of rice soaked in curry. It is, in fact, very good. He is just. Out of sorts, perhaps.

But he eats it, slowly, because he knows Hob will be happy. Hob is always happy when he manages to feed him. Perhaps Dream truly doesn't eat enough. Perhaps he is getting too bony.

He tries not to study his wrists as he holds the spoon.

Dream is... not having a good day. He doesn't fully know why. He often doesn't. Regardless, he's lying in bed, music blaring in his headphones, staring blankly at the wall, when Hob gets back from class in the evening.

He doesn't realize it's time for Hob to come back until Hob is creaking open the bedroom door, letting a sliver of light into the cocoon Dream's created. He says something, which Dream doesn't hear on account of the music he's blasting at maximum volume.

He takes out his earbuds as Hob repeats it. "Hey, love. You want some tea? A snack?"

Dream lifts his head to find that Hob's set down a cup of tea and a piece of toast with what looks like almond butter and honey on the nightstand.

"It's seven p.m.," Hob continues. Dream hadn't realized it was so late. He doesn't remember exactly when he laid down. "Have you eaten?"

He's sure Hob already knows the answer to that.

Dream sits up and takes the toast, as bidden. And then just. Stares at it.

Hob lays the back of his hand against Dream's forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I don't know," Dream says. But he is not sick in the way that Hob means. He sets the toast back down and takes the tea instead, sipping it slowly.

"You don't feel warm." Hob lets his hand fall. "Should eat the toast, if you can. Do you want company, or should I leave you be?"

Dream swallows hard to clear the lump in his throat. Hob is... so tolerant of his oddities. "Company. If you can tolerate my silence."

"I can cope." Hob fetches his things, and soon enough he's sitting beside Dream in bed, laptop open. Dream leans against his shoulder. Hob's body is soft enough to be comfortable to lie against, while Dream's shoulder is... sharp. When Hob lies against him, are all of Dream's bones just jutting into him?

He sits up again, picks up the toast. If he ate enough almond butter toast he might not be so sharp-edged. But eating an amount of toast that hits even a baseline caloric requirement is already hard enough.

He eats it slowly and tries to pretend it doesn't stick on the way down.

When they were teenagers, Desire used to make fun of Dream for being too skinny. "It's all in the name of love," they'd sing, "just don't want you to end up alone, that's all." Then they'd poke him in the ribs--"You're so bony"--and start giggling.

It didn't help that Dream had jumped ahead two levels in school, and already felt gangly and awkward in comparison to everyone else in his year, who were invariably older. As years passed, he grew out of those awkward teenage proportions, but never lost his thin, angular frame.

Hob, for his part, still has a bit of youthful ranginess to him, but Dream thinks he will fill out wonderfully as he gets older. He does not know what will happen to himself.

What he does know is that Hob keeps trying to feed him.

He'll make breakfast for him, if he stays over. Even if Hob himself needs to run out the door to class with nothing more than a granola bar, he somehow manages to make sure there is something for Dream. He's always making Dream's favorite foods for dinner, more often than not foods Dream barely remembers ever mentioning. He brings him tea in a thermos when Dream is up late working in his favorite classroom.

Dream does not know what to do with this. He is finding it harder and harder to eat what Hob makes. He doesn't know what's wrong with him.

When he gets home from class, he finds that Hob is gone, but he's left an entire container of muffins on Dream's kitchen counter. Zucchini muffins!! the note taped to the lid reads. Very tasty and nutritious too!! ❤️

Dream stares at them for a long time, a lump in his throat. Then he closes the lid, carefully latches it so they won't go stale, and retreats to his bedroom.

Dream is straddling Hob's lap and he should be enjoying himself but he cannot. Stop. Thinking.

About how sharp his knees and ankles look. How Hob can definitely feel his ribs where his hands are laid on Dream's waist. About the deep cut of his collarbone, made more evident by the way he's wrapping his arms around Hob's shoulders as they kiss. Does Hob think about it? Does he look at Dream and wish there was softness to touch, instead of these hard edges?

"Dream," Hob says, still close enough that Dream feels his breath as he pulls away from the kiss. "Where are you, love? Because it's not with me."

It all feels so obvious when Dream thinks about it now. He got used to not thinking about his own body but it's impossible to ignore when he's pressed up against Hob, when he's only in his underwear. Hob has seen him, and touched him, and is always trying to feed him, and he would never say anything because he isn't mean but it must bother him, that Dream is so, is so--

"Do you think I am wrong?" he asks.

Hob just stares at him, thrown. "What?" he asks. "Wrong about what?"

"Wrong," Dream repeats. And suddenly he can't stand to be exposed like he is, and disentangles himself from Hob, reaching for the nearest article of clothing--which ends up being Hob's sweatshirt, the one he likes to steal. And so he ends up just holding it to his chest instead of putting it on, frozen.

Hob reaches for him, then lets his hands fall. "I don't understand."

"You want me to eat more," Dream says.

"I-- yeah? You barely eat one meal a day, of course I want you to eat more?"

Dream nods to himself, clutching Hob's sweatshirt closer. It all makes sense now. He doesn't know why he didn't understand it earlier. Or perhaps he did, subconsciously.

The wave of sadness that catches him under his lungs is more powerful than he anticipated. But at least now he understands.

"I don't know what conclusion you're making, but somehow I don't think it's right," Hob says. He reaches for Dream again, and this time wraps his hand around his wrist, slides down over the bones there until their fingers are tangled together. Their knuckles lock, bone to bone.

"I am hideous to you," he says, braced by Hob's touch enough to voice it.

"What?" Dream expects Hob to move away, but he doesn't, though he does sound... hurt. "How could you think that?"

"You think I should eat more," Dream says. Even as he says it, he feels himself curl inwards again, though it only makes the angles of his limbs more prominent.

"Yeah because you can't survive on one piece of toast every two days? I don't want you to starve yourself?" Hob sounds increasingly desperate as he says it. "Honestly you've been freaking me out, I feel like even when I make stuff you like you want to eat it even less."

"I... like what you make," Dream says quietly. He slowly thinks through what Hob's said. "I thought that... you felt I was too skinny. That you would be more attracted to me if I was not so... bony. And sharp."

He is very sharp-edged all around. And Hob already tolerates the sharp edges of his personality.

"Dream." Now Hob takes both of his hands. "Don't you know I was so attracted to you the moment I saw you? I wanted you so bad. And your attention. Your interest." He plays with Dream's fingers. "Look how beautiful your hands are." He cups Dream's face in his hand. "Your jawline is literally to die for. Modeling agencies would sign you."

Dream makes an expression of distaste at the thought, and Hob laughs.

"I know, you'd hate that." He kisses the tip of Dream's nose. "But the point stands. You're gorgeous." He runs his hand through Dream's hair, making it stick up all over the place. And the way Hob looks at him then makes any objection die in Dream's throat, makes him want to crawl into Hob's lap and press against Hob's body and let Hob do anything to him. "I mean, look at you."

A blush rises to Dream's cheeks. "So. You do not want me to eat so that I will gain weight."

"I want you to eat so you don't fucking die," Hob says, and something about the dramatic phrasing of it makes Dream laugh, and then Hob laughs, too, and pulls him close, pressing Dream's head into his shoulder.

"I am like a recalcitrant pet to you, then," Dream says, and Hob chuckles.

"Too right. You can lead a Dream to avocado toast..."

Perhaps... Dream might be better at being led. Now that he knows why Hob is doing the leading.

“I love you,” Hob says, kissing Dream’s temple. “And your ridiculous cheekbones, you angelic creature. You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Dream’s blush only deepens, and he hides his face in Hob’s shoulder. Hob rubs a hand up and down his bare back, catching on the knobs of his spine. He holds Dream close until Dream’s embarrassment subsides and he feels able to lift his head again.

When their eyes meet again, Hob just smiles. “Can I show you?” He traces his thumb over Dream’s lower lip. “How much I want you?”

Dream nods, tongue dabbing at Hob's thumb. Yes, he wants. He wants Hob. And he wants Hob to want him, desperately he wants it, for Hob to think he is desirable, no matter how embarrassing it may be to feel that want.

Hob kisses him again, pulling him close so Dream is half in his lap, tangled up in him again. Dream chases his mouth. And each touch of Hob's hands over the hard bend of his hips or the sharp wings of his shoulder blades, just as passionate and determined as Dream could have ever hoped for, makes him feel better, until he's not thinking about the shape of himself at all, just the feeling of Hob's touch, and his own pleasure.

And, maybe, the tea Hob might make for him afterward.

#dream has literally the exact opposite body issues that i do and yet somehow it's relatable...#complex mathematics #my writing #dreamling #ask #five-and-dimes #wow this got real sappy at the end tbh #disordered eating

178 notes · View notes

f0point5 · 5 months

Note

As if you couldn't turn Max watching her breathe into a masterpiece, don't lie🙄 idk maybe they're driving around in her new car and they coincidentally see Elliot😂 would be a nice reprieve from *clenched teeth* freddie

Sooo.

I tried to incorporate a bit of Max watching her just breathe because it’s funny. But also Elliot. But also the car.

But also mostly I was just freaking out because the male perspective is so alien to me. This might suck. We’re going to be KIND if it sucks because I’m just a girl okay men don’t make sense to me.

Anyway, I’m deciding to name this one because this is what I was listening to when I wrote it.

✨set during winter break✨

Call It What You Want To

“How do you take this long to get ready?” Max groans in frustration, dragging his hand over his face.

He’s been waiting 45 minutes. Not the longest he’s ever waited for you, but he’s been looking forward to this night out for two whole days. After everything that’s gone on in the last couple of weeks, and how none of that is likely to be resolved before Testing next week, he could really use a drink or twelve.

“I’m almost done,” he hears you call back, your tone telling him you’re unbothered by leaving him waiting. “Do you want everyone to think you have an ugly girlfriend?”

Max opens his mouth to reply but closes it just as quickly. What is he supposed to say to that? That no one on earth has ever thought his girlfriend is anything less than breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that it stopped him for thinking you could ever be his girlfriend more than once? That sometimes during a race he looks at the tv screens on the track in case you’re on camera? That whenever he passes the picture of you in his hallway he thinks he’d have hung it up even if he didn’t know you, because you’d still be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen? No. He’s not saying any of that. Three months is way too soon to let you know that you could use his balls as earrings. It’s not like you need a bigger head.

“I want my girlfriend to get to the club before it closes,” he shouts, stifling a smile. It’s been three months, but he still likes saying girlfriend.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he hears you say, your voice getting closer as you make your way to the living room. “We can’t all just put on a t-shirt with a funny saying on it and-“

You stop when you round the couch and finally notice him staring at your slinky black satin dress. Actually, he’s staring at the parts of you not covered by the dress, which gives him a lot to stare at. He might just give everyone what they want and quit driving if they could promise him he’d only have to lol at you in this dress for the rest of his life.

“What?” You ask him, which has him blinking furiously, trying to focus. You’re holding out a pair of heels to him, the ones you bought with the gift card his dad’s wife had given you for your birthday.

“Nothing,” he says, taking the shoes from you. He shifts off the couch to kneel in front you, lifting your leg to put the shoes on your foot and do up the buckle. “You look good,”

Above him, he hears you chuckle, and then your fingers run through his hair. You’re petting him like a cat, and he’ll be damned if he ever admits how close he feels to purring.

“Why does that still sound like it’s painful for you to admit?” You tease, using a bit more of your nails on the final run through of his hair.

“It’s not painful,” he tells you winding the glittering strap around your ankle.

It’s not painful. Sometimes it’s a lump in his throat, or a tightening in his chest. Sometimes, when he’s on one knee in front of you like he is now, it’s an urge to say something he can’t yet find the words for. But no, it’s not painful.

He finishes with your other shoe, squeezing your calf gently before placing a kiss on the inside of your knee.

“You’re just painfully gorgeous,” he says as he gets to his feet. “Can we go?”

You roll your eyes at him with with a smile. “Your car or mine?”

********************

He chooses to take your car. Every time he gets in your Ferrari, he thinks about Vegas. He drives it often.

He weaves through the streets of Monaco with one hand on your thigh, and he can’t remember where the fuck he was putting that hand before you.

“The thing is, unless the contract gets sorted next week, he’s totally fucked,” you’re saying as Max turns onto Avenue Princesse Grace. There’s a gaggle of people outside with their phones out. Simply fucking lovely. “You’re not listening to me are you?”

Max turns to you, squeezing your thigh as the car slows. “Of course I am, Engel. Do me a favour? Just say fuck again, a bit slower,”

“You’re twelve,”

“You would not have gone out with me at twelve,” Max jokes, slowing to a stop in front of Twiga as a valet comes towards the car.

