#so I figured I’d look at Blossom in a different light too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 3 years

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like crashing waves

Love comes to you like waves crashing upon one another.

REQUEST. mutual pining au + best friends to lovers + breeding kink

CONTENT/WARNINGS. beach sex, unprotected sex, fingering, titty sucking, smut, nanami being a sweetheart <3 + the mandatory unedited note!

NOTES. thank you for requesting and joining the milestone event! I hope you like this <3

Your squeals echo as you run out of the car, arms flinging behind you with your best friend, Nanami, trailing behind you. His brows furrow upon seeing the familiar scenery of a light ultramarine sky, the sound of crashing waves calming upon his senses. His gaze falls on your waving form, figure jumping from the sand as you call out to him. Your smile is a lot brighter than the sun right behind you, and captivated, he follows your motions, his hands falling into the spaces between yours before allowing you to tug him closer to the beach.

“You brought me here,” he announces a little dazed, subconsciously gripping your hand tighter. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did!”

This isn’t just some regular beach. This is the place where the two of you first met when you were both little, awkward stubby legs running around the sand and scooping sand castles. As always, Nanami’s been more of a timid child, frowning at how you splashed on the water, uninterested with simpler tasks like the one he’s busy with.

When you see him silently enjoying himself, you trudge up to him. His hands immediately come up to protect his castle, having had his other friend Satoru kick and destroy them one too many times.

He’s surprised when you only gasp in awe, carrying your own plastic shovel and helping him build a bigger one afterwards. Your connection was natural – instantaneous.

Everything goes downhill from there. Despite living in another town, your family kept close contact, leading to you enrolling into Nanami’s middle school and staying solid all the way until he has to go attend Jujutsu High. He’s made it clear that he wishes to not be too attached to anyone or even get a wife, firm in his belief that he doesn’t want to hurt anyone by leaving a loved one behind. You, though? He makes an exception for you.

You’re his best friend and everything more, the one who pulled him away from being a salary man and telling him he could be capable of doing something wore instead of just fattening his bosses up while he does all the hard and honest work.

Nanami isn’t...cynical, per se, but he has a painfully honest outlook in his life while you’re more of the type to enjoy the little things, claiming that it’s never a sin to be happy despite the darkness looming. He’s been so used to you being a lot brighter and more cheerful than him, total opposites, really, that when the tables have turned and you’re the one holding his face as you scold him to save people and be the hero he is, he can’t really find it in himself to refuse.

Until now, he’s surprised you’re taking his profession extremely well. You never once blinked when he told you about his abilities and even takes away a fly head off your shoulder once, jumping in his arms instead to thank him.

He wonders how he ever came lucky enough to find someone like you, one that he actually cherishes more than he values the rules he’s set to keep himself in line.

Nanami doesn’t get the chance to think any more when you start stripping in front of him, your bubbling laughter syncing perfectly with the lapping of waves when you fling your clothes at him. He regrets ever letting you meet Gojo; you’re naughty, but never this pressing. His glare is half hearted as you run straight to the beach, however, and the blond man sighs.

His birthday was planned perfectly down to a tee. He’ll invite you over to celebrate, spend the silence and read books with you, have coffee, cuddle, and call it a day.

You had other plans in mind the moment you barged into his room though, dragging and pushing your friend all the way inside your car. His queries are silenced by the blasting radio, the man leaning back in his seat as his fingers tap against his thigh, wondering what you had in mind. There’s never really any telling with you and your spontaneous habits, so he just closes his eyes, allowing his blond hair to be swept away by the wind.

The last thing his wildest dreams could ever imagine is you taking him right back where everything started, his hands deft and careful as he unbuckles his belt. His cheeks tints a little because you never gave him the chance to pack, save for you throwing in hoodies and random underwear into a duffel bag.

Nanami folds both your clothes on the sand, shivering a bit from the chilly liquid. He glares at you once more with a tired sigh, about to ask how you have so much energy after driving for four hours straight when you splash water on him.

He is silent in comparison to your mocking laughter, waddling all around him until you’re whisking the water at every direction of his body.

Nanami stands there still like a statue, eyes closed to prevent the saltwater from hurting him, his hair sticking to his skin. His muscles are tense the whole while, preventing himself from just reaching over – not yet, anyway – for you were still too far away. But your guard is lowered, forgetting for a moment that your best friend is a jujutsu sorcerer and he’s spent years honing his senses until he’s mastered them to the extremity of his capabilities.

As your laughter grows closer, the splashing turning harder as it pads against his skin, Nanami opens his eyes and grabs you by your wrist hard.

You let out an ‘oop’ when he effortlessly pulls you into his chest, your forehead knocking against the solid muscles of his chest. “Ow!” you rub your forehead, lips formed into a pout and about to complain when your eyes snap wide open, the first thing in sight his pecs. Clearing your throat, you try to push yourself off him, suddenly completely aware of his warmth and his other hand sliding down your hip, lower, lower, and lower. “Nanami—”

“Having fun?”

His voice is low, a tinge of warning behind his words. Guiltily, you glance down at your wrist wrapped around his large, bony hand, noting the size and strength difference between the both of you.

You don’t want him to see you’re flustered – even if it’s painfully obvious already – so you snicker up at him, tilting your jaw upwards until he’s looking down straight at you. Nanami cocks an eyebrow in challenge, awaiting what snarky response would leave your lips when you smirk, using your free arm to splash on him one more time.

Nanami reels back when the water shoots straight in his eyes. Okay, you have to admit that maybe that was a little mean, but you’re having so much –

You’re immediately hoisted up into his arms, the water sliding off your body and the ground slipping off your feet. Panic rises in your system when you’re lifted off the seafloor, hands desperate and slippery as you cling onto his broad shoulders. “N-Nanami!” you protest, clinging to him like a koala when he only smirks, walking farther until he’s reached a spot he knows you can’t reach. “Hey, that’s cheating, put me down this instant!”

“Do you really want me to do that?”

Nanami knows you’ve surrendered to loss when you huff, leaving you with no choice but to wrap your legs around him tighter, nails subconsciously gliding down his back. He stiffens at your movements, brows furrowed as he ponders if bringing you here and rendering you helpless really is the best idea.

You’re pressed so close to him until space becomes nothing but a myth, your breathy intake of air wafting into his ear like bait. Nanami tightens his hold on your grip a bit, his swallowing audible at the feeling of your breasts pushed and flicking against his chest.

Fuck, of course you’re wearing your best bikini.

Nanami tries to push those lewd thoughts at the back of his head, drilling into his mind that you’re his best friend and you’re untouchable. He opts to stare beyond the horizon instead, train of thought too distracted of not letting himself be distracted by you that he doesn’t notice you pulling away to look at him.

He’s brought back to life when your wet palm caresses his cheek, thumbs smoothed over his cheeks. Nanami’s gaze flickers back to you, a sigh on his lips as he presses closer, daunting enough to leave a kiss on the crook of your palm.

That snaps something inside you.

You take his breath away – literally – as you cup his cheeks with both his hands, panting as you dove straight to his lips. Nanami’s reaction comes like reflex, both hands cupped under your ass as he meets your kiss with the same hunger and longing that has always been blossoming between the both of you the moment you both knew what love meant like.

Nanami’s groans are masculine and low when you begin to grind down on him, teasing as you push your breasts harder against his chest. Your nipples are hard enough that he feels the pebbled buds grazing across his chest, the sensation sending blood rushing to his cock.

He pulls away, cock swelling harder when he sees you all breathless with lips bruised. There’s something about knowing he’s the cause of you nearly falling apart like this, his mind wandering off a dangerous path at the fantasy of what you’d look like if he does something more.

The voice at the back of his head is responsible to keep him in his reigns, something he’s more than thankful of; otherwise he’ll completely ravage you senselessly at this moment.

“Do you really want our first time together to be out here in the open?” he rasps with short, quick pecks while you whine in his arms, the desire for that something more an aching and almost painful image on your face. “Won’t you like it more if we’re behind closed doors...” he brushes a thumb on your lip, coaxing your lips to part for him obediently. Nanami clenches his jaw when you eagerly suck at his thumb, your eyes dark and hazy with lust as you swirl your tongue around his digits. “...and I’d get to do whatever I want with you?”

“Are you going to hold back if we’re here?” you tease, popping his thumb off with a loud and wet pop. “It’s kind of romantic, don’t you think? The sun is setting behind us and it’s just the two of us anyway,” your words are breathy, panted and needy in its manner of delivery. Really, you can’t think straight anymore, not when his fingers are grazing over the swell of your ass and his face is bathed by the golden glow. Right now is perfect. “I just really want to be with you.”

You shudder when Nanami finally tugs your underwear to the side, the feeling of his fingers smoothing over your inner thighs and just hovering right where you want him to be enough to make you go crazy. You’re shaking, panting, almost crying.

Who knows how long you’ve wanted him – you’re simply too impatient if he plans to take his time with you.

