#it is friday so i might as well toss this into the mix over here whether it works or not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skzloversblogsposts · 1 year

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Double babysitters[h.h.j][f]

Fridays were reserved for fun , regardless of the situation there should be fun, going out on movie dates , dancing in random clubs and getting completely hammered all counted as fun but what was not fun was you perched on the entrance of one of your friends houses the wind harsh against your skin as the cold seemed to paralyse your body completely , mentally preparing yourself to babysit the gremlins she called children after owing her a much needed favour .

“Yn!!” She spoke her voice filled with nerves “I’m so nervous for this date but I’m so glad you’re here although…” she trailed off her eyes looking over into her living room “ I might have asked someone else to come over and baby sit ..because you weren’t answering ..” you sighed it wasn’t that you were excited to spend time with her kids however the trip here being long and expensive..too expensive to just be tossed to the side “ I know the cab was a lot I’ll pay you back-“ she rambled her curlers still in her hair shaking as she spoke “ no no it’s okay you don’t have to-“ you began “you can stay and help if you want “ the man on the couch spoke kids on either side of him watching what seemed to be some type of cartoon he had playing on his phone .disregarding the tv completely that blared in the background , Your friend perked up “ yes you should do that , she’ll stay -“ she spoke shoving you inside with little to no room to argue .

By the time she had left you were fairly acquainted with the mystery man who the children seemed to love so much . Hwang hyunjin, or jinnie as the little one called him telling you about how pretty his hair was , as much of truth as that was the air around you two still seemed awkward as the night started “ I have an idea ! “ , the older of the two kids spoke “ let’s play Simon says !!!” His happy demeanour at the mention of the game almost contagious” nahh, that sounds boring “ the younger girl spoke her voice killing his excitement as he slouched “ well then what do you wanna do!?” He argued “ I don’t know but we always play what you want to play!!” The younger shouted back catching both you and hyunjin off guard as you both scrambled to your feet , concerned and confused stares exchanged between the two of you “ how about-“ you tried to intervene your words getting cut off as you were pulled to the side by the little boy “I’ll play with yn! I don’t need to play with you !!” He shouted at the younger girl who now clung to hyunjin “ fine I’ll play with jinnie ! He’s more fun than you anyways “ she stuck her tounge out at him .

Maybe it was the weather outside or the cold that seemed to nip at your cheeks despite being inside or maybe it was the argument between the two kids that left you feeling a little distraught as you sat , knees perched back bent from the little boys request in the game “you’re doing it wrong ~” he nagged “ you’re supposed to do it like this !!” He walked up to you now showing you how to pose “you’re not very good at Simon says !!” He spat “ I never said I was but you know what I am good at “ you smiled at his annoyed expression eye brows creased and cheeks red from frustration “ what?” He asked pout evident on his lips “ baking “ you whispered his eyes lighting up at the mention of endless sweets .

Usually you would have just made the cupcakes yourself , iced them and then called the kids down to eat them the sweet treats always seemed to ease their little arguments but hyunjins promise of it being fun and a “good bonding experience “ for the kids made it seem like a good idea to have the two of them perched up on the counter with a mixing bowl , flour coating the counter tops , the floors and most of your face as you tried to pull everything together to limit the chaos “ please don’t throw the ingredients at each other !!” You spoke stopping the little girl from flinging a handful of sugar at her brother “ hyunjin stop instigating !!“ you spoke watching as he leaned down to whisper in her ear “me !? I’m not doing anything “ he feighed innocence flashing the little girl a mysterious smirk “ ynnnn~ they’re being mean “ the little boy interrupted “ I know sweetheart and I’m sorry I’m trying to get them to stop okay just carry on mixing the batter hm?” You smiled at him turning to hyunjin “ can we just make the cupcakes so I can clean all of this up before their mom gets back “ you said frustration brimming in your eyes in the form of angry tears “sure , but not after this !!” He flung a handful of flour straight at you coating your hair and cheeks in the snow like powder . Watching as you fumed “ get out .” You spoke your words calm as your fiery eyes stared into his “ what- no I didnt- it wasn’t supposed to hit -“ he trailed concern from the little girl as she ran over to hug you her arms clinging to your legs “ jinnie didn’t mean it !! Please let him stay” she said flashing her puppy dog eyes at you .

Cupcakes baked and iced with hyunjin sat still behind the counter it left you with one more thing to do …clean . What was supposed to be a quick treat turned into a catastrophe as the entire kitchen now resembled a war zone . With the kids distracted sweet treats calming their short attention span you focused on the task at hand sweeping up the stray ingredients displayed so proudly on the floor “ I can help-“ hyunjin started “I’d prefer if you didn’t “ you spoke shooting him a smile “ but yn please let me I mean I caused-“ he spoke “ yea you did cause most of it you’re right ! But right now I just want to get it done so please go find something else to do “ with that hyunjin left silently like a sad puppy shouted at by their owner . With the kitchen cleaner than before you decided to go find the kids , giggle erupting from somewhere upstairs as you followed the sound . The rooms dark and seemingly unoccupied as you approached them leading you to what seems to be their playroom , makeshift tent clad in the middle of the room as three silhouettes sat in its warmth giggles bouncing of the plush walls . You made your way over to the fort crawling to what seemed to be the entrance “ what are you guys-“ you began catching their attention “ jinnie says you’re not allowed in “ the younger girl spoke “ huh-?” You looked at the older man now absorbed in some form of a tea party “ why not?” You asked “ you shouted at him “ the older boy spoke

“Nah uhh “ you interjected “when!?” You asked “In the kitchen !!” The two kids said together realization dawning on your face “ well yea but that’s because -“ you spoke “ no buts !! “ the little girl said pulling the blanket to close the entrance of the fort . You huffed his administrations being absolutely ridiculous, “ you’re not playing fair hyunjin !!” You bellowed on your way out of the room comfortably situating yourself on the couch blanket in hand movie ready to play , maybe it was for the best an arrangement of convenience you’d let hyunjin play with the kids allowing you to relax it only seemed fair after all it wasn’t like you were wanted there anyways .

It seemed like hours before you heard from either of them chalking it down to someone falling asleep and the other following suit but what you didn’t expect was the loud bang that resounded around the house catching you off guard as you ran up the stairs slipping in process “ kids !? Are you guys okay!! “ you spoke your voice thick with concern as you approached the play room only to find the two younger kids gathered around hyunjin who was now crouched down holding the side of his head in pain “ yn!! “ the younger boy spoke “ jinnie got hurt!!!” The little girl exclaimed tears in her eyes as she looked at you “ it’s okay it’s okay I’m here don’t cry “ you said sending her a reassuring smile before leaning down to meet the man infront of you .

Hyunjin sat on the bathroom counter refusing to sit on the side of the tub because it seemed “uncomfortable “ his height now making it difficult for you to dress the wound ultimately leading him to bending down “ how did you even get hurt this bad ?“

You spoke concern on your face as you fiddled with the bottle of antiseptic “ I hit it on the corner of the table ..” he pouted “ agh you should be more careful you almost gave me a heart attack “ you said now walking between his spread legs to access the wound on his head , hyunjin pouted “ I didn’t mean to ..it just happe-“ his words cut off by a hiss when you pressed the cotton ball of antiseptic to his wound

Your hand coming up to cup his cheek “ did it hurt I’m sorry “ you spoke your lips pursed as you blew cool air against the wound , hyunjins eyes trailed over your face , taking in the concern in your eyes and the plushiness of your lips , his hands slowly coming up to meet your waist spreading warmth across your body . Your cheeks tinged as you looked at him his gaze now darker than it was before his lips slightly parting as he starred at you “does it still hurt ?” You asked your voice barely a whisper “ mhmm “ hyunjin hummed as you broke eye contact searching for a bandaid “ do you want the pink one or the blue one “ you asked smile evident on your lips “ blue -“ he spoke watching your playful gaze as you opened the plaster “ I think the pink one looks better “ you giggled placing the bandaid on his wound your fingers trailing across the plastic as his eyes watched you , you cleared your throat in attempt

To clear the tension now forming between the two of you “and.. here we go you’re all done !!” You said backing away from between hyunjins legs the position causing your cheeks to burn “ no” he spoke pulling you closer to him your hips meeting the counter as his hands landed on your waist “ no?” You asked confused “ you’re forgetting something “ he said “I am?” You asked “mhmm you’re supposed to kiss it better “ you scoffed “I’m sorry?” You said “yea I mean it technically is your fault for leaving us alone “ he said “you told me I wasn’t allowed inside the- “ you rambled “ shhh, that doesn’t matter what does matter is my wound healing !! And it’s not gonna heal unless you kiss is better “ he smiled in amusement at your flustered reaction “ do I really have to do this ?” You mumbled , hyunjin nodded watching as you sighed carefully holding his head between your hands as you placed a chaste kiss to the top of his forehead , his flesh hot under your touch as you pulled away his eyes roaming yours as you two stood the air thick around you . “ I was joking about you not being allowed inside “ he said “ yea? “ you asked smile coating your lips “ and I didn’t mean to cover you in flour ..” he confessed a giggle erupting from you at the sad expression on his face .

It wasn’t until late did you find yourself absolutely spent on the couch , after what seemed like an eternity trying to get the kids to fall asleep hyunjin soon after joining you sitting on the floor his head reclining to meet the couch cushions “ my head still hurts “ he mumbled “kiss it again?”he asked sly smirk on his lips “ yea right “ you said flicking his forehead “ this was fun..” he spoke comfortable silence filling the room “ which part ? You getting hurt or me cleaning the avalanche you caused in the kitchen “ he smiled “ you had fun don’t act like you didn’t “ you hummed “ yea I did have fun babysitting you “ you retorted followed by an exasperated sigh from hyunjin .

Fridays were rest days , sure they were you wouldn’t dispute that , but the idea of babysitting with hyunjin again indulging in new found domestic romance seemed like something you’d be willing to pass your Fridays off for .

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elvensorceress · 2 years

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fuck it friday woooo

tagged by 💕 @ashavahishta @fiona-fififi @rogerzsteven

tagging @messyhairdiaz @monsterrae1 @babytrapperdiaz @spotsandsocks @hetrez @homerforsure @masterminddiaz @dickley-buddie @the-likesofus @ajunerose @ghosthunterbuck @megslovesbooks @eddiediazisascorpio @loveyourownsmiilee @ronordmann 💗

So, Eddie vs Feelings is now over 26K? Here’s a silly scene, a whole scene! From it -- wine night with Eddie and Karen. 😘💕

It’s Thursday and Chris is with his friends for the night because there’s no school tomorrow, Buck is visiting Maddie and Jee-Yun, and Hen and Denny are out having a bowling and one-on-one bonding night. Which is how Eddie ends up at the Wilson house with a bottle of Karen’s favorite wine.

She gives him a hug and even a kiss on his cheek when he hands it to her. They break into it immediately and catch up for a bit before they decide maybe having food with their wine would be smarter than just having wine for dinner. It’s really good wine though. Lots of plum and berry notes with heavy overtones of spices. Karen has good taste. He helps her throw together an assortment of cheese, meat, and crackers, with some grapes, apple slices, tomatoes, cucumbers, and mixed nuts to go with it.

“See, if we call it a charcuterie board, then we’re fancy grown ups,” Karen says as she sets plates for both of them on the table.

Eddie smiles and sips his probably second but maybe third glass of the Madiran cabernet. “As opposed to borderline-drunk adults who didn’t plan dinner?”

“Yes, exactly.” She grins back and makes herself a cracker sandwich with cucumber slices in between layers of meat and cheese.

Eddie does the same but adds apple and thinks of how Buck loves tart, thin slices of apple in his grilled cheese because it was how Maddie liked it and always made it for them. Because we’re nothing if not pieces from all the people we love.

When they’ve demolished a good two-thirds of their definitely planned and thought out meal, and are well into wine bottle number two, because it can’t be three? Right? That’s when Karen twirls a cucumber slice between her fingers, and asks, “You ever kissed a man, Eddie? Or thought about kissing a man?”

And it’s a funny thing. Kissing.

Putting your mouth against someone else’s. Touching lips together. Touching lips to something else. Making tongues slide around. It’s weird that people do it. And like to do it. Your lips turn all squishy and sometimes slippery. And it’s really easy to miss or bonk noses or clink teeth.

But sometimes… sometimes it’s all warm. Sometimes heat goes to his head and then he’s… swirly and wobbly. It would make his heart flutter like it might fly away.

Has anyone ever wanted his heart? Really wanted what it is and what it means and who Eddie actually is?

Sometimes, kissing doesn’t taste very good because you can taste whatever is in the other person’s mouth and Shannon loved these nasty pickle things that did not, not, not taste good. Eddie could not kiss her if she’d been eating them. Not even when it was nice kissing her.

Karen tosses her cucumber slice at him, and asks again.

Has he kissed a man before? Has he thought about it?

“No. Haven’t. I haven’t kissed…” He’s wanted to though. Hasn’t he. He’s been thinking about what it might be like. Because… because. Eddie isn’t like most men. Most men want to kiss women. He’s heard this a few times. A lot of times.

But he doesn’t think about kissing someone very often.

Although, sometimes? Buck leans in really close and tells Eddie all these silly, silly things about saying yes to absolutely, and how wheatgrass and alfalfa have so many nutritional benefits, and how there are 6,800 some natural disasters that happen worldwide every year, and seahorses will twine tails together and find each other despite difficulty swimming and having to hide from predators and it’s actually the males who give birth and the parents stay faithful partners for their whole lives.

“Seahorses fall in love, Eddie. Isn’t that sweet? They bond for life once they find each other.”

And then Eddie’s wanted that weird, funny, fluttery thing where they squish their mouths together.

It’s probably different. Kissing a man. But a kiss is a kiss? Maybe it’s not all that different. How would it taste? How would it feel? Is it different when you’re in love? Could Eddie ever know what that’s like? To kiss someone he knows for sure he’s in love with?

“You had a girlfriend for two months or something, didn’t you?” Karen asks him suddenly. As if she’s just remembered. Her forehead gets crinkled and confused.

Eddie was crinkled and confused. His head is a little foggy but he’s pretty sure it was longer than two months. Far too long.

“I didn’t buy that. At all. Ask Hen. When she told me, I swore. Swore she was lying to me. I told her. You, Hen Wilson, are lying. To your wife,” Karen’s tone is the most affronted and she’s so funny. Eddie loves being her friend. He loves that she and Hen are married and happy. It’s nice that two women can be married to each other and happy together. “But then we stalked Annnn-esthesia? Analog? Anachronism! No, no Anathema’s social media. Just a little. We found pictures she posted of both of you. And what does Denny say? Bad vibes. Those aren’t the vibes.” She hums dissent and shakes her head. “I said, that? You and Anaphylaxis? That was all wrong. Didn’t buy it. Nope.”

“I…” He looks at her, and she is a very smart scientist. Rocket scientist. She does actual rocket science. Maybe she would know. She knows all the things. “Do you think I’m…” What’s the word? What’s his question? He has so many questions. “Do you think I’m like you? But with men? Do you think I should be kissing men?”

She giggles, sips her mostly empty glass, and then frowns hard at it when she finds it without wine. “Do you think you should? I didn’t like it. Men are bad kissers. I only kissed two. But they were bad. Teenage me didn’t know. Very sad for poor teenage me.”

“I kissed a woman once. My…” What was she? Besides heart palpitations and gasping for air and chest pain and dizzy, bad, falling over, feeling faint? “My girlfriend? I guess?”

“Anamorphic,” Karen says. “Yes, her.”

“Yeah. Her. And I really didn’t like it.” Maybe because she wasn’t Shannon, but maybe because she was Ana. Maybe because she wasn’t Buck. He loved Shannon. He loves Buck. He did not love Ana.

She points at him. “You kissed a girl and didn’t like it? That’s not how the song goes. It’s a stupid song though. Obnoxious heteronormative garbage bullshit. And I know. She’s bad vibes. Bad for you. You don’t have those vibes. You should kiss men then.”

Yeah. Yeah, she really was bad for him. Panic attacks in public places were not it.

“That’s why I’ve been thinking. I have been thinking. But I don’t know. You know? What if… what if… You think I could be like you? I’ve thought— I thought. Kissing. Maybe. It would be good. Maybe it would be better with, with men. A man. What if I am…? You know?”

“What if you’re gay like me? Not exactly like me. Gay in the other way.”

What if he is gay? Could he be gay if he doesn’t know what he wants? He’s not entirely sure he knows his full name right now. His head is very sloshy. His hands are tingly. He’s nice and warm though. Like when Buck holds him. He likes when Buck holds him. “Do you think… My parents think… And fuck, was that out of left field.”

She pushes his arm. “They think what about baseball?”

He laughs and doesn’t know why. It’s all stupid. It can’t be true because wouldn’t he know? Shouldn’t he be able to tell? Maybe he just can’t say. It’s too embarrassing to say. “My dad thinks I am. He thinks I love. I’m in love. With a man. All of high school, middle school, all through that. I was scared someone might think it, scared my parents might think it. And now they think it? And they’re happy? They’re happy for me. They’re happy and they want to meet Buck.”

“Why would they want to— OH! Oh, you love Buck! You want to kiss Buck! I knew you did. Hen and Howie-Chim tried to say you didn’t. They tried to say, they spend all this time with you two, and nothing ever happens, and they know you better. They tried to say I was wrong. Although, they might have been fucking with me just because. Chimney would do that. But I’m not wrong! They were wrong. And I knew it.” She nods fervently and points to herself.

Eddie’s heart trips and stumbles and it must be drunk, too. But Karen would know. She would have to know. Not that Eddie doesn’t know. He would kiss Buck. He loves Buck. Does that mean he’s in love with Buck? Is that one plus one is two? “You think… you think so? Is that… does that mean I’m in love with him?”

“Do you want to kiss him? Do you want to love him?”

“Do I want to…” Is that it? Is that what it boils down to? Being in love is wanting to love him? Of course he wants to love Buck. He wants to give Buck all the love in the world because it’s been overflowing and growing and it’s too much to keep inside his chest. And Buck deserves to have every ounce of love.

It would be good to kiss him. His lips look soft and pretty. He likes to put on this vanilla lip balm because he says it smells and tastes like cake, and then Eddie tells him not to eat his chapstick because that’s not good, and it makes Buck roll his pretty blue eyes and smile like sunshine and he’s so, so beautiful when he smiles. He’s so beautiful when he does anything.

It’s probably stupid that Eddie ever questioned it. How could he not be in love with Buck? He does nothing but think about him and talk about him and want to be around him when they’re not around each other. And it’s nothing like how he’s always thinking of Chris and his family and friends. Buck’s always been in a different category. Maybe that’s why there has never been a word, a noun, a thing that encompasses everything they are.

Partner has always been closest. Because it means more. It means colleague and coworker, ally and teammate, accomplice, companion, significant other, committed for life, long-term lover, other half, co-parent, and spouse. Everything and more.

There’s too much wine in his system. Too much of something in his system. Can you drown in it? Does it make you overly intoxicated? Are you blind and stupid and obsessive and reckless? Do you forget things you should know? Do you want more than you should? Do you fly too far and feel too much?

He feels too much.

They’ve been doing most things together again. Like quarantine. They have dinner and breakfast together with Christopher. They went to the grocery store and bought everything together the last at least twenty-three times they had to get groceries. Buck brings over his laundry so they can wash all their clothes together and Buck doesn’t have to use the bad machines in his building or go to a laundromat for clean clothes. Buck has long legs and strong arms and he will wrap Eddie in all of them while they sleep.

They probably shouldn’t do that many things together. This is why he feels too much.

“It’ll stop, right?” He asks quietly. “It’ll go away? I won’t always…”

Sorrow washes over Karen’s face. “What do you mean? Why would you want—”

The alcohol is still there, still too hot and fuzzy, but he’s suddenly a thousand times more sober. “He doesn’t. It’s not. Not mutual. It’s not… requited? I’m just, I’m his friend. We’re just. We aren’t anything else. We can’t be. But feelings don’t last. Right? I think I heard that. It won’t last?”

He doesn’t know how to make it stop because how did it even start? Maybe time is the only thing that can stop it. Eventually, Buck will find someone he does want. Buck isn’t going to be single forever. He’s kind and silly and funny and he loves kids and he wants to take care of people and help everyone. He’s always there when you need him. He protects the things that mean the most to you. He’ll dive into wreckage to pull you out. He’ll throw himself into gunfire to save you.

He… he’s the most loving, caring, beautiful person. He’s the best partner. In every single version of the word. There’s no one Eddie would rather raise a child with. There’s no one he’d rather have a family with. There’s no one he’d rather share the rest of his life with.

Maybe. Eddie just has to live with it. Maybe it won’t stop. He won’t always think of it. It’ll just be there, like anything else, and maybe it’ll hurt for a while. But pain isn’t forever.

Karen takes his hand and squeezes. “I love you. Do you know that? Because I do. Hen does, too. She loves you.”

He breathes slowly and squeezes back. “I love you, too.”

“Hey, no matter what, at least you know now. You are like me. In reverse. At least for one man. I knew you were. You have the queer vibes.”

Well. It is something. It doesn’t make everything clear, but being in love with a man at least means something.

He’s in love. He is in love. Like his parents think. Like Karen thinks.

This is what in love feels like. Like too much wine and not enough time and drowning and flying and crashing and wanting.

He’s not sure he likes wanting. There’s a lot of missing, aching, lacking, and it’s too hopeless.

Is it hopeless?

#buddie #jenwyn fic #fic: eddie vs the feelings #fuck it friday #buddie fic

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sebastianshaw · 2 years

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For Fanfic Friday, @sneakymystique requested Mystique poisoning Shaw! I put my own nasty little spin on it. Enjoy! Sebastian Shaw was a difficult man to poison. Mystique supposed she should have expected that. After all, he must know it was one of the very few ways to kill him. So none of her usual tricks worked. Replacing staff and putting it in his food, for instance, got thwarted in various ways. Turned out that Shaw Industries had engineered hi-tech bio-scanners in the plates that would alert him before the dish even arrived at his table. So she’d taken the place of the chef who prepared his shrimp in front of him at the next hibachi restaurant he stopped at, a place in Hokkaido so upscale that it didn’t have a website, didn’t have a menu, didn’t take reservations. You simply had to be as important as Shaw to walk in, and then the place was all yours. Literally; what were the odds some other hugely powerful and connected multi-billionaire was going to visit the same time you did? Anyway, it was child’s play to taint the batch of shrimp before tossing it to him from the grill. Really, the REAL challenge had been getting the chef’s show skills down! But she was defeated again. Turned out the oil on the grill was treated by the staff with a neutralizing agent against any foreign toxins for the exact reason that some people might try to use this opportunity to poison their guests. Mystique supposed that made sense, given their clientele. She couldn’t think of one person they served who didn’t surely deserve it.

So she started getting REALLY creative. If tainted food didn’t work, why not taint the people? Mystique was already certain that replacing one of his prostitutes and taking him down in his bed wouldn’t work; he must have precautions against sex worker assassins or else he’d have been dead long before she got here. No, she had a finer idea. In India, there were legends of Visha Kanya, the poison girls, young women who had been deployed as assassins against powerful men in Ancient India by masquerading as courtesans. They carried no weapons; their blood and bodily fluids themselves were toxic. They had been raised from childhood on a diet of deadly poisons and antidotes, over and over, the legend went. Many did not survive, but those that did, it was said, developed not only an immunity to all possible poisons but bodily fluids so toxic to the touch that sexual contact with such women was fatal. Probably a misogynistic myth, or maybe a metaphor for venereal disease, but Mystique nonetheless found inspiration in it. She contacted a few scientists who might be interested in bringing the legend to life, and one Monica Rappacini was DELIGHTED. Given that the woman’s name literally came from a similar story, Mystique was not surprised. And true to that name, Monica crafted an exquisite little homemade concoction for Mystique to slip to Shaw’s latest floozy for the night. The woman wouldn’t be harmed—or man, or whatever, Shaw wasn’t biased in that regard—but their every orifice would be secreting poison mixed in with the usual spit and vaginal mucus and so on. Now you’d think THAT would work. No such luck. Shaw had the bed toys swabbed EVERYWHERE before they got allowed in to his chambers. Had this bastard thought of everything?! Hmm. Maybe she’d been going about this wrong. Instead of thinking of the best ways to harm Shaw, maybe she should think of lesser ways. Because, of course, Shaw would have thought of the best ways and accounted for them. What was something that was poison. . .but not usually thought of as poison? Well, medicine. Anything in excess could have adverse effects. Not death, not even paralysis or permanent harm, but things like headache, vomiting, nausea, and– Oh. She knew now what she was doing. And she was correct—all his poison precautions didn’t account for this little trick, for these specific ingredients. In it went to his steaks, his sushi, his protein powder, everything. And the results were. . .well, let’s just say messy. Even Mystique was a little horrified. Even she had never quite seen anything like this, let alone done it. But that’s what happens from a prolonged mass dosing of laxatives throughout the day.