“You were cute at twelve,” you say, “fourteen is where it started to go haywire,”

Before he can respond, you’re getting out of the car, and immediately the camera phones are focused on you. Max follows you out, handing the keys to the valet as he tries to ignore the feeling of being hunted. He wonders if they know he can hear every word they’re saying. He wonders if they’d like him to take their picture and post it all over the internet. He watches you slink through the crowd towards him, not even bothering to pretend you’re not being watched.

It’s ironic, he thinks, he brings the spotlight, but you’re the one who shines in it.

Inside the lobby, you head straight for the elevator while he talks to the woman at the front desk- it’s a well rehearsed routine. Lando isn’t here yet, typical. He asks if they can send over some St. Tropez cocktails and some gin tonics, and texts Lando to hurry up, before turning to join you at the lifts.

Except, he notices, you’re not alone. You’re standing by the lifts, with a big smile on your face, explaining something to a guy with a familiarly large head.

Max has seen Elliot around a couple of times. Monaco is stupidly small, especially in the winter when it’s nearly empty. The two men always studiously ignore each other, because what is there to say? Max doesn’t know if Elliot knows that you’re together now, and he knows it shouldn’t matter, but it does.

He didn’t hate Elliot in Austin, even though he’d planned to. But then they’d met and Max found he really couldn’t hate someone who was as smitten with you as he was, as he’d always been.

He finds that he kind of hates Elliot now, though, as he gets close enough to hear you giggle at something.

“No. It was actually okay, just cold, you know?“ you stop when Max places a hand on the small of your back, where you dress is low enough that he’s touching your skin. You turn to him. “Oh, hey. Is Lando here?”

Max shakes his head.

“Typical.” You sigh. “Max, you remember Elliot, right?”

“Yeah.” He says, and they shake hands. How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” Elliot says with a shrug. His shirt matches your dress. Fuck him.

“Well, you can if you want,” Max jokes, except it’s not a joke because he hates those Britishisms. If you want to say something just say it. And if things are fine and you have nothing to complain about why make it sound- he just doesn’t like the guy. And he doesn’t like that you liked the guy.

Mercifully, the lift arrives, and when it does, Max steps aside.

“You take this one,” he says, gesturing to the open lift. Elliot looks like he wants to refuse out of politeness in the way only English people do, so Max forces himself to put everyone out of their misery. “It’s the least I can do,”

It’s such a dickhead thing to say, but he can’t help but smirk, and it does the trick. Elliot gives both of you a tight lipped smile and steps into the lift, pulling out his phone as the door closes.

You turn to face him, his hand falling away from your back as you fix him with a quizzical look. He waits for you to chastise him for his comment, then wonders fleetingly if you’re comparing him, in his silly t-shirt and tight jeans, to Elliot in his perfectly crisp chinos. Then he finds himself staring at your lips.

“Oh, right,” you say suddenly, tapping his shoulder. “That’s what I was saying. So this builder says he’s ordered all the materials, but he has to no contract. And my dad…”

Max listens to you talk, winding his arms around your waist in a way he’s still getting used to, and you smile at him in a way he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He promises himself then never to get angry with you when you’re getting ready. You’re worth the wait.

#max verstappen x reader

214 notes · View notes

sturniololoco · 7 months

Note

hiii <3 could you do a little sister fic where she plays hockey and gets into a fight with a player from the other team? Just go from there ig 😭

Mad

Warnings: blood, cussing, crying, etc.

A/N: Kinda a true story, but mine happened in a soccer game lol, it's also rly short and prob rly bad lol

SLS/N’s POV

I know I’m not supposed to let my hair fall out of my helmet, especially when you're playing in a girl's hockey league, but my low bun fell out and I was in the middle of a game so I couldn’t fix it.

The score was tied and there wasn’t much time left on the clock, but I was skating faster than I ever had.

I hear the puck being sent my way by one of my brothers, and I quickly snatch it before I can get bodied by the girl on the other team.

Just as I reached my stick back to slap the puck into the goal, I felt myself fly back, head first, a burning sensation on my scalp.

I was being pulled back by my hair, getting whipped around to the point wear I fell and skidded into the wall.

The girl looked at me with a smirk before skating off, slowly.

I hated the way she looked at me, it made my blood boil and my heart race.

Ignoring the pain in my hip, I stood, then skated as fast as I could to her.

Next thing I know, I'm fully tackling her onto the ice, and that's all I was gonna do until she punched me,

Right in the damn nose.

Blood poured down my front and all over the girl, until it eventually reached the ice. My eyes were watering like crazy, but I ignored the pain and focused my enraged thoughts on the girl I was practically straddling.

Just as I was about to pound her into the ice, I felt arms around my torso, pulling me off.

I fought against them, wanting to get back at the girl who ruined my game, but I stopped once I heard the ref.

"You need to stop or your team will be disqualified."

I quickly shoved the person's arms off of me and then skated to the penalty box.

I got inside and slammed my halpet against the glass, feeling all my anger and the pain in my face hit me at once.

Before I knew it, the buzzer was going off, right after the other team scored the winning point.

I don't bother going into the locker room. Instead, I go to the lobby of the complex, taking my gear off while I wait with my brothers.

As people passed me on their way out, they gave me dirty looks, especially the moms on the other team.

I just sat there, blood pooling out of my face, glaring right back at them.

Until the girl that started this walked passed.

Next thing I know, I'm behind her, ripping her braided ponytail.

Just as she was about to retaliate, Nick, my brother, got between us while I felt Matt and Chris hold my arms back, keeping me from tearing this girl to shreds.

They bring me back to the bench and sit me down as Nick apologizes to the girl's mom.

As he turns around, he looks at me, a disappointed look on his face.

I slouch against the wall behind me, crossing my arms over my chest as I roll my eyes, not making eye contact with any of my brothers.

We silently got to the car, me aggressively chucking my gear in the back before climbing in the backseat and leaning my head against the car window.

"SLS/N, we need to stop the blood," Nick says, handing me a t-shirt that he found in the back of the car.

I take it from him and wipe my nose, feeling the bruising start to form underneath the red coating my face.

As Matt begins to drive, I feel the emotion and pain well up in my eyes so fast, I don't have time to stop it.

As I cried, I let out a frustrated groan, hitting my fist into my thigh, as it was the only thing in the car to punch.

"Don't do that! I know you're mad, but don't hurt yourself." Nick says, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards him.

As I lean into his side, he takes the t-shirt from my hand, helping me wipe most of the blood from my face.

"These are just angry tears," I say to the car.

Matt laughs and reaches back behind his seat, finding my leg, and then giving it a little pat.

"We need to find a way to get all that anger out of you kid, you got way too much of it." Chris sighs, shaking his head.

This makes the car laugh, and I even manage to smile through the pain in my face.

I was happy that they weren't mad at me.

"Matt!" I yell from my spot on the couch, head in Chris's lap.

"I need some ice, please!" I yell again.

I hear a plastic bag being opened, then the sound of the ice maker.

Matt comes in and hands me the bag of ice, now wrapped in a kitchen towel.

Chris quickly takes it from my hand and gently places it under my eye where most of the bruising was, holding it for me.

As Matt sits down by my feet, Nick comes in, making me sit up and take an Advil, and chug a bottle of water.

As soon as I'm done, I lay back down next to Chris, trying to get the dizziness out of my head.

Chris must have noticed me squeeze my eyes shut because he says,

"Try and fall asleep kiddo. I'll be right here when you wake up."

I almost pass out as his words, and get comfy and smuggling into his side.

He holds the ice on my face and strokes my hair till I fall asleep, happy that my brothers aren't mad at me.

Kinda bad I'm sorry! If it wasn't what you were asking for, send in a more specific request and I can re-do it!

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep

189 notes · View notes

spikedhe4rt · 9 months

Note

can you make Johnny (sub) cum before he’s supposed to and then is tortured with a lot of edging? (sorry if it’s too specific)

A/N: Sorry for the wait guys. Shame on me lol. I hope you enjoy this. Anyways love you! <3

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

My lips trail kisses down Johnny's neck as I whisper in his ear. "You're gonna be a good boy, aren't you?" His breath hitched in want as I did. "Mhm!" Our lips melded together in a frenzy like hot glass as we kissed. The desperation in him was prevalent, making me groan slightly.

I snaked my hand to his neck, squeezing very lightly with my fingertips. Our kiss became more sloppy as we continued, his tongue going rouge in my mouth. I pulled away with a line of his spit still connecting us. "You're messy, aren't you?" My words came out smoothly as my eyes bored into his.

Johnny's hair was messy and his face was red from the steamy room. Sweat dripped slightly from his jawline, almost like he came out of water. "Please touch me, Ill be good. I swear" His hand came to touch mine.

I quickly slapped his hand away with a false pout clouded on my face, "If you were really good you'd stop whining like a little bitch" His face dropped knowing that i'm not letting up. "Just sit here and be my pretty boy, huh?" He nodded.

I run my hand down his chest, making him whine under my touch and his hips stutter. My hand brushes against his bulge in his briefs. He whines loudly "Please" My body goes forward to connect out lips, shushing him.

Soon, my kisses start to trail down his neck, sucking on his supple skin. Johnnys eyes fly closed as he sucks in a breath. A bruise forms as I soothe the spot with my tongue. Johnny inhales , his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

His head throws back in desperation as he exhales and whines. "Stop whining" I snapped as I grabbed ahold of his hair, making him groan at the force. "Lift up your hips for me" He immediately complied, rising slightly from the bed. My hands came to the band of his underwear and pulled them down.

Johnny's hard dick slapped against his stomachs, making him hiss at the impact. My hand lifted to his mouth and he spit into my hand. "Good job" I quipped.

Johnny gasped as my hand come around his cock, lightly squeezing. His cock throbbed under my grip as precum leaked from the tip. "Wait!" Johnny halted my movement. My eyebrow raised with question. "C-can you take off your shirt?" I nodded with a smirk before pulling my tank top then continuing.

I stroke him slowly, leaving my thumb to glide against his tip. Johnny cries out making me smile with fake sympathy "You sweet pathetic thing. Does that feel good, baby?" I cooed. "Y-yes"

Johnny hips buck into the air, his weeping tip still dripping with want. "C'mon you can do better than that. Tell me how pathetic you are" I demand

"I'm pathetic, I'm pathetic, please just let me cum" I beam. I give him a false pout "Already? I want you to hold it for me" I tell him, making his face scrunch up further into pleasure.

I continued like this, stopping and starting every time he got close. Johnnys hand clutched the sheets in pleasurable pain, hips continuously

bucking up into my hand. I teased his cock over and over, dragging my fingertips over the prominent veins. He shuddered before letting out whimpers. "I wanna cum. Ill be good, I swear" he tried. "No"

I spit into my hand then wrapped my hand around him once more, stroking him fast. "Please!" I ignore his pleas for satisfaction as I continue.

"I-Im-" His words don't even fully come out before his thick cum splatters on my hand, dripping down his dick. Whimpers and moans spilled from his lips. Johnny chest goes and up and down fast as he tries to catch his breath. "Johnny-" his eyes widened when he realized. "I-"

"Well what do you think your punishment should be, sweetheart"

"Can I please cum again. You won't even have to do anything, Ill do the work. Ill do anything."

"Awww poor baby" I feigned a pout before smiling. "but I think you're just saying that because you're a whore. You need a real punishment."

My hand came around his cock starting to move up and down as I grabbed his hair to tug on it. I look him in his eyes and smiles as he spewed moans from the feeling. "You're not cumming for the rest of the night." He nodded his head before I pulled him into a kiss. It was sloppy, loving, and needy.

Johnny's tongue almost immediately slipped into my mouth as he tried to suppress his pathetic whimpers. We continued till he pulled away with raspy breaths and groans. "Im sorry. Im so close, Im begging you." My hand completely came off of him. "No. Im gonna fucking ruin you" Johnny drew his lip between his teeth as I talked.

"I cant- please- I can't, I wanna cum"

"You can take it, You've done it before"

Johnny was gorgeous this way. His hair was even messier and his chest shined lightly with sweat. His big brown eyes pleading and starting to well up with fat tears. His nails almost attached to the bedding as he clutched it. His mouth was open, beautiful symphonies of moan coming from them whenever I touched him.

I keep stroking his cock, going slower or stopping when he's close, leaving him a drooling, messy, whiny mess. Johnnys head came down to the crook of neck, his hot tears finally flowing down. "Fuck. Feels so good" his words were slurred, drunk on pleasure. "Now you're being a good boy" I prodded.