A demand is ready to fall from your lips to just get him to take you already, but Nanami beats you to it, his pointer finger grazing against your slit. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, gritting his teeth the moment his thick, long finger sinks into you beautifully. Your head falls back in a moan as he pumps his fingers inside, testing the waters, and your pleasure is only amplified with the struggle of him trying to quicken his pace under the sea. “You’re so wet already.”

“Shut up, I-I wasn’t—”

“You’re beautiful,” Nanami growls, taking you by surprise when he takes two fingers to spring the knots of your top away. You gasp when your top slides off at the curve off your breasts before your erect nipples are revealed all for him, hard and swollen while he inserts another finger in your heat.

Clutching harder on his shoulders and bouncing yourself off on his finger, Nanami’s self control is tethering dangerously across the edge.

He leans down to suck at your breasts dutifully, fighting against the water that’s surrounding you both. “You’re extremely beautiful,” he praises, “Thank you – for letting me have you this way, for trusting me,” An elongated groan falls from both your lips when he sinks you down on his cock, your heat a great and mind-numbing contrast to the chill of the water. “I think you’re the best birthday gift.”

“Always so romantic, Nanami,” you managed through a laugh, allowing him to fuck into you senselessly. You’re all over him, hands wrapped around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair and tongue swiping out to taste the saltiness of the water on his skin. He’s amazing, so fucking good, and you snap your eyes shut while the soft, crashing waves match the rhythm of his thrusts. “No one could blame me for falling for you.”

“You are?” he grasps your ass until he squeezes it hard enough to make your walls clamp down on him, your grunting muffled by the teeth nibbling his earlobe. “Do you love me?”

“For so long.”

Nanami smiles even if you can’t see it, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll just have to show you, make you feel the words and emotions weighing heavily at his heart. Nanami leans sideways to capture your lips in a wet kiss, hands heavy and harsh compared to his passionate kisses as he keeps bouncing you up and down his cock. He’ll just have to show you.

“I’ll make up for the lost time then.”

You’re wearing your favourite hoodie of Nanami’s as you stand before the counter, stirring both mugs with your hands wrapped around it to warm you up. After your lovemaking session that has turned into more than two rounds, you’re downright spent, the both of you too tired to drive back home and opting for a hotel instead.

The aroma of coffee along with Nanami’s scent lingering on his clothes brings a smile to your face, your heart and skin still fluttery from today’s event.

Just then, strong arms wrap around your waist, soft lips coming down to press at the apples of your cheeks. You giggle in his arms as Nanami sways you both side to side, his head resting on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he announces quietly, so softly and tenderly as if it’s a secret only you’re allowed to know. You already became aware of his feelings – he’s shown it enough – but hearing it come from his own lips feels different.

Growing up, you always believed that love would come to you rapidly, overwhelmingly. But as Nanami swoops down to kiss you once more, his lips tasting faintly of the cake you both got on the way, you realize love is more like the soft crashing waves that comes gradually, slowly, yet constantly until you’re surrounded and it consumes you whole. It buds and grows larger until the crashing waves expand into an ocean of feelings that can’t even comprehend the depth of what you feel him, and you kiss him hard, embrace him hard – you just want to show him.

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years

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flight plan

disclaimer: this takes place in pre-you-know-what times - if you’re actually sick, do not do what B does here. alright, on to the suffering :)

Back when B booked their flight, the 4 am boarding time and 2 layovers seemed like a great exchange for saving a few hundred dollars while flying across the country. But now, with a head that feels like it was stuffed with cotton, a gate change that forced their leadened body to trek across the entire airport, and an additional 3-hour delay before their final 4-hour flight, they were beginning to question their penny-pinching ways.

In a nearby terminal, a fussy infant screamed, and it took everything for B not to scream back at them: I hate it here too! Their nerves were frayed, their whole body ached to the bone, and their head felt like it was in a vise grip.

It hadn’t felt this bad this morning - heck, they wouldn’t have left if they’d felt this bad - but the changing cabin pressure and constant temperature shifts from hot, stuffy terminals to icy planes were wreaking havoc on their poor, rapidly sickening body. They’d been up for 18 hours. And now, they had no choice but to ride it out and power through the last leg. They hug the paper cup of tea they’d grabbed at a nearby cafe close to their chest, trying to hold back their frustrated tears.

They just wanted to be home.

B shifts on the hard terminal seat as they wrap up a third agonizing hour of waiting, willing the passengers ahead of them to board more quickly so they could just get home to A, who they’d been missing all week. But the miserable minutes ticked by, and B kept having to blow their tender nose with their precious (and dangerously dwindling) travel pack of tissues. As they massage their aching sinuses, B feels a tap on their shoulder. Turning, they recognize a fellow passenger from their previous flight extending another full pack their way.

“Here. You need these more than I do.” They extend the gift, and B gratefully accepts. The stranger nods, and heads back to their luggage to wait out the boarding process.

After what feels like an hour, B’s group is finally able to board the flight. From their boarding pass, they knew they’d be stuck in the middle seat, but their heart lifts a bit when they see their Kleenex-wielding savior in the aisle seat next to theirs, who waves and gives them a small smile as they let them through. On the window seat side, a sour-looking individual scans them up and down, raising an eyebrow when B coughs roughly in their elbow.

“Sorry…” B sniffles. The sour-faced person rolls their eyes and turns their attention to the window, and B shrinks in their seat, embarrassed.

“Just want to be home, right?” Their aisle friend smiles sympathetically, and B nods weakly. “I know the feeling. Name’s C.”

B introduces themselves, and the two make amicable small talk during the pre-flight checklist, finding out that they both called their destination city home. As the plane takes flight, B winces - the pressure change makes their head ache, and their sinuses feel like they’re going to explode, along with their ears. The dry air of the plane irritates their chapped nose, and they close their eyes and grip the armrest till their knuckles bleach, trying to breathe through the pain and praying it doesn't get worse.

It gets worse. On top of their pounding head and runny nose, B discovers like all the other planes, this one's an icebox. Once they reach cruising altitude, B apologetically shuffles by C to head to the bathroom, hoping that by some chance it’s warmer in there. In the dim light, B’s stares at their haggard reflection – their feverish eyes are glazed and watery, their raw nose is bright red, and their peaked face is wan and drawn, coated with a sheen of sweat. Hopefully A would still recognize them, they thought humorlessly.

The bathroom is just as frigid, and B’s stuck with a stream of lukewarm water that barely heats their cold hands. Back in their seat, the throbbing headache continues to build behind their eyes, and their throat desperately cries out for something to drink.

As if they could hear their thoughts, C leans over and pulls a small bottle of water from their personal bag. “The flight attendants came by with drinks while you were up - figured you could at least use some water.” B gratefully accepts and murmurs their thanks, and the cool water feels like heaven as they gulp it down.

After, B pulls the paper-thin flight blanket up to their chin - at this point, they didn’t care what the travel magazines said about how dirty they were. But it’s no use. The cold plane air sinks into their aching bones, and their body shivers to make up the difference. They close their eyes and wriggle around in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position that still allows them to curl up and get warm while exhaling as few germs as possible – and if there's any mercy at all, to fall unconscious for the next 3 and a half hours.

“Will you stop?” The window passenger glares at them. “It’s bad enough you brought your germs on here. But now you can’t even sit still?” Tears pricked at B's eyes - being sick always made them more sensitive - but before they can squeak out an apology, C leaps to their aid.

"Lay off," C snaps. "Can't you see they don't feel good?" The other passenger huffs indignantly, and presses closer to the wall of the plane. C's eyes don't leave them, and they stretch their hand out tentatively toward B. "May I?"

B nods, letting their eyes close, and C gently lays a cool hand across their forehead, clicking their tongue at the heat. "Well, I've definitely flown with healthier seatmates than you." B tries to laugh, but a cough seizes their lungs, and they double over to try and contain it as best they can as C gently rubs between their shoulder blades. When they finally catch their breath, they rest their head on their knees, exhausted from the exertion. From their prone position, B checks their watch. 3 hours and 26 minutes to go.

I'm going to die.

Slowly, B sits up and stiffly straightens their blanket with as little movement as possible. A draft floods their section of the plane, and B longingly eyes C’s unopened blanket tucked in the seat pocket, trying to quiet the incessant chatter of their teeth.

“You cold?” C frowns.

“Freezing,” they whimper through clenched teeth. “And I hurt all over and I just want to go home and I miss A and I’m so tired.” They didn’t mean to break down, but two twin tears slip from their eyes as they try to stop their lip from quivering.

C’s quiet for a moment, then stands to rustle around in the overhead compartment, and returns with a small bundle.

“Lean back,” C gently commands, and A obeys and closes their eyes. They’re immediately draped in warmth, and open their eyes to see a thick, fleece-lined jacket being tucked over them, along with a soft travel blanket over their legs. They try to protest, but C shushes them.

“Being sick is already miserable without being stuck in a tin can in the sky. Besides, these flight blankets suck." C gives B's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and B nearly melts at the touch.

“And look, if you don’t want to, it’s fine - you don’t know me - but you can use my shoulder if you want to try and catch some sleep.”