#fic #fanfic friday #out of shirt

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petersspidey · 3 years

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Laundry Day

Summary: Y/N needs help carrying her laundry down to the laundry room and Bucky steps in to save the day. But he also has a load of his own ;)

Warnings: a lot of smut

Word Count: 3154 (its so long wtf)

MASTERLIST

Sometimes you hated Tony.

Like when he was overly cocky, and almost ruining your missions but somehow coming out the hero. Or when he tells the team something you didn't want all of them to know.

But you have never hated him more than when he put the laundry in the basement of the Avengers compound. You argued with him when he was first building it. He put your room on the top floor in the furthest possible wing from the laundry and unlike almost all of the Avengers you did not have super strength. So carrying your laundry across the entire building and down eight flights was not exactly easy.

So every two weeks you would spend 15 minutes just getting your dirty laundry from your room down to the laundry room, cursing Tony's name every time.

So there you were, the second Sunday of every month leaving your room, with an overflowing basket of laundry in your hand. As soon as you opened your door it felt like you ran into a brick wall. You toppled backward landing on your ass, and you had completely dropped your basket. Your clothes had spilled everywhere.

You sighed, and looked up.

"Sorry, Y/N." Bucky said

He bent down, starting to help you pick up your clothes.

"It's ok," you sighed, joining him in placing everything back into the basket.

"What were you doing standing outside my room anyway?" you asked

"I wasn't standing outside your room … I just happened to be walking past right as you opened your door."

You laughed, "ok Buck. Whatever you say."

He huffed in frustration. You always knew how to get under his skin, but he also knew how to get under yours.

Bucky helped you pick up the last few items of your laundry, when he held up something in front of your face.

You black lace thong. Your eyes widened, and you quickly snatched it from his hands.

You quickly threw the last things into your basket, and stood up.

"Well, thanks for the help. I gotta go."

You tried to get out of there as quickly as possible. Your cheeks burning red over the fact that Bucky just had your dirty underwear in his hand. But, your basket once again held you back. You lifted it, but had to walk slowly, barely able to see over the top of the mountain of clothes.

"Do you need some help?" Bucky asked, watching you walk away

"Nope. I'm good," you yelled back.

Bucky eyed you for a second, before turning to walk away. You continued down the hall, slowly making your way to the elevator. After barely making it anywhere. You placed the basket down for a moment, resting your arms. You stretched your back, and before you could bend down again to scoop up your basket Bucky was standing beside you, reaching down to grab it.

"I said I didn't need help," you said

"Yeah, and as much fun as it was watching you struggle to carry this and need to take a break five seconds in, I figured I'd just lend you a hand," he said

"Well it's not my fault I'm not a supersoldier like you," you muttered

Bucky chuckled and started walking down the hall toward the elevator.

"You carry this by yourself every week? How do you go through so many clothes?" he asked

"Well, every other week. But, yes."

"And! This is not an abnormal amount of clothes for two weeks, thank you very much." you continued

"You know, if you did laundry every week you might not have such an issue getting down to the laundry room." Bucky said, smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes, "Whatever, Barnes."

"You're just upset because you know I'm right."

As you approached the elevator, you pressed the button and Bucky put your laundry down.

"Thanks, I think I've got it from here," you said.

The elevator doors opened, and once again, before you could grab your basket Bucky managed to get a hold of it first.

"Really, Bucky. It's ok I'll be fine from here."

"Are you forgetting about the long hallway downstairs?" He said, stepping onto the elevator with your clothes.

You huffed, and followed him on.

"I'm a big girl. I can do it myself."

The doors closed and you began to descend.

"Oh don't get your little lacy panties in a twist, I wasn't doing anything else I don't mind giving you a hand." Bucky said, smirking at you, knowing exactly how you'd react.

Your face became red again.

"Don't talk about my underwear."

"If you don't want me talking about your underwear maybe you should move the hot pink g-string that you have sitting at the top of your basket."

You lightly gasp, and reach over, pulling the pair off the top and shoving them down the side of your basket.

Bucky chuckled again. Knowing he was embarrassing you.

The elevator stopped, and you both stepped off into the basement, heading down the long hall to the laundry room.

"You must've done something to make Tony mad if he put your room so far from the laundry."

"I'm fully convinced he just likes to cause me problems. He probably has FRIDAY watching me on the cameras. I do not doubt one bit that he laughs at me hauling this downstairs twice a month."

Bucky laughed at your statement.

You smiled back at him. You don't see him smile much. It was a good change.

You turn the corner with Bucky. You could see the laundry room door at the end of the hall now. The two of you walk silently until you reach the door. You open it, and Bucky walks in in front of you and places your basket full of clothes down in front of one of the washers.

"Thanks for helping me. Would've taken me twice as long to get down here if I was by myself."

"It's no problem. It's always fun to show off my strength to a pretty lady."

"Oh so I'm a pretty lady?" you teased

Bucky blushed.

You smirked, and opened the washing machine lid. You began loading your clothes in. Bucky stood near you, leaning on the dryer right beside.

"You don't have to wait down here with me," you told him

"I figured I'd just wait and walk back upstairs with you."

"It's really ok, Buck. I usually just hang out down here until my loads are done. It's only a 30 minute cycle."

"Well maybe I'll just hang out down here with you…" Bucky said, as if he was waiting for your permission.

"Sure, I guess. If you really want to."

You filled up one machine, and threw the detergent in, shutting the lid. You moved over to another machine and began putting in a second load.

You heard Bucky chuckling, and turned around to look at him.

"What?" you questioned

"You have so many clothes that you have to use two washing machines." He said, shaking his head.

You rolled your eyes, "Whatever Barnes. It's because unlike you, I don't wear the same Henley's and jeans every day."

"No, you wear different coloured thongs every day." he teased

You finished placing all the laundry in the machine, and left your basket on the floor.

You walked back toward where Bucky was standing and jumped up onto one of the empty machines, sitting on the lid.

"You really just sit down here on top of a dryer waiting by yourself? You know there's a table and chairs right there." Bucky said

"Usually, yeah. Sometimes I bring a book down, but it's nice and quiet down here…" you started

"Well, usually I'll sit on top of one of the washing machines that I'm using, and not the empty dryer," you added, knowing exactly what you were insinuating.

Bucky's eyes shot up to you. "What?" he asked, thinking he hadn't heard you right.

"You heard me." you confirmed

"Well, alright. So why aren't you sitting on one of those today?"

"Well, usually only something I do while I'm down here alone."

"Don't be shy, doll."

Something about the way Bucky said doll, made you squirm. You hesitated for a second before you got off the dryer, and walked toward the machine that you had just turned on, climbing on top of it. You sat, letting your legs hang over the edge, eyes on Bucky.

The vibrations from the machine were shooting through you, pulsating right to your center. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. You could hear Bucky walking closer, he lightly spread your legs and stood in between them. You opened your eyes. Bucky's face was inches from yours. He leaned in closer, taking either side of your face in his hands. You expected his metal hand to be cold against your face, but it was almost as warm as his other.

He looked you in the eyes, before bringing your face towards his, pressing a sloppy kiss against your mouth (ok but think Endings, Beginnings kiss - his character with Shailene Woodly). You leaned into the kiss, opening your mouth more, allowing him to slide his tongue inside. You wrapped your legs around his back, pulling him as close to you as you possibly could. The vibrations from the machine, still sending pulses right to your core.

You could already feel yourself getting more wet by the second. Bucky's mouth on yours mixed with the feeling of the machine below you. You needed more. You ran your hands down Bucky's body, reaching underneath his shirt to feel his skin. Bucky ran his hands over you, one of his fingers grazing against you hard nipple poking through your shirt. You moaned into his kiss.

Bucky slid his hands under your shirt and began lifting it. You raised your arms over your head, allowing him to take your shirt off. You broke your kiss as he lifted your shirt over your head. He stared at your bare chest as he threw your shirt to the side. You pulled him close, shoving your lips back against his.

His hands roamed your bare back, holding you tight against him. He began kissing down your neck, toward your chest. You leaned back on your hands, allowing him easier access to your hard nipples.

You moaned, and allowed your head to fall back as he swirled his tongue around your breast. His hands fumbled with the buttons on your jeans, undoing the zipper. He pulled away, and urged you to lift up your bottom so he could rip your jeans from your legs.

He tossed them aside, and looked at you sitting in only your underwear. He smirked, seeing how wet they were.

"Granny panties?" he questioned

"Shut up, all my good pairs are in the laundry." you said, taking your panties off yourself, leaving you completely exposed. He stood, looking at you, enjoying the sight. You looked down and saw his cock fighting against the zipper of his jeans.

Bucky groaned before touching you.

"Lie down," he ordered, placing one hand on your chest, getting you to lie your back completely flat on the machine.

You twitched as your bare back hit the cold metal of the washer, before settling in.

You looked down at Bucky, just as he was bending over placing a long lick against your slit. You moaned loudly, not expecting him to do that. He looked up at you as he placed another lick, taking in your wetness.

He saw the look of ecstasy on your face and took it as a sign to keep going. He dove into your pussy, face first. You gasped, and arched your back, only pressing your wetness deeper into Bucky's face. Bucky teased you, leaving small, gentle strokes along your clit.

You wrapped your legs tight around his head, "stop teasing me," you begged

You could feel him smirk, "anything for you, doll."

Bucky began pressing his tongue harder against your clit. Moving it up, down, and in circles. You moaned loudly, your grip tightening on his hair.

The vibrations from the machine and his tongue on you were too much. You began thrusting up against his face. You wanted nothing more than him inside of you.

"Buck, please." you moaned

Bucky brought one of his hands up toward your breast. He kneaded it in his hand as his tongue dove around your pussy. He flicked your hard nipple between his fingers. You cried out in pleasure. You could feel your orgasm building.

"Don't stop, i'm so close," you whined out

Bucky didn't stop. He continued sucking on your clit until you could feel your walls come crashing down. You pulled on his har, and tighten your legs around his head as he continued through your orgasm.

When you finally calmed down, you slowly let your grip on him go. You were panting, lying back on the still vibrating washing machine, staring at the ceiling, taking in that feeling of ecstasy.

Bucky stood up and stared at you. He loved the sight of you. You were panting, cheeks red, a total mess. All for him.

Bucky looked around, thinking of how and where he was going to fuck you. He eyed the table.

"Get up, doll." he told you

You sat up, breathless, "Why,"

"Machine's too tall, beautiful. Can't fuck you up there."

Just hearing Bucky say that made your pussy twitch. He placed either hand on your hips and helped you down. You stood, leaning against the washing machine as Bucky began undressing in front of you.

He tossed his shirt to the side, and began taking his pants down. He stood in front of you in only his underwear.

"Take them off," you begged

Bucky gave you a smug look before pulling them down as well.

You moaned, just at the sight of him. You hadn't realized that the supersoldier serum would affect that part of him as well.

You moved toward him, taking his huge cock in your hand. You ran your finger over his tip, precum already leaking out

"Fuck," he muttered

"That's the idea," you said.

Bucky gripped your hips tight, shoving you toward the table in the corner of the room. He lifted you up and sat you down on the edge.

"Lean back, so I can shove my dick in you." he ordered

You obeyed. Lying flat on the table, bringing your heels up so they were resting on the table as well. You kept your eyes on Bucky, he traced his finger up and down between your folds. You twitched at the smallest touch.

"Please," you whined

Bucky grinned at you, before taking his cock in his hand, and lightly brushing it up against you.

Bucky lined himself up with your entrance, and slowly slid inside. You cried out in pleasure the deeper he got. You felt so tight with his massive cock. You watched Bucky push the rest of himself in. He shot his head back, mouth open, moaning loudly.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he said breathlessly

You both stayed still, taking in the feeling of Bucky stretching you out. He pulled you closer to him, taking either of your legs and putting them over his shoulders. When he pulled you tight against him, you could feel him get even deeper inside of you.

Bucky slowly began to rock in and out of you. The feeling overwhelming. You couldn't hold in your moans. Never had it felt so good to have someone so close and so deep inside of you.

You shot your hand down to your clit, moving it slowly between your fingers as Bucky began to pick up his pace. You already knew it wasn't going to take much for you to come again, especially with how Bucky was moving in and out of you.

Bucky slowed his pace, sliding out of you, and then pushing back in hard. You circled your clit harder as he continued thrusting in and out.

He pushed in, and you moaned hard, arching your back.

"Right there, don't stop." you said

Bucky kept his pace, thrusting in and out. He knew you were close to coming again.

"Such a good girl," he said to you

Hearing Bucky call you that was enough. You circled your clit twice more before your walls came crashing down. Your other hand gripped the side of the table.

"Oh my god,"

Your pussy twitched around his dick, but he didn't stop moving. He continued fucking you through your orgasm.

You groaned, knowing if he kept going like this another orgasm wouldn't be far behind. Both your arms were spread, gripping different ends of the table. Bucky brought his hand down to your clit. Running his thumb over it, over, and over, and over again.

Bucky rocked his hips into you, thrusting hard and fast. You moaned every time you felt him hit deep inside of you, his thumb still running over your clit. Your walls clenched against his dick once more. That was exactly what he needed. Bucky threw his head back, pulling himself out of you, spurting his come all over your stomach.

Bucky stood in front of you, letting your legs fall from his shoulders. you were still lying back on the table. Both of you stayed silent, trying to catch your breath.

The washing machine began to sing.

"Guess you got three loads done today," Bucky joked, cracking a small grin, looking down at you.

"Oh my god." you said, rolling your eyes at his awful joke.

Bucky held out his hand to you, offering to help you off the table. You grabbed his hand, and stood up. Your faces were only a few inches from each other.

"We should probably clean you up," Bucky said, not taking his eyes off of you.

You sighed, as Bucky turned away to grab you a towel from across the room.

You cleaned yourself off, and you both got dressed again. Bucky stayed with you as you switched your laundry from the washing machines into the dryers, 100% eyeing your ass as you bent over.

"Ever sit on top of the dryer?" Bucky joked.

"Too hot," you answered, laughing slightly.

You walked toward Bucky, he was sitting in one of the chairs at the table. He grabbed your hand pulling you close to him. You sat down on his lap, and he gripped your face with one of his hands, placing a long kiss on your lips.

"Maybe I should start helping you with your laundry every week," he stated

"Every other week," you corrected.

"No, darling. Every week."

#Peterspidey #sebastianstan #the falcon and the winter soldier #Sebastian stan smut #Bucky barnes smut #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier smut #the winter soldier fanftiction #the winter soldier imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier smut #Sebastian stan imagine #seb stan smut #Sebastian stan x reader #mcu #smut

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

Text

Yes, Mr. President || The Clock (18+)

art by @multiverse-mxdness

happy Saturday besties!

story summary: Scandal! AU– your mentor, David Rossi, has recruited you to make Senator Aaron Hotchner the next President of the United States. Once described as a political nun, the Senator helps you see that maybe you can mix business and pleasure.

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: SMUT 18+ CONTENT MINORS DNI, d/s dynamic, sir kink thigh riding, oral (f receiving) penetrative sex, discussion of adultery, food consumption

wordcount: 2.6k

Aaron is used to Fridays feeling untenably long. Working at Camp David all day, waiting for it all to be over so you could show up— the minutes felt like hours, but at least it was an anxious excitement. The day feels even longer today, with nothing to show for it. No trip to Camp David, no secret hideaway, no stolen time, no you. The world was in a stalemate— Haley was waiting for him to budge. You and Rossi were waiting for Haley to attack. No one was yielding— and he didn’t know how much more of it he could take.

Fridays have felt unbearably long for a few months now— but that tension used to break, each night around 7pm. Today, it’s 6:45 and there’s no end in sight— just tension and anticipation as far as the eye can see. Rossi bustles in a few moments later, and while it’s not exactly welcome, it’s at least a distraction.

“The dam’s about to break,” Rossi says as he shuts the door behind him. “Mr. President, it’s game over. Time to call it a draw.”

“I’m sorry?” Aaron says, not following Rossi’s explanation.

“There’s a news truck parked outside of Blair House. Haley’s ready to show her hand, and it’s a good one. A presidency-ending one. It’s time to fold,” he explains more clearly. “You’ve got to give her what she wants— give her whatever she wants. Because you love this job— you love being President, and you have to sacrifice for what you love. It’s time to go to her. Give her the damn moon, for Christ’s sake. Go to her, and save your Presidency, Hotch,” Dave practically begs. “Time is running out— we ran the clock as far as it would take us, and now it’s time to act, to do something.”

Aaron takes a long moment to consider his next move— Rossi’s right. There’s no more time to wait it out, and Haley isn’t going to fold. He needs to make his choice. He takes a deep breath, and nods. “Alright,” Aaron says, giving Rossi a decisive nod. “Edie!” He calls out. “Can you please let Tom and Hal know that we’re on the move?”

Rossi lets out a sigh of relief.

++++++++

You’ve been an anxious mess all day– it’s the kind of worry that a night in Aaron’s arms could usually fix, but that is frustratingly not an option. Aaron’s made his position on you “working” this crisis very clear– but you can’t help but keep an eye on things. There are rumblings, whispers that the First Lady is going to be making an announcement tonight, that it’s going to be major. People think she may be announcing a pregnancy. If you weren’t so upset by the whole situation, you might laugh.

Derek, for his part, can tell that something is off, but has the good grace not to ask you about it in front of JJ and Emily. You’re too distracted to get any meaningful amount of work done– you stay later than all the others, but end up calling it quits around 6 o clock. You lock up, and your bodyman, Jake, is waiting for you in the lobby.

“Well, I lived,” you say with a sigh, not fully up to the joke. “How do you keep yourself entertained?”

“You’re assuming I haven’t been out here doing jiu jitsu on would-be assailants all day,” Jake points out as the two of you make your way into the parking garage.

“In that case, you must be exhausted,” you buy in.

“It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it,” he agrees.

“In all seriousness, I take it nothing’s come up?” You ask.

“That’s difficult to say. There are plenty of leads we could investigate— like, for example, the man who walks past the office 8 minutes before you each morning and tosses his empty coffee cup in the garbage outside your lobby. We could investigate all of these people who cross your path regularly— most, if not all, would turn out to be completely normal people who only cross your path by coincidence. But if you’re asking if I think you should be worried about a threat to your life—”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking,” you clarify.

“Then I would say no, you seem to be safe. We haven’t intercepted anything that would be determined a threat.”

“So you aren’t going to follow me home, then?” You ask.

“Unfortunately, ma’am, those orders will have to come from the President.”

“I figured as much,” you groaned. “I guess I’ll see you at home, then” you say as you climb into your car.

The agent follows you home, and you allow him to clear your apartment before you enter– he takes his place in the hall. You flick the television on, finding the news and discovering they’re reporting on Haley’s suspected announcement. You sigh— you should call Rossi, you think, but would your help be welcome?

You pick up the phone to call— you should at least offer, you think, when there’s a knock at the door.

The door swings open and reveals the President. You’re too shocked to speak for a moment, but then a thought occurs to you, comes out on top of all of the thousands of questions swirling through your head.

“Where’s Jake?” you ask.

Aaron chuckles a little at your seemingly out-of-place question. “I sent him home,” he explains as he slips by you and into your apartment, shucking off his suitcoat and tossing it over your loveseat as if it has always belonged there.

“What is happening?” You continue, following him into the living room.

“What do you mean, Angel?” He asks, as if all of this is normal. He opens the coat closet, hangs his trench coat next to yours. It looks really beautiful there.

“Why are you here?” You clarify, a mix between incredulity and anxiety.

“It’s Friday night. We’re spending the evening together. Maybe the whole weekend, if you don’t kick me out,” he explains simply, flashing you a lazy, boyish grin to punctuate his sentence.

“You can’t be here,” You say, your first statement since he walked in.

“Someone told me something very wise today,” Aaron says, completely ignoring your assertion. “They said ‘give the person you love whatever they want.’ So I’m here, asking you– am I still what you want?”

“Aaron. Haley’s clock runs out in 22 minutes–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I know. She’s going public on prime time,” he says.

“She’s going to go nuclear. You shouldn’t be here, you should be in your car heading down Pennsylvania Avenue towards the Blair House, and you should be begging for her forgiveness. You need to do something, Aaron, because if you don’t, your chances for re-election—”

“Are very slim. And that’s my problem, not yours.” he finishes the sentence he interrupted. “Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn.”

“You don’t care that the clock is running out— that she’s going to tear your legacy apart with one interview?”

“I’m gonna sit here with you and watch while she does it,” Aaron answers.

“Does Rossi know where you are? Maybe he can talk to Haley and get you an extension,” you strategize, slipping into your fixer personality in an instant as you reach for your cell.

“Hang up the phone,” he tells you, settling in on your couch as if he belongs there. Maybe he does. ‘Hang up the damn phone,” he repeats, and this time you listen. “You can’t fix this one. You can’t fix the fact that I’m in love with you. I love you more than I love being President,” he confesses, and it stirs something inside of you— you’d always wondered. Even if you had a suspicion that you knew the answer, it was staring you in the face now. “I’ve told you that I’d give it all up for you, and I’ve meant it, every single time. But I don’t think you believe me,” he says, and it’s in no way an accusation, but it still draws feelings of guilt out of you. “I think you really believe that I will never choose you— and that you have to choose me. So this time, I’m fixing things, Angel. You and I are going to sit here for the next twenty minutes, and the clock is going to run out on my marriage, and you are going to watch me choose you. I’m choosing you, sweet girl. I always have.”

“You wouldn’t,” you whisper.

“I would,” he disagrees. “I will. I’m going to. Sit. Sit with me and watch me choose you,” he requests. “Unless you don’t want me.”

There’s a beat, and Aaron nearly regrets putting the thought in your mind at all. His stomach clenches and his fingernails dig into the cushions of the sofa— he’s just about to sprint out the door when he looks up and sees your face, nearly split in two with the force of your grin.

“Silly, stupid man,” you chastise him, launching yourself into his lap and taking his head in both of your hands, kissing him deeply.

He wraps his arms around your waist to secure you on the couch, tilting his jaw up towards you to grant you more access to his mouth.

“It’s always been you,” He murmurs into the soft skin of your neck before kissing you there.

It takes basically no time at all for your kisses to grow more intense and desperate. Aaron fingers the hem of your blouse and you help him pull it off, tossing it somewhere in the kitchen. He grips the tops of your thighs, hoisting you up and bringing you to the bedroom, where he places you against the mattress with reverence.

“It’s always been you, my love. Always,” he whispers as he kisses from your lips, down your chest and your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your pants, which he removes deftly.

You whine a little, and he chuckles, coming back to kiss your lips as you’d requested wordlessly. He snakes a hand between your bodies as he does so, drags his fingers down the planes of your stomach and slides them underneath the elastic of your panties. You buck towards him, and he smiles against your lips.

“You’ll get yours, angel,” he teases, dipping two fingers in between your folds. You’re undoubtedly aroused, but not quite ready yet. Aaron doesn’t mind. Getting you there is half the fun. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you into his lap, straddling one of his thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck and he unhooks your bra. Once that’s discarded, he places his hands on both of your hips, helps you rock back and forth– you’re pressing into the silk of your panties and the fabric of his slacks, and it feels absolutely intoxicating. You moan out, throwing your head back.

Your eyes are closed, so you’re caught off guard when you feel Aaron’s mouth close around your nipple. You gasp, and you can feel Aaron’s smug grin against you. “Fuck, Aaron,” you whimper.

“Go ahead, baby, get after it,” he encourages you, beginning to lift his thigh in time with your thrusts against it. You increase your speed, and he grunts a little to keep pace with you. “So fucking sexy. Are you gonna come like this?”

“Close,” you gasp out.

“Good,” he says. “That’s my naughty girl. Say it,” he commands you.

“I’m a naughty girl, Sir,” you repeat, throwing your head back.

“My naughty girl,” he corrects.

“Your naughty girl,” you agree, smiling. He sucks at the pulse point on your neck and you come undone with a cry.

He helps you off of his thigh and onto the mattress gently, crawling down to the end of the bed and removing your now-soaked panties and his own slacks and dress shirt. “How are you doing?” He asks, his voice gravelly— it shoots right to your core.

“I’m good,” you tell him.

“You sure? We can take a break,” he says.

You’re a little suspicious, now— two rounds in quick succession is relatively standard for you. “I’m sure,” you tell him.

He nods, taking your ankle in his hand and kissing his way up your calf and thigh, stopping only for a moment before you can feel his breath against you.

“What about you?” You ask.

“Tonight’s not about me. I’ll get mine,” he winks at you before sucking your clit in between his lips.

“Oh, Christ! Aaron,” you cry out, and he releases you from his mouth with an obscene pop before drinking from your entrance. . It’s always harder for you to get the second orgasm than it is the first, but Aaron doesn’t shy away from working at it— lapping from you and teasing you in all the right ways like it’s a full time job.