"Mhm. Im your good boy" his voice was raspy and low. The desperation was apparent. I pulled his head back up by the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss afterwards. "I think my sweet boy has had enough, hm?" I whispered. "I love you, Johnny"

#the outsiders #johnny cade #the outsiders 1983 #johnny cade x y/n #johnny cade fluff #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade imagine

230 notes · View notes

chimcess · 7 months

Text

Waterlog || pjm (2)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 11.5k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: PINING, sexual tension, sad backstory, parental issues, more than likely bad swimming terminology, probably some bad work out advice, i'm trying my best lol, tae is too much but i love him, talks of past drug use (not reader or jimin), strong language, mental health things, medication use, allusions to depression, did i say pining?, reader is horny and awkward 99% of the time, can we blame her?, mood swings, i think they are so cute together, i promise more romance is coming soon A/N: Howdy. I know we're having a pretty slow start, but I think it'll be worth it in the end. I enjoy a good slow burn, especially when there's so much awkward sexual tension involved. Thanks for reading!!!

prev || masterlist || next || playlist

Waking up the next morning, I was greeted by a loud knocking on my door. Stumbling, I told whoever it was that I was on my way. The knocking stopped but was quickly followed by Violet’s loud voice. My things were here, and I needed to let the movers inside.

“Christian and Kook are here already,” She added. “Managed to get an extra pair of hands, too.”

I changed into a pair of jeans and threw on a pull over. It was not supposed to be as cold today, but I did not think a short-sleeved shirt would be enough to keep me warm. Sliding into my boots, I opened the front door.

Violet was there, her hair in a braid again, wearing a blue plaid shirt and bootcut jeans. Beside her was Jimin, a large smile already on his face. Two other men were here. I was certain I had seen one of them before. He was very handsome with a heart shaped face and soft chin, large, asymmetrical brown eyes, and downturned lips. His hair was very obviously dyed, the blue so bright when the sun hit it my eyes hurt.

The other man was less familiar. His hair was black, styled into a trendy wolf cut, with his bangs pulled out of his face into a ponytail. He had a pure, youthful, and elegant look about him, and a few piercings. There was one on his eyebrow, one on his bottom lip, and so many on each ear I could not count them all. If I could describe him in a single word, it would be cartoonish. His eyes took up most of his face, large and doe-like, with all of his other features soft and small. Like the blue haired man, he was very handsome.

This upset me more than it should have, because despite how wonderful they both looked, all I could think about was how much I preferred Jimin. It was incomparable, actually. While they were certainly my type, I could only see how not Jimin-like their features were.

“Good morning,” I greeted them awkwardly, my voice scratchy. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“It’s such an honor to meet you,” The blue haired man’s enthusiasm caught me off guard. Despite me never making the move to shake either one of their hands, he reached for mine anyway. He reminded me of a labrador retriever, and I could imagine a tail wagging in time with his vigorous handshake. “I’m Taehyung Kim. I used to watch you, like, all the time back in the day.”

I knew that name. Studying his face a little more, it hit me. Taehyung Kim, a.k.a., The Seal of Michigan, a.k.a, V. I never understood why he had been given that last one, but it must have some sort of meaning to him because the guy lights up when anyone uses it. He was a famous snowboarder and had been to the 2020 winter Olympics. He was just a few months younger than Jimin.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” I gripped his hand back a bit more now. “I watched you at the last Olympics. You did great.”

He blushed and let go of my hand, “I didn’t win anything, but I had a lot of fun.”

That was true. The kid was brand new on the scene and let some of his nerves get to him. I had learned the hard way that hesitation could ruin a great performance, but I was sure he would do better in January. The Winter Olympics were always a few months ahead of summer, and I would surely be watching Taehyung this year. If I was going to spend time with Jimin then I would need to get along with his friends.

“It’s not always about winning,” I tried to comfort him. “I didn’t win every time either.”

That placated him. Jimin quickly introduced me to Jungkook after. He was an NHL player for the Red Wings. I admitted that I had no idea who he was and never really watched hockey before, but that only made Jungkook swear to make me an avid fan before I left Michigan. For some reason, I believed him.

It did not take long for the movers to get all of my furniture and boxes into the house. With the boys’ help, I was tipping the two men much earlier than I anticipated. All three of them insisted on helping me unpack despite me telling them I could do it on my own. The place was entirely too small for the four of us, but we managed to make it work.

I had told them my bedroom was off limits. I unpacked my clothes and put my underwear away. My room was the largest in the house. With enough space for my full-sized bed, nightstands, and dresser, I was pleased. The only downside was not having a closet, but I did not bring anything nice enough for it to really matter. It was inconvenient but not the end of the world.

I was, however, happy to see more color. My blanket was dark orange, pillowcases covered in baby pink cow print, and the otter plushie Namjoon’s mom made me was resting right in between them. I installed some simple shelving above my bed, warmly lit Christmas lights wrapped around the bars, where I displayed my books and a few of my plants. The rest were lined up on the windowsill beside the bed.

Brightly colored art now hung on the walls, a large mirror above my dresser, and a peg board for my earrings made the space feel lived in. Whatever books could not fit on my shelves got stacked and put on the nightstand. I still wanted to buy a rug and curtains, but that was on the bottom of my list of priorities.

The boys were all talking and laughing as they worked which helped me relax. I hated being trapped in quiet spaces. Finished with my room, I went to check in with them and move things around. I doubted any of them would get the knick-knacks just right.

“Don’t worry about the decorations,” I said, announcing my presence. Taehyung was staring at two of my paintings with mild panic. “I’ll take that.”

Snatching the photos, I smiled at him. The living room was coming together nicely. Jungkook pushed the dark green loveseat against the wall and all of my throws were on top of it. My largest potted plant was beside it and I decided then I would keep it there. Moving the throw pillows to the floor, I started to put my wall art up. Hoseok complained that I was going to become a hoarder if I bought any more shit. Andrea, however, said that I had great taste, so I listened to her instead.

“You’re a big face of Earthy colors,” Jungkook said, looking around the house. “Lots of plants, too.”

I shrugged, “My fiancé had a lot of succulents and stuff, so I guess it rubbed off on me after a while.”

In truth, Namjoon not only had succulents and cacti, but an entire apartment filled with plants. He had a small garden in the back, vegetables and herbs growing in despite the weather in Colorado making it difficult. The man had a green thumb and loved taking care of things. I had been in charge of them once we moved in together and learned to love it. Even after he died, I couldn’t imagine not having at least five plants in the house.

I noticed the room had gone eerily quiet. I realized then what I had said. It was the first time I had spoken about Namjoon with any of them. Knowing I had made the atmosphere awkward, I tried to break up the tension.

“What colors do you like, Jungkook?”

I could physically feel the mood lighten.

“Black,” His reply was quick. I groaned. He laughed. “What? I like the clean look.”

“It’s not clean,” I argued. “It’s depressing.”

Taehyung took my side, “My house isn’t as decorated as yours, but I have more going on than either one of them. I’m a huge fan of video games and photography so I have a lot of stuff hanging up.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin chimed in from the bathroom. He placed himself in charge of getting that room squared away. “His place isn’t as nice as yours. It’s all cluttered and disorganized."

“Nu uh,” Taehyung argued childishly.

“Dude, you have stuff everywhere,” Jungkook shot back, handing me another picture frame.

“They’re lying,” Taehyung told me.

“You’re so full of shit, Tae,” Jungkook sighed.

“Literally the dumbest thing to lie about,” Jimin snarkily threw in from the bathroom.

“Bullies,” Taehyung was addressing me again and this time I could not help my chuckles. “They always gang up on me.”

As the boys continued to bicker, I worked. I finished hanging up the art above the sofa and got to organizing the throws. Taehyung had already pulled out my rug, and I started figuring out how I wanted to place all of the floor pillows. Namjoon never used the couch, no one in his family did, and I had become so conscious of their comfort that I always had a large array of pillows on the floor for them to use. After a few years, I had joined them, and I kept up the trend once I moved to the Springs. The sofa was little more than decoration.

“Damn, these are nice.”

Looking over my shoulder, I was surprised to see Jungkook holding up one of my medals. I was positive I had not packed it and the box he was hunched over was completely unfamiliar as well. Embarrassment and anger swelled up in my chest. I had placed Minho and Tilly in charge of coordinating with the movers so I could focus on work and training Hoseok before I left. If I had to guess, Tilly had thought it wise to ship over a large package of my most prized possessions for some God forsaken reason.

“I don’t know why those are here,” I hoped my voice sounded playful and carefree. I did not want another tense moment. “One of my friends must have packed them.”

“Holy shit,” Taehyung was now holding the medal. “These are heavy. You have so many.”

Walking over to the box, I took out the rest of the medals. Tilly had only packed four of the eight Olympic medals I owned, probably running out of room. Framed photos of me swimming, with the rest of my team, and my coach were also in the box. My swimsuit from the last Olympics I competed at was folded at the very bottom of the box, my goggles and cap wrapped up in the fabric, and underneath it was something I had not been expecting. A framed photograph.

I remembered that night as if it were yesterday. I was eighteen coming off the back of two major wins and making my mark in the athletic community. I had just moved to Denver; Victor had gotten divorced the year prior and his ex-wife moved to Colorful Colorado taking his daughter with her. My coach demanded he was close enough to see her every weekend. It really did not matter to me where I lived, so it was one of the easier decisions I had to make.

I knew Hoseok lived in the area, and we had always been friendly at the meets we had in common. I ended up getting his number from Ozzie and after getting coffee I knew we would be friends for life. The picture was taken at his New Year’s Eve Party. I needed to get laid, he had said, and he knew a few guys he thought I might hit it off with. That was where I met Namjoon.

He was a college student, fresh faced and stumbling over his words. I was charmed by him almost instantly, even if Hoseok was positive the two of us were too different to last. I could recall the smell of fireworks in the air, the way his voice cracked whenever another one would go off, and how excited his eyes looked whenever I asked him about his major. Namjoon spoke for hours about Philosophy, all of his favorite poets, and the way he believed the universe worked. He was so clumsy it was practically a disability, and the loud sounds were so nerve wracking, he flinched whenever the fireworks boomed.

Picking up the small picture, I smiled. It was taken right after midnight. Hoseok’s sister said we looked so sweet that she could not help herself. I had all but ripped Namjoon’s hair out when the countdown began, kissing him before midnight ever came. His hands rested gently on my hips, and he huffed like he had run a marathon when we finally pulled apart. His breath was hot when he went back in for more, panting into my mouth as I clung to him like an addict. It was a beautiful moment. It was a moment I would never forget.

Suddenly, I was no longer mad at Matilda. I was sure it had been her who did this. Minho would not go through so much trouble if he thought it would upset me. Either way, I was happy to have the picture. While I was no longer in love with Namjoon, my heart slowly healing itself and making space for someone new, I would never forget our time together. It was too perfect, too magical; too loving to forget.

“Is that him?” Taehyung asked. The way he said it told me that he knew what had happened. I doubted there was a person in our world who didn't know. “The guy who died?”

I nodded, “His name was Namjoon.”

“Damn, that’s rough,” Jungkook’s voice was very gentle, and I could hear the compassion in it. “Sorry to hear that. Hope you’re doing okay.”

I smiled at him and nodded, “It was a few years ago.”

Taehyung was the one who broke the moment this time and I was grateful for the reprieve.

“These aren’t all of them, right?” He pointed at the medals still in the box. "Olympic medals, I mean."

I shook my head, “No but I guess she just grabbed the ones I had at my house. The other four I keep at my school. They’re in a case in my office.”

The ones Tilly had packed away were from 2012. Andrea had been the one to convince me to bring my other medals to school. Before that I had them all stored in a box in the deepest corner of my basement. I hated looking at them. Hated everything that they represented. The only reason these had been hanging up was because I could not be bothered taking them down.

“Where should we put them?” Jungkook asked.

I shrugged, “No idea. Just keep them in the box for now.”

Truthfully, I had no intention of putting them anywhere. While happy to have the photo of Namjoon and I, my feelings on dragging these things around had not changed. I would be very upset if I lost or damaged any of this stuff. Putting everything away, save the picture, I closed the box back up and placed the photo on my coffee table. I would find a better place for it later.

Like all of the times I had been around him, Jimin bled into the background. I listened for his voice, waited for him to add something to the conversation, but he kept to himself. Even when he left the bathroom and joined the three of us, he only answered in one-word sentences and made sound effects to show he was listening. Taehyung and Jungkook seemed used to it, so I had to believe this was just how Jimin normally was.

“You should come and grab some drinks with us,” Jungkook smiled at me.

The boys were going out for a late lunch since we finished a little later than we had thought we would. I was appreciative that they had invited me out but declined the offer. All of them were disappointed.

“Why not?” Taehyung wiggled a large set of keys at me. I could not imagine what all of them could be for and the sound they made when they moved bothered me. “You worried the food’s going to suck or something?”

I shook my head, laughing, “No, it’s nothing like that. I just don’t feel comfortable going to a bar.”

Jimin smiled at me, a small, tight-lipped smile, and I almost laughed at myself when I realized I was holding my breath. I was being ridiculous. I would call Hoseok tonight to get my head screwed back on.

“It’s not a bar,” It was heavenly to hear his voice again. “Taehyung and I don’t drink. Jungkook just likes to sit at the bar so he can watch the games.”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. “I guess I can come along then.”