In any other moment B would be mortified, but they're so spent that they just nod weakly and surrender to the offer of comfort. C pulls their unused blanket out and folds it into a sort of pillow, clicking the armrest down between them, and B collapses onto them in a boneless heap. Sleep tugs at the edge of their vision, but there's one lingering question on their mind.

"C? Why....why are you helping me? You've been nothing but kind and you don't even know me."

C's quiet for a moment. "Last year, I tried to do the same thing you're doing – power through an 8-hour flight home with a blossoming case of pneumonia. Cough, chills, headache, the works. About 2 hours in, I was about ready to jump out of the plane." They chuckle lightly, but B hears the wistful note in their voice. "It was absolutely miserable, and all I wanted was someone to hold my hand and tell me it’d be okay.”

C turns to look at B. "But nobody did. Not a single soul. So I vowed that if ever I found myself in a position someday to help somebody home, I’d do it.”

The words are so achingly comforting and desperately sad, so soft and generous and B feels like they should say something, affirm that yes, helping a random sick passenger was damn close to sainthood. But instead, sleep wins over, and they nestle closer to C as they tumble into a soft, dreamless sleep.

it feels like they’re asleep for minutes, but when C nudges them gently, they realize that they’re descending. They’re home.

The wheels skid on the runway, and the journey off the plane is a blur of sound and color and too-bright lights. B is only vaguely aware of C’s arm around their waist, guiding them through the crowd and to the baggage claim area. They must have told C which suitcase is theirs, because they blink twice and it magically appears at their feet.

“C’mon now, B. Almost there.” C gently guides them forward, and B wills themselves to power through the final few minutes.

“Do you see A anywhere?” C asks, squinting through the crowd of people. B can barely focus their eyes, and they’re losing hope, when all of a sudden - they see them. A. Holding a small paper sign with B’s name and a stuffed animal with a small red heart in their arms, waving wildly. They’re beaming, but the smile falls from their face as they see what condition B’s in.

“B - what happened? Are you okay?” B can barely whisper A’s name, and A pulls them into a hug, gently whispering reassurances, that they’re home and safe.

“Bit of a rough flight, but B hung in there,” C smiles, passing B’s suitcase to A. “They’re not feeling too hot, but I think they’ll make it.”

Suddenly, B releases A and stumbles back to C, throwing their arms around them. C’s thrown off balance by the strength of the hug, but manage to compose themselves and pat them gently on the back.

“Thank you,” B whispers. “So much.”

C blushes. “It was nothing. Just don’t forget to pay it forward.”

B squeezes tighter. “You deserved help. You still do.” C says nothing, just swallows tightly, and B feels C’s arms tighten ever so briefly around their waist.

A rush of dizziness floods B, and C gently guides them back to A’s waiting arms, before handing A a scrap of paper. “Listen, it’s none of my business - but can you give me a call in a couple days, just so I know they’re feeling better?”

A takes the scrap and smiles. “Absolutely. It’s the least I can do to thank you for keeping old B from falling apart in public.” B grunts indignantly, almost asleep again, and A strokes their hair and smiles.

They make it back to the car, and A manages to maneuver a limp B into the passenger seat, tucking them in and cranking the heat on their side. B blinks their eyes open and smiles guilelessly. “Go home now?”

A smiles and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. “Yes, love. We’re going home now.”

#fever whump #sickfic #whump prompt #hurt comfort #caretaking #whump on a plane #PLANE WHUMP EVERYONE #FINALLY #this really took a turn I was not expecting when I set out to write this #BUT ITS DONE #also there is most certainly space for a part 2 👀

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missinghan · 3 years

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cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

404 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 4 years

Text

Love Birds

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Some meddling from the BAU helps Reader and Spencer come to their senses. Category: FLUFF Warnings: None really, just brief mentions of sex, some kissing, implied smut, mutual pining, and the word ‘damn’ at the end I guess? Word Count: 3.2k

Full Request: “...a blurb? Where the sexual tension between reader and spencer is very high and everybody is like ‘get a room’ so when they finally do it spencer tells penelope and reader tell emily so the next day penelope gives him those strawberries in chocolate that say ‘best dick ever’ and emily gives reader a cake that say ‘i finally get sex’ and reader and spencer are so embarrassed” —Anonymous

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: Gotta love some good, ol’ fashioned BAU meddling, am I right? 😂 I took the prompt and made it just a little different, but I hope it’s still okay! Hopefully the overall vibe is still what you imagined 🥰

***

Everyone was watching them. Truthfully, it was a wonder they hadn't noticed by now, but that was most likely to be expected from two people who were obviously in love with each other and still hadn't done anything about it yet.

Three years now. That's how long it had been since Y/N joined the team, and from the first day, she and Spencer were glued at the hip. She was the only one who actively listened to and laughed at his long, obscure jokes, and as their friendship blossomed, he stared following her around like a lovesick puppy. It was sickly-sweet, truth be told.

And the longer it went on, the longer they danced around the inevitable, the more fed-up the BAU got.

Currently, Spencer and Y/N were reading a book together. Like, they were actually reading together, sitting side by side while they took turns reading aloud. They did it every day when they came into work, and when they finished one book, the other person would pick the next one.

"I want to say it's annoying, but it's actually kind of sweet," JJ pointed out, peering through the blinds in Hotch's office, where they all gathered to spy on their friends.

"Yeah, but they've been doing it for almost two years," Emily stated. "You'd think that by now they'd have at least kissed..."

"Maybe they have and they just... haven't said anything?"

Penelope piped in this time, shaking her head. "No, Y/N would have told me, she tells me everything. And I mean everything."

"Well, what about Reid? Has he said anything to you?" JJ asked, turning to Derek.

He sighed. "No. But you know how he is, if he could avoid telling me anything at all about his love life, he would. And he has."

"Well, maybe you should say something to him," Emily suggested.

"You know he'll just shut me down and deny it."

"Then Garcia should do it."

She thought about it for a second before turning to Derek. "I am excellent at getting information out of people."

Suddenly the door opened, and everyone turned around to see Hotch entering his office, stopping for a second to take them all in before closing the door behind him.

"Sir, we can explain—" Penelope started.

Hotch held up a hand and made his way to his desk. "You're spying on them, aren't you?"

A quiet chorus of mumbled 'yes' and 'yes, sir's sounded through the room before he actually sat down with the most miniscule of smiles.

"I'd say to make sure you all leave one at a time so they don't catch on, but something tells me they wouldn't notice anyway."

***

A few hours later, the team made their way to the jet in little groups.

Firstly, Penelope pulled Spencer away into her office for a 'special meeting' that he was only slightly concerned about. But when she finally closed the door, he found it was nothing like what he expected to hear.

The first words out of her mouth were, "When are you going to tell her?"

"I'm... I'm sorry?"

Her face scrunched as she pointed a finger at him. "Don't play dumb with me, 187, I may not be a profiler, but I know love when I see it. You and Y/N are perfect for each other, and you guys are literally driving us mad with the sexual tension."

"I—Garcia, we're just friends, I... I don't..."

"Look, you've got a plane to catch, so I'm not gonna keep you any longer, but everyone can see it, Reid. You two? You're practically soulmates."

He really didn't know what to say after that. So he wordlessly turned and made his way to the jet alone, thinking the entire way there about what Penelope had said.

Soulmates? Love? Sexual tension?

Of course he'd always thought Y/N was pretty. And there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she was the one person on the team he knew he could come to when he had something he was excited to share, because she was always down to hear him talk. And... he never really realized it until now, but it always warmed the deepest parts of his soul when he saw how her eyes lit up at the chance to hear him talk—to just listen to what he had to say.

He thought back to every time they read together, how her leg always brushed against his and how it always seemed to comfort him. How her voice when she read aloud always seemed to put him in a trance, like a lullaby. She was his warm place, his safety net...

But... that was totally normal for friendships, right? More often than not, platonic friendships carried that warm familiarity that also came with romantic ones. It wasn't uncommon.

Still, it set off an explosion of fireworks in Spencer's stomach to just think about sitting next to her on the jet.

Meanwhile, everyone else was there, going through some files on the case when Emily sat down in front of Y/N and cleared her throat.

"What's up?" Y/N asked politely with a small smile.

"Nothing, it just... I saw you and, uh... Dr. Reid looked pretty comfy this morning."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, uh... Were we reading too loud? We've been trying to keep it quieter because we figured it was a bit unconventional—"

"No, no," Emily laughed, thinking to herself how absolutely perfect they were for each other. "I mean... You were really close... Like maybe you're... into him."

"O—oh... Well, I—I don't... Um..."

With another laugh, Emily reached her hand out to reassure her. "I'm not trying to put you on the spot, Y/N, it's just that we've all... noticed how close you guys have gotten over the years and it looked like maybe you two..."

"Oh! Oh, no, uh... We—we're not together or anything, I... He's my best friend. That's all."

By the redness that colored Y/N's cheeks, Emily wasn't buying it one bit. Yet, she indulged her, nodding and patting the little table in front of her before getting up to move to a different section. "If you say so."

She walked away, leaving Y/N with a newfound... tension within her that she couldn't really shake. And it only amplified when Spencer walked onto the jet and took his usual seat next to her.