“Aaron, Aaron—” you warn him, reaching your arm down and tugging at his hair, but he’s undeterred. He leads you over the edge again, the pleasure peaking higher and for longer than it had the time before.

“Oh, shit,” you say as you come down, and Aaron smiles. He gives you a moment to collect yourself, pouring you a glass of water from the decanter on your bedside table.

“Drink,” he tells you, bringing the glass to your lips and tipping it ever so slightly. You level him with a glance, and he answers your wordless question. “I think I can get four out of you,” he says.

“You think so, huh?” You smirk. “And what about you?”

“I’m good with just the one,” he says. “I’m not high maintenance. Besides, watching is just as much fun for me,” he teases you, and you roll your eyes.

“Go ahead and do your worst, then,” you invite him, laying back against the mattress.

You’re already good and wet, so he doesn’t waste any time in sinking into you. Even as prepared as you were, he still finds his way into the deepest parts of you, and the feeling of it is addictive. He does his best at being gentle, but he’s painfully hard by now, and the two of you were never really the slow and sweet type. You’ll be sore in the morning, if you’re even able to move to begin with. Four orgasms, you let out a little laugh. Was he trying to kill you?

“Something funny?” He asked, leaning in to kiss your jaw.

“Not exactly,” you tell him as he brings his fingers to your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure to get you to number three.

He comes as you squeeze him in the throes of your orgasm, but doesn’t slow down— he continues to pump and work at you, and as soon as your third orgasm stops, the fourth begins. It’s good– insanely good. Mind numbingly good. You literally feel your brain turning into puzzle pieces, shaken around in their box.

“Did I get you good and fucked out, angel?” Aaron asks as he slips out of you.

“Yes sir,” you say dreamily. “Thank you.”

He chuckles. “It was my pleasure,” he tells you, kissing your forehead. “Stay right here. I’m going to get a washcloth and a snack for you.”

“I couldn’t move if I wanted to,” you call after him as he heads into the bathroom, and he smirks.

He comes back a few moments later with the promised washcloth and some cut fruit from your fridge.

“Aaron,” you mumble as he cleans you up.

“Yeah, angel. You okay?” He asks tenderly.

“M’okay,” you assure him. “I think we missed Haley’s thing, though,” you say, and he laughs.

“We’ll catch it on the eleven o’clock news.”

tagging: @call-me-mrsreid @dadbodhotch11 @arsonhotchner @shyhotch @the-modernmary @ssamorganhotchner @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @skyler666 @mintphoenix @gspenc

@g-l-pierce @wheelsupkels @chelseagirl77 @ashhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader fic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds #hotch x you #hotch x reader fic #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #scandal au #scandal

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redhairedfeistynerd · 3 years

Text

Mask and You Shall Receive

This is for @jtargaryen18 Friday the 13th Flash Fiction Challenge. I chose the quote “She can’t hide; no place to hide” and there will be a hockey mask.

Words: 1400+

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: 18 +

SMUT, rough sex, sexual fantasies, and I’m going to warn dub con/non con because of what did/did not transpire

Please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works. I appreciate likes, comments, and reblogs! Thanks for reading!

Summary: A lover of horror films, you reveal one of your fantasies to your darling husband.

It was only the nights that Steve worked late, that you kept the ensuite light on. A childhood routine that stuck with you on the nights your mom was out, or perhaps on the evenings, after watching a scary film with your babysitter; despite the warnings from both of your parents that the nightmares would come. It’s the darkness at this very moment that has surprised you.

But it isn’t the pitch black that has pulled you from your sleep, it was the movement, the hand that had shifted across your stomach and pulled your t-shirt up passed your breasts, sleep shorts long abandoned during this summer’s heat wave. His breath, warm against the back of your neck comes in quick bursts. A leg had been pushed between both of yours, the top angled slightly back as he had needed the space to enter you. You were usually such a light sleeper, and you were surprised that you had missed the push it took for him to insert his large cock deep within you.

The thrusts came in quick, rough bursts, not the usual pace Steve Rogers took. His hands are greedy, running over your breasts, left to right, left to right before pinching one of your nipples with such force, that a scream escaped from the corner of your mouth that wasn’t pressed into your king size pillow. The sheets under you burn fire into your skin and he forcefully keeps pushing in and out.

“Steve. Steeeve,” you panted out. “What… oh fuck, right there, that’s it baby,” you spit into your pillow, the saliva smearing across your cheek and leaving the space under your face damp.

He’s handsy with you tonight, his grip on you fierce. There’s no kissing, no passionate words escaping his mouth. It’s different, not feeling his lips all over you, how he’d lick the back of your neck and nip at it, tonight he’s all hands, molding your breasts into a masterpiece. Squeezing as hard as he can and pulling the flesh away from your chest.

The grunts get louder, the quick in out of his cock intensifies. His sweaty chest presses and slides up your back. You can’t remember it ever being this wet before, your back, between your legs, the back of your neck where his breath repeatedly hits. The sounds coming from your cunt are loud, you can feel your fluids dripping and coating the inside of your thighs as he moves with fervor in and out of you. You push into him more, clenching around him and shoving your ass into him with force. It spurs him on, his movements rough, not the warm, sweet love-making that Steve Rogers usually bestowed upon you.

There’s a neediness within you; one where you need his mouth on you, those plump lips roaming across your skin, the taste of his saliva mixing with yours. You shove back against him, and raise your head from your pillow; you’re able to turn your head and reach your hand around to grab Steve’s head for the kiss you’re craving. But as your hand tries to pull his hair and pull him closer to you, your fingers run across…material at the back of his head? He’s resistant to your motions, and as you pull his head closer, cold, hard plastic hits your head. It’s not your husbands face that you make out in the darkness, it’s the popular horror movie character that you had mentioned that night, many months before. You’re intrigued that he’s chosen this night, Friday the 13th, to play out this sexual fantasy with you.

“I’m not going to call you Steve anymore,” you pant into the darkness, “It’s Jason fucking me now. Aren’t you, Jason? Ramming that huge, murderous cock into me, those deep wet breaths and moans into my ears.”

No words escape his mouth, but a guttural moan fills your room, and you can’t help but smile as you grind into him harder.

“Oh Jason!”

The mask digs into the back of head as he picks up the pace. It’s relentless, its almost painful, and everything that you had fantasized about.

Boosting your upper body, you adjust your arm into the meatiness of your mattress, pushing back with all your weight, using Steve’s cock with more force as your orgasm crawled up and over your skin. Gripping the sheets, your scream out his name, dousing both of you with your juices. He isn’t far behind, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back, each hard thrust coinciding with a deep moan as he comes inside you.

His fist loosens in your hair after he finishes, his chest, still pressed against your back is hot and sweaty.

You’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open after this unexpected adventure and fall asleep to the movement of your husbands’ breaths.

The bed is empty when you wake, hours later than usual, your head throbbing. Strange. I only had that one glass of wine with dinner. The other half of the bed is cold, the sheets tucked in as if Steve had never slept beside you during the night. But he was here. That ridiculous mask on, the one you had joked about him wearing when you two drank too much one night while watching Friday the 13th.

“Shh, quiet, I love this part” as you cover Steve’s mouth to hear, “She can’t hide; no place to hide.”

You were discussing the strangest fantasies you thought about and revealed to your somewhat vanilla husband, that something about Jason Voorhees turned your crank. The mask did something to you, caused a wetness between your legs. As embarrassed as you were exposing your deep, dark fantasies to Steve, you saw a glimmer in his eyes at the thought of entertaining you in this manner. And the sex that night, rougher than usual, sweaty, Steve’s vanilla tendencies dissipating as he burst, thrusting so, so deep inside you.

You find your husband in the kitchen, spatula in hand as he cooked breakfast on the stove.

“Well, look at you. First you rock my world last night and now you make me breakfast? Keep this up and I might stay awhile,” you say smiling and give him a quick hug from behind.

“What are you talking about? I stayed late working on a plan with Tony for the new recruits,” he said, giving you a look of confusion. “You got some boyfriend I don’t know about, sweetheart?”

The name makes you blush, even though its nothing new. “Oh, stop it. Last night was incredibly memorable.”

Steve gave you a look of confusion and before you can say anything, the doorbell rings. You look to him, wondering if maybe one of the guys are stopping by but he shrugs and places your breakfast down in front of you.

“I’ll get it babe! Start without me, OK?” A quick jog to the front door, unlocking and opening it, reveals a package leaning against the side of the house. As you step out, feet bare on the already warm brick path, you lean over to pick up the bagged package, and a light shape catches your eye, laying on the grass. You take a few steps further to see the item clearly.

It’s the mask from last night and it lays glossy plastic shining in the warm sun, on the front lawn, owner long gone. You feel the blood draining from your face, anxiety creeping up slowly and fear slowly closing in, your legs beginning to shake when you hear Steve call your name.

“Y/N?”

You turn to see Steve watching you from the front door. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, trying to hold back your tears and keep yourself from appearing frightened. Moving away from the sight of the mask, you shift your body and try to remain calm as you walk by your husband, giving him a smile before you make your way up the stairs and into the shower to cry and release the horror you feel within. What exactly happened last night?

Steve waits until he hears your bedroom door close and makes his way out to the front lawn. Picking up the mask, he tosses it into the air, catching it, a smirk and chuckle escaping his face before he heads back into the house, closing the front door behind him. He listens, making sure he can hear the shower running in your room before he opens the hallway closet, reaching up to hide the mask under a pile of junk that belongs to him that you’ll never sift through.

“Next year baby, next year we’ll play again.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #friday the 13th #JF13FF #writing #writing challenge #redwrites

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infernal-fire · 4 years

Text

Just The Benefits (1/2)

Pairings: dark!Steve x you

Warnings: smut, slight overstimulation, dark!Steve, dark!Nomad!Steve

Later in the series: noncon, breeding kink, slight degradation kink, slight praise kink, mentioned dark!Tony, dark!Bucky

Please do not interact with this blog if you are under 18. Your media consumption is your responsibility.

Summary: Y/N wanted the benefits and nothing more. That was the agreement… right? Steve decides it’s not enough.

Word Count: 1600

A/N: This is my first ever fic! I’m really hoping you’ll enjoy this but I also appreciate all feedback <3 I’m planning a second instalment for the fic, which will be longer than this one. I’m out here pretending like someone is going to read this.

Nomad!Steve is the most attractive Steve and you can talk to a wall if you disagree.

(This GIF does not belong to me)

It was convenient. The idea of no strings attached was that it was always supposed to be easy and mutually beneficial. You were enjoying the life of an Avenger and there’s no need to add anything to the mix.

That’s how you found yourself under Steve’s mercy every week. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel anything for him but right now, all you could think about was making sure you didn’t tap out from his girth.

You were bent over his king-size bed, stuffed full of his cock. He cooed praises into your ears and took on a languid pace. He pressed your head down with one arm, wiping your tears on the sheets, wrapping the other around your waist. His cock was moving in and out of you like a piston, making a squelching noise that your loud moaning drowned out.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to speed up” he moaned, and you whimpered in response. His speed had you lurching forward on every thrust, the room reverberating with the sound of skin slapping.

His cock repeatedly battered your cervix, which was becoming more sensitive by the second. You cried out as your eyes crossed and your muscles went limp, the crashing waves of your orgasm possessing you.

“That’s it, baby, cream my cock. I’m so close.” his grunts filled your ears as he leaned over you. The hand that was holding your head made its way to your neck and he pulled you up flush against him while the other hand began toying with your engorged clit. You were full-on crying from the overstimulation now; he hadn’t slowed down since you came. You were on your tippy-toes, trying to alleviate the pressure on your abused cunt.

After a few more thrusts, he pushed in one last time and squeezed your body before giving you some experimental thrusts. He pulled out and held your almost-passed-out frame by the hips and lifted you onto the bed.

“Jesus Y/N was I too rough?” You weakly shook your head as you closed your eyes and held his hand. He tucked you into his sheets, tossed the condom across the room and rounded the bed, settling beside you.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you mumbled.

He paused as if he were pondering what he was going to say. In reality, he began taking in your naked, tired form that looked unreal yet ethereal on his bed. With your back to Steve, you had no idea he was feasting on the sight in front of him.

“What is it?” the slight raspiness of your voice alluded to your exhaustion.

“I don’t want to be friends with benefits anymore.”

You turned around to face him and propped yourself up on your elbow. The surprise of his statement was overriding your body’s pleas to sleep.

“Did I… do something?” You were honestly unsure of what to say.

He paused again. “It’s not enough for me. I know we came into this saying no strings attached but I care way too much for you.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t that. Steve took your silence as a cue to continue.

“I think I love you. No, I-I know I love you. I want the whole thing with you, not just sex. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay with just sex. You know, I had feelings for you before you agreed to this. I had a feeling you might not say yes to a serious relationship so I proposed this arrangement.”

His speech initially started with uncertainty but as he spoke, he became sure of himself. He was sure you would agree. You two were perfect together and there was no denying it in Steve’s mind.

You got out of bed and began rummaging through the clothes strewn on the ground.

“I cannot believe you asked me to do this with your feelings involved. That was very manipulative and…” you trailed off. Did you want this? No. He messed with you. You affirmed it to yourself and picked up the rest of your clothes. “You were manipulative and this isn’t going to happen anymore. I told you I didn’t want a relationship to cloud my judgement with my missions.”

“Where are you going?” he began getting out bed, panic slightly evident in his voice.

You weren’t going to cry. But you were slightly hurt that he had a hidden agenda and that you were too stupid to not notice it. You turned to leave before he gripped your forearm.

“I know you’re angry, but you want this too.” He towered over you. The unexpected calm in his voice was unsettling.

“You’re scaring me, please let go.” He let you break out of his hold.

“FRIDAY, lock my doors and don’t open unless I say so,” he commanded.

He was beginning to chip at your resolve but you were determined to not show it. You glared at him again instead.

“FRIDAY, contact Tony and tell him Cap locked me in his room.”

He stared at you and stared back. Under the façade of toughness, you were crumbling and scared out of your mind. You didn’t want to stay and find out why he locked the door. What could he do when the entire team would question your whereabouts the next day?

The seconds stretched on before he finally spoke again. “You’re making a mistake. You want this.”

“Tony has overridden your request, Steve. Y/N, the door is now unlocked.” FRIDAY called out.

You turned and speed-walked out of the room, not turning back to look at Steve who was now lowly chuckling to himself.

He wondered if you really thought this was the end of this conversation.

You turned to your missions to help you cope with the loss of one of your best friendships. You give men a little bit of space in your life and they think you owe them the world. Worst of all, you should’ve seen this coming. Little touches, smiles that always reached his eyes and hugs that lasted a little longer they should. Not mentioning walking you to your room after training, making your breakfast and taking special care of you after a particularly difficult mission. You were truly a fool for not realizing it sooner.

Everyone is scared of something, even the Avengers. For you, it was this new side of Steve. You weren’t even sure how to act around him anymore. The relationship was on the low and not many people knew about it; Bucky knew for sure, and now, Tony must have an idea as well. Tony didn’t ask you why Cap locked you in your room. That should have been the first red flag that your teammates weren’t on your side.

You proceeded as if things were normal around Steve and he did too. There was no reason not to, right? He just acted out because of the rejection, you thought to yourself.

All the Avengers sitting down for dinner was a rare occurrence, but this particular Friday, there was a crowd in the dining room of the compound.

You were happy today. Your paperwork had been a breeze and you had a good weekend planned for yourself. Around the table, Tony, Rhodey, Thor were bickering, Clint and Nat were silently observing while Steve and Bucky were engrossed in a private conversation of their own.

“After dinner, we should play a game” Sam piped up through a mouthful. Clint snickered to himself and Sam continued.

“I’m serious, we should play truth or dare… something like that. I barely know anything about you guys, minus things like your favourite way to take a target out.”

“I think it should stay that way” Nat slightly grinned and continued eating.

“Honestly, I agree, I feel like I know nothing about you guys,” you commented, wiping your mouth and clearing your empty plate. Tony grabbed it for you and made his way to the sink. “I wasn’t aware that we were in high school. But tell you what; hide and seek would be interesting with this crowd.” Tony contemplated before finishing his thought: “Barnes and Romanoff should try to find us. That would be a kicker.”

“That sounds a lot better than truth or dare. I’m game” Nat said before getting and stretching. Bucky quietly chuckled and everyone began to clean up the table.

“So this is really happening?” Rhodey laughed as everyone made their way to the living room.

Bucky and Nat stood in front of everyone and negotiated rules. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how blessed you were to be a part of something so amazing.

“Okay then, 5 minutes to hide and 30 minutes to be found. If you’re found you have to do their paperwork for a week.” Clint finalized and everyone nodded.

“Alright, off you go,” Nat said before settling into a couch, observing everyone that scrambled off.

Thor looked lost, unsure where to go. He rarely stayed at the compound. You pointed him in the direction of the gym before racing past and making your way to your spot. There was a supply closet that you had a feeling Nat wouldn’t bother checking. Bucky knew of it, but you had a back-up escape route in mind if he decided to look there. You got to the closet and silently slipped in before sliding the door closed and settling into the corner. After a few minutes, you heard light footsteps that became louder. It hadn’t been 5 minutes yet. Whoever was coming to your spot, you were prepared to tell them to buzz off before the closet door opened to reveal Steve.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

Part 2

Masterlist

Tagging some people I want to be friends with 🥺

@smutsonian @imanuglywombat @nastybuckybarnes @candy-and-writing @speechlessxx @mariessecretfantasies @mypoisonedvine @harryspet @nsfwsebbie @cherienymphe @imdarkinme @ironlady1993 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @sherrybaby14 @mcudarklibrary

#dark!steve x you #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve smut #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve #dark!tony #dark!tony stark #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky x you #smut #mcu #darkmcu

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Note

Congrats on the followers my friend!! You deserve all of them and many more!

I'd like to request a little something with Javier Peña, with the prompt "I can't stop thinking about you" (from dialogue prompts to make readers swoon). I'll let you decide how sweet or spicy it is, just however it strikes you. 😘

Thank you, and congrats again!!

Oh my gosh, JEN!!!! I love you so much! I hope you enjoy this slow-burn, sprinkling-of-angst-with a happy ending!

Here is a sweet "confessional" story for Javier x female DEA agent under the cut!!

The bar was half-empty, or half-full, you weren’t quite sure. And maybe it didn’t matter anyway, since you only had eyes for the man with the mustache across the table from you. He stubbed out his 5th (or was it 6th?) cigarette of the night into the amber glass ashtray on the table. You watched him purse those perfect lips and blow the stream of smoke up and away from the booth. His coffee-brown eyes came back to yours, the depths of them muted in the blue neon lights. You stared just a beat too long, and then blinked.

You shifted your attention to the table and stirred the last of your drink with your straw, watching the half-melted ice swirl in a lazy circle. Maybe tonight you would tell him how you felt. You lifted your eyes just in time to see Javier turn his head away from you to watch a very attractive woman walk by. He followed her with his eyes until she was out the front door.

Maybe not.

Javier turned back to you and waved over your head at the waitress for another round.

“You really want to stay?” You couldn’t hide the little bladed edge of irritation in your voice. Whether you stayed at the bar or not, you didn’t want to be around Javier any longer than you had to. You saw enough of him at work, and you weren’t interested in being his ‘pity date’ on a Friday night just because Steve couldn’t make it out for drinks.

Javier frowned at you, “I thought we were supposed to be celebrating tonight, amiga. Big win with the arrest warrant this week, remember? Why are you so cranky?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, and then rubbed your tired eyes. “It’s been a long week, and I just don’t feel very festive tonight. Okay?”

The waitress brought your drinks and Javier tossed a few bills on her tray. You picked up your third drink (fourth?) and watched Javier watch the waitress walk away. You downed your drink in record time and stood. “Right, I’m going home.”

“Already? We just got here.”

You snapped, “No, you just got here, I’ve been here all night, watching you watch other women. Not as much fun for me as it was for you. I’m done.”

You made for the ladies room and peed, then sat there for an extra two minutes, hoping that Javi would be gone by the time you got back out. You only got up when another woman needed the stall. You washed your hands as slowly as you dared, then dried them carefully and reapplied your lip balm at a snail’s pace. The face in the mirror looking back at you was your own, just sadder and more tired than you had seen her in a while.

When you finally emerged, Javier was right there waiting for you. He was leaning back against the wall opposite the ladies room, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. Anyone who didn’t know him well would have thought he looked casual. You knew he was pissed off. The moment you swung the ladies room door open and stepped out, his dark eyes were on yours. It took your breath away, just for a moment, but that was long enough for him to unfold himself and take your upper arm in his strong grip.

“I’ll make sure you get home safe. I can’t let you travel home this late by yourself, Agent.” Agent. Fuck, he really was pissed.

You didn’t argue, partly because you knew he was in that mood, and partly because of the sensation of his hand, large and warm, wrapped firmly around your arm just above your elbow. It wasn’t painful, but something about feeling how strong his hands were, how he gripped you sent your mind running to the same places it had been running to for months.

Javier propelled you out of the bar to his car, opening the front passenger side door and standing like a sentry until you were tucked in and belted, then he closed the door with a pop. Neither one of you spoke until he parked the car on the ground floor of the garage at the DEA apartment block. Your apartment was just down the hall from Steve and Connie, two floors up from Javier. It was cozy, mostly. Nice to have neighbors who you already knew. Not nice when someone had a crush on someone else and couldn’t avoid them.

Javier turned the engine off and broke the silence first, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

You bit your lips together and nodded, sucking in a deep breath through your nose. Bad idea. The smell of Javier settled deep in your sinuses and stayed there: his cologne and cigarettes and the breath mint he was chewing, and something uniquely him, all of them mixing and intensified in the still air of the car. You blew the long breath out through your mouth and it took most of your hurt feelings with it.

You turned to him but you both spoke at the same time and chaos reigned for a moment.

“Why didn’t you want me looking at-”

“I’m sorry, Javi, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, you go first-”

“No, you can- Wait, what?”

Normally you would have laughed together and cleared the air, one of you deferring to the other to speak first. This time there was something tense. You had been on the verge of apologizing for snapping at him, a means of smoothing things over while sweeping your own discomfort under the rug. You’d hoped that if you could apologize for being sharp, you could get back to ‘normal’ and just be work partners. Like how it was before your heart got in the way. You thought maybe if you just did that enough, buried everything deeply enough, Javier would never guess how you felt.

And if Javier had been any other man, that might have worked. But he wasn’t the type to feign shyness to help ease your own shyness. Another man might have chuckled and looked away from you, played with his hands on the steering wheel to pass a few awkward seconds. Javier used those deep brown eyes to pierce your defenses and asked you the direct question you had been dreading since your outburst at the bar.

“Why didn’t you want me to look at other women?”

You paused, keeping your breathing even. You blinked a few times but you didn’t look away.

“I don’t care. Look at whoever you want. It’s none of my business.” A lie. And he knew it. And worse yet, you knew that he knew it.

“No amiga, you do care. Or at least you did half an hour ago.” You hated how intense he could be, so calm on the outside while he drew secrets out of panicked people via interrogation. “What is it that you don’t want me to know? What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.” You put a hard backing to your next words. “Drop it.”

You turned and opened your door, not waiting for Javier to follow as you speed-walked from his car across the parking garage. You slammed through the door to the lobby and took the stairs two at a time to your floor, telling yourself it was necessary exercise, part of staying in shape for foot chases… not avoidance, not the fear of facing Javier and telling him your embarrassing truth. You heard his footsteps land a moment behind yours, and you didn’t bother holding the stairwell door for him. He caught it on the backswing and was just a step behind you as you approached your door.

“I can get inside from here just fine. Good night.” You spoke your words to the keys in your hand, to your doormat, anywhere but to him.

He reached a hand out to hold your wrist, and it was the most gentle touch he had ever laid on you. It matched his low murmur of, “Hey. Wait…”

You turned to face him, and you opened your mouth to repeat the lies, the denials, to try to say something that would brush over tonight’s embarrassment with a clean sweep and let you face yourself and him in the morning. But the look on his face, the way his eyes were soft instead of probing, the whisper of his touch on your wrist when normally he was rough with his high fives and his handshakes… suddenly your voice didn’t work.

Javier looked at you the way that you had hoped for months that he would look at you, but it wasn’t how you wanted this to go. This painful reveal of innermost secrets and feelings. You wanted him to want you, to be bowled over by you, not to pity you or treat you like an idiot. But still, that look on his face, it struck something deep within you and you decided that you would take that look however you could get it.

You opened your mouth to speak and so did Javier, but this time instead of speaking at cross purposes, instead of a jumble of words tumbling into each other, you both said the exact same thing...

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Heat rose in your face at your own admission, at your absolute sureness that he would peel away from you, be upset at you for feeling too much, but the minute you realized his own words had matched yours, you felt the heat in your face ebb away, and before you could process it, before you could think, Javier mumbled a quick, “Fuck it,” and then his hand was on your waist and you were being pulled into his arms and you just went limp and let him kiss you.