Jimin offered to give me a ride while Jungkook and Taehyung rode in the hockey player's beat up Jeep. He was just as quiet on the ride to the restaurant as he was back at the house, and while I wanted to break him out of whatever shell he had put around himself, I had no idea how. We were supposed to work together and barely spoke. Ozzie was not going to be happy about this.

“What time are we getting your car?”

I jumped, not prepared for the question. His eyes were still on the road, and it looked like he was forcing himself to not look my way. It hurt my feelings, but I knew I would have to get over it. Whatever his problem was, it had nothing to do with me and I would not let it get in between our working relationship.

“Whenever you want to go,” I replied, going back to looking out of the window.

“We’ll pick it up after we eat. My mom invited you over for dinner. by the way. If you're up for it.”

This had been the most he had said all day, but his voice was off. It was embarrassing how quickly I had become attuned to his little mannerisms, but I was so sure that something was wrong with him it was eerie. His tone was flat and disinterested, and I knew I had done nothing to upset him. Something was obviously bothering him, and I would have to silently support him in my own way. I was not comfortable being more upfront and something told me that Jimin would not like my overstepping.

“I might,” I purposely kept my tone light, hoping he did not realize I could see the darkness in his eyes. Looking at him, I asked, “What is she making?”

“Beef and radish stew,” The mundane topic seemed to ease his frown. “She got a yellow corvina from the Asian market yesterday so she’s going to roast it. Do you like fish?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It sounds nice. I’ll go.”

A ghost of a smile graced his pretty face and I felt like I had won the lottery. Carefully composed, I looked back out of the window, hiding my little smile behind my hand. He was quiet again, the only sounds in the car being our breathing, but it felt lighter. Finally, I let myself admire the scenery.

Taehyung and Jungkook were already at the bar when we arrived and as soon as we sat down, the snowboarder was quick to hog all of my attention. While Jungkook watched a baseball game on the big screens, Taehyung talked animatedly about his family. Jimin was quietly sipping on a Coke in the seat next to me. It was strange to see how easily his friends ignored him. Like they knew he did not feel like talking.

“My sisters are both in college,” Taehyung continued to ramble. “Twins. It was a nightmare being the baby brother.”

I nodded along and tried my best to keep up with him. I kept getting distracted by Jimin. He barely moved and seemed to be mindlessly watching the tv. He looked so sad it broke my heart. Still, no one else said anything so I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Oh!” Taehyung gasped, noticing a few people who walked in. “I’m going to go say ‘hi.’ It was so great meeting you.”

With a bright smile, Taehyung told the boys about the group and Jungkook decided to join him. Jimin did not even acknowledge he had said anything. Leaving us alone, the restaurant was loud and filled with their chattering.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, trying to make conversation. Picking up the menu the bartender had left with Taehyung when we first arrived, I gave it a quick once over. “We can split an appetizer.”

Jimin looked tired and sad, but I did not know what to say or do for him. We were not lovers, not even friends. We were a pair of strangers who were expected to work together. This seemed much easier over the phone. I took a nervous sip of my drink.

“What are you thinking?” Just the sound of him talking eased my anxiety.

“Uh,” I had barely looked at their menu and pointed to a random item. “Fried pickles?”

Jimin smiled lazily and looked at me, his eyes amused.

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

I shrugged, embarrassed. “I just said the first thing I saw.”

Putting his cup down, Jimin grabbed the menu from my hands and laid it flat on the bar. We leaned over the small paper, our knees touching. I could smell his cologne now and my mouth watered. He smelled so good I struggled to focus.

“Most of the shit here is awful,” His voice had more life in it now and I was glad to see the corners of his mouth pulled up. “Only things worth getting are the chips and salsa, fried cheese, and pasties. The pizza is fine, too, but not worth the money.”

Talking distracted him from whatever had been on his mind, and it made Jungkook and Taehyung’s behavior odd. They were obviously very close, but if I could see how much happier he looked when he was shooting the shit, how couldn’t they? They probably knew something I didn’t, but it did nothing but rub me the wrong way. My friends would annoy me until I had no choice but to talk back.

“Chips are usually pretty safe,” We both agreed on it. “Do you just want chips? I don’t mind getting you a burger or something.”

He shook his head, “Like I said, most of the shit here is awful. Don’t waste your money.”

I ordered the chips for us, and the bartender was happy to help us out. This place was pathetically empty save us and the group Jungkook and Taehyung ditched us for. They were very loud and rowdy, something Jimin said was completely normal. Apparently, they all knew one another but he hadn’t felt like spending time with any of them.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked, heart pounding. My anxiety over the question was ridiculous, but I felt like this was a good moment to ask. We were both comfortable and the tightness around his eyes was finally eased.

“Just one of those days,” He replied, voice soft.

I sighed, “I get them, too. They’re the fucking worst.”

He chuckled darkly, “It’s like you wake up and that’s already taken all of the energy you had for the day.”

“Why’d you come to the house?” I asked, flagging the bartender for a refill. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you bailed.”

Jimin flushed, “I said I was coming so I came.”

No, I thought, you thought I was going to be mad if you hadn’t shown up. Hamilton had this poor kid so fucked up and scared it pissed me off. As long as I knew Matt, he had always been an ass, but to think he had his trainee putting shit before his mental health and wellbeing made whatever sliver of respect I had for him vanish.

I took a long sip of my drink, “We can’t work together if you don’t talk to me. That will piss me off way more than you canceling on me.”

“Okay,” He let out a very large breath. “I’ll let you know next time.”

As we ate our chips, we moved into safer waters. Jimin was still less talkative in person, but nowhere near as tense as he had been all morning. I found that music was one of his favorite things, and I discussed my own interests in more depth and detail than I ever had before. Jimin’s taste was varied but stuck mostly in 90s R&B and soft Indie artists I had never heard of. At some point I ordered spicy wings and had to admit Jimin was right- they really were awful.

We left the other two behind to go and pick up my car. Jungkook and Taehyung seemed more than happy to watch us leave and the large table barely acknowledged my presence. Jimin accepted their happy shouts when he approached, hugging the ones who stood up to greet him, and forced one of his small, pitiful smiles at a particular brunette who kept batting her eyelashes at him. He introduced me but none of them seemed to really care. Especially the brunette.

“Let me get your number,” Taehyung said to me, holding out a hand for my phone. “We need to hang out again.”

I was nervous about giving him a way to contact me. He reminded me of Tilly, though ten times more energetic, and she always found a way to get on my nerves (the box being one of many examples). Taehyung had yet to overstep the imaginary boundaries I had, but his complete lack of personal space etiquette was astounding. He touched me more in one day than any of my friends in an entire year. He seemed like the type of person to text every day and send a million pictures of himself doing random shit. Even with that in mind, I handed my phone over. He was too nice to say no to.

“Do you like sushi?” Taehyung asked, handing me my phone. “There’s a great place in Detroit we can go to.”

The idea of being trapped in a car with the snowboarder for 45 minutes was not appealing. I could only imagine how much he could talk when he was really excited about something. I would entertain the idea if Jungkook or Jimin came as a buffer, especially if one of them could sit up front. Taehyung yapping away in my ear would give me the biggest migraine I had ever had, and my anxiety over not being entirely focused on the road would make me snippy and rude.

“Only if I can come,” Jungkook piped up. “You’re not going to Bash without me, dude.”

“Well yeah,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Y/N has to meet Milo and Darcy,” He looked at me, grinning happily. “I think you would really get along.”

I had no idea who either of those people were, but I did not want to ask any questions. Jimin was inching back towards me and telling the others goodbye, and I did not want to hold him up. Taehyung started making plans that I did not pay any attention to. He could always text me when he figured out what he wanted.

“We have to get going,” Jimin was back beside me. “Y/N’s car is sitting at the dealership. It was good seeing everyone.”

I waved at the table and started walking away before Taehyung could touch me. He was definitely a hugger. Jimin was quick to catch up with me, giggling about my “escape.” It had started to snow again, gentle flurries twisting and turning in the wind, and I had forgotten my heavy jacket at home. The long sleeve I was wearing would do nothing to keep me warm.

“Here,” Jimin taking off his jacket. “You need this more than me.”

Draping it over my shoulders, Jimin told me to zip it up. Stunned, I moved on autopilot and shoved my arms through the sleeves. Everything smelled like him, oranges and spice, and his warmth was still clinging to the thick fleece. I could not remember the last time someone had given me their jacket. Dazed, I followed Jimin out to the parking lot, eyes locked on his back. He was in nothing but a thin, black and white striped shirt.

“Thanks,” I said once we were both in the truck, already shrugging out of the light beige jacket. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He held up a hand, “Keep it. The heater is out.”

I shook my head, “What about you?”

He reached into the back and held up a purple hoodie.

“I’ll be alright.”

I put the jacket back on and buckled in. Jimin slipped into the sweatshirt and started the truck. After buckling up, he backed out of the parking lot. I caught sight of the brunette as we left. She was red faced, shouting into her phone. I looked away. Whoever she was angry with was definitely getting an earful.

“Wonder what Tom did this time,” Jimin mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Tom’s Annie’s boyfriend,” He supplied. “They’re always arguing. Worse than Jungkook and Darcy, they break up every other week, but Tom and Annie are at each other's throats every other day.”

I grimaced, “Sounds like my friends. They finally called it quits last year, but they were insufferable.”

Jimin chuckled, “So, what’s Colorado like?”

I talked to him about Andrea and Seokjin first, how we met and how much I loved their daughter. Hoseok and I’s friendship got quite a few laughs out of him, but those quickly died off when I brought up Namjoon. I told him about the day we met and the coffee date that happened a few days later, and that seemed to brighten up the mood again. Namjoon stories were bittersweet but took up such a large chunk of my life it was impossible to gloss over.

“When’s the toxic couple coming up?” He joked.

“I’m getting there,” I replied.

Hoseok and Matilda had known one another longer than the rest of us. Growing up together, no one was surprised when they finally hooked up in high school. It was, however, short lived bliss. Matilda got caught up in the wrong crowd and began doing drugs. Hoseok had tried to help her get through it, but they could never see eye-to-eye. That started their toxic cycle of getting back together, Tilly going to rehab, her relapsing, and them falling out again. It was not until she went two years ago that it managed to stick, but their relationship was too tumultuous to make it very far. They decided to stay friends and she became a constant member in our group.

“That’s crazy,” Jimin shook his head. “Happy she’s doing better now.”

“Me too.”

The rest of the drive was spent talking about Colorado and how beautiful it was. He stayed away from swimming, mostly wanting to hear about the school I worked at and the places I went to in my free time. He kept me talking for the entire 45-minute car ride, question after question keeping me on my toes. He did not like talking about himself, whenever I tried to switch the conversation to his own interests he barely responded before going back to his interrogation. Before I knew it, we were pulled into the dealership and getting down.

“You can leave,” I told him.

“I want to make sure you’re good before I go,” He replied.

The cashier was lovely, her voice bubbly and sweet as she helped me out. Jimin lingered longer than he needed to, helping me fill out my paperwork and making small talk with the dealer. I took my keys and went for a quick test drive before I was finally able to convince Jimin to leave.

The drive back was quiet. I was used to the silence when I drove, but Jimin’s voice had been soothing. Frankly, I was a bit bored without him around. I decided to call Matila and ask about my medals. She apologized but I doubted how sincere she actually was. After catching up with her, hearing all about the guy she went on a date with, and a five-minute rant about Hoseok spending way too much money on Minho’s birthday present, I hung up before she could give me a migraine. As much as I liked Tilly, she was someone I had very little patience for and her voice, high pitched and loud, was like nails on a chalkboard.

I got back in town a little after 3. Violet and Calvin were both home and watching some black and white Western. Calvin offered to make me lunch, but I was quick to decline. I just wanted some space.

As soon as I got in my apartment, I curled up in bed to take a nap. I was overwhelmed after talking so much and desperately needed to recharge. I set an alarm for 5 so I could make it over to the Park house in time for dinner. Quickly sending a quick text to Hoseok, I turned on thunderstorm sounds and closed my eyes.

Na-Yeon and James were both excited to see me, talking about their days and asking how I was settling in. Eloise was there as well, the twins in the back room playing again. Jimin was going to be late. He had gone for a last-minute swim with Milo. When I asked them who that was, it was Eloise who answered.

“That’s Vincent’s fiancé.”

“Who?” I was even more confused.

“Taehyung,” Na-Yeon answered. “You know he hates that name as much as Jimin hates his, Lou."

Eloise blushed, her entire face turning a bright shade of red.

“Sorry,” She scratched behind her ear. Looking back at me, she sighed, “We went to school together. Old habit.”

Now V made sense. It never occurred to me that Jungkook and Taehyung could have their own American names, and neither one introduced themselves that way either. James came to take the seat beside mine, the dining table more crowded then was reasonably necessary.

“Does Jungkook have a second name?” I asked.

“Ian,” Eloise replied. “He goes by both, so I don’t think he cares as much as Tae and Jimin. I know his girlfriend uses both.”