They greeted each other with small waves, but something felt off. And when his hand brushed up against her leg on accident, she felt a light buzz course through her veins, like some type of switch had been flipped.

It's only because of what Emily said, Y/N thought. She just got in my head, that's all this is.

But the longer the day went on, after landing in Idaho and setting up at the precinct, the buzz only amplified. Every time he said her name, she felt it kick up, and likewise, whenever she said his, he felt the thrum of his chest get heavier.

Everyone could tell, too, though they seemed rather amused by it all. While Y/N and Spencer were out at the ME's office, Emily, JJ, and Derek sat at the table in their temporary office and talked it over.

"I actually feel kinda bad," JJ said. "I mean... It seems like they're just being awkward around each other now..."

"That's not a bad thing... It just means they're finally starting to come to their senses," Emily countered with a wave of her hand. "They'll be fine."

Derek scoffed with a smile. "Yeah, I give it 'til the end of the case. Without work to distract themselves from each other, there's no way they won't say something."

Sure enough, the topics of conversation walked through the door just then, immediately putting distance between themselves on opposite sides of the table. And before anyone could say anything else, Spencer jumped the gun, going into detail on what they discovered about the case.

***

"We won't be heading home until tomorrow morning, so I booked us all rooms at the hotel on main street. I'll give you your keys when we get there. Good work, everyone, get some rest."

Hotch disappeared into the night, leaving the rest of the team to pack up a few things in their office before following him.

Y/N chatted happily with JJ, but deep inside she was nervous. Because everyone had been acting strange all day, pairing her and Spencer up every chance they got, and it was impossible to miss all the fake 'I wasn't looking at you guys' stares into space that they all constantly adorned.

Not to mention the fact that ever since Emily even brought it up to her, Spencer also seemed nervous around her. Their whole dynamic had been thrown off, and now she could barely look at him without immediately looking away and wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Now that the thought has been planted in her head, it's all she can think about, and it's very distracting. And knowing how... interested her friends seem to be in her predicament, the biggest fear she has at the moment is that she and Spencer will be rooming together.

As they got into separate cars and headed to the hotel, she fiddled with her thumbs, picking at the chipped nail polish and hoping that she'll get to rest easy.

And as Hotch handed out room keys in the lobby, she felt her heartbeat pick up, Emily and JJ sharing a key and Derek walking off with his own.

And then he said the one thing she was afraid of, and it almost froze her completely.

"I was only able to get two rooms with double beds, so you guys will have to share, if that's alright."

At that point Y/N would have rather shared a bed with Rossi, because that would have been less awkward. But she and Spencer both nodded, he took the key, and they both silently made their way to the room, keeping their heads low.

Even as they finally stepped into the room the air felt fragile, like one wrong move could break it and send them into space, where there wasn't enough breathable oxygen to keep them alive. And much like in the office today, they kept their distance on opposite sides of the room, separated by the bed.

It was Spencer who broke the silence first.

"I can take the floor if you want..."

The small, sweet way he said it almost made her heart shatter. "O—oh no, you don't have to. That would be silly."

"Are you sure? Because I can—"

"No, it's okay, really. I don't mind."

They stared at each other for what seemed like forever, before Y/N's phone buzzed in her pocket, and she turned around to answer the call.

As she walked into the bathroom, answering, "Hi, Mom," before shutting the door, Spencer let out a long breath and rubbed his eyes, wondering how he was going to get through the night. He also wondered if Penelope had talked to Y/N as well, because this awkwardness they were experiencing was most certainly double-sided. And if that was the case, did that mean... she was in love with him, too? Firstly, was he even sure he was in love with her in the first place?

Maybe a little, he decided, thinking back to practically every single moment they've ever spent together. And as he quickly changed into pajamas and situated himself in bed, he thought about what it would be like to kiss her. Is that something he would want to do? Could he see himself kissing her over and over again for the rest of his life?

He had his answer when she walked out of the bathroom, wearing shorts and a tank top, her hair out of its ponytail and cascading down her shoulders as she plopped her phone down on the chair in the corner of the room and walked to the bed.

He tried to look away, but he couldn't. And he was thankful in a way for this newfound uneasy air between them, because she refused to look at him, and it gave him all the clearance he needed to follow her trail around the room.

But when she finally settled into bed, and as he felt her weight dip beside him, Spencer looked down at his lap. He was afraid the close proximity would give him away.

She cracked open a book and read in silence for a few seconds before she turned to him. "Did... Is this distracting? I can stop and we can just go to sleep if you're tired..."

"Oh, n—no, it's not distracting. You're fine. I was, um... I was going to grab a book of my own anyway."

He swung his leg over to get out of bed, but Y/N stopped him. "Well, um... I, uh... I know we're already in the middle of a different book, but if you wanted to, we could, um... read this one together? I—I think you'd like it, it's about the—"

"Sure. I—I'd um... I'd like that. Whatever it's about, I'm sure I'll like it. Y—you know, since you said it was good. You have good taste, so I t—trust your judgement."

He was just rambling now, and hearing Y/N laugh a little, he internally berated himself for letting it get awkward again.

Nevertheless, she opened up the covers to get underneath, and slowly scooted closer to him. Once their knees touched, they both jumped a little, but Spencer cleared his throat and Y/N busied herself by trying to find the first page, neither of them commenting on the obvious shock of butterflies that shot through both of their insides at the tiniest contact.

"Do you mind if I start?" she asked softly, turning her head slightly to the side so she could see him. He nodded, giving her the go ahead, and she turned to the page, focusing on the words in front of her.

Unsurprisingly, it was easy for them to get into a familiar groove. They took turns reading each few pages, and stopped in between to discuss things they'd read. It also wasn't surprising to find that they gradually got closer, their arms and legs now completely touching side by side and their faces dangerously close as they leaned down to read.

Spencer had just finished reading a chapter, reaching out to turn the page, and Y/N seemed to have the same thought, because her hand collided with his in a way that left no room for subtlety, or drawback to avoid that it even happened. Their pinkies interlocked, and Y/N found herself entranced by the curves and peaks of his hand. How each of his fingers slightly twitched at the contact, and how prominent the veins in his forearm were.

Her heartbeat picked up, and his did, too, as he focused on how tightly her pinkie was curling around his own, desperate not to let go.

"Y/N," he whispered. It wasn't a question, nor a warning, but it rolled off his tongue softly as if it was the sweetest word he'd ever had the pleasure to say. It was just one little word, her first name, conveyed with such adoration and obvious pining that he was afraid he'd scared her away.

But she held his pinkie tight, the book resting open beneath them on their adjoined knees, and then looked over at him.

And her eyes held the same weight as her name on his lips.

It was unclear of who moved first, but it happened so fast that surely it didn't matter. In a flash, their lips were joining in soft desperation, and rather than locking pinkies, Y/N shifted her hand to weave all their fingers together. The squeeze he gave her hand made her sigh against his mouth, and it was all the most relieving thing in the world.

After she pulled away, he chased her face for a second, not wanting it to end. But his eyes flew open and when he saw her staring back at him, her lips slightly puffed and her eyes almost hungry, he knew he didn't have to worry about the moment ending any time soon.

The book was long forgotten right then, tossed across the room somewhere as their clothes soon followed.

***

"So, how do you think the love birds got along last night?" Emily asked to no one in particular as the group gathered in the lobby.

Derek snickered. "If they came to their senses, I'm sure they got along just fine."

Everyone laughed at that, just as said love birds made their way to the lobby.

"Sleep well?" JJ asked, obviously trying not to smirk.

"Mhm," they both mumbled in response.

They were going to leave it alone, but that's when Rossi showed up, peering over in Spencer's direction. Then he pointed briefly to his neck. "You got a little something there, genius."

Everyone clapped excitedly, Emily letting out a low whistle and Derek rounding it off with a loud and proud, "Atta boy!"

The redness on both Y/N and Spencer's faces didn't clear up the entire way home.

And after the text that Emily sent out to Penelope, it was looking like it might get even worse.

***

"Welcome home, my beautiful family! Come on, I have something special for everyone in the round-table room."

Penelope led the way, Y/N and Spencer bringing up the rear.

"I'm sorry about this morning," she whispered. "I really didn't even notice I'd made a mark, I—"

"It's okay," he reassured her. "I... I guess they kinda knew we'd get to that point eventually anyway."

"Yeah... I just wish it wouldn't have happened so soon, you know? We're never gonna live this down."

She wasn't expecting him to lace his fingers with hers, and the action made her smile.

They'd fallen a bit behind, so when they finally caught up to everyone in the room, it was terrifying to see them all with knowing, mischievous smiles. And before Y/N could explain, Spencer started speaking.

"Okay, okay, yes. Y/N and I... finally... got together last night. But you can't make it weird, and I'm not going to let you make it weird, because—"

"Ohh, it's a little late for that, boy wonder," Garcia said, giggly and holding out a cake box.

Spencer and Y/N looked at each other briefly before taking a look, immediately gasping and going red.