The instant his second kiss landed, your brain came back to life and you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him as deeply as you could, not breaking off even when your next-door neighbor’s apartment door opened, not when it closed again with a soft bang, and not until you felt Javier’s erection grazing your hip.

You finally broke the kiss, breathing out a high-pitched, “Inside?”

Javier grabbed you firmly around the waist and pulled you tighter. “Inside.” His voice was nearly a growl, and you felt your panties get hot and wet.

You took Javier inside your apartment, slamming the door behind you. And you finally confessed everything, with your lips and your body and your legs wrapped around him until the small hours of the morning.

#JHFTM 300 followers celebration #you ask and JHFTM delivers!#javier pena x female reader #javier pena x you #javier peña x reader #Javier pena x reader #javier pena fic

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itsallyscorner · 4 years

Note

positions with chris evans (smut implicit if you feel comfortable) he is her new bf and her ex was a horrible guy. Now she is happy with Chris and is all, fluff

I haven’t written for Chris in a while now and I miss my bubba🥺 Thank you for the request lovely, hope you like it!

💌.

positions

a/n: (f/n) ~ friend’s name

warnings: I’m a bitch for back stories so the beginning is like long....enjoy:) also smut**

Heaven sent you to me

I'm just hopin’ I don't repeat history

You were never good at relationships. You weren’t a horrible person to date; relationships just never worked for you. One ex cheated, another drifted apart, and the last one canceled your engagement. You’ve had it rough. Though, you were confident in yourself and believed that you were an independent woman; you ARE an independent but you just needed some love. You could manage to be on your own. However, you didn’t know how long you’d last until the loneliness got to you.

You were spiraling down a hole of self pity and insecurity after your ex-fiancé called off your engagement. You’ve isolated yourself from your friends and spent more time at the bar. Not to look for some rebound but to wallow in your self pity even more. As if the world knew you needed a pick me up, you bumped into Chris.

You were in one of those lowkey bars in LA drinking a Seagrams. Why a Seagrams? You came alone to the bar which meant you had to drive yourself home. So no getting shitfaced drunk for you.

You were sitting at the bar sipping on your drink as you ate some fries. There was some random football game on the tv but you didn’t pay any mind to it. You were scrolling through your phone when a tall man sat into the seat next to you. You glanced at him, meeting his blue eyes for a second, before you looked back to your phone. Chase, the bartender, asked the stranger with the blue eyes what he wanted.

“Just a beer.” His voice was thick with hints of a Boston accent in it. His large frame settled into a small dainty chair that looked as if it were going to collapse underneath him.

“It’s pretty quiet here for a Friday night.” The man said from beside you. It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. You shut your phone off and turned your attention to him.

“Um yeah, it’s always like that around here.” You answer with a tight smile. His face makes an “oh” kind of expression.

“Ah, it’s my first time around here.” He nods to Chase as he finally gets his beer. You nod at his answer and go back to your phone.

“So do you come here often?” You hear him ask. You sigh as you turn to face him again.

“Yeah, I’ve been going here for a few months now.”

“Alone?” He questioned you as his took a swig of his beer. You didn’t know what his deal was but you just weren’t in the mood for it.

“Yeah, alone.” You stifle a fake laugh as you turn back to your phone. He goes silent for a few minutes, making you think he was done. Until he asked you another question then another. This continued for half an hour. He asked you some random question and you replied with a short half assed answer. He just couldn’t catch a hint.

“Look, if you’re trying to get into my pants, I’m not interested.” You interrupt him as he was asking another question. A smug look made its way onto his face as he held his hands up in surrender.

“Well I wasn’t trying to get into your pants.” He started, “Something seemed to be bothering you so I thought I’d start a conversation with you and you could vent to me.” He defended himself as he shrugged his shoulders. You felt your face flush in embarrassment as guilt took over your body. You cringed at yourself and groaned into your hands.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. You were just being nice and I had to let my ego get in the way.” You apologized as you took your head out your hands. The man chuckled as he waved off your apology.

“Nah, you’re all good. I should’ve been straight to the point.” He rolled his eyes at himself as he leaned forward.

“So, is there anything bothering you? You were literally spaced out while you went though your phone.” He crossed his arms together as he rested his head on his bicep.

“Stalker much?”

“Nah, just observant.”

“I don’t wanna waste your time.” You tell him. He shrugs once again as he leans closer to you.

“I’ve got all night. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday

Then make a lotta love on a Monday (Ah, ah)

Never need no (No), no one else, babe

The bar became a frequent meet up place for you and Chris. The first night you told him about your troubles and he listened without any interruptions, only asking a few questions here and there. The second night you learned about him and his job. Turns out he was Captain America, you still don’t know how you didn’t recognize him. Third night you guys shared an order of fries as he tried to explain a football game to you. The fourth night you listened to him talk about his anxiety and how much he missed his family. The fifth night you two finally took it to his place and spent the early hours of the morning between his sheets.

Now six months later you were still spending the mornings in his sheets but now you were his girlfriend.

The sun was warm against your back as you woke up. You could feel Chris run circles soothingly onto your back making you sigh in content. You felt him press a kiss onto your temple as he pulled you closer to him.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” His voice was gravelly still laced with sleep. You finally open your eyes and see his bright blue eyes staring down at your (e/c) eyes.

“Hey bubs.” You sleepily smile at him as you rub the sleep out your eyes and stretch. Dodger was resting at the foot of the bed, his nose bumping into your or Chris’ foot occasionally.

“You got any plans today?” He asked as he laid on his back taking you with him. You traced the Dodger tattoo on his chest as you thought for a second.

“Mmmm, not much. It’s a lazy Sunday for me.” You shrugged as you glanced up at him, “What are your plans for today?”

“Well my family’s coming over, so we might head to some restaurant and hang there.” He mentioned as he carded his fingers through your hair.

Suddenly an idea popped into your head, “Why don’t they just come over for dinner?” Chris’ head snaps down at you.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll cook and they could come over for dinner. Plus aren’t they just coming from the airport? I’m sure they’d want to be comfortable instead of going to a restaurant.” You explained as you flipped over to rest on your elbows. Chris looked at you adoringly as you waited for him to reply.

“You’d do that for me?” He asked sounding a bit shocked.

“Yeah, of course I would, Chris. They’re you’re family and you’ve mentioned that you’ve been missing them for a while. So whatever makes you happy.”

Chris says nothing before he leans forward to catch your lips into a passionate kiss. You giggle against him as he turns you over so you’re resting on your back.

’Cause I'll be

Switchin' them positions for you

Cookin' in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom

I'm in the Olympics, way I'm jumpin' through hoops

Know my love infinite, nothin’ I wouldn’t do

That I won't do, switchin’ for you

“Chris. If— If I’m going to be cooking—“ you begin to say but Chris just keeps interrupting you with his lips. You laugh as you push his face away from yours. He opens his eyes and looks down at you upset.

“Baby, if I’m going to cook for your family, I need to start now. I don’t even know what I’m gonna make yet.” Chris hangs his head down as he huffs.

“We can figure that out later, right now I just wanna show you how much I love you right now.” He moved your hands off his shoulders and used one of his hands to hold both your wrists above you.

His pupils were dilated as he gazed lovingly at you. He turns away for a second to tell Dodger to leave the room. When you hear the pitter patters of Dodger’s nails down the hall, Chris slots himself in between your legs. He presses his hard on against your clothed mound making your breath hitch. His lips meet yours again, but this time they moved slower as if they were savoring the feeling of you against them.

You wrap your legs around his torso and push his hips down to meet yours as you grind against him. The feeling makes you moan as his bulge rubs against you. You could feel yourself starting to get wetter and wetter as Chris’ tongue slips into your mouth.

You whine as you try to get your wrists out of his grip. You bite down on his lip as you pull away to stare up at him with your hazy eyes. The action causes Chris to groan and rut his hips against you even more. You let go of his lip and kiss down his jaw to his neck.

“Take those off.” You whine as your feet kick at his boxers.

“Impatient, huh?” Chris chuckles before he listens to you. You feel his length brush up against your thigh making you want him even more.

“I want you in me, Chris.” You moan against his ear. Chris uses his free hand to remove your panties and toss them to the side. His cold fingers run past your folds as he spreads your wetness. The coldness compared to your warmth made you flinch.

“Look at that, baby. Got you all wet and I haven’t even done anything yet.” He tsked huskily as he brings his fingers with your juices to rest on your lips. You wrap your lips around his fingers and swirl your tongue around them as you taste yourself on him.

“I love you so much. Do you know that?” He asks you through gritted teeth. He takes his length and starts to stroke it. You bite your lip as you see his red tip glaring up at you. You could see the pre cum drip from his slit and onto your stomach. You take some of his pre cum and bring it down to your pussy to mix with your arousal.

“Fuck.” Chris groans as he sees your fingers scissor your folds making you writhe underneath him. Your head felt like it was in a haze as you stroked yourself while Chris sucked and toyed with you nipples. Chris began to move south but you stop him.

“Baby, as much as I would like to have you eat me out, I really need to get a head start on cooking.” You painfully tell him. You really wanted him down there but it was nearing the afternoon and you wanted to make sure the food was perfect for his family. Chris sighs knowing you’re right.

“Alright, alright. But my head’s going to be down there all day tomorrow. Wanna see you cum all over my face and drip down the sheets. You’re not gonna be able to walk for weeks.” He declares before lining himself up with your entrance. You lazily smile at him as you peck his lips.

Perfect, perfect

You're too good to be true (You're too good to be true)

But I get tired of runnin', fuck it

Now, I’m runnin' with you (With you)

“I love you, Chris.”

“I love you too, (y/n).” He says before plunging himself into you. His length stretches you out, the burn of pain and pleasure made your back arch.

You’ve had sex with Chris many times, but the feeling of him entering you and stretching you out would never get old. You loved how your walls just molded around him and how he perfectly filled you up to the brim.

He begins to move out before plunging back into you. When Chris noticed that you’ve gotten comfortable with his length his thrusts began to speed up. You moved your knees to rest against your chest so you can feel him deep inside you. His rough thrusts made your eyes roll to the back of your head as you moaned Chris’ name out loud.

“Hey, hey, no. Look at me.” He tilts your face at him so your eyes are connected. He rests his forehead against yours as his hands rest on your legs for leverage.

When he feels your walls tighten around him he brings his thumb to your clit and rubs tight circles and figure eights on it. You let out a high pitch moan as the tightness in your belly gets tighter.

“C—Chris I’m gonna cum.” You say through labored breathing.

“Yeah, I know. Come on, cum, I’m right behind you.” He tells you as he thrusts into you a few more times. Your orgasm takes over your body as you arch against Chris. He emptied himself into you, riding out his high.

The two of you laid beside each other on the bed as you caught your breath. You turned your head to look at Chris, to find him already looking at you.

“So, uh steak sounds really good for tonight.” He says making the two of you burst out in laughter.

This some shit that I usually don't do (Yeah)

But for you, I kinda, kinda want to (Mmm)

'Cause you're down for me and I'm down too (And I'm down too)

Yeah, I'm down too

The dinner went by like a breeze. You took Chris’ advice and cooked some steak and pasta. You made sure to throw in some fries and chicken nuggets for the kids.

You were now in the living room, sitting with his mom and sisters as they told you old stories about Chris’ childhood.

“I swear that boy kept me on my toes. He was a good kid but always up to something. Poor Scott had to always cover for him.” Lisa mused as she shook her head.

“Yeah poor Scott!” You all heard Scott yell from the kitchen. You all laughed as the two brothers entered the room, a bottle of wine in Chris’ hand as Scott held multiple glasses.

“They haven’t been embarrassing me too much, right?” Chris asked you as he helped you off the couch to sit in your spot. He guided you to sit on his lap as he wrapped his arm around your torso.

“No, besides the fact that you’re a troublemaker and slept with diapers till you were like five.” You teased him.

“Oh come ‘ahn, ma!” He groaned throwing his head back. Lisa put her hands up as she pointed at his sister, “It was Carly!”

They began to talk about how the kids were growing up and caught up with each other’s daily lives. You sat against Chris’ chest as you listened to them.

“You alright?” Chris whispered into your ear as he noticed you get quiet.

“Yeah, are you alright?” You asked turning to face him.

“I’m perfect. Thank you, by the way. I really appreciate it.” He tells you quietly so only you can hear. A small smile is on his face as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Anytime, hun.” You kiss his forehead and tune back into Carly talking about one of her student interactions at work. You felt Chris relax against you as he leaned back onto the couch.

This was why you did the things you did for him. To see him visibly relax around his family and let him feel like he was home. You loved the way his eyes lit up when his niece or nephews would tell him about something new they learned. Or how happy he gets when Scott tells him about some new adventure he and his boyfriend went on. You adored his happiness and you’d do anything in the world to see him like this everyday.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #chris evans #steve rogers #chris evans x reader #cevans #chris evans imagines #christopher robert evans #steve rogers x reader #chris evans one shot #chris evans headcanon #chris evans drabble #Chris evans smut #ally’s 700 celebration #ally’s requests

870 notes · View notes

seokiie · 4 years

Text

𝚁𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 (𝙼)

+ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘏𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘬’𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

+𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7𝘬

+ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘏𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘬/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

+ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘷𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘏𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝗪𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 @gracieinworldofhope 𝗱(^_^𝗼)

On AO3

You and Hoseok have been roommates for.. for...

"Hoseok, how long have we been living together?" You look up at a sweaty Hoseok from your spot on the couch.

"I don't know, uh, maybe a year and a half?" Hoseok puts on a thinking face despite the fact that he was doing stretches in the middle of the living room. You nod.

You and Hoseok have been roommates for a year and a half.

Your parents were pretty against you living with a guy you weren't planning on dating or marrying, but you didn't really care. You needed someone to split rent with and Hoseok was your only longterm, financially trustable friend you had.

Recently, you'd gotten a well-paying job and you didn't need Hoseok as a roommate anymore, but you weren't gonna tell him that. By him staying as your roommate, you're able to save up some extra money and even-

Yeah, no. That's not why you wanted to keep Hoseok as your roommate.

To be completely honest, you've kind of grown attached to the friendly company and it feels so good being able to come home to someone.

And he smells so good.

You'd never admit that last part though.

Hoseok works as a dance choreographer. He's not famous or anything but he's fairly well known. So he's always stretching or dancing or practicing in the middle of the living room. When you first moved in, you really couldn't stand being in the same room as him when he practiced because he'd be all sweaty and wet and he smelled weird.

You really changed from back then.

You're not really sure what chemical imbalance in your brain was suddenly making you think Jung Hoseok was attractive. Well, he was attractive, always has been, but never in a way other than in a best friend sort of way.

"Hobi, don't- don't hug me after you exercise." His chest is so hard. his hands are so veiny. He smells so fucking good. Why does he smell so good?

"You're a lot different from when we first moved in together. You use to push me away, now you just get all flustered and cute." Hoseok's voice is breathless in your ear as he holds you in an awfully intimate back hug, your feet raising from the floor. You whine, struggling in his grasp.

"Put me down, Hoseokkk!" Don't put me down. Push me against the couch. Fuck me. Break me.

"As you wish." Hoseok laughs as he tosses you (not so gently) back onto the couch. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. Can you warm up the takeout in the fridge so we can eat?"

You give him a sound of approval and watch as he speeds down the hall and into the shared bathroom.

Hoseok had taken you out last night since you'd gotten a promotion. He bought you Chinese food then took you to a karaoke place that you've never heard of. Apparently renting private karaoke rooms was expensive, but he did it anyway. Thinking back on it, you two must've gotten some weird looks because why else do two people go out and do karaoke... alone. You try not to dwell on that too much and shove the beef low mien into the microwave.

You jump up to sit on the kitchen counter, watching the container spin around in the microwave. As the time ticks down from three minutes, you find yourself thinking about your roommate. You use to chastise yourself for daydreaming about Hoseok, especially if it was in any way... sexual, but these days you find yourself giving in to the thoughts. The thoughts about Hoseok in the shower. The thoughts about his hands gliding over his lean body as water poured over him.

You bite your lip and cross your legs. You were delving into an area of your mind that you didn't dare touch unless it was the late hours of the night. Regardless, you can't help wondering if Hoseok has ever touched himself while he was in the shower. You can't help wondering what he'd look like touching himself in the shower.

After living with him for so long, it would be a lie to say you haven't seen everything. To be honest, if you had to make a list of all the times you two have been exposed to each other, it would be abnormally long. There was that one time in college when you, him, and some mutual friends went skinny dipping. That was actually the first time you two met and the circumstances were a bit weird.

Then there was that time after he had just moved in, you walked in on him peeing. You couldn't help getting a quick look before fleeing the bathroom with a meek 'sorry'. And there was that time you thought you were home alone so you walked around in a big shirt, nothing underneath. Hoseok walked out of his room and got an eyeful.

So you didn't have to imagine what Hoseok's dick looked like.

You already knew full well.

You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve some of the tension and let out a quiet sigh. Then you make the mistake of imagining Hoseok coming all over his hands and the shower walls. The way his thighs would tremble slightly and the way his face would twist in pleasure. You like to think the face Hoseok makes when he comes is the same face he makes while dancing. Focused, lips between his teeth, chin tilted up, and hair stuck to his forehead. You almost find yourself snaking a hand between your legs when a door slamming and a loud voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Aishhhh, what are you doing? The microwave stopped how long ago and you're just sitting here staring at nothing." Hoseok gives you a raised eyebrow expression, humoring you slightly. "Kinda reminds me of Jungkookie, to be honest."

You uncross your legs and let out a cough that only seems awkward to you as Hoseok opens the microwave and takes out the container of food.

"Let's watch a movie and eat."

Tonight is Friday so its Hoseok's turn to pick the movie.

He picked Wall-E.

Again.

He's made you watch it with him so many times that you think you have the script partially memorized. After bitching about it several times and seeing as he had no intention of changing the movie, you figured you might as well enjoy it the best you can.

"Aren't you cold? You're not under the blanket." The lights were all off except for the faint red LEDs you and him spent hours putting up a few weeks ago. The TV hummed with the familiar Pixar intro theme and the various snacks on the coffee table before you seemed to set the mood perfectly.

"I'm not cold, actually. I feel quite warm." You offer him a slow blink and a smile before turning your attention back to the TV. You were never one to refuse Hoseok's cuddles but you were feeling a little pent up and having him wrapped around you, his scent everywhere, especially after a shower, didn't seem like a bright idea.

"But I'm cold." You can hear the pout in his voice and you roll your eyes. Tempting, but no.

"If you're not in my arms within the next five seconds, I'll have no choice but to use force." Mock authority radiated from his voice and even if it wasn't real, the dominance in his tone made you want to scurry over to his lap and obey. Extremely tempting, but no.

"Five."

"You're not seriously counting right now."

"Four."

"Oh my fucking god, you're kidding me."

"Three."

"Hoseok, you're not my dad. You can't just-"

"Two. If you don't get over here I might have to get the belt." You almost choke at that. His attempt at a joke had somehow managed to make your whole body heat up.

"I- okay, stop, you- I'll cuddle with you, just... relax." That 'relax' was more directed at you than at him. A dimple-full smile graces his face as he opens his arms and pats the spot on his thighs. Very inviting of him.

"Ooh, goo goo! Look at the little baby all warm in daddy's arms!" Hoseok wraps his arms around your waist and pulls your back flush against his chest. If your thoughts weren't dangerous before, they were dangerous now.

"Don't say things like that, weirdo. Pay attention to the movie." Hoseok gives a disgruntled 'okay, okay' before relaxing with you on his lap.

At first, you're a bit hyperaware of the situation. You're sitting in Hoseok's lap and if you press your hips down just right...

No. You stop yourself there.

Hoseok smelled amazing, too. He usually smelled sweet, like artificially flavored candy. But you especially loved how he smelt after a shower because of his natural scent mixed with the rough yet refined fragrance of his body wash. Mm, you could breathe him in all day.

The movie continues fine from there. You respond how you usually do, laughing at the funny parts and whining at the sad parts. Around halfway through, though, you notice Hoseok is kind of shifting under you. You ignored it at first thinking he was trying to get comfy but the shifting has gone on for so long now that you think your ass bones are making him uncomfortable.

"Should I get up? I bet you can barely feel your legs right now." You lean your head back on his shoulder, tossing some caramelized popcorn into your mouth.

"H-huh?" His eyes go a bit wide like you'd caught him doing something he shouldn't. You make a confused face back.

"You keep shifting. If you're uncomfortable we can go back to how we normally cuddle?" Hoseok looks like he honestly contemplates it before opening his legs wider so you were sitting between his legs and keeping his arms wrapped around you.

"No, uh... no. I like having you like this. I mean, It's good. You're not making me uncomfortable." The exact opposite. You laugh then shift your focus back to the movie.

"If you're so sure."

When you wake up, the room is noticeably brighter and you're laying across the whole couch, a thin blanket covering your body. You rub the sleep and the crust out of your eyes before grabbing your phone off the coffee table.

It was 12 pm.

You toss your phone onto the floor and let out an annoyed groan. Not only did you miss your whole entire morning but your neck was a bit sore from sleeping on the couch. Hoseok had obviously meant well by putting a blanket over you while you slept but he couldn't at least carry you to your room? Well, you figure you shouldn't complain, it was a nice gesture.

You start to clean up the living room, tossing the empty cans and bags of chips in the trash before picking up the blanket that you left jumbled up on the couch.

"Hm. This isn't mine." You comment to no one but yourself as you play with the colorful throw in your hands. The only other person who lived here was Hoseok so it must be his.

You look down the hall at Hoseok's room. His door is open which usually meant he was either feeling very inviting or he was at work. Looking at the time, it was probably the latter. He won't be back till around six depending how long dance practice runs. You had the whole apartment to yourself today.

You peak through the open door just to make sure you were right and sure enough, you were. Hoseok's bed was empty, made neatly and tucked in the corner of his room. His window was open, a slight breeze wafting in and blowing his sheer curtains almost dramatically as you walked inside.

You plop yourself down on his bed, his blanket still in your arms. You'd only been in Hoseok's room a total of maybe nine times over the past year or so and most if not all of those times, Hoseok was there, too.

As you're sitting on his bed, you find yourself bringing his blanket up to your nose. You swear you don't do it on purpose, it was almost like an instinct. You inhale slightly, just to get a quick sniff and fuck. Yeah. That's definitely Hoseok's blanket.

You inhale deeper, this time letting out a quiet moan as you exhale. There were a few hints of yourself but that was understandable. You'd been sleeping in it for who knows how long. But besides that, you could clearly smell Hoseok's ambrosial scent.

As you lay back on his bed, you wonder why you're so easily affected by how he smells. It's a little weird to you but you can't help the way your body reacts when you breathe him in.

"Hoseok..." What are those things called..? Pheromones! Maybe Hoseok just has some crazy pheromones that are making you lose your head. That seems to be the most reasonable conclusion you can think of as you snake your hand down your belly and past the waistband of your shorts.

Were you seriously going to touch yourself in your roommate's room while smelling his blanket?

To be completely honest your mind was so clouded you genuinely couldn't see any problem with that.

You graze two of your fingers over your clit, a ripple of pleasure and relief washing over your body as you practically smothered yourself with the blanket. You've been pent up so long. When was the last time you touched yourself?

It doesn't take much to get you going. All you have to think about is Hoseok and you're already soaking. Hoseok after practice, Hoseok working out, Hoseok's face when he dances, Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok. You have a slight feeling saying his name any more than you already have might make him appear.

"Y/n? I'm back."

Wait, what..?

You pull your hands out of your shorts almost immediately, wiping the slick on your fingers on the blanket before throwing it back on the bed. You stand up just in time to see a familiar figure lean against the door frame.

"What are you doing in my room?" Hoseok crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. There wasn't a hint of knowing in his voice and you relax a bit at that.

"Nothing, er... I was returning your blanket." You point to the jumbled fabric on the bed before making your way to the door. If you didn't leave now he was going to catch on.

As you're about to squeeze past him and make your escape, his arm blocks your path. He was taking up the whole doorway now. Great.

"Are you feeling okay? You're kinda sweaty. Do you have a fever?" Hoseok's hand moves to your forehead and you scramble to push the hand away. "You feel warm, too. Should I make you porridge?"

"I'm fine. I'm just- the apartment is just kinda hot." You chastise yourself for the awkward laugh you let out and it's obvious that Hoseok doesn't buy it. Regardless, he moves his arm so you can walk out of the room.

"Hey, wait..." You barely make it down the hall before Hoseok is grabbing your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. Just as you were about to celebrate your small victory of not getting caught, too.

"I need help packing away the groceries."

"So you were out buying groceries?"

"Yeah..? What did you think I was doing?" Hoseok pulls out a gallon of milk and a few cartons of juice from a shopping bag before placing them on the kitchen counter.

"I thought you were at practice. I didn't think... you'd be back so soon." You look down slightly, avoiding eye contact as you take the produce from the counter and organize them inside the fridge. You could clearly feel Hoseok's eyes on you but you didn't dare look.