I assumed that was Darcy. Why else would Taehyung assume she would go with us on a day trip to Detroit?

“They call him Ian on the team, too,” James chimed in. “His name is too hard.”

Namjoon never had an American name, at least, not one I had ever heard. The only person I could think of was Hoseok. A lot of his friends called him Jay, something about an old nickname from school, but that was it. Seokjin just went by Jin, Namjoon went by Joon, and Minho went by…well, Minho. None of their parents used American-Friendly names, and Seokjin’s father’s English was still poor even after living here for so long.

“Y/N,” Na-Yeon brought me back to the conversation. “What banchan do you like?”

“My eomeo-nim made these delicious, braised potatoes,” I answered, thinking back on our dinners together. “Kimchi, of course. My ex made the best braised lotus roots. They were always yummy.”

Na-Yeon seemed pleased by my answer. James and Eloise started rambling about their own favorites. Unlike Namjoon, Mr.Park was a big fan of seafood. He grew up in Busan near the Jagalchi Market, which, according to him, was the largest seafood market in South Korea. Eloise talked a little about her favorite Korean dishes before jumping into what she grew up eating. Her father was Scottish and her mother French, so one night she was eating Scottish Pie and daube niçoise the next. It was fun hearing more about Eloise. I would have never guessed she was a first generation American.

“It’s something Tony and I had in common,” She added. “He learned quite a bit of French before he died. Unfortunately, my Korean is taking much longer.”

“Mine isn’t that great either,” I admitted. “Namjoon’s family spoke English and never liked to make me feel awkward. I can follow a conversation fairly well, but only if you speak slowly.”

James laughed, “I will remember that.”

The front door opened, and I could hear loud talking. Eloise sighed. Whoever was with Jimin did not pass her inspection it would seem. She and James seemed to have a small conversation with their eyes. The men were still at the front of the house. Finally, Eloise looked away and scowled.

“Must have brought Milo and Tae over,” She muttered. “I’m going to go check on the twins.”

Eloise left the table. James told me to ignore her. She and Milo did not get along for whatever reason and she chose to ignore him. It was not my business, so I accepted that explanation.

I prepared myself for a bad interaction. So far, Eloise was such a quiet and sweet person I could not imagine anyone actively disliking her. Then again, this was Taehyung’s fiancé, and he was the nicest, most bubbly person I had ever met. It did not seem likely that he would hang around bad company. It could just be a case of personalities clashing.

“Annyeong,” Taehyung greeted us brightly, immediately finding me. “Babe, come say hi.”

A massive, pale man followed in behind him. Milo was a good-looking guy, bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, with a solid build. He reminded me of the male swimmers I worked with, his huge size and bulging muscles intimidating. His fashion sense was not as good as Taehyung’s. Ill-fitting black bottoms and a Rick and Morty t-shirt that made me want to roll my eyes. I was definitely biased, my loyalties already in Eloise’s corner. I did not need to know a backstory to be weary. The dude looked enough like Matthew Hamilton to make me dislike him just off principal.

“Milo, Y/N,” Taehyung introduced, gesturing between the two of us. Behind him, Jimin snuck into the kitchen and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek as a greeting. He looked nice in his gray tracksuit. “Y/N, this is my fiancé, Milo.”

I managed a disingenuous smile, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” He replied. His voice was smokey.

“Where’s Lou?” Jimin asked, coming around to greet his father.

“Checking on Harper and Cam,” James told him.

There was not enough room for all of us to sit at the table and I ended up giving up my seat to Na-Yeon. Jimin helped her set the table while I was put in charge of gathering Eloise and the kids. Walking down the hallway, I found the kids’ playroom and knocked.

“Dinner’s ready,” I announced, poking my head inside.

The room was bigger than I thought it would be. Each side was decorated in stereotypical boy and girl colors, Cameron’s bed and wall art a wide variety of blues and teals with dinosaur decals on the walls, while Harper’s was a mix up of baby pink and white. Her bed had more stuffed animals on it than I could count and all of them seem well loved. Their toys split the room in half, a large, circle rug in the middle of it all. Most of the toys were thrown on the floor and Eloise was telling them it was time for them to clean it up.

The children looked so cute in their little matching outfits. Harper’s black hair was braided down her back and the ribbon tied at the end of it matched her cream-colored overalls. Cam’s hair was on the longer side as well, falling to his shoulders with a slight wave. His bright red converse stuck out against the rather plain outfit he was wearing, and I had to assume he put up a fight behind them. Harper started to sing the Barney song as they cleaned.

“Feeling, okay?” I asked their mother. She was sitting in the chair on Harper’s side. “You ran off pretty quickly.”

She shook her head, “It’s nothing. We’ve never gotten along.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Do you want to eat here? I’ll sit with you.”

She smiled, “We can play nice, don’t worry. Thanks, though. I appreciate you asking.”

Dinner was as uneventful as Eloise said it would be. She and Milo greeted one another and then acted as if the other did not exist. I stood up to eat, Taehyung, Milo, and Jimin with me while the others sat down. Cam was excited to talk about school and Harper rambled on and on about her imaginary friend Butter Squash. They were both very sweet and it made me miss Dani. The last time I saw her was when we went skating the weekend before I left.

Taehyung was as talkative as ever. His touches also become bolder. By the time I left, he had an arm around my shoulders and his body pressed against my side. Milo was unbothered by our closeness. He and Jimin spoke the most and again the guy I knew when no one else was around seemingly vanished. This one was too put together, too closed off, and no one, and I mean no one, seemed to care. Every time he laughed half-heartedly or nodded along with whatever Milo was talking about, I felt more confused. Why was he so hot and cold all of the time?

During my drive back home, I tentatively attempted to listen to the radio. I only lasted around a minute or so before I switched it off. I needed silence. The Parks were such a lovely family, but tonight was too much. Between unpacking and Taehyung, I was drained. Hoseok had asked me to call him when I got home but I was going to wait. If it was important enough, he would call me himself.

I fell asleep as soon as my face hit the pillow, my medication making it a dreamless night.

The rest of the week was quiet. I called my friends back home to check in Thursday morning and was happy about Hoseok’s progress. The kids were really liking him, and he thought he may have a permanent job for next year if I decided to keep working with Jimin. I told him not to get his hopes up.

Jimin and I spoke through text daily. He was still going about his normal routine while I brainstormed training and scheduling. By Saturday I was ready to start testing out different ideas. We both seemed eager to get started, actually. Sunday, like I expected, was very quiet. That was his mom’s day, so I tried not to bother him. Violet and Calvin kept me company.

The Andersons were nice people. Violet was always coming to the back and inviting me to join them for breakfast, and her husband enjoyed asking me about my life. Calvin was far more personable than his wife was, but they managed to balance one another out. Sunday evening was the first time I noticed Calvin’s memory issues. He had no idea who I was. I came inside and Violet had to tell him I was their daughter Nancy’s babysitter. He was under the assumption that she was still 10. I left them alone when Violet asked me to pick her up from school. She came out back a few hours later to thank me for going along with everything, and I made sure that she had my phone number in case she needed me to help out if things got out of hand.

It was still dark outside when I left Monday morning. Jimin and I agreed to meet up at 6 am to start our day, but I wanted to get to the gym early. Time to set up and get myself in the right headspace was important to me.

The location he had sent me was more remote than I had originally anticipated. Jimin owned the little gym. It had been a swim school in the past and the place he had first learned he loved the water. He and his mom went to classes together when he was young. The place had been too expensive for the previous owners to keep up with and they were planning on selling it, but Jimin bought it off of them and converted it into a public gym/pool.

In our text exchanges he called it his retirement plan, but I was sure the place meant more to him than that. He had no interest in it until after the cancer diagnosis. If I was to over analyze it, I would say he was trying to hold onto a happy memory. This was their place before sickness and death ran through his family. I would imagine anyone would want to keep something that held so much sentimental value if they could.

Pulling into the parking lot, I was first struck by two things. One, it was open and there were people inside, and two, it was huge. Most of the building was nothing but windows giving me a great view of the muscled men inside. Bright fluorescent lights made my sensitive eyes hurt, and I could hear the faint sound of music coming from somewhere near the gym. The small group of men were together, all of them lifting and spotting each other while talking, and a sense of dread filled my belly.

I was always anxious when I went to a new place, but a new gym was a nightmare. I had bad experiences in the past. Overly friendly creeps who liked to stand around and watch me while I worked out. None of the guys inside gave off bad vibes, but I was still in my car and none of them laid their eyes on me. A woman in a gym was like a drop of blood in water. I had to hope they were not sharks.

Gathering courage, I grabbed my duffle and made my way inside. A pretty, dark-skinned, young woman was sitting at the receptionist desk, and I felt more at ease. If they left her alone then maybe they would not cause me too much trouble either. The music was louder inside, and I recognized the Ciara song. It was a great one for cardio. Fighting the urge to dance, I greeted the receptionist. She put down her magazine and gave me an award-winning grin. She had a nice, dimpled smile.

“Hi there,” She had a thick, Southern accent and I could not tell you where she might be from. I was awful at telling them apart. “Do you have your membership card?”

I laughed nervously, my grip on my bag tightening. “No. I’m here to train with Jimin Park. He said I should have something on file.”

She nodded, her smile unwavering as she looked at her computer and asked for my name.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” I replied, foot tapping along to the Lil Wayne song that came on. I had this one on my own workout playlist back in 2008. I could not help mumbling the words under my breath, “She-she-she lick me like a lollipop.”

“Found you,” The girl grabbed a few sheets of paper from a pile on her side of the desk. “Just fill these out for me and we’ll get your card printed. Your fees have been paid already so no need to worry about that.”

I nodded, half listening. This song was great. Why has it been so long since I last heard it? I went to the gym all the time. I needed to put it back on my playlist. Honestly, the entire Carter III needed to find its way back into my rotation.

“My name’s Giselle if you need anything,” The receptionist pointed to a cluster of chairs right at the front entrance. “You’re super early so Christian isn’t here yet, but I’ll give you the key to the pool room so you can do whatever you need before the boss gets in.”

I smiled at her, “Thank you, Giselle.”

“Anytime, ma’am.”

It took me a few minutes to fill the paperwork out and scan my ID, but Giselle made everything as quick as she could. One of the men working out had come by to ask for some wipes to clean off a few of the machines but left without anything more than a ‘good morning’ thrown in my direction. When we passed by the rest of them on the way to the pool house, we were completely ignored, so it was safe for me to say that they would not be a problem for me in the future. Creeps were never subtle about their creepiness.

“I have to double check with Christian, but I think I’m supposed to give you a spare key,” Giselle said, unlocking the pool. “I’m just going to be sure before I promise you anything. Don’t want to get fired.”

I could tell she was joking. Jimin did not strike me as the type of guy to fire anyone over something like that. It only made sense for me to have a spare key since we would be coming around so much, and I would feel bad about disrupting the staff whenever I needed to get inside. They did not get paid enough to deal with that on top of all of the rest of their duties.

“We keep it locked until 9,” Giselle continued, leading the way inside. “Then we close it back up at 5. Maintenance comes in every Tuesday to treat the water, so you’ll have to be out of here no later than 7. Boss man knows this already so you shouldn’t have any problems with that.”

The pool room was very bland and bare bones. The smell of chlorine hung heavily in the air while the lights around the pool walls illuminated the dark room. It was very big, and I itched to go for a quick dip. The coolness of the water would be nice against my skin. I had grown hot with nerves and gotten a little sweaty.

“We have a few other staff members that will be in around the same time the boss man comes in,” Giselle continued to give me the rundown. “I’m sure he’ll introduce you to everyone just in case you need anything. I’d say make nice with Yoongi first. He’s our in-house massage therapist.”

Pointing to a door on the far-left wall, Giselle let me know that was the pool locker room and the door right next to it was a shortcut to the back offices. Management, marketing, and facility supervisors were usually all back there and I would more than likely never see them. They were not the most social people and worked from home a lot. I could tell by Giselle’s voice that she did not particularly care for management.

“Drew should be here by now,” She checked her smart watch. “She’s the general manager. I’m going to go and grab her and see about that key. She might come back to say ‘hi’ but don’t hold your breath.”

I chuckled, “That bad?”

Giselle rolled her eyes, “Drew’s fine, but Dominic is usually following her around everywhere and he’s annoying. You’ll get what I mean if you ever see them together.”

I laughed, “I’ve had my fair share of weirdos. Thanks again. I appreciate you showing me around.”

She beamed, “It wasn’t a problem. You gave me a reason to get up from the desk, so I’d say it’s a win.”

We spoke for a few more minutes until a very large, bulky man popped his head in looking for her. His black t-shirt clung to him tightly and his shorts were a hideous neon pink color. He did have a nice smile, one that took up most of his face and teeth so white they looked fake. Giselle introduced me very quickly, and the man, Sam, turned out to be one of the personal trainers on staff.