It was a small cake, shaped like a heart with a red trim of frosting around it. And right in the middle, in pretty red cursive, were the words, "We finally had sex!"

"Penelope!" Y/N whined and shoved her face into Spencer's chest, the heat radiating off her face like a space heater on high blast.

The howling laughter that erupted from everyone else in the room was something neither of them would forget.

But even through the curtain of embarrassment, Y/N and Spencer both knew that beyond it awaited a very promising relationship, especially with friends who supported them. Even if that support manifested in rather... enthusiastic ways.

And, despite the initial embarrassment of it all, the cake tasted pretty damn good.

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481 notes · View notes

cordria · 4 years

Text

Fixing Mistakes - DP

Danny groaned and curled up in a ball, very suddenly awake. His head hurt, his leg sparkled sharp and painful, and he felt oddly sticky. “Ow, ow, ow, ow,” he hissed, a few swear words working their way through his teeth as he kicked his brain into trying to think through what was going on.

His eyes crept open, studying his surroundings. Dark. Quiet. Bars.

Bars?

His eyes opened just a touch more, turning his head. Bars on all sides. He was in a cage.

Memory flooded back into his brain - of the school bell ringing, of walking through the park with Sam, of cold rushing down his back, of an unfortunately successful ambush by the ghost world’s most annoying hunter. “Damn it, Skulker,” he whispered.

Having determined himself to be alone in the room full of cages, Danny sat up and slowly pushed fingers through his hair, searching for the source of the pain. It was from right over his left ear, a dull throbbing that was definitely sore, but no blood. Head trauma. Something that would heal with time, nothing to be done about it for now.

He turned his attention to his leg, noting with a frown all the glowing blood smeared across the bottom of the cage. He poked and prodded at his leg, locating the worst of the damage: a huge slash down the side of his right leg. Almost as long as his fingers could spread, it was already mostly sealed over - thank Clockwork for not being knocked out until he was in ghost form. In human form, the blood loss would have killed him.

The fact that a slash that big was almost sealed over made him wrinkle his nose. That had to have taken hours and hours. Perhaps overnight. He’d been out a long time.

He sighed. “I was having such a good day, too.”

Although the cage wasn’t big enough to stand up in, he tried putting his foot on the ground and putting weight on his leg. Would he be able to stand once he’d gotten out of the cage? The pain sharpened, making him gasp and collapse. “Nope, nope, nope,” he whispered. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, don’t do that again.”

Blood started to ooze from the gash again. He’d broken open the scab.

With a scowl, he pushed and pulled himself, maneuvering until he was leaning up against the door. From the fizzy feeling against his skin, knew they wouldn’t be something he could phase through. He’d have to find a different way out. He reached a hand out through the bars to pull at the padlock, studying it. It was the same type of padlock Skulker always used for locking his cages closed. The tiniest of smiles curled the corner of Danny’s lips.

It wasn’t quite true that ghosts couldn’t learn. Skulker had learned new hunting techniques over the last eighteen months. Skulker had learned to keep Danny in human-proof cages. But ghosts learned so very slowly, and struggled with putting together facts they couldn’t see. Skulker knew Danny could get out of his cages - but, never having witnessed Danny perform the feat, couldn’t figure out how. And so he kept doing the same thing over and over.

Danny squirmed and moved around, digging a little box out of one of his pockets. Sam had gotten it for him for Christmas last year, along with lessons as to how to use it. Lock-picking was a skill Danny had assumed would be difficult, but it turned out to be hilariously easy, if a bit time consuming. Danny made sure he kept the kit with him.

It took longer than he’d hoped to open the lock. The pain from his leg kept distracting him and the hit he’d taken to his head was making it hard to focus. But he eventually placed all four of the tumblers, gave them a twist, and the lock fell open.

He grinned, short and sharp, and worked the lock back through the rings on the cage, catching it before it could hit the ground. “Screw you, Skulker,” he whispered, pushing open the cage door and floating himself out, putting the lock into his pocket. He was careful to keep his leg from hitting the ground - even the smallest movements sent sharp shards into his mind. “I’m keeping this as a souvenir.”

Just before he was going to leave, Danny heard a sound from the corner. He tensed, instantly assuming Skulker had been hiding. The glow around Danny kicked up a notch with his anxiety, and he twisted around.

Nothing?

His hands came back down, letting the tenseness fade away. He floated forwards a few steps, noticing a cage far into the darkest corner of the room. There was the faintest glow coming from inside - it was almost like the afterglow of looking at a bright light for a moment too long. Too faint to be a ghost in any reasonable shape. “Hello?” he whispered.

“Mind if I borrow your lock pick set? I lost mine.”

Danny hesitated. The voice was very… human? And didn’t sound at all in pain or sick. The scratchy voice was also not bothering to whisper. “Who are you?” Danny asked, floating closer.

“I’m me, obviously.”

“Helpful,” Danny muttered, drawing up just close enough that if something were to lunge and reach through the cage, it wouldn’t be able to grab him. An odd scent tinged the air, making Danny’s nose wrinkle. He held up a hand, palm towards the thing in the cage, and upped the power flowing through his hand. The glow kicked up and, like a flashlight, illuminated the contents of the cage.

It was a human male, raising a hand to block his eyes from the glow. Red-orange hair raggedly pulled back into a ponytail and a beard that looked hacked short with a knife. Perhaps in his twenties, skinny and tall, and dressed in layers of rags. He had a cloak-looking blanket wrapped around him, and calloused feet wrapped in cloth that left his toes hanging out. Dried, reddish-colored flowers dangled everywhere from his clothes. Danny blinked at the man, startled. “You’re human.”

Teeth glittered as the man smiled - an easy, pleasant smile. At least two of the teeth were missing. “Mostly, anyways.” The scar-covered hand lowered. Eyes that were too bright and green to belong to a human peered at him, blinking against the light. “Lock picks? I’d like to get out of here before the hunter comes back.”

“Skulker’s annoying with his cages,” Danny agreed, lowering his hand and the light. His brain wasn’t working quite right. This… human?... was something like him? ...How? “What happened?”

“I was just a tad too slow. Lock?”

Danny glanced over his shoulder, noted the still-quiet room, and settled his body gently back down at the ground. It took a moment for the world to stop spinning from the pain. Then he opened up the little box of picks and started to work on the lock. It was easier from this side, where he could see what he was doing.

“How did it come to be that a ghost knows how to pick a lock?” the human asked.

“This ghost gets hunted a lot. Not the first time I’ve seen the inside of Skulker’s cages,” Danny muttered. “Friend got me the lock pick set.”

“A human lock pit set.”

Danny hummed. “And how did it come to be a human in the ghost zone?” There was a soft click. He twisted and yanked the lock off.Danny floated back up in the air, fighting a wince of pain, and nodded.

“Very long story. Too long for telling inside this lair.” The human pulled himself out of the cage, unwinding his long limbs and stretching upright. From this close, Danny could see the young man was incredibly lean and tall. Too thin. Too tall. Even though Danny was floating, the man’s head was on level with his. Something was off with this human, and it made the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck raise.

This close, Danny could see the dried flowers hanging around his neck were blood blossoms. Before Danny could float backwards and out of the way, the man reached out and clapped Danny on the shoulder, still with that same easy grin. “Thank you for the rescue.”

“Do you…” Danny hesitated, thinking about the fact that the man was a human and they were on a floating island haunted by a hunting ghost, “need a lift? Like, to get somewhere?”

“Away from here would be nice.” The human’s smile faded just a bit. He was studying Danny. “I’m not a flyer. I’d appreciate a lift to… anywhere, really, that’s not right here.”

Danny held out his hand. “You got a name, human?”

The man grabbed his wrist, his fingers burning hot against Danny’s cold skin. “Flynn.”

The feel of the blood blossoms tingled down his arm, an interesting counterpoint to the drums beating against his brain and the stabbing pain in his leg. Danny lifted the human off the ground and took the shortcut through the window, back out into the glowing green of the ghost zone. “Nice to meet you, Flynn. I’m Danny.”

#Danny Phantom #fixing mistakes #I woke up this morning wanting to write #for once #I've had an incredibly sucky fall.#Very much sucks.#Quick writing.

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kjmsupremacist · 3 years

Text

baby, you’re my angel (chan/felix)

Mildly popular TikTok songwriter Felix meets Chan, famous on TikTok for his music and music reviews. They bond over their common ground, friendship blossoming easy and sweet. There’s two problems. One: Felix thinks he likes Chan more than just as friends. Two: Chan is almost fifteen years his senior.

Chapter 7 | prev next mlist

Characters: Felix, Chan, the rest of skz

Genre: college au, romance, fluff, smut, angst

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: swearing, age gap, smut, daddy kink, minor (offscreen) character death mention

Rating: Explicit

Length: 5.6k

just a friendly reminder that i dont condone age gap in real life, this is just fiction, im just having fun, etc :)

“Ready?” Felix looks up; Chan is fixing one of the lights, facing away from him.