"Pfft, is that why you were so shocked when I found you in my room? You weren't really returning that blanket were you?" He said it in a joking manner but you're shocked that he caught on so quickly. You say nothing in response.

Just as you're about to put a carton of eggs into the fridge, Hoseok closes the door and spins you around, effectively pushing you back against the fridge door. The eggs you were holding slip out of your hands but that's the least of your worries. At the moment, Hoseok had you pushed against the fridge, his arms caging you in like you were in an anime. Seriously?

"You know, while I was taking Japanese in college, I learned that pushing someone against a wall like this is called 'kabedon'. I've always wanted to try it." He's so fucking close. Way too fucking close. His lips were mere inches away from yours and if he took one step closer, his hips would connect with yours.

"All of a sudden? I- you- why-" The words you wanted to say fizzle out of your head as you watch Hoseok's eyes drop to your lips as you stutter. He was definitely doing this shit on purpose. He loved seeing you flustered.

"What were you really doing in my room?" A smirk graces his lips when he sees you tilt your head down. In the most platonic way ever, he relished in the feeling of watching you submit to him.

"You- what- what are you thinking!" It was barely a question. Your mind flashes with images of what Hoseok could do to you in this position and you feel your body getting hotter (if that was even possible). You're pretty sure if you let this go on any longer you'd start panting in need. The room is deadly silent before you speak up again.

"The eggs..." You say meekly and Hoseok tilts his head to the side, confused until he looks down at the yellow liquid spilling from the half-opened carton at your feet.

"Oh, shit. Oops..." Sheepishly, Hoseok steps back but you don't move from your spot against the fridge. You felt frozen for a few seconds as you tried to regain the train of thought that Hoseok effortlessly managed to derail. "Ahh, those eggs were expensive, too. It was a 24 pack..."

"Maybe you should've considered that before pushing me against the fridge." You roll your eyes and step over the mess, leaving it for Hoseok to clean up. He simply groans in response and you can't help feeling grateful. Those eggs really just saved your life.

Over the next few days, you find yourself daydreaming about Hoseok a lot. Okay, this was usually normal but you were doing it a lot more often.

And in a lot more inappropriate places.

Just this morning you caught yourself daydreaming about Hoseok while you were at work. You were reviewing some files for corporate when you thought back to the smell of Hoseok's blanket. The scent that was so distinctly him. You imagined what it would be like to tuck your face into his neck while he fucked into you. You're not completely sure when your imagination got so vivid but you could picture everything perfectly behind your eyelids. The slide of his dick inside you, his quiet grunts and moans. He's a dancer, too so you knew his stamina would be out of this world.

That leads you to this evening. You got home from work around six or seven and usually, Hoseok is back by then. He'd usually be sitting on the couch watching some foreign movie or he'd be dancing in the center of the living room. A surge of worry washes through you when you walk inside the apartment and its pitch black.

You flick the lights on and toss your keys and bag onto the kitchen counter before calling his name out into the abyss. No response.

As you walk absentmindedly through the apartment, it finally hits you that you're home alone.

Alone.

By yourself.

Hoseok is gone.

You throw your jacket onto your bed before looking down the hall at Hoseok's room. His door was open. He really was gone.

Almost as if your body had a mind of its own, you find yourself walking towards his room. His door was only a few strides away from yours and you had no chance to rethink what you were about to do.

"He won't mind if I..." You throw open his closet and you're a bit surprised to see how untidy it is compared to his room. Last time you checked, Hoseok really prided himself on being the neat one. On the floor, you find a couple of clothes that had fallen off their hangers. There sits a grey hoodie with little holes in it. You recognize this hoodie. You haven't seen Hoseok wear it in weeks.

Perfect.

He wouldn't mind if you 'borrowed' this hoodie for a bit, would he? You'll give it right back when you're done with it, you promise.

"Dance with me."

"No, Hoseok. I'm busy."

"You're not even doing anything. You're scrolling through TikTok."

"Yeah, important business."

"Can you turn off your phone? Please? Dance with me!"

"Hoseok, you know I can't-" Before you can get the words out, Hoseok is grabbing your arm and dragging you off the couch. Your phone slips out your hands and onto the floor. "Hoseok, don't you dare!"

"You don't have to know how to dance to dance. Just feel the music!" Hoseok spins you around so your facing him. His hands are on your waist as the song playing through the speaker changes. You didn't recognize this song but for some reason it made you feel a little nostalgic. It was a rap song with a slow tempo.

"Literally everyone who knows how to dance says that. Fine, but I'm warning you. I'm a toe stepper." You had a little bit more fight left in you but Hoseok's hands were so warm on your waist and he was pulling you in so close. Your defenses were quickly weakening.

"That's okay. I'll show you. Put your arms here." He puts your arms on his shoulders.

"Move your body like this." His hands move to your hips. With feather-light touches, he guides you to the music.

"It feels awkward." You mumble mostly to yourself. Hoseok pulls you even closer as if to say 'it's okay. It's not awkward to me'.

"If you're embarrassed you can put your head on my shoulder. Here, so you don't have to look up at me." You do as he says and admittedly, you do feel a little less disconcerted.

With the music playing loudly throughout the apartment and Hoseok guiding his hips against yours, you feel like you're dancing with a stranger at the club (even though you've never been to a club).

Oddly enough, it feels really comfortable. Hoseok's holding you and helping you stay in time with the music. Somewhere between the third and fourth song, you find yourself getting a little too comfortable, though. With your nose tucked into Hoseok's neck, you can smell his sinewy scent perfectly. You let out a quiet sigh after inhaling deeply.

Mm, fuck. So good. Why does he smell so good? And he's practically grinding against you, too. You really didn't know how long you could last like this.

You wondered if Hoseok ever danced with other people like this, pulling them in by their waist and pressing his hips against theirs. The way he moved was absolutely sinful and the way he guided your hips, deliberate and slow, was so delicious. Not to mention everytime he pulled you in you could feel something heavy rub against your thigh.

Maybe... maybe it was just his phone.

"Heh, are you okay?" His voice is low in your ear, lower than normal.

"Mmm, huh?" you moan into his neck, forgetting for a moment that the man that has you wrapped around his finger is your friend, your roommate of almost two years.

"You're- you're breathing really hard. Are you okay?" Hoseok's voice is breathy but you miss it over the sound of the music.

"M'fine." You were thoroughly drugged out on his smell, his hips, your mind completely darkened with thoughts of him.

"Ah, y/n. Let's- let's take a break." Hoseok breathes as he pulls you away. The panting and moaning into his neck... yeah, no. If he let this go on any longer, he wouldn't be able to control himself anymore. He was currently sporting a semi and grinding against you was not going to help his situation.

"Yeah... uh, yeah. Let's do that. It's hot." You were burning up inside but without Hoseok's body pressed against yours you felt a lot cooler.

"I'm going to shower." Hoseok says, leaving no room for an awkward silence. That doesn't change the fact that you can't meet his eyes. "Thanks for dancing with me. Let's do it again sometime."

You give him a nod and watch as he walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You're kind of just left standing in the living room now. You guess now would be the best time to go to bed. Yes, you needed to sleep before the embarrassment of what just happened settles in.

As you're walking down the hallway to your room, you just about pass Hoseok's room before stopping and backtracking.

You peak into the room, examining the area. His bed was unmade and the lamp on his desk was on. His laptop was also open but the screen was black. To be completely honest though, you were more interested in the little pile of clothes on his bed. You hold your breath for a second just to hear whether or not the shower was still going. Lucky for you, Hoseok seemed to be taking his time in there.

"This is payback for making me dance with you." You mumble to yourself before picking up a random article of clothing from the crumpled up pile. You don't realize till you uncrumple the item that it's a nightshirt.

The pile on his bed was a pajama set.

If you take the shirt with you, he'll definitely notice somethings missing. You think about putting it back and forgetting you were ever here, but thoughts about Hoseoks hands on your body, the way he smelled when he put your head on his shoulder...

You bring the pajama shirt up to your nose. His scent was strong and you swear your legs almost give out.

There was no more time to think. You heard the water shut off and it didn't take you more than a second to dash out of his room. If anything he'll just think he misplaced his shirt.

Honestly, tonight you would need this shirt more than he would ever know.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months.

Hoseok gets out of bed that morning and stretches a bit before opening his drawer. He didn't have work today but Joon had been texting him constantly trying to get him to go to the studio with him. He figured he can't keep putting it off and a Saturday morning was best spent mixing and mastering. He also heard one of his close friends from college, Yoongi, was going to be there. He was relieved to hear Namjoon still kept up with him, it just gave him another reason to meet them at the studio.

Hoseok looks through his shirt drawer. He wanted to wear his nice black button-up which he'd probably tuck into some ripped up skinny jeans, but that required him to be able to find his black button-up.

Now that he thinks about it, his shirt draw seemed to have a lot less shirts than it did a month ago. At first, he thought he was just misplacing things, which wasn't common for him but he wasn't necessarily perfect. Now that he had a significantly smaller selection of clothes, he felt like he was going crazy.

He lets out a disgruntled sigh before throwing on an old green sweatshirt he found in his closet and stepping out of his room.

Looking to his right, he noticed that your door was still closed. It was almost 11 and you should probably be up by now. He wonders if he should ask if you knew what was going on with his clothes. Maybe your clothes were going missing, too. As he walks towards your room, his phone vibrates in his pocket. It's Namjoon, probably asking if he was on his way.

He gives your door one last look before answering the call and turning the opposite direction to leave the apartment.

Ok, this was seriously starting to get out of hand.

Hoseok had just gotten home from dance practice. He was assigned to a newer idol group and teaching them their first choreography was a little more strenuous and demanding than he'd expected. None-the-less, he still pushed through it and managed to make a good bit of progress. Unfortunately, it left him exhausted, sweaty, and noisome. As soon as he got home, instead of greeting you like he usually did, he threw all his clothes on the ground and got in the shower.

A nice warm shower is exactly what he needed. He'd even say he felt energized after.

As he wrapped a towel around his waist, he noticed something missing from his pile of dirty clothes on the floor. He bent over to sift through the pile, identifying right away what was missing.

His pastel blue Supreme hoodie.

Hoseok wasn't one to get particularly angry, not unless it was warranted. But he could feel himself getting increasingly more frustrated the longer he looked at his dirty clothes. He most definitely was not crazy and his clothes, especially shirts and hoodies, were definitely going missing. This wasn't all in his head.

In nothing but his towel, he swings the bathroom door open and leaves with the full intent to talk to you. He's not completely sure what he wants to say to you. He doesn't want to accuse you of stealing his clothes because that seems a bit presumptuous, but there's no other logical reasoning. Unless someone's been breaking into the apartment and stealing shirts, heh.

He doesn't bother knocking on your door. No matter what you were doing right now, his problem was more important. There was a burglar afoot.

When Hoseok turns the knob and inches your door open, the first thing he notices is that your room is kinda dark despite it being early afternoon. Your curtains were drawn and the fairy lights on your walls were the only source of brightness in the room. The second thing he notices is... you're shifting a lot in your bed and if he looks a little closer-

"Hnng, Hoseok..." It's only after a moan of his name leaves your mouth that he notices the fabric you're holding to your face with one hand.

It's his pastel blue supreme hoodie.

Ok, maybe he was insane.

"Fuck, Hoseok, fuck. Fuck me, aaha..." Hoseok watches you tilt your head back against your pillows. He watches your eyes roll back as you moved your arm faster under your covers. He watches as you breathe in his favorite hoodie like your life depends on it.

And he likes it.

Somehow, he can't stop himself from watching. There's something about seeing his usually innocent roommate writhe in pleasure. There's something about hearing his name fall from your lips in wanton moans, and fuck, he's so hard. He can feel the blood rushing to his dick as he watches you from the doorway. 'Pervert, pervert, pervert' is all he can say in his head as he lets an unconscious hand palm himself through the towel around his waist.

"So this is where all my clothes have been going?"

At the sound of Hoseok's voice, you freeze up completely. There's no way he's actually-

"Shit... Ho-Hoseok-" The apartment falls completely silent as you make eye contact with the man at your door. Suddenly the buzzing of your vibrator seems far too loud in your ears. "I didn't- I'm not... how much did you see?"

You're stunned and extremely mortified to the point where you don't notice that Hoseok is wet and he's wearing nothing but a towel. You don't even notice the way he subtly walks into your room, slowly like he's stalking prey.

"Enough. I saw enough." He's standing right by your bed, arms crossed. Your body burns with embarrassment as you pull your sheets up higher to cover your body. "Answer me, is this what you've been doing with my clothes?"

You simply blink in response. Did he really want you to answer that?

A beat of silence passes by and he reaches for the blanket covering your body before hesitating.

"Uh, can I?" Another wave of silence rolls by, you blink up at him in surprise before nodding quickly.

"Yeah- uh, yeah, just-"

"Fuck." Hoseok breathes out when he pulls the cover down and sees a cute little vibrator situated inside you. The sight alone makes his cock twitch with interest.

"I want to touch you so bad, can I touch you, y/n?" You can see the desperation mixed with uncertainty in his eyes, almost as if he knew he was saying something he wasn't supposed to.

"Please." As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Hoseok is climbing onto your bed and straddling your waist, his fluffy white towel sliding off in the process. You close your eyes tight, clenching around the vibrator inside you and suppressing a moan as Hoseoks movements jostled the toy. You were already so close to coming.

"So pretty... look at me." Hoseok tilts your chin up and your eyes flutter open. Hoseok thinks you're absolutely beautiful like this. Lips parted and your breathing heavy. Not to mention how disheveled your hair is and the fucked out expression on your face. Suddenly, he has the urge to paint that pretty face of yours with his come.

"What were you thinking about... smelling my clothes and fucking yourself like that?" You don't even get the chance to respond before Hoseoks slender fingers are wrapping around the vibrating toy and moving it back and forth inside you, slow and vexing.

"Hoseok, I can't- gonna... shit!" You were already so close when Hoseok walked in on you, you couldn't help coming hard around the toy, fingers curling into the bedsheets as he kept fucking you through your orgasm.

"Fuck, look at you. Ah, I really can't hold back." You've never seen Hoseok's eyes clouded with more lust than when he pulls the soaked toy out of you, a puddle of your juices oozing out of you and gathering on the bed. His cock visibly throbs at the sight.

"Y/n, let me fuck you. Please, I think I might die." Post orgasmic pleasure was still thrumming through your body and you yourself weren't sure if you could take anymore. But the longer you looked down at his leaking hardness, the more you wanted it inside you, the more you needed it inside you.

"Do it. Mmm, put it in." A shiver travels up your body when you feel the tip of his cock press against your folds.

This was dangerous. Despite living with Hoseok for all these years, you didn't know his sexual history and neither of you had a condom on you. Him coming inside sounded so good right now but that wasn't an option.

Hoseok was just as thick as you remembered and it was evident in the way he struggled to fit the tip of his cock inside you. If you weren't so wet, he definitely wouldn't be going in as easy.

"Hoseok, ah, fuck, it hurts-" You didn't know how to describe this feeling. It hurt so good. Out of all the guys you've ever slept with you've never felt anyone so big and thick and fuck, your vibrator was so tiny compared to him. That along with the sensitivity thrumming through your core had you reeling.

He finally bottoms out and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as if to tell him you loved the way he filled you up. Your nails drag lightly over his back as you part your lips to catch your breath. You're not the only one that needs a minute to breathe, though. Hoseok's breath was coming out in ragged pants against your neck as he adjusted to the warm tightness of your insides.

"God, I've imagined doing this so many times. Why didn't we do this sooner?" Hoseok tilts his head up, finally meeting your eyes and why does this feel awfully intimate? You nod in response, biting your lip to suppress the moan crawling out of your throat as he slowly starts to move his hips.

"Fuck, mmhnn, Hoseok..." You let your head fall back against the pillows as he steadily picks up pace, his cock brushing against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

"You take me so good, shit! Almost... mmh, almost like your pussy was made for me." You never expected Hoseok to be much of a dirty talker but you were definitely not against it. If he kept this up you'd be coming for the second time tonight.

All of a sudden, his thrusts start to slow down. You were already so close, was he seriously about to stop? You flash a confused expression his way and there's a dark glint in his eyes as he changes positions so he's sitting up, bringing you into his lap with him.

Oh.

"Cmon, baby, ride me like this." Hoseok says through gritted teeth. His hands slide down your spine and rest on your backside before grabbing a handful. You can't help bucking your hips forward in response. "I wanna see what you look like bouncing on me."

There's a look of complete hunger in his eyes, something so dark compared to the usual warmness of his irises. You let your eyes flicker down to his lips, red and swollen from being bitten too hard. He must've noticed because he lets out a mix between a scoff and a chuckle before letting his hand wrap around the back of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss.

all the anxiety flowing through your veins seems to disappear as his mouth works expertly against yours. You part you lips to let out a moan and he uses the opportunity coax you with his tongue. He was literally taking you apart from the inside out and you fucking loved it.

"Y/n." His voice comes out rough and mean against your lips and you gasp when the hand on your ass is forcing you to grind your hips against his. "Are you going to move or do I have to do that, too?"

"Yeah..." Your lips ghosted against his as you started moving on top of him. The first time you lower your hips down, your legs almost give out. He was filling you up and pressing against your walls beautifully. You could feel him in your throat.

"I know you can go faster. Should I help you?" Hoseok practically growls as his hands drift up to your waist, his thumbs kneading the skin there as he moves your body up and down as if you weigh nothing. With Hoseok helping you, you're moving way faster and there's way less strain on your legs.

"Fuck, you look perfect like this. I wish I could come inside you, fill you up and watch it spill out. Then you'd really be mine, hm?" You let out loud moan, unsure whether it was Hoseok's words or the way he was pounding into you that caused it.

"So close... I'm so-" You tuck your face into Hoseok's shoulder as you feel another moan rip through you. Maybe that wasn't your smartest idea because as soon as you tuck your face into his shoulder, his natural musk mixed with his sweet-smelling body wash fills your senses, and that's exactly what pushes you over the edge.

You clench around Hoseok as your orgasm hits you hard for the second time tonight. Mumbled curses of your name spill from his lips and his thrusts become uneven. In the heat of the moment, you bite down on his shoulder to stifle a cry and his nails dig into the skin at your waist, a low groan falling from his lip as he pulls your hips down hard against his. He repeats that motion two, three more times before he's pumping you full of his come.

Oops.

Hoseok lets you rest your head against his shoulder as you both catch your breath before his eyes shoot open and he curses.

"What? What's wrong?" You tilt your head up to meet is worry riddled eyes. His worry was making you worry.

"Fuck, y/n, I came inside you." Hoseok facepalms before letting out a groan. "I'm so sorry, you just felt so good and you were so tight around me. It felt like you were trying to milk my cock out of everything it's got."

"You don't seem very sorry, you're still inside me." You giggle as Hoseok curses again and pulls out of you. As soon as he's out you feel terribly empty and you kind of wish he'd put his dick back inside.

When your back finally hits the bed, you roll over to open your bedside table. You didn't have any condoms but you did have some emergency plan b. You didn't think you'd have to use it but here you are.

"You just have plan b hanging around in your nightstand? But no condoms?" Hoseok raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on his face.

"I ran out a while ago and it's not like I've been having sex recently, so I never found the need to buy more. It's your fault for pouncing on me like a dog in heat." You roll your eyes as you open the packet and take a pill.

"Weren't you the one that stole my clothes because my smell turns you on? Talk about a dog in heat..." Hoseok laughs and you give him a slap on the chest.

"Touche..."

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

[I do not allow any translating, editing, reposting, or use of any my work!!]

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( VELVETEEN RABBIT. )

What do you get when you mix Thumper and Bambi? Answer: Jeon Jungkook.

pairing. french lop bunny!jjk x ragdoll cat f!reader.

genre + rating. hybrid!au set in college. super fluffy, a little angsty, with a dash of smut to balance it all out. explicit towards the end because i just can’t help myself. oops.

tags / warnings. honestly, this jungkook should just come with his own warning. but more realistically, mentions of kook using a scrunchie, kook being cute, kook railing his date after using the world’s worst puns... the usual.

wc. 4.4k

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif as always become, c’mon. i’m me. she’s her.

author note. this was written as part of @thebtswritersclub‘s a hybrid fest and is gloriously late (i’m so sorry @ditttiii). i’ve never written anything hybrid-related before so hopefully you enjoy. feedback goes a long way! xoxo

He orders the same thing every time he’s in. Iced Americano, no room for cream, and a single almond croissant. (Every once in a while, he switches it up for matcha but that’s exceedingly rare.) He always pays with a tap of his wrist - a sleek black AppleWatch with rubber band - and flashes his trademark slightly too-big smile. All the girls swoon. So do the guys. Everyone except for you.

He’s unnervingly handsome, with long dark ears that sometimes hang in front of his eyes. You’ve caught him with them pulled back Lola Bunny-style, knotted with a loose silk scrunchie that looks nearly as soft as his fur. His hair’s usually unkempt, tossed into a little sprout of a bun, overly long fringe falling all over his big round eyes. He wears butterfly clips sometimes, though that’s usually on days where he isn’t freshly sweaty and carrying his gym bag. They appear in his hair when it’s damp from a shower, the smell of papaya and honey clinging to every inch of him. You know, because you have a great nose - one that’s sensitive to every smell under the sun but especially his. (You try not to think about it much.)

It’s a Wednesday morning when you notice the change. It doesn’t register at first, acknowledgement coming in a curious sniff at the air. Weird.

“Thanks,” he says like clockwork, a well-oiled polite machine, deceptively slender hands receiving the exceedingly hot cup without a care in the world. He’s got his usual bag over his shoulder - overly big, black, almost tactical - and a pair of comfortable looking pants on that seem more like they belong on your beloved grandmother. Somehow, he rocks it (but he always does). “Have a nice day.”

Because of course he says that. Of course he steals the words right out of your mouth, turns them back on you as easy as he makes your heart rattle around in your chest like it’s a Friday night bingo ball.

He moves toward the bar - he only ever grabs three napkins, tucks them into the slot on the left side of his bag - but pauses halfway there. Rooted to the same spot as always, sleek ears following the imposing line of his shoulders.

One, two—

The thumping starts, so quiet it’s almost negligible. But you catch it, because you always do and because you’re the reason for it.

He turns then, levels you with a look from the corner of those pretty, pretty eyes and you can’t help but laugh, openly, unashamedly, with the back of your hand plastered to your mouth. A true ojou-sama.

His mouth quirks - does that funny thing where he sucks in his cheek then rolls it back out with his tongue - and you think he might finally say something. Call you out for writing his name wrong for the past five weeks, finding more and more creative ways to do so every time. Even occasionally using nicknames - silly things you’d come up with while on the walk home, or during lunch, or in bed.

“Good one,” he states, laugh lines threading over his face, prominent around his eyes. His nose wiggles with the sound - another of his traits that comes out to play often. Your favourite of them all, if you’re being honest.

“Anytime.”

You don’t realise it’s him until it’s too late, until you’re practically running into him, bouncing off the broad expanse of his back with a startled squeak. Lucky for you, you’re quick on your feet, catching yourself before your skull can become too well-acquainted with the red brick wall to your right.

“You okay?” Though he asks, you have a sneaking suspicion he knows you’re not and an even stronger suspicion that he’d been waiting for you, hovering past the entrance of the cafe with his big university hoodie on.

“Barely,” you manage around a laugh, straightening the backpack slung over your shoulders, packed to the brim with goodies you got to bring home at the end of the night and two of your textbooks.

“Should watch where you’re going.”

This is the most conversation you’ve had - ever. But it’s fun, easy, organic and natural. You wonder why that is.

“You should watch where you’re standing, actually.”

He’s so much bigger than you, imposingly tall (especially being part of the Leporidae family) and wide in the chest. Not bulky by any means, but big. Strong. Threaded with a strength you don’t normally see in hybrids of his kind. It probably has to do with how often you see him covered in sweat and panting, basketball hooked under his arm, soccer cleats tied to his bag.

When he speaks again, it’s full of mirth, squeezing his round eyes near shut. “Got a problem with me standing here?”

You nod, solemn as ever (which is really never, but that’s besides the point). “It’s dangerous to block entryways, didn’t you know?” You’re gesturing to the awning, the dark interior just past the window of the shop. “You’re loitering, Jungkook.”

“So you do know my name.” You can tell he’s not surprised - that he’s hamming it up for dramatics, softly pink lips rounded in a little ‘O’. He’s cute like this, you think. Playful in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I do?”

There’s that cheek thing again. It’s even more attractive up close, the shape of his jaw thrown into prominent relief when he sucks in a breath.

“You just said it.”

You nod, thoughtful, finger tapping upon your chin. “I guess I did.”

“Say it again,” he states, expression inscrutable, eyes bright. They’re so glossy even under the dimmed streetlights, impossibly big and undeniable. So easy to get lost in - if your attention weren’t caught by something else.

“What is that?”