“You’re the Olympian, right?” Sam asked. Jimin must really like people who talked a lot, because I had never met more outgoing people in my life before moving here. Everyone he surrounded himself with was just full of energy, and I wondered if it was purposeful. Jimin himself was a rather quiet and sad person. “Jimin talks about you all the time.”

I laughed awkwardly, face heating, “That’s me.”

“Sick,” Suddenly an image of Sam surfing in California flashed through my mind. He just seemed like the type. “Well, I have to go and help out a client, but it was nice meeting you. Gigi, can you go back up front before Drew pitches a fit?”

Giselle sighed heavily, “Tell her I’m coming,” Looking at me she asked if I was okay on my own. “Come and get me if you need anything, okay?”

After assuring her that I was fine, Giselle left behind Sam. The two of them bickered like an old married couple, and I wondered about their relationship. He did call her a little nickname. I shook my head. Regardless, I had other things I needed to take care of before I could get lost in thought about two strangers.

Unpacking my duffle, I threw on my whistle and stopwatch before getting to work on my schedule. I had brought a lot of my personal swimming gear with me like training bands, coach communicator, and forearm fulcrum. Back in the day, I was the brand ambassador for Finis, so I had a lot of their products. The tracksuit I was wearing was from Speedo, and I had so much of their stuff for the same reason. Being a famous swimmer had its perks.

I had planned on doing a lot of drill and some short-burst efforts with Jimin. He had been without a PT for a few weeks now, and while I trusted him to stay in shape, it was no secret someone would be performing less on their own than with guidance. I did not want to over work him when he was, for all intents and purposes, been on a vacation. So, while I wanted to rush head-first into training, I would try to ease into things a bit before going full asshole on the kid. Like Victor would say, “Three times a week for three weeks.” After that, he was going to be at my mercy.

It was just past 6 when Jimin walked into the pool room. I was flipping through my training plan for the day and humming along to the music blasting through the speakers, echoing off the walls. Whoever was in charge of the playlist had a thing for the early 2000s.

“Morning,” His soft voice brought a smile to my face. He sounded tired. “What do you think about the place?”

Stealing a look at him, I had to hold back the gasp that I wanted to let out. He was wearing a black tank top and shorts giving me a great look at his skin. Embarrassed by my reaction, I internally scolded myself. I needed to get over this crush already. I was about to see a lot more of his body once he went to the back to change. I bit my lip. I had no idea how I was going to deal with him in a speedo.

“It’s very nice,” I was happy with how nonchalant I sounded. “Wasn’t expecting it to be so big.”

I wonder what else is big… I nibbled on the inside of my cheek. I really needed to get my mind out of the gutter. Scratch that- I should have dealt with this problem the second I realized it was there. I was going to force myself to call Hoseok today. He would know what to do, and if not, at least I could vent a little.

“Sleep okay?”

I jumped out of my ever-degrading thoughts.

“Yeah,” I sniffed. “Had fun with your mom? I wanted to give you two some space, so I stayed to myself.”

He smiled and I melted. Yeah, this needed to stop. I was too grown to be acting like this around a man.

“I appreciate it. We missed you at dinner, though. My dad kept complaining that things were quiet now.”

I chuckled, “Eloise and the kids not loud enough?”

He shook his head, “She didn’t come over.”

He tossed his sports bag next to mine and pulled out his swim gear. I caught a flash of his speedo and quickly looked away. The visuals going through my mind were distracting enough.

“Do you want to go over everything before I get changed?” Asked Jimin.

I shook my head, “No, go ahead. It’s going to be a chill day.”

“You got it, coach.”

I did not breathe until I heard the locker room door slam shut. Tossing my clipboard onto my bag, I roughly rubbed my face. I needed to pull myself together.

My attraction was easy to ignore and forget about when he was not in my face, but the second I got my eyes on him it was all I could focus on. I was awkward and fumbling all over the place whenever he was around. I focused on him far too much, far more than I should be due to our relationship, and it was driving me insane. I needed to take a breather, but I did not have enough time and I did not want to make him worried. Jimin seemed like the type of person who would become consumed by anxiety if he thought I was upset with him in any way. No, I would have to suck it up and get through this training session like an adult.

The locker room door opened. Jimin’s bare feet were loud against the gray, stone floor. I refused to look at him. I wasn’t ready yet. Bending over, I grabbed the clipboard and cleared my throat. I was hoping to get him in the water first, and then I could safely conduct myself in a professional way. The less skin I had to see at a time the better. I pointed at the pool.

“Like I said, it’s going to be an easy day,” He was walking away from me, and I felt the tightness in my chest lighten. “You’ve been without a trainer for a bit, and I’m not sure how intense your workouts have been since. Your warmup is just 10 minutes of easy swimming, and then we’ll go over our main set.”

I heard him get into the water with a splash and relaxed. I could handle him in the water. No one looked good with those stupid goggles on. I walked to the edge of the pool, clipboard in my hand, and stole a quick look.

As suspected, he did not look as potent like this. His hair was hidden beneath a red and white cap, and blue goggles obstructed most of his face. It was impossible to make out most of his body as he glided through the water, but I got a great look at his arms. He was more muscular than I gave him credit for. He was smaller and more lean than other swimmers, but I could see why he was able to dominate.

He was very fast, but I could already tell he was pushing harder than I wanted him to. Blowing my whistle, I let him know I only wanted him swimming at 80% effort. Jimin pulled a face and lifted his goggles up. Now that he was stagnant, I got a clear look at his chest and swallowed thickly. He needed to start moving or else I might have a heart attack.

“Why?” He was incredulous.

“Like I said, I don’t want you to overwork yourself. You’ve been on a vacation for four weeks now and we need to work our way back up to more intensive sets. It’ll only be for a couple of weeks.”

He pushed back again, “I’ve been coming here every day for hours. I think I’m fine.”

I shook my head, “I’m not trying to be a dick, and I’m not calling you a liar, but I am skeptical of the quality of the training.”

“But-”

“I haven’t been here to see your routine,” I cut him off before whatever smart ass comment he was planning to say could even come out. Jimin’s annoyance was plain as day, and I was not about to put up with a tantrum. “I’m known for being a hard ass, and I’m going to push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. You can ask Coach Bunch about me if you want. I will make sure you’re in the best shape of your life this year, but not at the expense of getting you injured.”

He took a deep breath before responding, “With all due respect, I’ve been putting in a lot of work by myself. I don’t think I need kid gloves.”

I smirked, cocking my head to the side. “Is that what you think this is?”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, pouting.

He was cute when he was mad.

“Humor me,” I replied. “We do things my way for the week and if I think you’re good to go by Friday then we’ll get back to normal training. How does that sound?”

Jimin thought for a moment before smiling at me.

“I can live with that.”

I chuckled, “Good to know. Now, put your goggles back on and finish your warmup. We’re wasting time arguing.”

As I suspected, once we started our drills, he did not perform up to the standards I had for him. Even at 75% what he was capable of, I could already see the areas he needed to work on. His butterflies were beautiful, but I could pick apart his breast and back strokes. I was happy with his free swim at the end, and I was going to start there the next session. I was hoping by starting off with compliments that we could become more comfortable with one another before I had to get serious. Those breast strokes would drive me insane until he could execute them perfectly every time.

“How am I doing?” Jimin asked during a cool down, doing a few laps before we started our drills again. “I know my breast strokes aren’t that great. I’ve always struggled with them.”

At least he was self-aware, I thought.

“We definitely have stuff to work on,” I replied. “Don’t worry too much about that right now. We can start talking about it more next week.”

He sighed, annoyed, and I laughed. He was very grumpy when it came to his swimming. Not wanting to upset him again, I decided to give him something.

“I would like to watch you swim a bit more and make a plan before giving you my opinion. My coach used to do that with me, and I found it helpful.”

We trained until eight-thirty, and I looked over my notes while Jimin cooled down. We did not talk as much as I would have liked, but it was probably for the best. His body was distracting, and I did not think I was doing a very good job at hiding my reactions to him. He did not seem to notice, or he was simply sparing my feelings, either way he was happy to keep relatively quiet. We only talked about training while he was in the water, and I was grateful he was maintaining his professionalism.

“When will we be back again?” Jimin asked, his last few minutes running down on the timer. “You said Wednesday, right?”

I nodded absentmindedly, in my own little world as I flipped through my notes. I had more than I thought I would have, all of them having to do with fixing his form and how we could go about it. New exercises, grueling training days, and a few new tools that I was not sure he had ever used before, would mold him into a swimmer I would glow with pride over. Park had always been a talented man, but I wanted to see if we could reach for something more. Something bigger and better than he could have imagined. I wanted to make Matthew fucking Hamilton look like the incompetent bastard I knew him to be.

“We’re done for the day,” I sighed, clicking the alarm off. “Do you want me to come for your night swim?”

Jimin ripped the goggles off, rubbing his eyes and already going to release his cap. I bit down on the inside of my mouth. He was so pretty and soft, and the way his muscles flexed as he swam to the edge of the pool made my stomach flutter. I looked away before he hoisted himself out of the water. I did not need that image floating around in my already depraved head.

“You can come if you want,” He replied casually. “I’m mostly hitting the gym when I’m here in the evenings. I only take a dip for thirty minutes and leave.”

I hummed, fighting the urge to look at his body. I focused instead on my breathing and writing down what he had just said. I did not want to forget that. It might be useful for me in the future. If we could exercise together, it would give me an opportunity to guide him through some of my favorite tricks to help with swimming.

“Will someone else be with you?”

“Probably Jungkook and Darcy. They’re my usual gym buddies when Milo is working.”

“Darcy’s his girlfriend, right?” I wanted to see if my hunch from the other night was right.

“Yeah. They’ve been going out for a couple of years now. She’s alright. Not as shy as you.”

I snorted, “You think I’m shy?”

Then I made a critical mistake. Looking over at Jimin, I nearly choked on my own spit. His skin was perfectly smooth, not a blemish in sight, and cream-colored. His body was just as pretty as his face, smooth abs and a tiny waist that led to toned and thick thighs. The tiny scrap of red fabric covering his private area did not stop my eyes from glancing. I looked away before I started to stare.

Hoseok was going to have a field day with this.

“I know you are,” He teased, his voice so soft and sweet. I briefly wondered what he would sound like in bed. I fought desperately to rid myself of that imagery. This could not be happening right now. “You’re so shy you can’t even look at me right now.”

His cocky attitude should have annoyed me, but instead it only further fueled my lust. Every time I had seen this man, he gave me such tonal whiplash it was beginning to drive me insane. First it was this innocent little angel facade that quickly became sarcastic and witty when he decided he could play around without me getting angry. Then it was the whole sad puppy thing he had going on for the last week. Now here he was, practically naked and getting riled up over me telling him what to do, and puffing his chest with confidence I never thought he was capable of. It would have pissed me off if I did not find him ridiculously attractive.

“Go get dressed, Park,” My voice was clipped and too harsh. I winced and quickly worked to soften the blow. Getting defensive only made me look worse. “We can get breakfast if you’re not busy. My treat.”

“Sure, coach.”

When I heard the locker room close, I let out a deep sigh. My sexual frustration was getting in the way of my work, and I hated it. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I sent Hoseok a text.

Me: I think I’m crushing on Park

Me: Help me get rid of it

The reply did not come until I was done packing up my things. The workout stuff I had brought with me had been useless today, but I was afraid of forgetting where they were the next time I might need them, so they never left the bag. My phone vibrated just as I was done zipping up my bag. I could hear the shower in the locker room and clenched my thighs together. I was still thinking of how pretty his belly was, the tattoo on his ribs pitch-black against his pale skin, and how solid his calves looked. I unlocked my phone and nearly cried laughing when I saw the response.

Hobi: HAHAHAHA

Hobi: Sex is always the answer

Hobi: Never thought I’d see the day you became a cougar

I have no idea why I thought he would be any help. So, I licked my wounds and messaged Andy (like I should have done in the first place) and knew whatever she had to say would be far more helpful than my stupid best friend’s word of “advice.” I just had to hope it would be enough to make all of these feelings stop.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga

190 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

Note

hi! can i request ken x (male) reader who’s from texas and breaking ken’s idea of the patriarchy (mostly the realities of cowboy life lol) thank you!!

"Now what're you supposed to be, a cowboy or somethin'? Because it looks like you're goin' to a fashion show upstate."

Blinking owlishly, Ken spun around on his heels, coming face-to-face with you. He looked at your clothing up and down, noting you had a hat similar to his, along with ripped jeans, cowboy boots, and a buttoned plaid shirt.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion, not seeing an apparent difference.

Nevertheless, he realized you were another human male who was trying to talk to him, and he was excited! This was his big chance to learn more about the patriarchy of the Real World!

But he didn't wanna let his eagerness show too much, so he leaned against a nearby pillar, keeping the books tucked against his side.