“Yeah,” Felix replies, zoning back into the screen in front of him, sitting up a little straighter in the chair. It’s Saturday, and they’re in Chan’s studio. Chan had planned to do a live while he worked, but since he and Felix are putting a song together, they figured it would be nice to do the stream together.

Chan sits down in the chair beside him, turning towards him with a grin. “Then we’ll start.”

He hits the button and the chat fills immediately. Felix sees a lot of hearts, a lot of question marks, and a lot of capslock. He squints to read a few comments.

“Hey guys!” Chan greets. Felix looks up at camera and waves quickly, smiling. “Felix and I figured we’d sit with you today as we work on our new song. We’ve actually got a couple in the works, but we’ll just be focusing on one today so that we don’t spoil everything.”

“His idea, not mine,” Felix says cheerfully. “Let’s see… ‘Where are you guys, the background looks different?’ Chan, you haven’t filmed in the studio?”

Chan shakes his head. “Somehow all my videos have been at home,” he says, shrugging. “But, you know, we’re here now. Welcome to my studio!” He raises his arms up, looking around happily. “I’m renting it while I’m here in Sydney. I have some friends here, and they were able to reserve me a spot, which I’m really grateful for. So yes, hi new studio!” He waves at the empty room before turning back to camera. “What else? Oh, I’m sure some of you have already seen it, but we’ve both been invited to VidCon Australia once again, so for those of you who are attending, we’ll see you this summer.”

“Someone said, ‘Felix too?’ Excuse me,” Felix says, laughing. “I was there last year, too! I may not be as popular as Chan here, but I get views!”

“Before Felix gets too excited, why don’t we get to work?” Chan says lightly. Felix gives him a look and Chan laughs. “I know, but I’d like us to get something done today.”

“Fine, fine.” Felix settles back in his chair, pulling up his notes app so he can start offering up lyrics.

They work for a couple of hours, pausing to chat with the viewers. Felix gets to show off how much he’s learned when it’s Chan’s turn to record, consulting them when he’s giving critiques and walking them through some of the basics. By the time they say goodbye and end the live, Felix has a bunch of notifications from new followers.

“You’re staying tonight, right?” Chan asks as they pack up.

“Unless that’s inconvenient,” Felix replies.

“Of course it’s not.” Chan smiles at him. “What do you want for dinner?”

Felix smiles, too. “I don’t know,” he says honestly.

“We could cook,” Chan says. “But… I’m feeling lazy, and I kind of want something shitty and unhealthy.”

“Oh, yes please,” Felix agrees, laughing.

“Hungry Jack’s?” Chan asks, reaching for his phone. “Or Macca’s?”

“Mm, I don’t want burgers, though,” Felix says. “Guzman y Gomez?”

“Ooh, good by me,” Chan says. “Let’s order ahead so we can just pick it up on the way home.”

A half hour later sees them sat at Chan’s kitchen table, laughing into their burritos. Felix watches Chan fondly, tracing his gaze over the whiskers that form under his eyes when he smiles really big.

“I have a distinct memory,” Chan says, “of eating this shit when I was a kid, and I made my sister laugh so hard she shot a whole black bean out of her nose. I think the three of us almost died, we thought it was so funny. Like, my little brother cried he was laughing so hard. My parents couldn’t even be mad, even though the bean landed in one of the containers of guac.” He laughs softly, shaking his head. “Hannah swears to this day that her left nostril hasn’t been the same since.”

Felix exhales incredulous laughter. “I thought that only happened in cartoons,” he says.

“Nope, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes,” Chan says. “I can still picture it, arcing perfectly over her plate and the chip bowl.”

“That’s incredible,” Felix says earnestly. There’s that pang of strange curiosity again. He wants to know more about Chan; he wants to know everything. “What are your siblings like?” he asks.

Chan grins. “Pain in my ass, both of them,” he says. “But I love ‘em, you know? Hannah is seven years younger than me, Lucas is nine years younger. They were both born a few years after we moved here. I think I used to harbor a certain hatred for them because I’d gotten used to being the only one. But I think I probably would’ve been lonely without them, too.” He shrugs. “I like to say I was the rough draft. Which isn’t to say, like—I’ve got a really great life, you know, I get to make a living doing what I love, and I’ve been quite successful. But like—Hannah works as a choreographer for a big entertainment company in Seoul, and Lucas is actually in his last year of med school right now; he went to the States for university. He’s going into his residency this coming August.” Chan spreads his hands. “My parents have a lot to be proud of.”

“They definitely do.” Felix nods, thinking about his own siblings. Soon, that’ll be their lives, too—spread out across the world when they used to share a bathroom and fight over the TV remote. “Do you… still talk to them?” he ventures. He imagines little Chan, aged seven, eight, nine, an immigrant and the child of immigrants, watching jealously as his younger siblings steal attention that was once his. He imagines him a little older, walking between two faceless toddlers, holding their hands. It makes his heart wilt with tenderness in his chest.

“Sometimes,” Chan says, nodding. “It’s hard, because we’re in wildly different time zones, but I did call Hannah a couple days ago, actually.”

“I bet me and Hannah would get on well,” Felix says, laughing. “Middle child solidarity. She can tell me all your embarrassing secrets.”

“I’ll just ask Rachel about yours to get you back, then,” Chan says, chuckling.

Their laughter dies quickly, the reality of it leaving a heavy cloud hanging in the air between them. They won’t meet each other’s families, at least not like that. Felix will never ask Hannah to relay cringey stories from their childhood. That sort of interaction is reserved for significant others; Chan is supposed to be his friend, and maybe his mentor. Nothing else. And if either of their families found out, it would all be ruined. Their families would be furious, Felix’s especially. And the worst part is, they’d be right.

“Anyway,” Felix says after a moment, “I don’t think you should call yourself a rough draft. Did your siblings get invited to VidCon? I don’t think so.”

Chan laughs. “I know. But my life is a little silly, I think, in comparison to theirs.”

“You’re still making a living, and you’re still happy, right?” Felix asks. Chan nods. “So there’s nothing silly about it.” He takes the last bite of his burrito. “You’re living a lot of people’s dream, I think.”

Chan nods slowly. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he says, looking at Felix with an intense and unreadable sort of expression. “Thank you,” he says. “Really.”

Felix smiles back. “I mean, it’s true,” he replies with a dramatic little hand flourish.

They’re both a little tired, or maybe just worn down from the mental gymnastics of that conversation, so the rest of dinner is relatively quiet. They shower together once they’re done, exchanging gentle kisses, and then start working their way towards bed. Chan lingers behind in the bathroom to pee, and Felix sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for him while he towels off his hair.

His gaze falls on the book, lying face-down and open, on Chan’s bedside table. The spine is cracking a little, and Felix sighs. He’s been trying to get Chan to use bookmarks, even if it’s just a random piece of paper or an old receipt. He sees a blank piece of paper on the table beside it and smiles; clearly, Chan was trying, but must have forgotten the last time he put the book down. Felix picks up the book, carefully slotting a finger between the pages to keep Chan’s place, and then plucks up the paper.

Only it’s not paper. It’s a photograph. Felix lowers the book back down the way he found it, feeling the smooth face of the photograph with his fingertips. He wonders too late if it’s personal; he flips it over, and there is Chan, looking much younger, in a full suit and tie. Next to him is a beautiful woman that Felix doesn’t recognize. She’s wearing a wedding dress. Chan is kissing her cheek.

Cold fear washes over Felix’s skin and makes it prickle; confusion swirls in his stomach until he feels like he’s on a boat lost at storm. There has to be some explanation—why Chan hasn’t mentioned her, why he still has the photo, why, why, why—right? It can’t be what it looks like, because if it’s what it looks like—Felix feels sick. Fucking a guy so much older than him was one thing, but one who’s married? That’s a different story altogether.

“Lix?” Felix realizes he’s just been sitting there, frozen in shock. He feels the bed dip behind him. “What’re y—oh.”

Felix turns, praying his voice will remain steady, trying to keep his tone quiet and conversational, even though all he wants to do is scream. He holds up the photo. “Who’s this?” he asks. It comes out hoarse, almost a whisper.

“Ah…” Chan settles onto the mattress, crossing his legs in front of him. “I knew I’d have to bring it up eventually. I just—didn’t know how.”

“Tell me it’s not what I’m worried it is,” Felix begs.

“It’s not,” Chan says immediately. He holds his hand out for the photo; Felix gives it to him. He doesn’t miss the way Chan looks at it, warm and full of love, and around that, smothering like a heavy blanket, sadness. “This… this is Sana. My late wife.”

Felix’s heart plummets to the bottom of his stomach, as his fear and anger dissipates, only to be replaced with guilt and sympathy. “Oh,” he manages. “I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Chan says. He’s still looking at the photograph, at Sana. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you—a while ago.” He sighs, big and deep. “She… she was a year older than me. We met when we were teenagers. We were in the same maths class, and we hated it so much. I asked her out during her last year of school, and we stayed together through university. Once we were out of school and had stable jobs, we moved in together, and then I proposed. She said yes.