You’d noticed it earlier in the day, caught the scent in passing sometime during the early hours. You’d been unable to place it then, too distracted by freshly ground coffee, a girl’s three too many spritzes of Daisy by Marc Jacobs, and baking banana loaves.

It’s heady, masculine. A strong musk that sinks into your nose and makes it twitch, ears rotating as if that’ll help pin the smell down.

“What’s what?” You hadn’t realised how close you’d become, your face five seconds from planting directly into his chest. (It’d probably be nice - you know how soft your school’s merchandise is.) “Are you okay?” He asks because you’re now, actually, planting your face right against the worn navy cotton. It’s terribly nice, silk upon your cheek.

You answer more to his clothes than to him, nosing into the fabric. “You smell different.”

You feel more than hear his laughter, the sound barreling past his teeth seconds later. The vibrations running along his spine jostle you from your position face first upon him but you don’t mind. It doesn’t send you far, dark eyes peering up into the face of the bunny hybrid. True to his kind, his nose is twitching, puffs of laughter expanding his cheeks when he meets your stare.

“No I don’t.”

“You do.” Tone firm, a finger lands upon the neatly embroidered N on his hoodie. The white stitching stands in stark contrast to your baby blue nails. “You smell… off.”

Whether Jungkook’s offended or not, you can’t tell. He’s got that same strange expression on his face - the one from this morning when he’d received his coffee. It’s made up of too many moving parts: the flutter of his lashes, the coil of his jaw, the minute tick of the corner of his mouth. You can’t read him for shit, somehow more confused now than in your 300-level art history class. (You’d taken it as one of your optional electives assuming it’d be an easy A. You were wrong.)

“Sorry you think so,” he hums, looking down at you. You’ve seemed to fully forget the meaning of personal space, edged up beside him as if you’re best friends and not just two ships passing in the night.

“It’s not bad.” Really, it isn’t. It’s strong and sensual, vegetal in a way, calming in another. But it isn’t unwelcome.

In fact, you think you might like this scent a little more - less sweet than what normally clings to his skin, natural honeycomb rather than processed sugar. It zings across your teeth, pieces broken up and scattered behind your molars. You can practically taste it. Him.

“Is that so?”

“Yep.”

You share a look - one that says more than all the words you’ve ever spoken, that threads together all the silly laughter, narrowed stares, (written) flirtations. It settles between the two of you, filling the spaces with something akin to cotton, light and airy and soft.

The desire to speak lingers, hidden just beyond the cotton candy dusting. Should you? Shouldn’t you? You still have no idea what he’s doing here, a street urchin making his rounds on the campus village.

He beats you to it. “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”

You don’t think you could want anything more. “Sure.”

Silence falls again but it’s comfortable, a caress rather than a crutch. The grounds are surprisingly quiet - wayward students on their way to the library or heading home from lectures. There are no picnic blankets spread across the grass, no gaggles of girls dressed in school colours. It feels like the first day of fall, change sitting heavy in the air.

“So—” You start.

He finishes, “do you wanna go on a date with me?”

That’s surprising. (Or is it? You’re not really sure.) You nearly trip over your own two feet in your haste to look at him, entire body swivelling on the spot because apparently you can’t just turn your head like a normal person. Something something all or nothing.

“What?”

“Do. You. Want. To—” He’s being insufferable for the hell of it. You can see it in his eyes, glossy things shining down at you like he’s got the entire fucking nightsky hung in them.

“Not if you keep that up,” you retort, though you both know you’re lying. You’ve been waiting - wishing, wanting - for this moment since the day you laid eyes on him. Since Yuri had elbowed you so hard in the ribs you’d thought you’d be bruised for days, since Jae had rambled on and on for his entire shift about the cute new bunny who’d come in that morning. Since that very first wrongly spelt name on his plastic cup and every visit since.

“Is that a challenge?”

“You won’t get it in.”

He scoffs, loud and drawn out, cheek rounding with disbelief at your disbelief. How can you possibly doubt him - school basketball star and all-around athletic freak of nature?

“What do I get if I do?” The ball rests in his palm, poised to be shot through the hoop, sunk without making contact with the rim. He’s confident - he’s done it a million times.

“A pat on the back?” As much as you tease him - loop mockery around nearly every syllable you speak, you’re endlessly supportive, already carrying the fruits of his labour under your arms. A Pikachu shoved haphazardly into the purse slung across your body, a Snorlax tucked under your arm at an awkward angle that crushes his poor head, a Sylveon tucked into the side pocket of his joggers. (The arcade was really into Pokemon, apparently.) “Me saying thank you?”

“Not good enough.” He leans in close - those big galaxy eyes practically swallowing you whole - and taps a single finger upon your nose. It makes your nostrils flare, an itch blooming under his touch. “Gotta sweeten the deal.”

You must look hilarious because Jungkook’s biting back a smile, smirking down at you. Then, all at once, without breaking eye contact, he’s extending his arm, flicking his wrist, and— swish!

In goes the ball, leaving him with a perfect score.

“I want you to stay the night.”

You think he’s joking. He must be joking. This is your third date.

But he’s staring at you like he’s completely serious, gaze expectant, lips pursed around something that reads like a smile but has your heart doing a strange little one-two step in your chest. It soars for a moment, high above the clouds like the string orchestra of a choral work - Beethoven’s Ninth in D minor.

“Are you propositioning me, Jeon Jungkook?” It’s the same reaction he always has when you say his name: a twitch of his ear, the corner of his bottom lip quirking and then resetting, eyes so sparkly it’s almost absurd.

“No. I’m just telling you what I want.”

“Huh.” You should say no. Guys like him - with charm that oozes out of every pore, whose offhanded smiles break more hearts than you ever have - are almost always bad news. Too sweet, too funny, simply too much for your feeble heart to take.

“Is that a yes?” He’s got you in his clutches - a viper rather than a hare, with a smile so dangerous you’re paralysed by just the sight of it. (Who needs venom?)

Your words catch in your throat, stick to one another like the deformed gummies at the bottom of the movie theatre bag. What comes out isn’t what you expect. “Okay.”

Damn you. Damn him. Damn how good he smells and the big dumb grin that spreads over his lips, sunshine in human form, undeniable and warm and cute enough to start a war over. (That’s probably what’s happening - a vicious battle between your head and your heart.)

Damn his stupid thumping foot that you can make out over the sound of the video games, the boisterous din. It’s so cute you can’t help yourself from smiling, mouth pulling and pursing around the delight that begs to be freed.

“Cool,” he says, and you almost think that’s not very cool. He’s so nonchalant, cavalier about it as if it means nothing. You’d be bothered if you felt like you didn’t know him so well - hadn’t learnt his idiosyncrasies over the last two months.

How he looks when he laughs really hard, his slightly too-big front teeth taking up all the real estate in his mouth. How he sounds when he’s tired (groggy, with a lisp that rarely sees the light of day otherwise) or when he’s told he’s wrong (pouty, with his bottom lip jutted out so cutely you want to scream). How he runs every morning, hits the gym every night, and eats double your protein because fitness, bro! How his cheat meal of choice is soy garlic fried chicken from the place off-campus and he hates tangy, tart desserts (your lemonade lip gloss not included, he insists). How he can’t sleep if he’s too hot - which he often is - and he spends way too long combing through his ears with a specialty brush he doesn’t let anyone touch. How he’s secretly raindrops and gummy bears and hand holding in the car, so much more than his high school superlative of most likely to grace the cover of GQ.

You wonder, because you know those things, does that make you special? Does it make you immune to the heartbreak that you swear you imagine whenever your mood drops (not often, but often enough)?

You hope so.

“Let’s go shoot guns?” He’s tearing you from your reverie, planting an open-mouthed kiss to your temple. It’s sloppy and not very refined, much less suave than what you’d expect from your school’s soccer captain (and basketball small forward and swim team stand-in). You suppose that’s why you like him so much - because he’s always surprising you, keeping you on your toes.

“Let’s.” You agree, letting your date drag you toward the Time Crisis machine. It’s blissfully unoccupied, allowing the two of you to slide into place. He takes the blue gun, you the red.

He squeezes your hip when you take up position, one eye squeezed shut as you look down the barrel of the plastic weapon. “Better not let me die.”

“Better not get shot,” you return.

He doesn’t listen - failing halfway through the helicopter scene, his shot missing and resulting in some sad miserable death in the form of Continue? blinking across the screen. Neither of you mind that much though. He occupies himself on his phone, free hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. You play better when he’s not shouting terrible call-outs, nearly crashing into you because he gets so into it.

(How he’s never got a concussion on the basketball/soccer/etc. field before, you’re not sure.)

By the time you’re done - a good five minutes later, you think - Jungkook’s growing restless, tugging at your belt loops enough that you stumble with every shot, nearly knocking yourself out when you have to steady yourself on the centre console.

“Kook!” Your glare is barely that, too affectionate to dissuade him from his childish antics.

He pulls you forward, traps you between his thick thighs, tattooed hands settling comfortably on your hips. “Let’s go home.”

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

Of course, he doesn’t deny that.

It’s not the first time you’ve been over. Not even your second or third. You’ve met up with him before his games, thrown his jersey overtop and helped him wrap his fingers before hitting the court. You’d even had to grab his cleats for him once, running across campus as he did drills in his socks as punishment.

This time feels different. You know why but it doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. It lodges somewhere in your throat, makes it hard to breathe when you kick off your shoes and tuck them neatly beside Jungkook’s.

“Are you hungry?” He’s already in the small kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at you as you linger in the adjoining hallway, bag halfway over your head.

“I’m good.” You are, really. You’d eaten one donut too many at the arcade, indulged in a little too much disgusting nacho cheese goodness. You don’t really understand how your date’s still hungry, a cucumber crunching between his teeth when he turns back to you.

Standing there, vegetable devoured in quick, decisive bites, he looks every inch the French lop bunny he is.

You reach him in the same instant he finishes his midnight snack. Arms fold around you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, head dropping to rest comfortably upon yours. Like this, his ears tickle your cheek - velveteen fur lost to the silk of your hair. “Are you tired?”

Another no comes - spoken into the fuzzy fabric of his sweater - and he hums above you, whole frame rattling with the noise.

“No bed then?”

At least he’s transparent, you think.

“One track mind much?” You’re only teasing. A part of you looks forward to… whatever it is that sits over the horizon, lost past the creaky bedroom door and somewhere beneath his surprisingly soft sheets. (You’d asked about them once - he’d told you his mother liked to send him housewares to remind him of home. He was a real mama’s boy that way.)

The monster only laughs, snuggles into your hair like it’s home. “Can you blame me?”

You can’t do much of anything when he’s like this - so utterly adorable and enticing and good for your heart that it feels as if you’ve taken a straight dose of morphine.

“Let’s go to bed, Wookie.” Another nickname, recently coined after you’d spent an evening watching Star Wars for the first time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whack him on the way to his bedroom, smack a hand over the arm curled around your shoulders. He pretends like it hurts, howls in a way he he thinks resembles a wounded animal but really just sounds stupid. “Not a ma’am.”

“Sir?” He asks, just to make you laugh.

“If you don’t shut up—”

He pushes you through the door of his bedroom while giggling to himself, sound puffing out of his cheeks. “Don’t be mad, kitten.” The two of you drop to the bed, a tangle of limbs and silken fur and squeaking laughter. “You’re so purr-ty when you’re annoyed.”

He’s doing it again. Dropping those stupid cat puns that make your nose wrinkle, ink-tipped ears folding back against your head.

“I think I’m hiss-terical, don’t you?”

Face adamantly buried into his sheets, you don’t give him the time of day. You don’t even care that your mascara is probably rubbing off against the charcoal fabric, lipstick tint doing potentially irreversible damage. He knows how unfunny you find these jokes, how you’ve heard them your whole life and roll your eyes so hard your optic nerve might sever every time you face another.

What’s the point of sharing your pet peeves with him when all he does is lean into them? Use them against you like it’s the cool thing to do. Make you wonder what you’d seen in him when he was just another customer, another boy in Seoul National indigo and bedhead so dishevelled it begged to be managed.

(You’re not sure why you’re so irritated suddenly, caught in the clutches of a moodswing as you curl into your side and ignore his bad jokes.)

Stupid Jeon Jungkook. Annoying, silly, too-cool-for-his-own-good Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook who makes you second guess your choices, leaves you breathless and confused with just one dumb look. Who has convinced you into his bed and teases you mercilessly, snickering to himself as his foot bounces against the floorboards because he finds himself that funny.

“Baby?” The pet name comes, presses itself past your curtain of hair and invades your thoughts.

You say nothing, adamantly faced away.

He doesn’t like that, sneaking his hands around you and cradling you into his chest as if that’ll lighten the mood. (It does, a little bit, but you don’t tell him that.) “Don’t ignore me,” he mumbles, warmth breath tickling your ears, fingers dancing over the rungs of your ribs as if they’re ivory and not bone, playing a tune only he can hear.

“Stop with the shitty jokes,” you retort. You’re being difficult - can feel the vinegar turning your blood even as he tries to will it all away.

You feel the intake, the rise and fall of his broad chest. You can only imagine how hard he’s biting his tongue, careful to keep his next errant pun at bay. People don’t tell him no - only you. Maybe that’s why you do it, to remind him you’re not just like everyone else.

“Sorry.”

You don’t tell him to show you how sorry— but he does anyway.

You’re astounded by him, utterly entranced by the way he moves. How power runs the length of his frame, manoeuvres each of his limbs and turns your own to jelly.

He’s got you face down, ass up, hands cradling your hips like they’re his home and he can’t bear to let go. Every upward stroke feels like heaven - feels like a million lifetimes of pleasure you can barely wrap your thoughts around. He’s impossibly big, thick and long. The first thought you’d had when he’d stripped his black Calvin Kleins was pretty.

You realise now there’s nothing pretty about him. He’s filthy - the devil come to collect as he fucks you across his bed, nearly loses you to the pillows at the head with each snap of his hips. (What they said about rabbits was true, you think.)

“B-Bunny,” you sob, scratch over cotton that’s worn soft and smells exactly like your favourite sweater of his. The linens are defenseless, tangled up and wrinkled with each flex of your fingers, bunched up within your palms every time he buries himself like he’s looking for the answer to life, thinks he might find it within the fluttering walls of your pussy.

“Not my name.” When he sounds like this, he’s more predator than prey, a thousand volts of electricity shooting up your spine. He’s demanding and unrelenting. It makes your head spin.

“Wook—”

“Not.” Bunny teeth are just as painful as a feline’s, doing their job as they dig into the flushed skin over your back, marking his territory with two prominent indents right between your neck and shoulder. “A.” He ruts into you as if he’s got something to prove, snaps his hips to a beat you can’t keep up with. “Wookie.” Grips you so tight you might snap, red blooming beneath his hands.

You sob under him, drool against the pillows because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut. (You feel like Jungkook post-win, spewing nonsense as he prattles on about game winning plays with his teammates.)

“K-Kookie.” It’s what he wants to hear - hits him right in the chest, a bull’s eye to the thing that beats wildly and in tandem with your own.

His rhythm stutters. The bed is shaking and not because he’s practically breaking the weak wooden frame. No, his foot’s thumping, bouncing across the sheets even as he tries to regulate the roll of his hips, return it to the assured, teeth-numbingly good tempo it’d been at.

It doesn’t work. You love it anyway. Like it more, because it means he’s just as affected by you as you are him. Your heart sings, leaps out of your chest on hummingbird wings, and dances around your head. You’re a goddamn cartoon - Pepé Le Pew in ragdoll form - animated pink shapes circling like a crown.

You don’t care. You can’t. Not when he plasters himself to your back and asks you to say it again, begs you to tell him how good he is, tells you how he wants to make you his.

Who cares if it’s three dates in, if your meeting was cliched and silly and he’s the campus heartthrob?

You don’t - because he’s yours and when he flips you onto your back and you curl your fingers into his hair, it’s your name he stutters out. It’s you who has him coming apart beneath your hands, the feel of his ears like velvet, the little whines he huffs growing louder each time you tug at the base. It’s you who knows what he sounds like as he falls to pieces, throws himself against you as if gravity demands it. It’s you who holds him to sleep, whose skin acts as a canvas for the doodles he traces as he drifts off.

It’s you and it’s him and that’s enough.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

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neighborhood-nori · 3 years

Text

To 21 - A LeviHan Basketball AU

This fic is a gift for the amazing @les4levihan AKA Makiscurse on discord, for the Xmas in July event in the Levihan University discord server. I hope you enjoy the gift friend! I saw you like the rivals to lovers trope, and summer sports, so I put together a little LeviHan high school basketball AU! Hope this is to your taste! Merry Xmas in Julyyyy

“Travel!” Levi called as Hanji dashed past him dribbling the basketball.

“How was that a travel?” Hanji kept bouncing the ball from hand to hand.

“That was three steps, easy.”

“No way, Ackerman.”

“Yes-way, Zoe.”

“You’re just heated because you're down by two points.” She stopped dribbling and held the ball under her arm, resting it on her hip.

“I’m heated because it’s 95 degrees out here.” Levi swiped his forehead of sweat with the back of his hand. “And because you traveled.”

“I didn’t travel.” Hanji narrowed her eyes at him. “I never travel.”

“Tell that to every referee who has ever called you on it.”

“I think you must be mistaking me for you.” Hanji huffed. “But, fine. If you’re going to get pissy about it.” She tossed the ball directly at Levi’s head, but he deftly caught it in one hand. She rolled her eyes at the smug look he shot her afterward. “Your ball.”

Levi dribbled to half-court, turning so he could check the ball to Hanji. Before she tossed it back, she said indignantly, “I play by the rules.”

“Oh yeah?” Levi challenged. “Like in that game last season when you pushed that girl from Sina High out of bounds?”

“Okay, she was being obnoxious. She kept putting pressure on me starting from the first time I brought the ball down the court.”

“Yeah well, get used to it. When you’re good, people make you a target.”

“Oh, so I’m good now? See, just the other day you said my free throws are trash.”

“Your free throws are trash. You have a 60 percent success rate.” Levi nodded and received another ball to the face. This time, he barely swiped it away in time. “Watch it!”

Hanji stuck out her tongue, raising her hands up, ready to defend. “Bring it, Ackerman.”

Levi narrowed his eyes before focusing on the game at hand again. He was down by two points, and Hanji was only one point away from reaching 21. He had to catch up.

He threw the ball down, starting to dribble, watching as Hanji locked her eyes onto his hips. She always swore she could tell which direction a player would go just by watching their hips. He had to admit it was always extremely difficult getting past her, and a bit distracting as he watched her watch him.

Both he and Hanji were their high school basketball team’s respective point guards, Hanji for the women’s team and he for the men’s.

Levi remembers freshman year tryouts, when the girls had half the gym and the boys the other, his attention was constantly being caught by this tall, gangly brunette who kept getting in layup after layup, even against senior defenders. She was ambidextrous, easily switching from left to right-handed shots, and she was agile, her skills handling the ball were college level at least. She was a shoo-in for the women’s team, and over the years she had only improved. Senior year, it was an easy decision for Coach Erwin to make her team captain.

Meanwhile, Levi more than held his own on the men’s team. He was one of the best all-around shooters and defenders. He had the best free throw success rate, and the highest stats for three-pointers and assists. He could always execute a play to perfection and he was a rock for all his teammates.

Two incredible players, not in direct opposition. One would think that they would get along great. However, Levi and Hanji most certainly butted heads over the years. They were in fact, infamous for their squabbles on both their teams, especially after they both were named captains of their respective teams senior year.

Oftentimes, they fought over court space, who got the better time slots in the gym. The morning slots on the weekends were the most coveted, as each team wanted to get their practice out of the way early so as to have the rest of the day free. Unfortunately, Paradis Academy was a small school, with only one gym, with one basketball court.

Hanji had once proposed that both teams just practice together at the same time. That had been an absolute disaster that ended in a near-death match between her and Levi, wrestling each other to the ground, with their teammates cheering them on until the coaches had to get involved and pull them apart. Levi still had the bite mark on his calf from where Hanji had decided to fight dirty.

Now, the issue was solved by a simple one-on-one match between Hanji and Levi every Friday afternoon. The first person to score 21 points against the other won the morning time slots for the weekend.

They had played these one-on-one games ten times now and were evenly matched, Hanji winning five and Levi winning five. Hanji was ahead currently, but Levi was determined to beat her. The other guys on the team would ream him if he lost for a second week in a row.

He dribbled the ball a few more times, before faking right quickly and then actually going left. Hanji predicted his movements perfectly, however, and she was on him in a second, putting pressure on him as she used her height and long arms to prevent him from moving forward. Levi turned his back to her, dribbling the ball slightly away so she couldn’t smack it out of his hands. He pressed his hips back into her, trying to box her out.

“You’re not getting past me, Ackerman.” Hanji leered.

“Yeah?” Levi stepped directly between her legs, then twisted his body around so his other foot could step on the outside of one of hers, he pressed his hips back into her and threw her off balance just enough to get her arms down so he could turn and get in a clean jump shot.

“19-20 four eyes.” Levi recited the new score.

Hanji shot him with a death glare before she went to retrieve the ball.

“So we’re playing dirty now?” Hanji walked to half court and checked the ball into Levi.

Levi checked it back, shooting her a rare grin. “That wasn’t dirty. That was just a good play.”

Hanji narrowed her eyes as she began dribbling the ball. Levi learned after watching her and playing against her over the years that Hanji tended to strategize a lot before making any moves. Even if she made a play quickly, there was a lot of thought that went into each and every one of her movements. Unfortunately, she was still rather unpredictable. Hanji was incredibly smart, both on and off the court, and could come up with a new strategy on the spot, much faster than the average player.

Levi watched her in anticipation, keeping himself on his toes, ready to defend any possible offense Hanji might throw at him.

He never could have predicted what Hanji did next.

She dribbled directly up to him, so they were almost toe-to-toe. She stopped and caught the ball in her hands, holding it to her side as with the other hand she grabbed Levi’s collar and pulled him closer to her.

The next thing Levi knew, her lips were against his, warm and soft, tasting of the slightest hint of mango mixed with salt from the sweat on her skin. His eyes closed automatically, like a reflex, as he leaned closer towards her.

But just as quickly, Hanji pulled away from him, leaving his lips feeling suddenly cold.

He didn’t even notice as Hanji positioned the ball in her right hand, balancing it with the left, and took a shot. The tell-tale swooshing sound of the net behind him alerting him that she had scored.

“And that’s 21, shortie.” Hanji grinned.

Levi's mouth hung open as Hanji started to do her trademark victory dance, where she threw her hands up in the air and did an awkward-looking hip wiggle.

"There's no way that counts." Levi started to argue.

"How so?" Hanji countered. "I didn't break any rules."

"There's-" Levi sputtered out. "That has to be illegal."

"Kissing your opponent isn't explicitly stated as illegal in any basketball rulebook I know of."

"I'm reporting this to Coach Zackly." Levi huffed and stormed over to where his bag sat on the side of the court.

"Okay, but when you tell him, tell him you kissed me back!" Hanji retorted.

"I didn't-" Levi blushed bright red. "You kissed me!"

"And you liked it."

"I-" Levi pressed his lips together tightly, which was a mistake as he caught another taste of Hanji's lips on his own, making him blush an even deeper shade of red.

Unfortunately, and very confusingly, for Levi, he did like it.

#Levihan Xmas in July #secret santa #gift #levihan university #levihan university discord #My writing #levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hanji #levi x hange #hange x levi #hanji x levi #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #hange zoe

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years

Text

Baking! (Yuta x you)

a/n : heyyo it’s friday, let’s have some “me” time and enjoy some imagine with Yuta! Idea came from @yutahoes comment on previous post HOT PATCHED

warning : none! suggestive, how you ended up with a bun in the oven! (your beloved Nami), and of course 2020 was a baking year and I am more than willing to share you the recipe i am referring to for this story! DM me :D also i got a bit too carried away :) but it’s gonna be fun :D

tagging : @2-3-t-i @yutahoes @ailoveyuta

with that said.. enjoy your scene!

Ever since the pandemic started and staying at home becomes a mandatory rule, you and your fiance, Yuta have been trying to overcome boredom with all possibilities. On the first month of staying home, you two are very excited about having “leisure” time while working at home. Both of you are delighted by the fact that you don’t have to wake up early, drive in the busy streets, and you just have to slip into your proper clothes when there is a board meeting. Considering your job is a magazine editor, you have meetings but luckily not every day.

Second month, you start to do yoga and exercises with Yuta every time he is bored, and he has nothing to do. Well, his comeback is still in preparation, so he only comes for regular practice and always got home when your office hour ends.