"Nah, I ain't goin' to no fashion show....partner..." He made a poor attempt at mimicking your accent, which he noted was heavily Southern, and it took all your willpower not to laugh your ass off.

Yet you couldn't help chuckling anyways, which made the blond pout as he adjusted the brim of his hat. "Awh I'm only teasin'." You shook your head. "I will say it does fit ya pretty good. Haven't seen anything like that back in Texas."

"...oh really? Thanks!" He put a big smile back on, trying to sound cool and casual. "Sounds like a fun place. I'm just here..seeing what this world's all about...getting accustomed to the patriarchy. Man, I wish Barbie told me about-"

"Hold on..." You stopped him in his tracks, being perplexed by several things he just said. "What about the patriarchy? You act as though it's a lifestyle-"

"Is it not? Because I see it all around us!" He spread his arms out. "It's incredible! Everything's backwards but yet...I'm just amazed! This world caters to us men!" Then he stepped closer, showing you the books in his hands depicting studies of horses and patriarchy, a sparkle in his eye. "Look, these books have already taught me so much!"

You blinked, taking one of them and frowning as you recognized the barcode as being from the school your cousin attended. "Ya realize you stole these from a school library, right-?"

"Back in Barbieland, we Kens had none of this stuff!!" He ignored your remark, yanking the book from your hands as he continued to babble on and on and how "awesome" the patriarchy is while pointing to a nearby horse statue.

He's acting as though this was the first time he's ever heard of it, firmly believing that it's all about men and horses.

That would've convinced you that this guy was either insane or living under a rock all his life....had he not mentioned "Barbieland", "Barbie", and "Ken".

'As in...the dolls my little cousins played with?' You pondered. 'Well it would certainly explain the outlandish outfit..and how it doesn't look like any lights are on upstairs...'

"So.." You cleared your throat, he was quick to shut up and let you continue, blinking as you offered your hand. "Before I forget...the name's [y/n]. A pleasure to meet ya."

He studied your gesture intensely, before putting forth his manliest handshake possible, his eyes lighting up when you laughed and complimented his strong grip. "And I'm Ken, the pleasure's all mine."

"Yeah, I figured."

"Well, [y/n]. You seem to embody everything a human man is, so...you got any advice for a fellow man who only just recently learned of all these great luxuries?" He raised an eyebrow.

You thought about it for a few moments, letting his hand go as your gaze went back to the books tucked under his arm. "Yeah, uh..for one, ya seem to be holdin' onto this "idea" that patriarchy's all about the horses. I hate to break it to ya....but it ain't that simple."

"....wait, it's not..?" He blinked in bewilderment, looking to the books and frowning. "Are you sure? Because these books told me-"

"They're outdated an' used for history projects at school. They don't accurately showcase modern cowboy culture, which is what ya seem to be enthralled with."

"...these don't???" His voice became higher-pitched, becoming utterly devastated that he was lied to. "But if it's not about horses..then...then what about the statues, hm? And those officers riding them?!"

"Ken..in this world anybody can ride a horse if they wanted to. You just happen to see more guys than gals doin' it."

"Oh..."

"Look, it's true that more men are in charge of stuff here in LA, but the patriarchy is really just a messy system that harms both sides." You frowned slightly. "It ain't somethin' I'd wanna idolize."

"...but why?"

You sighed, unsure of how you could possibly dumb it down for him even further. "'cuz it's turned some of my own friends and family into vile dirtbags who think the world owes them everything. I'd hate to see ya fall down that same pipeline."

He nodded in slight understanding, but seemed rather sad as he hugged the books to his chest, feeling like his dreams were shattered just as he began to realize them..

"I thought it was just like Barbieland..."

"Ya'll got a matriarchy there?"

"...I guess..? They write all the constitutions and stuff."

"And...how do they treat ya?"

"Like we're accessories." Ken huffed, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "They aren't terrible, but...I only have a good day when Barbie looks at me..which...hasn't been happening lately. I was thinking if I could show her the cool horses and stuff...she'll see me differently. See me for the man I can be."

You never expected for this conversation to derail into you trying to resolve a doll's identity crisis, but it's clear he was holding onto the misconception that the "Real World" was just opposite of Barbieland--where men had it all here and ruled without flaw.

That was far from the truth.

"Now changin' yourself for a lady isn't what ya wanna do, son." You patted his shoulder, causing him to look up at you in astonishment. "You're good enough as you are. But I take it that deep down...ya just care about the horses?"

He nodded again.

"Then..how about instead of reading this misleading garbage--" You tapped the binder of one of the books "--ya talk to someone who's lived the authentic cowboy life? Somebody with experience?"

Looking all around, he seemed confused for a moment, before his gaze returned to yours. "Like....you?"

"Yup."

"Isn't being a man and wearing this not enough?"

"It's a wee bit more complicated than that. It's hard work. But if you're interested in that sort of life, I can tell ya all about it." You offered, smiling as you watched the grin return to his face.

"I'd love that. Now if I don't need these stupid books, then I'll just--" He went to toss the stack into the nearest trash bin, but you were quick to intervene.

"Hey, hey, hey! Ya can't just throw away school property like that!"

"...but you just called this "garbage"."

"It's a figure of speech, Ken." Sighing, you just shook your head, taking the books off his hands. "You'll learn a lot about that here. Let's just go return these and I'll tell ya all about my life back in Texas. Whatever ya wanna know, I'll do my best to answer."

Ken's eyes shimmered at the prospect of hanging out with another guy..like all the other humans he's seen. That's all he truly wanted, really--just to bond with someone and not be in some aggressive rivalry unlike what he had with the other Kens.

He's lucky he ran into you.

"Can I ask something now?"

"Sure..if it's less than ten words." You humored him.

"Do..you..own..horses..? That's four." He grinned, counting on his fingers just to be sure of it.

"I do. Poor things couldn't take the dry heat of Texas, so they came along with me in a truck. I'll show ya pictures after we return these books."

Ken nodded eagerly, unable to hide his excitement as he followed you back to the library, ready to learn more about your culture.

#clanask #anonymous #barbie x reader #barbie movie x reader #ken x reader #ken carson x reader #male reader #texan reader #platonic

429 notes · View notes

yuwuta · 6 months

Note

so we know that nanami, thee standard, doesn't accept fwb and has to take you out for a proper time after a while.. curious about what you think about gojo? he strikes me as the type to enjoy fwb, but also not? also, hear me out, yuwuta... megumi? fwb with megumi... sighs dreamily

my likeliness to engage in fwb behavior scale goes like this: most gojo = yuuta > toge = yuuji > maki > nanami > nobara = megumi least

satoru and yuuta say yes if you ask them but it’s only because they already like you or already in love with you… and they know that it’s not the best idea in the world, but through their powers of delusion, they think they can make you like them back. because clearly whatever they’re doing now isn’t enough, so maybe sex will help?? who’s ever turned down bomb dick yk… besides, sex with boys who think they’ve got something to prove >> that being said, it’s never really been fwb in their head, their plan was never noncommittal sex, they have all their strings attached to you and they want to be yours forever, so good luck <3

toge and yuuji are also pretty likely to do it, because, again, who are they to turn down their best friend asking them for sex? they both go into it very naively, they go along with whatever rules and boundaries you set, and are genuinely in it to have fun with you and please you, but they get very confused very quickly. it feels like a relationship to them, so shouldn’t it be a relationship? they don’t think much of it until you bring up exclusivity and/or mention going on a date with someone else, then all the feelings come forth and jealousy rears it’s ugly head and the next time you sleep together something shifts, it’s more possessive, more desperate, more mine mine mine… think they’re the ones to either confess or just… assume you’re dating and/or tell you you’re dating now lol. like toge just throws his shirt at you when you try to get up and leave him the next day and tells you you aren’t exhibiting much girlfriend like behavior, and yuuji either says something sappy or does something sweet and you tell him he doesn’t have to and he just goes “but you’re my girlfriend! ofc i’m gonna be nice to you!… you are my girlfriend, in case you didn’t know!”

maki debates it for a bit, and then reasons that the convenience of it would be nice. she doesn’t expect to get attached, and it really annoys her when you invade her thoughts when she’s supposed to be busy with things not involving you. but she doesn’t really say anything about it. honestly, you would either have to call it off, or express interest in someone else before she realizes that the way to solve her intrusive thoughts of you isn’t to go back to being friends, it’s to go to being something more than friends.

nanami also agrees for the convenience of it, but even so, he debates it for a while after you bring it up to him. ultimately, he decides that if it’s something you truly want, he will do his best to ensure it’s beneficial for the both of you. he seems like he actually tries to develop some kind of schedule—not just for convenience, but also because he wants to make sure he has time to treat you properly. quickies on his lunch break probably aren’t what you signed up for, so he makes sure he has the time and energy to devote himself to you. the problem becomes two fold: (1) kento starts to want you all the time, not just the times you’ve set aside to have sex, and (2) the longer your arrangement goes on, the more kento believes that you deserve to have someone who can dedicate all their time to you. he doesn’t think that you should settle for convenient, arranged sex with a partner who has no attachment or loyalty to you, you deserve to be taken care of wholly. and so, he steps up and becomes that person, even if it’s not something you were striving for. you will gain a boyfriend and a committed relationship, that is the very bare minimum from him!!

nobara and megumi seem the least likely to want any kind of fwb situation. nobara thinks they too frequently develop into situationships, and she doesn’t have space or time in her life to be in a situationship with anybody—much less somebody like you who’s already wormed your way into her life against her will. you’ve unfolded your chair, now sit in it. if you want nobara, you get all of her, all the time. it’s similar with megumi; even if he isn’t the most upfront with his feelings, megumi is a romantic at heart, he does things according his beliefs, he’s moved by his own motives, he needs to be moved to do anything really—and friends with benefits does not move him. if you want megumi, then simply be obsessed with him or die tbh, like he’s not ever one to engage in anything half-way; you want sex with him, then you’re gonna learn to put up with his cold fingers and surly attitude and unwillingness to get out of bed before 11am, you are going to be his if he’s gonna give anything to you

#‘incase you didn’t know’ is wicked work like pls do not underestimate the ain’t shit-ness of yuuji itadori #bc both his mentors/father figures are their own varying degrees of ain’t shit TRUST!!! nanami is NAWT innocent #gojo and yuuta....t he psycho and delusion to lover pipeline must run in the family atp........#nobara and megumi are soooo funny tbh like they seem like they should like fwb the most #and yet theyre disgusted. btw like if ur fwb w yuuji and they find out they hit him upside the head and call him stupid #bc what the hell is he doing a no strings attached situation in general and much less w someone hes in love with ???? idiot #then they go and chew you out xoxo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #gojo x reader

123 notes · View notes

lost-in-tokyo · 2 years

Text

Blue Pills

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader (au)

Words: 3,1k

Summary: Trying to get revenge from Gojo, Sukuna tricks him into taking viagra. Luckily for him, you’re around to help. (smut / nsfw)

A/N 1: I wrote this whole fic while listening to one song on repeat lol Hope you guys like it!

A/N 2: If you guys have problems reading this on dark mode, please let me know

Warnings: Mature content, Sukuna makes Gojo take viagra without knowing, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), creampie, swearing, Sukuna hears you guys doing it, reader is Sukuna’s twin sister.

It was a hot night in June when you and your friends walked back from a concert you had just watched. Enjoying your summer break, you and your college friends had decided to take a trip, catching on to a festival that was supposed to endure the whole week with many artists that you guys liked.

The whole place was packed, full of sweating and drunk people dancing around and screaming songs at the top of their lungs as loud music blasted all day long. It was awesome! To say the least.

The whole idea of coming to the festival was Gojo’s. He had convinced everyone to come, even your moody twin brother, Sukuna, who apparently was having a lot of fun, much to his dismay.

“Fuck, today was crazy!” Gojo exclaimed, sitting on the grass beside Geto while you guys waited for your bus to arrive.

“I really liked that Dj, his show was awesome!” You said before taking a long drag from your water bottle.

You guys enjoyed the cool breeze hitting your bodies as the sun started to set in the horizon. Water bottles were emptied and Nanami’s last chips had to be shared among everyone.

Once the bus arrived you sat on one of the free seats, beside Shoko, who seemed more tired than you were. The boys found places on the back of the bus, Nanami resting his head against a window as he tiredly closed his eyes. Sukuna sat on the opposite window, checking his phone while discreetly checking his pants’ pocket for a specific pill.

“Hey, I got your guys some beers before we left.” Your brother announced, showing Gojo and Geto two open beer cans in his hands. “For yesterday’s pizza, you know?” He offered the beer, reminding the duo of the pepperoni pizza they paid for everybody the night before.

You turned your head to look back. That was odd. Sukuna wasn’t a kind guy, if someone paid something for him, he would never feel like he had to pay it back, you knew that very well, and so did the boys, both of them frowned, staring at the pink-haired guy weirdly.