“She passed away when she was twenty-seven, and I was twenty-six. We’d only been married about two years. She… had a genetic blood disorder that increases the chance of clots, and we just—we didn’t know. We didn’t know, and she had a stroke, and that was it.” Chan looks up, and his eyes are glassy with tears. “It happened during the day. I was at work; I had a shitty little desk job back then. She was staying home that day because she’d been feeling under the weather. She was just—she woke up headachy and dizzy. We thought it was just a weird day, or maybe a cold. When I came home, she was already gone.”

“Chan.” Felix doesn’t know what to say. He offers him his hand, and Chan takes it. “I’m so sorry.”

Chan shrugs. “I mean, there was nothing we could’ve done. It was just—just bad luck.” He squeezes Felix’s hand. “She was the love of my life, you know? And I miss her, every day. I thought, when she died, that I would never be happy again. I definitely thought I’d never be close to anyone ever again. I thought that was it.”

He tilts his head. “But then you came along. And you know—the first video of yours I saw was your cover of Frankie Valli’s ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’, which I know you mostly covered because it was popular on TikTok, but—that was her favorite song. And I guess it was like, I don’t know, I felt like she was telling me I had to live again. At first, I thought it was just a sweet coincidence, that someone who had a shared background happened to be the one to cover that song, but now—I don’t know. It means a little more, I guess.”

Felix’s brows crumple, despite how hard he’s fighting to keep a straight face. It’s Chan’s pain, not his, but it touches him all the same. “That’s really sweet,” he says.

Chan smiles. He sets the picture aside, and then turns back to Felix. “It’s kind of dumb is what it is,” he says. “It’s been almost ten years. I mean, it took me like five years before I felt like I could smile again and mean it. I even—I mean, it was bad for a while, you know? But I had to stay. Lucas was only seventeen, he was still in high school. It’s just that I was so young. I wish I had been able to move on sooner, but I—I just couldn’t.”

Felix frowns. “You were so young, and you experienced something no one, especially at that age, should ever experience,” he points out. “It’s not your fault.”

Chan nods. “Yeah.” He pauses. “Anyway, I think this is all to say, thank you. Because even though I found a way to be happy again, and even though I was content, I didn’t think I’d ever have anyone in my life again in this kind of capacity. No matter how… unconventional or brief. But then there was you. It’s easier now, with you here. And even on nights when I’m alone, it’s easier just knowing that somewhere, you exist. You’ve shown me that I don’t have to spend the rest of my life lonely. So thank you.”

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” Felix mutters, embarrassed, and Chan laughs brightly and pulls him in for a hug.

“I know,” he says softly. “That’s the best part.” He sighs. “Grief is weird like that. One second, you’re sure that you’ve made all the progress you can make, and the next—something’s changed again, without anyone meaning it to, without your permission. Things get better on their own accord.” He huffs out a small breath of laughter. “I guess that’s why hope exists, right?”

“Yeah.” Felix holds onto him tight. He feels so stupid now; all his worries are trivial in the face of a heartbreak like this. How could he ever bring up his little troubles to Chan, knowing he’s gone through something like this? Felix doesn’t get to ask Chan to flip his entire life on its head just for him. He doesn’t get to ask Chan for anything. “Sorry for—snooping, I really didn’t mean to. I was—I thought you were using it as a bookmark, only you left your book open…”

Chan laughs. “Oh, it’s alright. You didn’t do it on purpose. It’s not like you went digging through my drawers or something.” He pulls back, reaching up to push some hair off of Felix’s forehead. “And even if you did, I don’t think it would matter. This was the only big secret I was keeping. I don’t have anything left to hide.”

Except me, Felix thinks. You don’t have anything left to hide, except for me.

☼ ☼ ☼

Felix wakes first the next morning. He looks over at Chan, limbs flung haphazardly across the bed, hair messy and all curly from drying overnight, outlines of his features barely visible in the low light. He pushes himself up out of bed and pads, shivering, across the hardwood to the bathroom. The weather is getting colder, and even though Chan’s building has heat, it’s like his bones can feel it, even when he’s indoors.

Maybe I’m getting old, Felix thinks as he flushes the toilet and washes his hands. It makes him giggle.

When he returns to bed, Chan is stirring. His eyes find Felix as he settles back under the covers. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Felix replies.

Chan reaches up to cup Felix’s jaw, stroking his thumb over his skin. “Sorry,” he says, “for not telling you about Sana sooner. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Felix shakes his head. “It’s alright. It’s hard to talk about.” Chan hums. “I do have a question, though.”

“Sure.”

“If you… if you started dating Sana when you were still a teenager, then did you ever, um, with another guy? Before me?” Felix feels clumsy. It’s not that he’s questioning Chan’s choices or his identity, it’s more just that Chan seems like he knows exactly what he’s doing in bed, and Felix doesn’t think any amount of porn can teach you that. And he’s not really sure how to ask Chan how do you fuck so good without being rude.

Chan laughs. “I had a very not-serious boyfriend when I was a little younger,” he says. “And then, I don’t know, a few years ago I tried putting myself back into the dating scene. I dated anyone I was interested in—gender isn’t really a factor for me—but never for long. There was no connection, and always the looming pressure of commitment, you know? Dating over thirty gets scary. Everyone wants a ring, and I was just trying to figure things out. It wasn’t worth it, so I stopped.”

“Oh,” Felix says, nodding. “I mean—not that it matters to me. I was just curious, ‘cuz, um, you seem like you’ve had practice.”

Chan laughs again, this time loud and with his whole body. “I’ll take that as a compliment, then.”

“Mm,” Felix agrees, grinning. He leans close to kiss Chan, quick and chaste. “Hey, do you have all the stuff for your Hard Conversation Breakfast? I think we deserve a reward for the hard conversations we’ve had.”

“I think I do,” Chan says, nodding. “And I completely agree.” As if on cue, his stomach rumbles. “And so does my tummy,” he adds, giggling. “C’mon, let’s see what we can find.”

Felix makes their coffee while Chan cooks (near-black for Chan, and lots of sugar and cream for Felix). He watches Chan out of the corner of his eye as he waits for the water to boil. Things make more sense now—why Chan seems so solitary, why it felt like Felix didn’t quite understand him. But he understands him now, or at least he’s pretty sure. There’s an ache sitting heavy in his chest, one he doesn’t know how to name. It’s like wanting, and it’s also like despair. And mixed in, without his permission, is hope.

Oh god, Felix thinks, the realization hitting him so hard that he nearly stumbles on his way to retrieving their mugs, oh god. I’m in love.

He clenches his jaw as he pours the coffee, trying to focus on not spilling. But inside, his mind rages. There’s the sweet euphoria that comes with all loves, certainly, but it’s drowned by his fear and the knowing that Chan could never love him back.

He wishes he’d thought of it later, later today after Chan drops him off, where he can lay it all out and process it in peace. As it is, all he can do is try to hide how bad his hands are shaking as he carries their full coffee mugs to the table, as he pulls out utensils and lays them out in front of their seats, as he turns and asks, “Need any help?”

Chan flashes him a glance, smiling gratefully. “No, thank you,” he says, and Felix aches.

As much as he tries to act normal, there’s not much Felix can do against his own heart. I love you, he thinks, watching Chan cut his sausages into bite-sized pieces before handing his plate over. I love you, he thinks as Chan slides into his chair and gives a happy sigh at the sight of his coffee. I love you. Maybe if he thinks it hard enough, Chan will understand.

“This is perfect,” Chan says, gesturing at the coffee cup. “You know me well.”

Felix smiles. I love you. “I’d hope so,” he says. “I’m glad I got it right.”

“So what’s our plan for today?” Chan asks.

Felix shrugs. “Feels like a good day to spend doing nothing.”

“I agree completely,” Chan says, nodding. “Want to find a shitty drama to watch?”

“Oh, I meant nothing like go right back to bed after we eat,” Felix says.

Chan regards him suspiciously over the rim of his mug. “Sounds like you do have an agenda after all.”

Felix offers him a sly smile. “Maybe. Or we can just cuddle, I’m flexible.” And he’s not just saying it to be cute—he just wants to be close to Chan. He doesn’t really care in what way.

But Chan just laughs. “Nah, you know what they say about great minds thinking alike and all that,” he says. “So I say fuck and then cuddle. We can have it all. Hm?”

“Yeah,” Felix giggles, chasing a piece of egg around his plate with his fork.

So they leave their dishes in the sink and do exactly that. Felix snuggles down under the blankets as Chan runs to the bathroom and gets a couple other things in order. He flops down into bed beside Felix a few moments later, leaning close and pressing kisses to Felix’s jaw.

It’s almost unbearable. Felix breathes him in, the earthy vanilla that is Chan to him now, running his fingers over the strong muscles of his arms, tucking his chin in a little so Chan has no choice but to kiss him on the mouth instead. And Chan kisses him. And Felix aches.

“Baby, you’re hurting me,” Chan whispers, shaking his arm, and Felix realizes he’s dug his fingers in, so hard he can barely feel his fingertips—clinging, without meaning to, because he doesn’t want to let him go.