Fourth months, you pick up a new hobby and because your magazine company needs to make a new fresh content that suits the situation, the team comes up with a baking page. You are assigned to make the content, including taking pictures and trying the recipes your team made. You also have to do the editing but there’s help with that. You take the challenge, though you never bake before you see this as the perfect opportunity to start a new hobby. Things were great, the content is rising in demand since the world is baking suddenly! You got your raise and you enjoy doing this until your silly ass fell from challenging yourself to a wild yoga pose. You hurt your arms, they are a slightly fractured and you cannot make your baking content for the first three weeks of recovery, but you are so irritated to just stay in front of the laptop and watch your other friend make the pictures and cakes. So, when you can no longer hold yourself back, you plead the director board to give you back the baking section and they did love your job so you won the part back.

“Yuta can you come home earlier today?” you question the man who already wears his mask and has his training bag ready on his shoulder.

“Me?? I guess I’m done after lunch, I only have to practice singing today. Why?” he asks you back

You put on your sweetest smile “Don’t you want to try baking? I need some help with the rubric.”

Yuta’s eyes twinkle, it’s been his wish to try baking but because of practice and the amount of tools to wash and lack of time he hasn’t been able to do it. Now that you are offering him, he thinks he can seize the opportunity.

“Okay, I’ll try, who knows NCT will have a baking vlog after this, might flex about my skills” he smirks and you only grin at his cockiness.

“Okay, you can go.” You push him away after kissing his cheek and blushing when he winks at you and disappear behind the door.

Today you just have to wait for the team to send you the ingredients and recipes. You wonder what you’ll bake today no, what Yuta will bake today.

He was lucky the baking procedure he has to do today is easy. Simple lemon cake and you manage to get good pictures of Yuta’s hands and the aesthetic bowls and whiskers. You manage to hold the camera with your stiff casted hand, but it works even when you look super silly.

“Oh gosh! This is healing.” Yuta exclaims when his first cake comes out of the oven nicely and with a good aroma. You quickly take pictures and once it’s done, Yuta has already cut a slice and pops it into his mouth. “Yummy, I am talented indeed.” He sounds so confident and you hate to admit, his cake is better than what you expect and knowing your husband, you know he won’t stop bragging about this, he might even go as far as trying more baking recipes.

Your nightmare comes true, once his promotional schedule with NCT is over, he comes home with a load of baking supplies.

“Yuta, what’s all of this?” you ask when you help him bring in bags of spices, butters, and decorating tools.

“My promotional week is done and I have our well deserved rest! I am going to be productive and bake for you every day!” he smiles like a little kid who just get a chocolate and you can’t say no to him.

“Oh no, not every day Yuta!” you joke as you help him organize the spices into the kitchen racks.

He brought different types of flours and sugars, even bought yeast and baking sodas. Oh he really is planning to bake!

“Well, I have to finish some works have fun baking! Make sure you wear the apron and don’t set the oven too high. Wash the bowls too okay.” You pat his long hair and skip into your room.

Yuta takes his time to shower, sing in the bathroom, check the internet for easy recipes and even compare recipes from different websites.

His choice finally is decided on the famous banana cake, it doesn’t require mixer and he notices you have bananas at home.

“Flour, bananas, eggs, butter…” he bends to take the things out and places them all on the counter. Next he brings out the bowls and whiskers and the rest of the stuffs he needs.

“Okay all set,” he rubs his hands and takes the apron you have. Yuta’s lucky he can use your apron well, (thanks to his small waist). “And where is it,” he walks to the living room to get his small rubber band and as he bites the rubber between his teeth you happen to leave your room to get some water.

“Oh!” you exclaim when you see a hot scene reveling in your eyes. If you bring something, you’d drop it already.

There under the golden hours of the sun from the window, Yuta is tying his hair up and his lip bites is not helping you. Not to mention the apron fitting him well. You kinda regret not buying a “cute” apron.

“Let me help,” you grin when Yuta fails to tie his hair. Somewhat in the middle of tying his hair we was surprised to see you gawking at him. He blushes a little when you step closer and take his hair into one bundle and expertly you tie the band around it.

“There you go! Neat and tidy.” You click your tongue and run a hand down his exposed biceps.

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” you playfully ask him this when you learn just how “dolled” up he is. In your apron, smelling good, looking hot, and smirking.

“As much as you want me to tease you, see that?” he points to the kitchen and you follow his finger direction “I am baking you cake.”

You lead him to the kitchen, cool yourself down with a glass of iced water and Yuta starts to busy himself with the recipes.

He starts by measuring the cups of flour, sugars, and spoons of cinnamon and baking soda.

You choose to observe him instead of coming back to your work. You’re glad you have saved your works earlier and don’t have to return for it.

Yuta looks super serious when he cracks the eggs and starts mixing them to the dry ingredients. You take note at how accurate he is, you learned about the small details about baking through your rubric.

“Need help?” you ask when Yuta starts to whisk the mixture together. He brings his bowl to his waist and with his tilted head and angled hand, he starts whisking the batter.

You have to hold yourself back when you see how he looks delicious right now. With an apron, a tied hair, tongue sticking out of his lips from focusing, his flexed arm and how he smirks at you. Gosh he’s the real cake here! You wonder how will he react if you suddenly come and bite him there on his neck which is inviting you to bite a mark there. Hey mark!

“No, I got this.” He winks at you and continues whisking the ingredients. Another minute passed by, he adds the mashed bananas and some cut apples for better taste. You focus on his actions but mostly enjoying the show he gives to you.

“You look hot.” You blurt that out loud as you secretly eat the choco-chips he will add later. “You think I look hot? You haven’t seen me whisk a whipping cream or make a meringue!” Yuta says as h places the bowl down and begin doing the next step.

You lean over the counter, eager to see what he is doing next. “Okay, all set just add choco-chips and stir and pour to container.” He smiles nicely to you, expecting to get praises or just a satisfied face. But all Yuta sees is your side smirk.

Yuta can always read you like a book, so without losing his cool, he checks you up from head to toe. He notices how you’re not focusing on him, biting your lips, and your ears and cheeks are as red as strawberries right now!

He connects the dots in his head and snaps his finger in front of your face. You jump in surprise “What?” you yell, clearly annoyed that your fantasy session is destroyed.

“No you’re staring at me too intensely! Stop it,” he acts like his innocence just got violated.

You click your tongue “Yuta, blame yourself!” you pull your hair in despair when you feel your body heating up more and feel tingles slowly creeping up.

Yuta is ignoring you when he shows off his flexibility by bending forward to put his container in the oven. “And that’s the right temperature, now we wait!” he tosses the mittens aside and leans his body to the table you’re seating at. He glances to the cup of water with only ice cubes left, he grabs it up and swirls it around before sipping the remaining drops.

“What are you looking at Princess?” his playful remarks are slipping from his lips. You bite your lips down and try to shake whatever idea you have in your head after seeing him drink the last drop of water like that is the best water in the world. His Adam’s apple bopping is not helping you at all, you lick your lips and lowkey will kill him for making this looks so yummy and advertise-able.

“Nothin’” you lie though it is as clear as day that you are “eating” him in your mind.

“You sure? You don’t look like that.” He says and then knocking the glass to his lips to take the remaining ice cubes in his mouth.

You nod your head and turn redder if it’s possible. Dang Yuta is clearly teasing you and you love it. “I-“ you can’t stop your sentence for the next thing he does is taking your lips there with ice cubes in his mouth. The cold sensation wakes you up from your day dream and you press your hands over his trained arms. He passes the cube into your mouth and you’re surprised with this new sensation. Oh Yuta and his surprises!

He continues taking you there until there’s no more cubes left and both of you are already breathing harder and the atmosphere has turn super hot. Next thing you know, you’re already on the sofa pinned down by Yuta as he teases you with butterfly kisses here and there.

“Yuta-“ you moan out his name when you have the chance, your hand pulls on his hair so he can stop kissing you for a while “Your cake.” You breathily remind him about the cake in the oven.

“Hm? My timer hasn’t gone off.” He ignores your attempt to stop taking you here.

“You want this right? Or do you want to eat me instead? You really look desperate earlier.” He nuzzles into your neck and gives some generous kitten licks there.

“Oh you were teasing me!” you defend yourself “Admit it.” You push him away to see his eyes and get the truth out, but Yuta is Yuta and he always has his way of making you lost. “No, I did not. You were this turned on by me, that you were having such sexy thoughts in the middle of the day.” His hand travels south and you already stifle a moan so he won’t be cocky about it.

He already plays with the hem of your pants, only seconds to pulling them away and eating you raw there, but his timer goes off and he has the biggest grin on his face, while you the biggest disappointment. “Yuta!” you’re already sounding so desperate, tears are forming in your eyes and Yuta only chuckles, he wipes your tears and stands up from between your legs.

“Oops! My bad, cake is done! Why don’t we try it when it’s hot?” he leaves you to turn the oven off and takes the cake out. He left you like that! All teased up and messy.

“Yuta- you will pay for this.” You groan before ignoring the pain from the edged pleasure and stomping your feet angrily to the kitchen.

“Come try this, tell me if this is good.” He offers you a forkful and you angrily chomp down on it.

“Bad.” You mutter, as you cross your hands over your chest but still chew on the delicious cake.

“Bad? This is so yummy! I can take this to the boys, and they’ll ask for more.” Yuta towers above you.

You pout “Fine, its yummy.” Your hand reaches out for some more bites, but you stop and shake your head “You. Finish what you did to me, or I cannot enjoy my cake.”

He giggles and in one swift motion already has you in his arms “Alright my princess, let me enjoy my cake instead!” he brings you to the room and you’re already giggly again, giving him kisses and playing with his hair.

You swear you will kill him if he only leaves you in the room and goes back to eat his cake in the kitchen, lucky you he did not do that. You both know that the cake will be cold once you’re done with the session but who cares when Yuta can bake more of them!

And that is probably how you end up putting a bun in the oven with Yuta!

fin.

#yuta x reader #yuta x you #yuta x y/n #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #yuta fluff #yuta suggestive #yuta smut #yuta oneshot #yuta soft hours #yuta domestic fluff #domestic fluff #yuta #nct yuta scenarios #nct fluff #nct flirt line #nct yuta fluff #nakamoto yuta #nakamoto yuta x reader

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byunbaekby · 4 years

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title — the following pairing — demon!haechan x female reader, slight jaemin x reader featuring — jaemin as reader’s roommate and crush word count — 6.9k genres — horror, angst warnings — language, religious concepts in accordance to demons and angels, mentions of murder, psychological and physical torture, elements of haunting, choking, degradation in a nonsexual context (donghyuck often refers to y/n as feeble or unintelligent), minor character death inspiration — monster by red velvet

“under a single light, why are there two shadows?” “i’m a little monster, be scared of me / i’ll bother you by making you only dream of me.” “see i’m just playing, no bad intentions / try to come out of the dream but monster lives forever.”

author’s message — for the #neohalloween event hosted by @nct-writers. this is my first time ever writing something of this genre, so i’m very excited and nervous to put this forward. thank you to @give-seconds for proof reading this and making it 100x better! much love ♡

also, this entire scenario is loosely generated from a superstition in hmong culture that you shouldn’t pick up anything you find laying around in public, for you might bring home something else with you.

“Y/N? Is something wrong? Why are you calling me?”

Your roommate’s voice rings clear on the opposite side of the line. Though you’re shivering as a result of the cold, barren winter air, you try to get a response past your shaking lips. “I-I’m walking home, Jaem. Can you… can you stay on the phone with me?”

“Oh.” He immediately gets it; it’s never safe for a young woman to walk home alone, especially not in your neighborhood. “Of course… Where are you?”

You turn into the shortcut, your feet meeting the soft, pliable ground. The cemetery; it’s probably the worst shortcut you could ever take, but it cuts your walk home in half. “The cemetery…”

“Again? I told you that you should stop cutting through there, it’s not safe.”

You register his words in your ear as you eye a black bird resting atop a gravestone, peering at you with bright eyes. Casting your sight away from it, your teeth bite down on your bottom lip, roseate tier captured beneath the sharp incisor. “Walking down the street at this time isn’t safe either. At least here there’s nobody else around.”

Jaemin sighs on the other side. “Even worse, anyone hanging out in a cemetery at…” He pauses, likely to glance at his watch. “10:28 PM, is probably going to be weirder than someone you find out on the street on a Friday night.”

“Hey!” You tell him, clutching your bag close to you. “I’m a person hanging out in a cemetery at 10:28 PM.”

“My point exactly.”

You roll your eyes, a laugh leaving you, but you’re glad for Jaemin’s teasing. It helps get your mind off the fact that the hill you walk past casts a dark shadow over the path. As you walk past, engulfed in what seems to be the darkest area of the entire graveyard, you attempt to make easy conversation with your roommate to get it off your mind.

“Did you eat dinner already?” You ask him, voice low as if someone were listening. Who knows, someone might be.

Jaemin easily sees through what you’re attempting to do, but he follows along anyway because he’s nice. “I did. I tried to wait for you, but you took too long.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Time passed by me in the library.”

“I know. Like damn, you should really lay off the studying sometimes and have fun.”

“I know, I know. You tell me, Renjun tells me, Professor Kim even—woah!”

You drop to the floor, the air flying out of your chest and dissipating into nothingness as you fall forward onto your chest. All the contents of your bag spill out, along with your phone, which lies a few feet away on the dirt.

Groan escaping your lips, you look down at your white jeans. Completely stained and covered in dirt. Damn.

“Y/N? Hello? Y/N, you there?”

You can hear Jaemin’s muffled worried tone from where you are, but you focus on gathering your things from your bag first before you grab the phone. In the darkness of the night, you can’t even see everything, you just hope you manage to grab everything. It would definitely be your worst nightmare if you lost your Calculus homework due on Monday to the graveyard because you hadn’t grabbed it.

When you finally return everything to your bag, you press the phone to your ear. “Hey, sorry, I tripped.”

“You had me worried there! I was about to run out there myself,” nags Jaemin, and you can see in your mind the way his dark eyebrows must be furrowed in distaste.

“Sorry Jaem,” you apologize to him as you scurry down the path, ready to be free of the cemetery’s unsettling aura as soon as possible. “Please tell me you saved me some food, I’m starving...”

He feels it when you walk in. He senses the irrefutable change in the air, smells your delectable scent with his sharpness. His grave sits at the very top of the largest hill, giving him the perfect place to watch you from. The cemetery becomes alive with your entrance.

Ironic, isn’t it?

Sitting rather stylishly with his thin, gauntly body atop his gravestone, Donghyuck watches you with sharp, focused eyes. You’re so pretty. He smirks, observing the way you flutter through the graveyard, feet barely touching the ground in your feeble attempt to escape the ominous lot as soon as possible.

“Walking down the street at this time isn’t safe either. At least here there’s nobody else around.”

That’s where you’re wrong.

The dark demon can hardly keep the devilish grin off his tiers, watching you. Beautiful, you are.

He’s seen you a few times, in the handful of times you’ve dared to cut through the cemetery on your way home. With an amused, almost teasing shake of his head, he tsks. “Bad decision, little lamb.”

“Did you eat dinner already?” You ask whoever you’re speaking to on the phone. Donghyuck can barely remember what human food tastes like. As a demon, he doesn’t eat humans, let alone get hungry, but if he had a choice, you’d definitely be his first choice.

Your soul is good. He wants it.

If he can’t have you, at least he can play with you a little.

It doesn’t take much. The moment you glide through the path and under the darkness of his hill, all it takes is the slightest snap of his fingers to send you flying forward. He’d love to make you stay down there, perhaps drag you down below with him, but that would be no fun.

Rather, he plucks off one of his rings, one of the many decorating his hands for absolutely no one to see, and tosses it seamlessly into the pile of your things spilled across the path. As he watches the way you carelessly shove everything back into your bag, his Cheshire grin grows even wider. Now, he has a reason to leave.

As you scurry away, Donghyuck jumps off his grave which he had occupied for decades, and lands on his feet. With a wipe of his hands on his jeans, he watches you go.

“Stupid little lamb. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

The rest of the walk home, you can swear there are steps behind you matching yours.

When you get home, you quickly slide into your bedroom amid Jaemin’s nagging sounds and slip off your white (well, brown now) jeans from your legs. After getting on some more comfortable clothes, you grab your dirtied jeans and make your way to the bathroom.

The restroom, however small, still has room for a washer and dryer, which you’re thankful for, seeing as you and Jaemin don’t have to pay a laundromat for your weekly laundry. You toss your jeans in the washer; normally you wouldn’t wash just one garment, but the dirt would likely stain your perfectly white jeans. After pressing start you make your way to the kitchen, where your roommate is reheating dinner for you.

The image of Jaemin’s broad back standing at the stove makes you smile to yourself for just a millisecond, so quick that it’s fleeting. Before you can take another moment to admire your roommate however, he turns to you with his trademark smile. “Hey, pick a movie. Let’s watch something.”

About fifteen minutes later, you’re eating your leftovers on the couch, Jaemin’s arm spread over your shoulders while the beginning scenes of The Conjuring play. You don’t have much, the apartment barely enough for the two of you to inhabit, and Jaemin is only your roommate, but you’ve gotten used to these kinds of nights. Simple, easy, sweet.

The light remainder of Jaemin’s daily cologne mixed in with his gentle cotton scent pervades into your senses, and you lean your head onto his shoulder with a smile. You’ve always wanted to be more with Jaemin, but you could settle for these comfortable nights of movies and platonic cuddling.

It’s something about having a full belly, Jaemin’s warmth, and the everlasting light traces of his scent that has you falling asleep, eyes drooping closed slowly into a peaceful suspension of consciousness.

You wake the first morning.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, but it doesn’t surprise you when you wake up in bed. Recently you’ve developed a habit of falling asleep on movie nights, and Jaemin is always kind enough to place you gently back in your room.

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you let out an unearthly sound as you sit up and stretch your arms above your head. When you unsheath the blanket from your legs, your unprepared toes meet the cold wooden floor, causing you to flutter across the room quickly and into the living area.

It’s Saturday, but Jaemin volunteers at the hospital on Saturdays, so you only prepare a bowl of cereal for yourself. If your roommate were here, he’d probably scold you for the lack of nutrition, so you toss a couple of berries into your frosted flakes.

After you finish up, washing your bowl at the sink, your eyes widen in realization; you left your jeans in the washer! Falling asleep mid-movie had caused you to completely forget about them, not drying them before you slept like you had told yourself. God, they probably stink by now, sitting wet for hours.

But when you slide open the door to the bathroom, you see your jeans resting atop the drying machine, folded neatly like they had been waiting for you. Perhaps they were.

Ah, you realize, mouth parting just the slightest. Jaemin must have dried them and folded them before he left for the hospital this morning. Another grateful smile spreads across your visage; you really do have the best roommate.

You spend the rest of the day studying, and prepare a nice dinner (which also means going grocery shopping) for Jaemin, as a little thank you for always being so thoughtful. He appreciates it when he comes home to a fully cooked meal, and there’s something about the way he smiles that has you feeling as though you’ve finally done something good to amount to all the times he’s saved your ass as a roommate. When the night ends, you both retire to your rooms.

In your lovesick daze, you fail to recognize that under the single lighting of your room, there are two shadows.

VII.

On the seventh day, Donghyuck’s displeasure is enough to choke him—that is, if he needed to breathe.

He had wanted to tease you, follow you home and play with you a little before revealing himself. But God, you are so dumb; he should have expected as much from a feeble, stupid little sheep anyways.

That first night, testing the waters, he had done your damn laundry for you. It was just a little fun, to get the ball rolling. Any superstitious person would have known. And what did you do? You had thought it to be your roommate. As the days went by, his teasing grew in quantity and intensity; hiding your keys, ripping apart your essays, perhaps all the menial and annoying things that some stupid schoolboy would do to grab the attention of a girl he liked. But your attention is lost, and he is not a stupid schoolboy. No, he is far from it.

Even as his antics have built up throughout the following days, you always found some excuse to play it off; you must be more clever than he thought. No, you weren’t; you were either extremely clumsy and forgetful, or you were simply denying his existence. It’s time to make himself known.

VIII.

It’s the eighth night when he appears in your dreams. No, not he. It.

You can sense it, the moment your suspension of consciousness becomes overtaken by him and you find yourself in a simple black room. It seems to extend in every which direction, as though you could run off in any given direction and never hit a wall. But you feel it watching you.

He’s behind your shoulder, and the moment his low, amused chuckle is heard in your ears you swipe around to face him, eyes wide. He’s beautiful; dark brown hair, smooth skin, a captivating honey color, and dark eyes.

Those eyes.

They pierce into your soul, as though they can see right through you. They probably can. He is not a person, you know. He is… more.

Dark eyes once overtaken with curiosity are now characterized by bleak amusement. Your breath hitches, and his voice comes out low. “Welcome.”

“What is this? Where am I?” Your voice comes out rapidly, shaking. You know nothing of this… thing before you but you can’t help but feel unsafe under its gaze.

“Now, that’s not very nice. I am very much a person, not an it,” he smirks beneath the shadow which casts itself upon his visage. You freeze; he can hear your thoughts.

This realization only further widens the Cheshire grin across his lips, and instinctively you take a step back further into the black nothingness. “G-Get out of my head,” you threaten to no avail.

The same mocking laugh leaves his lips. “Sweetheart, this is your head. This entire place is of your making. If you hate it so much,” he says, and suddenly he’s in front of you. His hand leaves the pockets of his black bottoms, lithe digits suddenly cupping your chin and tilting it upward so you are staring right into his dark empty orbs which come to life with the image of you. His fingers, dressed in various shades of gold rings, grip you. You should feel his warmth on your skin, you should feel the radiating human heat that you so often feel with Jaemin.

“Erase me from it.”

But you don’t feel anything behind his callused skin, and that’s what scares you the most.

Your throat runs dry and when he parts his lips, even his breath is cold. “But you’re scared.” When you fail to respond, he licks his lips, and his next words are characterized by sarcastic rancor. “What’s wrong? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Unless…” At this point, under his burning gaze that contrasts the ice-cold emptiness against your skin, your knees begin to buckle. The smile which accompanies his next words, revealing his pearly whites and perhaps his intentions, is sinister: “You’re not afraid of demons… are you?”

IX.

You wake in a cold sweat, and you’re more aware of Jaemin’s soothing voice telling you to breathe than the fact that you’re not breathing. Chest heaving and eyes wide, you search for something in Jaemin’s eyes to tether you back to earth, back to reality.

He’s not real, he’s not real. He can’t hurt you.

It was just a dream.

“Hey, hey,” Jaemin calls out to you, hands on your shoulders to steady you from your previous thrashing. You had awoken him with your screaming. “You okay? Breathe, Y/N, just,” he takes a pause to take a deep breath, silently instructing you to follow with him. “Breathe.” In a few moments, when your breathing pattern has begun to return to normal, steady breaths, he asks again, voice dripping with nothing but pure concern for you, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s the first word you’ve spoken, so your voice comes out scratched and you’re reminded just how much air you need to actually speak coherently. “It was just… a bad dream.”

“Sounded a lot worse than a bad dream…” He responds, taking his respectful hands off of you and tucking them into the loose pockets of his fleece pajama bottoms. An image flashes before your eyes: that… person, hands tucked leisurely into their pockets, ominous smile enough to make you wonder what they were hiding in there.

You blink, closing your eyes tightly and shaking your head, as though it could shake the image from your mind. When you open them once more, Jaemin is still standing next to your bed. “I’m okay, I promise,” you tell him, though it feels more as though you’re speaking to yourself. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” responds your roommate, who offers you a reassuring smile and another worried look before slipping out of your bedroom. When you’re finally alone, you bring a hand up to your forehead, where sweat has made your skin clammy and sticky.

You’re warm. He is not.

XII.

“You’re a demon.”

You say this on the twelfth night, finding yourself once again stranded in the same dark and endless room with the sharp-eyed devil. This time, there are two chairs and the two of you sit facing each other. He sits as though he has all the time in the world, and perhaps he does. Legs crossed leisurely and arms over his chest with his head tilted at you, he stares.

With your tense posture in your own chair, you wonder fleetingly how enough light exists in this black room that you can never seem to avoid staring at his mocking facial expression. You gulp, gripping onto nothing as you tighten your fists to prevent them from trembling. He’s not real, you have to remind yourself.

“When did you figure that out, little lamb? When I told you, probably?” His tone is insulting, as though you were stupid. You narrow your eyes, biting the flesh inside your cheek.

“Aw,” he coos, grinning at you with dark beguilement. “You’re frustrated.”

“Duh, I’m frustrated,” you huff, blowing some air from your mouth to push away a strand of hair that has fallen into your face. “You keep bringing me here with no jurisdiction or knowledge of who you are.”

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “Three questions. Don’t make them stupid, though I know that’s hard for an incompetent human like yourself.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet. Next question. I’ll even be nice enough to abstain that as a question,” he responds, as though he’s doing you a favor.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Being a demon is rather boring, you see. Not here, not there.” He waves his hand around, as though pointing to heaven and its counterpart. “I found you, and you intrigued me.”

He leans forward, resting his chin in his palm. “Or rather, you found me. You invited me in.”

“I never did that,” you reply, indignant.