“What?” The tattooed boy asked innocently.

“What’re you up to?” Geto eyed him, trying to find his true intentions behind his red eyes.

“Just trying to make up for yelling this morning, I know that I get out of hand sometimes.” Sukuna shrugged before getting up and moving to sit on an open seat in front of you.

It was true, he got out of hand way too many times to be honest. That morning, Sukuna had gone crazy after a sleepy Gojo spilled coffee on his white t-shirt, making a big stain on it.

Suguru and Gojo eyed each other for a second before the white-haired shrugged and drowned a long sip of the beer.

But Geto knew better, he knew Sukuna for enough time not to believe in a single word of what he said. He stared at the open can then looked at Sukuna, spotting when he had his head turned back, eyes fixed on Gojo, who was drawing the last sips of the can, a smirk forming on the pink-haired’s lips. That was all Geto needed to know that something was up.

“You can have mine.” Suguru gave it to Gojo. “I’m not really thirsty.”

“Thanks,” The white-haired replied, getting the can from the brunette’s hand and starting to drink it.

Taking a cigarette out of his pockets, Suguru got up, taking a seat beside Sukuna before offering him a cigarette.

“I don’t know what you put in the beer, but it better be entertaining.”

“How did you know?” The tattooed guy asked.

“I know you well enough.” He shrugged, lighting up his cigarette.

Sukuna smiled. “In this case, don’t worry, it will be very entertaining.”

Time passed by and when you noticed you were entering the hotel lobby, Sukuna walking in front as he was followed by the rest of the gang. Nanami and Shoko followed behind while Suguru decided to flirt with the receptionist. You and Gojo coming last.

“Didn’t find a girl for yourself tonight?” You asked him as all of you stopped at the elevators.

“Nah, wasn’t feeling like it today.” He smiled slightly. Being in a place so full of people like this, you’d assume Gojo would be taking a different girl everyday to the hotel, but he hadn’t brought any, since day one.

“I find that hard to believe, buddy,” Geto said as he approached the group, the receptionist beside him.

Gojo frowned and so Geto pointed towards his pants, where a huge bone was visible.

“Damn!” Shoko said laughing.

“I don’t understand,” Gojo looked down, eying his own tent in confusion.

“Oh but I do very well.” Sukuna smiled proudly.

Satoru lifted his eyes to look at the pink-haired, demanding some sort of explanation.

“You found it really funny when you and Geto locked me out of the room naked last night, right?” His smile got bigger.

“Wait. What?”

Geto chuckled.

“Relax, it’s just some viagra. Just so you can spend the night thinking of me.” Sukuna smirked, whispering the last part before a dry chuckle left his lips.

“You gave me viagra!?” Gojo raised his voice.

“Yup. And you’ve got Geto’s dose too, so… have a good night.” Sukuna smirked one last time before entering one of the elevators along with you, Geto and the receptionist.

“Why did you do that?” You asked your brother.

“Relax, it’s just a prank.”

“You’re such a dick sometimes.” You slapped his shoulder, to which he just rolled his eyes.

“You know that this can be dangerous right?”

“Gojo’s young, there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“How could you agree with this, Suguru?” You turned your head towards him, but he didn’t reply, his mouth was too busy kissing the receptionist.

You gave them a disgusted look before looking at the pink-haired again.

“Let’s take a look at the box, since you’re so worried,” Sukuna said as you exited the elevator, taking the viagra box from inside his backpack as you guys walked towards your rooms.

“One pill… thirty minutes to take effect… usually lasts for two hours…”

“Two Hours!!??” Gojo shouted, he was at the end of the corridor.

“Well, I bet on four since you took my beer too,” Suguru said chuckling before entering his room and closing the door behind him.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Sukuna.” Gojo started walking faster towards your brother, who quickly entered his room, closing the door right when Gojo got there, kicking the wood with strength.

Shoko and Nanami passed by, both being too tired to do anything about the situation, leaving you and Gojo alone in the corridor.

He looked at you, and you could see a mix of angriness and despair in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Gojo.” You smiled apologetically, touching his arm slightly before entering your own room.

You sighed as you closed your door, a part of you wanted to offer yourself to help him. It wouldn’t be much trouble since you always thought he was really hot. But you knew that Sukuna would freak out if you even kissed him.

His friends were forbidden for you. And you were forbidden for them. Those were the rules.

One hour after that, you had just exited the bathroom, after having taken a long bath, very calm and relaxing. Listening to your favorite album on your headphones, you were unaware of the loud banging at your door.

As soon as you took them off, Gojo’s voice filled your room as what you assumed were his fists hit the wooden door repeatedly.

“Open the door, Sukuna!”

You heard him shouting.

“Sukuna!”

Wrapping yourself in a towel, you opened the door, his fist stopping inches away from your face as he tried hitting the door again.

“Gojo! What the fuck!?”

“Y/n? Shit. Sorry, I was looking for your brother actually.” He lowered his voice, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed by the situation.

“No shit.” You rolled your eyes while his traveled down your figure, clenching his fists when he saw you were in just a towel, feeling his member twitch inside his pants.”

“That’s his room.” You pointed towards the door beside yours.

But Gojo didn’t reply, nor moved. You looked at his face and noticed his gaze fixed on your body.

“Hey!” You snapped your fingers in front of him.

“Shit, sorry, y/n. It’s just that I’m….”

“Horny? Yeah, I can see that.” You finished for him.

“Yeah.” He looked down.

“No luck with that?”

“No…. Sukuna could at least give me the box, I wanted to see if there’s nothing I could do.”

“Knowing my brother, he’ll never open that door.”

“Yeah, I know.” He took one step back.

“To be fair Gojo, I think there’s only one thing you could do…” You raised your eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know… Fuck!” He walked a little in the corridor before stopping in front of your door again.

“You need to help me, y/n.” Pleading eyes, filled with frustration staring at you.

“What!?” You choked on air.

“Please. I’m begging you.”

You bit your lower lip as your imagination ran wild on the things you could do to him.

“I can’t take this anymore.” He pleaded, face filled with despair.

You took one step back, opening the door wide for him to enter the room.

“Thank you, y/n. Thank you.” He said as he passed through the door, stopping near your bed.

You took in a long breath as you closed the door, turning around to face him.

“Okay, let’s see our options…”

He eyed you expectantly.

“Have you tried… you know.... jerking off?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not happening.”

You blinked a few times. “Do you know why?”

“I don’t know, maybe I didn’t have the inspiration.” He looked at you up and down, and you cursed yourself internally as you felt your core start to get heated.

Fuck this. You thought.

Gathering all your courage you stopped in front of him, getting on your knees and starting to undo his pants.

“What are you-”

“What do you think? I’m helping you.” You answered, pulling his pants down to his ankles, happy for the fact that he came barefoot, making it easier for you to remove the fabric completely.

Even though you knew he was hard, you couldn’t help but widen your eyes when you pulled down his underwear and his member almost touched his belly. It had an average thickness but it was long, so long. His pink head was swollen, you could see that he tried to touch himself as precum was already leaking.

Your hands delicately touched his member, running your fingertips and nails along his length, hearing as he sighed from how sensible he already was. You closed your hand around him, moving it up and down a few times before you got closer to him, licking his tip slowly.

“Shit.” Gojo hissed.

Taking that as an incentive, you opened your mouth further, taking the tip of his member inside of it. Starting to move your head up and down his length, you used your hands to take care of the rest as you created a slow pace.

Looking up, you saw Gojo’s eyes closed as he bit his lip. The sight was quite amusing, so you kept staring at him, trying to memorize every detail of it. He opened his eyes and looked down, meeting your gaze. His baby blue orbs filled with desire as his pupils dilated.

His burning gaze making your core get wetter and a small moan leave your throat, causing pulsations on his member that made him moan in pleasure.

Increasing the speed of your movements, you hollowed your cheeks, making Gojo groan as his hands went down to your hair, grabbing your strands firmly. After some time, his breaths were heavier and he whispered your name out while you kept on sucking him, tasting his precum in your mouth.

“Fuck, y/n.” He moaned, tightening his grip on your hair with both hands as he started to thrust against your mouth.

Your hand let go of his member, finding his thighs for support, as you tried your best to relax your throat and not to gag on him. Your nose almost touched his thorax as he moved his hips back and forth in your mouth. Your eyes started watering as he kept going deeper and deeper on your throat.

He stopped for a second, his cock completely stuffed inside your throat, holding you in place for a few seconds, causing you to gag against his length, making him groan. His member started pulsing and you knew that he’d cum soon, so you used one of your hands on his balls, playing with them gently to help him with his climax.

“Oh, fuck” He groaned loudly as jats of his sperm hit the back of your throat, slowly sliding down.

He kept your head pressed against his thorax for a few more seconds before letting go of you, making you gasp loudly for air, as you let go of his balls. A thick line of saliva still connecting your lips with his member as you whipped the tears that had formed in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He gave you a small smile, as you licked the last remains of his sperm from his tip.

“It’s ok.” You said looking up at him.

“Shit. Don’t look at me like that.”

You smirked getting up. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Better, but it’s not over yet.” He said looking down and realizing that he was still hard.

“Well, we can deal with it in other ways too.” You smiled innocently as you removed your towel from yourself, letting it hit the floor, revealing your naked form to him.

He stared at you open-mouthed for a few seconds, before he removed his t-shirt, throwing it on the floor and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a heated kiss.

Your tongues swayed together in sync as the two of you started walking towards the bed, stopping when the back of your thighs hit the mattress and he gently pushed you on it, climbing on top of you.

His lips moved to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses and small bites on your skin that set your body on fire. He obviously noticed that, and moved one of his hands to your right boob, playing with your nipple before his mouth started working on your left one.

“Satoru” You whispered his name, so low that he wasn’t even sure if you had really said it, or if it was his imagination.

“Say that again.” He whispered in your ear, biting your earlobe at the same time as his left hand found your core, sliding one finger between your folds.

You repeated his name, this time loud enough for him to hear, making a proud smirk show up on his face. He slid his finger inside of you, feeling how wet you already were for him, making his member pulse against your thigh.

“So wet already, baby.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice as a small moan left your lips.

He moved a little, his eyes straight into yours as he asked: “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You replied, pulling him down for another lustful kiss.

You slowly felt him penetrating you, your tightness around him making the two of you moan at the same time. Gojo placed one of his hands on the wall behind the bed while the other gently grabbed on your waist as he started moving in and out of you. At the same time as you grabbed his arm with one of your hands.

“You said your brother is in the next room right?”

“Yeah…. Why?”

“I want him to hear us.” A devilish smirk forming on his lips.

“Are you crazy? He’s gonna kill you.” You widened your eyes.

“After tonight… I don’t fucking care. ‘Been waiting long enough to have you.”

He leaned down, kissing you hungrily as he started moving faster and rougher, finding your G-spot and hitting it repeatedly, making a loud moan leave your lips. Gojo kept his moves, creating a steady yet fast pace in and out of you, making your moans grow increasingly high with each thrust of his.

“Fuck…. Satoru.” You moaned.

“You can be louder than that, baby.” His voice was hoarse with desire.

He started applying more strength on his thrusts, the bed involuntarily moving along, its headboard repeatedly hitting against the wall, and if you weren’t so lost in your own pleasure, you’d be worried about Sukuna hearing, but now, you just couldn’t care less.

You circled your legs around his waist, making his thrusts deeper than ever, every moan of yours filling the entire room as everything seemed to grow hotter and hotter as the time passed by.

Just as you started to feel your walls clenching around Gojo, a loud bang at the door caught yours and his attention.

“Y/n!” Sukuna’s voice caught your ears.

But at this point, you wouldn’t be able to stop, not even if you wanted to.

Gojo seemed too entranced to care either, his mouth stuck on your collar bone, marking you in hickeys as you finally reached your climax, your vision getting blurred for a second as your legs started shaking and Gojo’s name left your lips louder than ever.

You soon felt his liquids filling you up as he kept thrusting, riding out both yours and his climaxes, before he collapsed on top of you, his head resting on your chest, as the two of you tried to catch your breaths.

“Y/n!” You heard Sukuna again.

Gojo chuckled lightly against your skin, sending vibrations through your body, making a smile appear on your lips.

“How’s your friend doing now?” You asked, eying him.

He looked up at you, before looking down. “I think he might need some extra care.” He smiled, making a small laugh leave your throat.

“Y/n open this fucking door!”

“Fuck off, Kuna!” You yelled back.

You heard him yelling some curses towards the door, as Gojo got up. For a second you thought he’d open the door, but he simply stopped near it and said loud enough for Sukuna to hear.

“I’m gonna keep her busy for some more hours, Ryomen! Go take some sleeping pills, or whatever.”

A proud smile was on display on his face as he turned towards you.

“Join me in a bath?” His smile slowly turning into a smirk.

Reblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated <3

Masterlist

#satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #satoru gojo fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk

2K notes · View notes