“But you did.” A dark eyebrow raises at you, and you bite down on your lip to prevent your anger from rising. “You never checked your bag, did you? Never found a gold ring, maybe?” He lifts his chin off of his palm, stretching out his fingers as though they were cramped. “Maybe one with DH engraved in it.”

You had. You had found the ring in your bag on Saturday and had figured it to be one of your own negligible accessories, tossing it into your jewelry box. Had there been letters engraved on it?

At the look on your face, a smile spreads across his features. “So you do remember.”

Despite the umbrage bubbling in your stomach, perhaps more feisty than you should be in the presence of a self-proclaimed demon, you have another question. Leaning forward just the slightest you ask, “Why haven’t you hurt me? Isn’t that what demons do?”

There’s a glint in his eye, and the easy-going expression on his face is quickly replaced by a darkened simper. “Do you want me to hurt you?”

Your fists tighten again. “N-No…”

“Don’t tempt me.” His voice is dark now, his earlier lilted tone now descending into a deep pit. It’s almost demanding, as though he’s daring you to push his buttons and send him plummeting into a torturous rage. At the look of fear that swipes across your face, he chuckles once more. “Relax, little lamb. I’m just playing, no bad intentions here.”

You don’t believe him, not even for a second. If he’s really what he says he is… why does he torture you in this way, making you only dream of him? You push the thoughts from your mind, knowing that he has full access to your brain. “What’s your name?”

“Now you’re asking the good questions. You may call me…”

The corner of his lips tug upward into a smirk.

“Donghyuck.”

XIII.

The titles should shock you more than they do.

University Student Pleads Guilty to Murder of Three Female Students

College Killer: More Murders Revealed In Trial of Lee Donghyuck

Lee Donghyuck, Murderer of At Least Thirteen Victims, Sentenced To Death Penalty

He’s real.

It’s Friday night again, and you find yourself back at the library. Except this time, it’s not calculus nor world history that you are pondering. It’s not your psychology textbook that you are poured over.

No, the archives are open, and all it took was a little keyword into the filter to find just what you’re searching for. The only word you needed: Donghyuck.

He hadn’t been lying. Not about his identity or his demonic status.

When you read over the headlines and their accompanying stories, you don’t realize the way your pupils begin to shake, or the way that your heartbeat begins to accelerate as the truth dawns upon you.

He is real, he is dangerous, and he is haunting you.

XIV.

“So you know who I am.” It’s less of a question, more of a statement. Tonight, there is only one chair and you are sitting in it as Donghyuck walks circles around you. There are no chains, no straps to hold you down to the chair but you cannot move. Despite what he had told you the first night, that this is all your dream and that you have the ability to change anything, the opposite seems true.

He disappears behind you, and suddenly his voice is in your ear. Your breath hitches at the sudden gust of cold air on your sensitive skin as he speaks. “Are you afraid?”

“No.”

“You forget I’m in your head, sweetheart. I know everything, so don’t lie to me.”

He’s caught you.

You say nothing, and so he stands straight and makes himself present in your vision again. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s in your feeble nature.” His finger starts at your hand, bringing a chill down your spine. As he drags it slowly up the scope of your exposed arm, you hardly resist the instinct to shiver. “I just want to know, what are you afraid of?”

“Is it…” he speaks softly, teasingly throwing each word in your ear, like tossing small bites to a starved dog. “That I know each of your thoughts the moment you think it, and you only know my name? That I’m a dark spirit and can bring you enough pain to make you forget your name with just a snap of my fingers?”

His trailing hand, once tracing over the curve of your clavicle, suddenly grips your neck. Though only a light pressure is applied, you feel the wind knocked out of you by his sudden, unforeseen movement. “Or is it that because of me, sixteen women died and you might end up the same?”

With the little air you have left, you manage to squeeze out, “They said thirteen.”

Amusement shows on his visage before he finally lets your throat go, and you heave as you attempt to refill your lungs with air. “No,” he corrects, moving back to his original space, circling you like a shark locking its prey in uncharted waters. “They said at least thirteen. They never found the other three.”

The thought is enough to make you sick, but before you can manage to swallow down the bile attempting to rise up your throat, he speaks. “Don’t worry about them too much, my little lamb. You’ll join them soon.”

“You’re lying,” you spit out. “You keep threatening me, but you’re all talk and no proof. You can’t do anything to me, that’s why you only bother me in my dreams.”

Your sudden and unexpected quip seems to, rather than upset him, entertain him. “You think I can’t do anything to you outside of this box? Funny,” he scoffs, though he still maintains that grin on his lips. “Humans are so cocky, I learned that after they killed me.”

He stops pacing, and instead kneels before you, his face placed before yours. “I’ve done things, sweetheart. Remember the pants? The essay you spent five hours on torn up the morning after you printed it out? How about the dress you bought that I cut up until there was nothing left but shreds? You got really mad at your friend for quote-unquote, ‘pranking’ you.”

But Donghyuck is nothing if not honest. You’ve learned this.

“But on some level, you’re right.” His hand reaches up once more, but instead of resting it on your shoulder again, he gently caresses your cheek. It would be soft, romantic in any other case. But no, his touch makes your skin crawl. “I can’t hurt you, and I don’t know why. Don’t worry, I want to, but outside this dream…” His hand stops, and grips your chin instead. “I physically can’t. Tell me why?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“You have a cross on you somewhere, little lamb? Or, a guardian angel?”

“I said I don’t know,” you repeat, voice louder as you turn your head sharply, ripping your chin from his grasp. In your ear, he tsks.

Now you’ve done it.

“Getting too comfortable, aren’t we? You’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” he says, voice dipping into dangerous territory as he reaches forward, gripping your throat once more. But this time, he digs his nails into the softness of your skin, and your choked scream is caught in your throat by his hands before it can ever leave.

“Y/N! Y/N, wake up!”

Jaemin’s voice is the only thing carrying you back to sanity, and when you finally force your eyes open he’s before you, gripping your arms once again to prevent you from thrashing about. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream,” he coos out in worry as you finally come to.

Your hand immediately flies to your neck which is, to your relief, not at all sore. The moment your eyes fall on him and you realize that the hand around your neck is no more, you fall into a bout of tears. Instinctively, your roommate holds you to his chest in a protective hug whilst you sob into his chest.

It’s not real, it’s not real. You keep telling yourself this like a mantra in your head as Jaemin rubs your head soothingly. But why does it feel so real?

“It’s okay,” Jaemin continues telling you, voice soft as his sweet familiar scent pervades your senses once again and your tense muscles begin to relax.

Minutes pass before you’ve calmed down, outright sobs now quiet whimpers. Jaemin begins to set you down back into bed, but you grab at his wrist before he can set you down. “What, what is it?” He asks, eyes immediately scanning your body for any sign of distress.

“Can you… can you stay with me?” It’s a large request, perhaps much too intrusive for someone who is supposed to just be your roommate. But lately, Jaemin feels… much more. Every night as you’ve been plagued by Donghyuck’s presence in your haunting nightmares, he has come to save you when you’re falling apart in screams.

He feels like a friend, and a… a protector.

Not at all fazed by your sudden request, Jaemin wears an abiding smile and nods. “Of course,” he says, sliding into your bed whilst you move over to make room for him. You feel much safer with him around, and now with him in your bed, your personal dreamcatcher, you naturally find yourself in his arms once more while you drift away into sleep, Donghyuck’s presence no longer occupying your dreams.

Neither of you take the time or attention to look, for if you had you would have seen, in the corner of the room furthest from the window, where the darkened corner seems to extend into an infinite world of black, Donghyuck looking less than pleased.

Your roommate needs to be handled.

XXI.

Something seemed to have changed that night when Jaemin first slipped into your bed. You have since not dreamed of Donghyuck even once, and you definitely do not miss him. Perhaps he is gone for good.

How stupid of you to think so, even knowing what Donghyuck is capable of. Perhaps you never truly knew, not before now, just how powerful he is, or just what kind of chaos he can incite.

It’s 3 PM on the twenty-first day when you finally find out just how evil he is.

Jaemin is in the hospital.

You had gotten the call on the bus ride home from campus; your roommate, jokes and boyish smiles for all the time you’ve known him, had been hit by a car just outside your apartment building. Now, he is in the hospital with broken ribs and a herniated disk, barely holding on for his life in a coma.

You’re not allowed in his room, but you do catch a glimpse of your roommate when his physician enters, and just the sliver of him that you see is enough to make you turn your head away.

You know who is responsible for this.

The door to your bedroom is thrown open, and before you can recognize the emptiness of the apartment without Jaemin’s presence around, you’re screaming into the void.

“I know you’re listening, you dick! Show yourself, fucking coward!”

The obscenities that leave your mouth seem to do the trick because before you can register it, you’re on the floor. As though the carpet is pulled out from under you, you go flying forward and the wind is knocked out of you as you meet the ground chest first.

You don’t have any time to breathe or recover, as immediately there is a force pulling you up by the shirt, and suddenly you’re no longer standing on the ground.

You see him.

You’ve seen him before, of course. He’s appeared in your dreams enough to have his sinister expression sewed in your thoughts at all hours of the day. But now… now he looks stronger. Less pale and more colorful. Even the aura which exudes from him… is more dangerous than ever.

Yet, he still wears that shit-eating smile on his lips as he watches you float in the air, collar squeezing at your throat and looking completely powerless. “Now, little lamb, those are not very nice words,” Donghyuck chastises as he approaches you. When he’s finally before you once more, he twitches his eyebrow upward just the slightest. “Missed me?”

“Not at all,” you manage, gathering the spit in your mouth to chuck it out at him.

Not even fazed, he simply wipes at the spit on his face, flicking it off in a negligible direction. “I’m not feeling welcomed,” he comments.

“Because you’re not,” you retort, thrashing about to no avail. “What did you do to Jaemin?”

The mention of your now critical roommate only makes his grin grow wider. “You see, sweetheart, I thought you’d be pretty proud of me. I found out what was keeping me from being able to inflict any real damage on you,” he says whilst his cold hand comes out to squeeze at your cheeks. “Your guardian angel has been taken care of.”

Wait, what? Then it dawns on you.

Jaemin is… your guardian angel.

“You look surprised. That’s okay, I didn’t know either.” Donghyuck releases your face, instead choosing to pace left and right before you, though he never lets his eyes leave you. “But then he started sleeping with you, and I couldn’t get into your mind. I put two and two together. With him around, I’d never be able to touch you.”

The glint in his eyes turns feral. “And you have an embarrassing school girl crush on him, so I was able to kill two birds with one stone. With every second that passes, his life is draining away, and I’m only getting stronger.”

“Why are you doing this?” You cry out once again, though your voice is more desperate than it had been the first time around. “What do you want?”

“You see, I figured that out too.” His mocking tone begins to seep away and is instead replaced by that familiar dark timbre of his as he approaches you once more, gripping your chin again in his fingers. Tilting your head up harshly, he stares endlessly into you and whispers, “I thought I was done with those petty murders, that the sight of women begging at my knees like dirt for mercy wouldn’t excite me as much anymore. But no… I want you to suffer. I want to destroy you, take away your happiness, and break you piece by piece, until you’re just begging for me to take you out of your misery.” The semblance of a smirk quirks at his lips. “Just like those other girls. Except this time, there’s no limit to what I can do. And when you do die, I’ll be right here to welcome you back.”

Tears sting your eyes at the horrible things he whispers to you, but you refuse to capitulate to him. “I’d rather die than do anything you say.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be dead just as soon. The fun hasn’t even started yet,” he teases. Suddenly, it’s as if the paranormal restraints on your limbs are cut free, as your body immediately falls to the floor, collecting in a pile. You hardly have the energy to lift your head, but you register the sound of Donghyuck’s voice as he walks away from you. “Rest up tonight, little lamb. You’ve got a long eternity ahead of you.”

Then he’s gone. You swear you will make use of the last twelve hours of your life.

First, you visit Jaemin again. You know you’re not allowed in, but you know his room number and there’s no one coming in to check up on him, you hope.

You don’t know if he really is your guardian angel, but above that, he is your friend.

“Hey,” you say softly, making your presence known as you sit down in the chair beside his hospital bed. It’s arbitrary… you know Jaemin doesn’t have parents around, and perhaps that only lends to the possibility that he really is someone sent here to protect you.

“How are you?” You scoff at yourself. “That’s stupid of me to ask, you’re in a coma. I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you really are an angel, but thank you, Jaemin. For always… always being there for me, protecting me. Walking me through the cemetery, making dinner for me, chasing my nightmares away.”

Sitting there, staring at your friend’s lifeless body laying on the bed looking gray as a sheet, tears begin to sting your eyes. “I’m sorry for bringing you into this, I should have listened to you when you told me to be careful. And if I have to lose someone as amazing and… pure-hearted as you, I don’t think I can live with myself. So please, even if you don’t make it out of here, please… stay by my side.”

As your first tear breaks the barrier and begins to coast down your cheek, you reach out and grab his hand. It’s cold.

XXII.

It’s a little past midnight and though your fingers shake from the cold, you throw everything of yours that he’s touched into the bucket.

Even the things you weren’t completely sure of, you toss away anything that could have been influenced by his dark magic; the leftover shreds of your essay that you had recovered from the recycle, the pieces of fabric that he had obliterated your dress to, the white jeans you had worn that first night, and more. Finally, you throw in that godforsaken ring that had started it all.

You swore that you would never return to the cemetery again, but here you are. This time, you really can see everything at the top of the hill. You turn your head back to glower at the tombstone before you.

Lee Donghyuck.

What a piece of shit.

Though your fingers shake, you light the match without trouble. When you toss it into the basket of forsaken belongings, it is only a matter of seconds before Donghyuck appears, tethered to his tombstone once more.

Gripping at his body, he snarls out at you, “What the hell are you doing?”

That, you hardly even know. Following only the speculations found on the internet, you had unknowingly lured your monstrous demon back to his home.

It seems to work, as the greater the fire grows, the more pained Donghyuck’s expression seems to become.

Your voice finds its strength as you announce your intentions. “Erasing you.”

“You can’t do that to me, you don’t get to win!” Donghyuck yells in growing anger, reaching out to you but failing. With this inability of his to touch you, you tilt your chin higher, the orange tint of the flames reflecting off your strengthened pride.

“I believed you all this time, I let you scare me into thinking that you could overpower me. That you could hurt me,” you muse, staring without remorse at his pained form. “But I was wrong. You only exist as long as I let you. You can only hurt me as long as I believe you can.”

“I’ll be back,” declares Donghyuck as the fire roars, only sending him further into a realm of pain. Whilst he grips his limbs in pure fury, you shake your head.

“No, you won’t. Because you were right, this is my world. I’m the one with the power here: I have blood flowing through me, I have oxygen in my lungs, and I have a soul. You have none of those.” With your anger bursting at the seams, you kick over the metal bucket burning from the inside, instead tossing the trash over the dirt of Donghyuck’s grave. “And because of that, I’m not scared of you.”

As the fire burns out at the final thread, and the spirit which had infested your mind for twenty-two days begins to fade away in a fit of rage, you offer him the same powerful, mocking smile he had tattooed into your mind.

“Goodbye, Donghyuck. Rest in hell.”

CCCLXV.

“Hey, did you do the notes from the last lecture?”

Flipping through your binder, you nod and pull out the said notes, handing them over to the student sitting next to you. At this point, you’ve learned enough about her to know that on Mondays, she always asks for the notes. You’ve started printing extra copies for her.

It’s been a year.

You had taken a year off of university to return home. After everything that had happened and Jaemin’s death, you simply couldn’t bear to even step into your old apartment anymore. Over time, you’ve found that you’ve healed and you are no longer afraid.

Not afraid to return to school, at least.

“Here you go,” you tell her as you hand over the notes. “You can keep that copy.”

The look she wears is grateful. “Thanks!”

“Hey,” calls a voice on your right. “Do you have a pen?”

“Sure, I—” You start, reaching into your pencil bag, but stop when your gaze falls upon the owner of the voice.

No, it can’t be. It just can’t.

Before you is Donghyuck. Except it’s not. He’s… different.

His hair is no longer brown, but rather a light shade of blonde that accentuates his honey olive skin tone. Rather than all black, he is dressed in a cream-colored sweater and a pair of light washed ripped jeans. Most strikingly of all, his signature sharp eyes are no longer clouded by dark evil, but are light with the sweet smile that he wears on his lips.

No… it’s not Donghyuck. After your return home, you had begun to see his face everywhere, and have since learned to distinguish between reality and trauma. When the stranger catches you staring, he tilts his head, smile growing further. “I’m Haechan.”

Shaking your head slightly to clear the thoughts, you go back to searching for a pen in your bag. “Uh, hi Haechan. Here you go,” you say as you hand the pen over to him.

When your fingers brush just the slightest, he’s cold.

You pull your hand back quickly, as though you had been burned. No, you tell yourself. It’s cold in here, the air conditioning is always on in the lecture hall. Turning back to face forward in your seat, you try to calm your breathing, pulling your cardigan closer to cover you. The stranger next to you pulls out a notebook from his bag, and in full view, begins to write in the corner.

Your professor is speaking, clicking on his projector, when Haechan slides his notebook over to you. There, written in perfect handwriting…

I told you I’d be back.

#NCT-WRITERS #neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #mlznet #neothestars #haechan angst #haechan fanfic #haechan scenarios #nct angst #haechan x reader #nct fanfic #haechan horror #neohalloween

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years

Text

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 6

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Chapter 6

CW: blood, injury

2003 (Four years later)

When Liam brought in his mail that afternoon, he didn’t realize what a dangerous act it was. He should have, he supposed. He’d been getting threatening letters now for over ten years, since before he’d met Kurt. Their postmarks varied and there were no fingerprints. The police couldn’t figure out who was sending them, and neither could Kurt, who’d started investigating as soon as he’d learned of them.

Liam assumed that either he’d done something in his past to offend someone, or that he was a random victim of someone targeting a university with anti-academic talk. The letters said clearly, I will kill you, but Liam had long since stopped believing that it was an actual threat.

But it wasn’t that the letters didn’t upset Liam, and ironically, it was good that they did, because Liam’s reaction to the letter in the mail that day alerted Kurt. Four years ago, on a beautiful night in Germany, Kurt had drunk blood from Liam’s wrist. They’d been close before that, but sharing blood had given Kurt an even greater insight into Liam’s feelings. Kurt knew when Liam was unhappy or frightened, so when Liam found the letter with the typed address, knowing what it likely was, Kurt abruptly appeared beside him, in time to pluck the envelope from Liam’s hand.

“I’ve told you to let me open these,” Kurt scolded mildly.

Liam leaned back against his kitchen counter, and waved a hand in unsolicited permission. “By all means.”

Kurt was frowning, but otherwise he wasn’t too upset. Liam could tell because despite the fact that Kurt had just teleported into Liam’s kitchen, he looked more or less human. He must have been outside somewhere because his dark hair was a bit wind-blown. Liam wished that they had the kind of relationship where Liam could run his fingers through it to settle it down.

Kurt read the letter quietly and then tossed it onto the table in disgust. “The usual,” he said. “When I figure out who’s sending these—”

“They’re harmless,” Liam said, which on that particular day was highly ironic, but they didn’t know it yet.

“They scare you. That’s harm enough.” Kurt reached for the rest of the mail that Liam had set on his table, sorting through it quickly, apparently approving of it. He came to the package last. “What’s this?”

“I ordered some books.”

Kurt shot him a look of amused exasperation. “You have no room for more books. You’re going to have to buy a second house.”

“I’ll find a place for them. Maybe I could take out a wall— what is it?”

Kurt held the package in his hands. “This is awfully light for books.”

That was the last thing Liam remembered until he felt Kurt’s hand on his cheek. Kurt’s fingers were always cold, and the feeling drew Liam back toward consciousness. Kurt had one hand cradling his face, while another finger traced a slow line down from the top of Liam’s forehead to a spot between his eyes.

Liam realized that Kurt was saying something. “That’s right. Focus on me.”

Kurt’s finger traced its downward path again, and Liam felt himself growing more aware of his surroundings, but mostly more aware of Kurt, who was holding his gaze in an inescapable, hypnotic way. Liam could smell smoke and something charred, but he felt no fear, not even of Kurt, who seemed something entirely other than human at the moment. Something very large, because he’d have to be large to hold all the emotions that Liam could feel filling the room, wafting around like clouds. Some were dark and some very light, and they were all Kurt and Liam, mixed up together.

“There you are, my love,” Kurt said softly. “Just like that. Focus on me.”

Liam moved a little, shifting on the kitchen floor, but Kurt put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay still. Let me look at you.” His finger retraced its path down Liam’s forehead, which had the effect of recentering Liam’s attention on Kurt’s bright green eyes.

After another minute, Kurt moved back and released him. “You’re all right,” he said heavily. “No internal injuries. No concussion. Just three fairly minor lacerations to the left leg, and I’ve taken away the pain from those. I shouldn’t have let you stand so close.”

Liam blinked a couple of times as he realized that now that he could see past Kurt’s eyes, Kurt looked very different, but not at all in a mesmerizing, inhuman way. “You’re hurt,” Liam gasped.

Kurt stepped out of reach before Liam could grab him. “You have to be careful with my blood,” he warned. “Don’t get it in your mouth or the cuts on your leg. You don’t— you don’t need it right now.”

Kurt appeared to have taken the brunt of what must have been a package bomb. Liam’s kitchen table had a blast mark on it, and the chairs had all been knocked over. Bits of paper drifted lazily through the hazy air. Kurt was actually far more damaged than the kitchen, with a large wound on his shoulder. But the wound was not bleeding, and Liam realized that though Kurt’s clothing was shot through with holes, some of them bloodstained, the skin underneath was unmarked.

Kurt turned a chair right side up, and dropped into it wearily. “Ow,” he said, sounding as if he might be irritated by a paper cut.

“Are you okay?” Liam demanded.

Kurt waved a dismissive hand. “Been blown up before. There was a grenade at the Somme, for one. Not a pleasant afternoon.”

“But you— you won’t—”

“I’m fine,” Kurt assured him. “But if I’m going to convince the police that I wasn’t injured, I’ll need to eat something. I’m not quite strong enough for group mind control right now.”

“Well, I’m right here,” Liam said hastily, starting to climb to his feet. “Already bleeding too.”

“Sit down,” Kurt instructed in a sharp voice, and Liam was so startled that he obeyed. “You’re injured.”

“Only mildly. You said.”

“Still no.”

Liam tried not to be too disappointed. “Well— Fern then.” Fern was Kurt’s new love interest, and, as usual, was one of Liam’s history graduate students. She was doing her dissertation on World War Two. Kurt always showed enough of his non-human nature to his romantic interests for them to guess what he was before they became his lovers (and a source of blood). So Fern now had the advantage of dating a man who had fought in World War Two and many wars before that.

“Yeah. I called her,” Kurt said. And it wasn’t long before Liam heard someone come in his front door and make their way toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” Fern exclaimed, her eyes wide. “What happened? I had the weirdest feeling that I needed to get here right away.” Apparently, Liam realized, when Kurt said he’d called her, he hadn’t meant on the phone.

“Package bomb,” Kurt said.

Liam nearly spoke over him. “Kurt’s injured. He needs blood.”

Fern’s eyes widened even more. “All right. I’ll call 911.”

Liam gave Kurt a confused look. “Oh. I thought you always told them about you before you became lovers.” He realized his misstep when Fern froze on her way to the telephone.

Kurt pressed his lips together, and Liam couldn’t tell if he was fighting a smile or a frown. “You’re getting a little ahead of me there.”

“Oh,” Liam said. “Sorry. How embarrassing.” He looked up at Fern. “It’s okay, Kurt can’t be killed. Or he might actually be already dead.”

Kurt had opened his mouth to say something but now it just hung open.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said. “I’m not good at this.”

Fern did look like she was a little more concerned about Liam than Kurt, but she turned to Kurt, taking in his appearance. The wound on his shoulder was now nothing more than a dark purple bruise. Liam wondered how bad the injuries had been before Liam had seen them.

“Are you a vampire, then?” Fern asked. “That was number two on my list.”

“What was number one?” Kurt asked.

“Street magician who desperately wanted to look like a vampire.”

Kurt laughed, sounding delighted. “I don’t know that I’ve had that one before.”

“You need blood?” Fern asked. She put a hand on Kurt’s uninjured shoulder.

He focused his green eyes on her, with no hint of hypnosis now. “I do. But you’re not my only option. I will be fine even if you say no.”

Fern shook her head. “I’m happy to.”

Kurt nodded. “Liam, we’ll be right back. You just rest. Then we’ll get the police here and figure out who did this to you.”

Liam let his head fall back against his cupboard as Kurt and Fern disappeared. He felt oddly calm, and wondered if that was still Kurt’s influence. Even knowing that Kurt was off with someone else, drinking blood from them instead of Liam, didn’t bother him as much as it usually did. Kurt cared for him. Liam had known it, but right now he could feel it, and he thought Kurt could probably feel it back.

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

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

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#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

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