“Sorry,” Felix mumbles, releasing him quickly. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” Chan soothes. “You want me close is all. I can do close.” He kisses Felix’s forehead, wrapping one of his arms around Felix’s waist. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s not true, Felix wants to say. But instead he lets Chan smother him in kisses, give him so much affection he’s drowning in it. It doesn’t matter. Felix doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough. He throws an arm over Chan’s shoulder, scratching lightly down his back while Chan bites a hickey into his chest. He’s got one of his legs slung over both of Felix’s.

“Chan,” Felix says breathlessly. “Oh my god, Chan.”

Chan untangles their limbs, pushes himself up and on top of Felix, spreading his legs so he can sit between them. He smooths his hands down Felix’s stomach, taking the hem of his t-shirt in his hands and pulling up. Felix helps, sitting up a little so Chan can undress him. Next go his shorts and underwear. Chan makes it fair; he tugs his own shirt off next, along with his sweats and underwear, and then they’re both naked, skin brushing skin. Felix looks at Chan, watches him as he runs a hand down his thigh, watches as he looks up, sees Felix looking, and smiles.

“Toss me the lube?” he asks, nodding at the bottle that he left by his pillow.

Felix scrabbles around for it, tossing it underhand to Chan, who catches it easily. Chan pops the lid, lubing up his fingers and then pressing one to Felix’s entrance. He bends over Felix’s body, pressing gentle kisses to his stomach as he pushes his finger in. He looks up at Felix as he moves his finger, slow so Felix doesn’t get overwhelmed too quickly. Felix runs his hand through Chan’s hair, fingers getting tangled in his soft curls. Chan hums, closing his eyes and leaning into Felix’s touch.

Something feels different, and Felix isn’t sure that it’s all in his head. Chan rests his cheek against his stomach and fucks first one finger, then two, then three, in and out of Felix, stretching him with practiced hands. It’s almost the same, but the air feels different. There’s something heavier, more fragile, resting between them. Chan uses his free hand to trace random patterns into Felix’s skin. The intimacy of the mundane seems dizzying.

Chan rearranges himself, folding in half and mouthing at the head of Felix’s cock. Felix’s grip tightens in Chan’s hair, and Chan takes this as the go-ahead that it is, sinking down on Felix’s cock while he crams his pinky finger in beside the other three. Felix gasps and moans and tries not to buck his hips up into Chan’s mouth, trembling when Chan finds his prostate.

As soon as he knows he’s loose enough to take Chan’s cock, he’s pushing Chan away. “Fuck, stop, stop, or I’ll come,” he pants. “I don’t wanna come yet, stop.”

Chan acquiesces, releasing him and sitting back on his heels, searching for the lube bottle, which has gotten lost in the crumpled mound of the duvet. “Could just make you come again,” he points out, but Felix shakes his head.

“Too sleepy for that,” he replies, and Chan nods.

So Chan slicks up his cock instead and eases himself into Felix, all the way until he bottoms out and their bodies are pressed flush to one another. Chan spreads his legs so that he has a knee on either side of Felix’s ass; Felix tucks his knees up and locks his ankles behind Chan’s back as Chan tips forward and settles himself right on top of Felix, nose against his neck and one hand cradling the back of his skull. Felix lets out a soft moan, one of his hands finding Chan’s cheek.

“Good?” Chan asks.

“Good,” Felix replies dreamily.

Chan rolls his hips, one slow, fluid motion and Felix shakes, pleasure washing over his body, making his skin hot and his eyes sting with unshed tears. Chan’s deep inside him, and all Felix can do is stutter out moans as Chan continues to fuck him just like that.

Chan lifts his head up a little so he can kiss Felix properly, and Felix takes his jaw with both hands and holds him there, kissing hungrily, whining into Chan’s mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” Chan murmurs, knocking their foreheads together as they break apart for a moment. “So eager today, what is it?”

“Want you, daddy,” Felix replies plaintively. “I always want you.”

“But I’m right here,” Chan says. “You already have me.”

“I know,” Felix whispers, and kisses him again before he can say something stupid, like it’s not enough, or I want you but not like this, or I want you in ways I’m not supposed to want you, that I never meant to want you, I love you and I want you to love me too—all true, all damning. Because that’s the thing, the instant this becomes anything more than hooking up, it’s over. And Felix doesn’t want it to be over; he doesn’t want it to ever be over, he wants to keep pretending that it’ll last because he doesn’t know what he’ll do when this is gone.

I love you, he thinks as he kisses Chan fiercely, messy and hot. Chan lets him, just keeps fucking him like that, circling his hips until Felix’s brain slows down, until he doesn’t have to think about any of it any more because he can’t, doesn’t have the space to.

The sun is rising higher in the sky behind the blackout curtains, casting blinding lines of light across the floor and the bed where there are cracks. The room is warm and full with its quietness. Chan holds Felix close to his body, even when they get sweaty, even when Felix’s cock smears precome across his belly.

“Baby,” Chan breathes. “So fuckin’ good.”

“Daddy,” Felix whimpers back. Even just a month or two ago, he would have laughed at the idea that slow, lazy sex would get him like this, would make him feel anything other than a little bored. The Felix from January would have rolled his eyes at the thought.

But so much has changed since then.

Chan gives him another kiss on his jaw, and then pushes himself up a little so that he has more room to move. He reaches down for Felix’s cock; Felix shivers when he takes it in his hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts, and speeding up little by little, then back down again so Felix doesn’t get overstimulated. It’s so good—Chan knows his body so well now, knows the signs that it's starting to turn from pleasure to discomfort, and relents, waiting for him to settle back down into the mattress before picking up the pace again.

“Beautiful, baby,” Chan says softly, and Felix chokes out a moan. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I—I’m—” Felix tries, he tries to speak, but it’s hard when Chan is lulling him to a sort of lust-filled stupor. “Daddy, ‘m gonna come.” It comes out unsteady, syllables just barely fitting in around his breath.

Chan thumbs at his slit in response with a smile. It’s not as sharp as Felix thinks he meant it to be, the only thing that betrays his fatigue. “Gonna come?” he repeats. “Lemme see, baby.”

Felix gasps, rocking his hips up into Chan’s fist, and comes with a little whimper, watching helplessly as his cock spills his sticky white release over Chan’s pretty fingers, dripping down onto his stomach and mixing with the glistening pool of precome that had gathered there. Chan toys with his slit again, and has the audacity to laugh when the pressure makes some of it shoot up Felix’s chest.

“Like you’re squirting,” Chan murmurs, clearly pleased. Felix only moans shakily as his orgasm subsides and leaves him feeling weak and punched-out, limbs uncooperative and unstable.

Now Chan leans in again, even though Felix is messy. He presses his tongue to a drop of come on Felix’s chest, and cleans him up like that while he fucks him, harder now as he chases his own release. His lips and tongue feel so good against Felix’s skin that it almost distracts him from the slight discomfort of overstimulation.

“Daddy,” Felix slurs, toes curling from the way Chan’s still hitting his prostate. “Daddy, daddy, hurts.”

“I’ll be quick,” Chan forces out, muffled against Felix’s chest, “I promise—”

Felix lets out a soft surprised noise as he feels Chan’s cock twitch inside him, flooding him with wet heat. Chan gasps out moans, pumping his cock in and out shallowly as he rides out his orgasm, breath hot on Felix’s skin.

Chan pulls out as soon as he’s done, dropping his full body weight onto Felix, which Felix doesn’t really mind. He does mind the fact that he can feel Chan’s come leaking out of him, but that can wait, too, he supposes.

Still, he says, “Your sheets are gonna stain.”

Chan huffs. “I have stain remover for a reason.”

It’s a pretty fair argument, so Felix just hums and wraps his arms around Chan, rubbing his back.

“You’re right, though,” Chan says after a moment. “This isn’t going to be comfortable for much longer.”

He pushes himself up and off of Felix, clambering to his feet and offering Felix a hand to help him up, too. They strip the bed; Chan takes it to the laundry machine while Felix goes to clean himself up.

By the time he’s emerged from the bathroom again, Chan is already almost done putting down fresh sheets. He’s fluffing the pillows, and the crease between his brows betrays him—he’s lost in thought about something. Felix can probably guess what.

And for one moment, Felix looks at Chan and sees him in a new sort of light: thirty-five year old Teacher Bang, a melancholy widower who makes music because it’s what keeps him alive. Who’s still around looking for a reason to stay because he doesn’t have anything else, because he stayed so his little brother wouldn’t lose him, and then by the time his brother wasn’t so little anymore, it had already become a habit. Who is kind and friendly by nature, but incredibly lonely because he doesn’t know how to do anything about it.

But then he turns, and catches sight of Felix, and he becomes Felix’s Chan again, his Channie-hyung. The years melt off of his face at the hint of his smile, growing when Felix smiles back. The hope shines in his eyes, bringing with it a bright warmth. And all those other things are still there, under the surface, but they’re not him. They’re just a part of him.

“What?” Chan asks softly, and Felix realizes he’s rooted to the spot, one step out of the bathroom, staring.

I love you, Felix thinks. “Nothing,” he says instead, forcing himself to move, to walk to the bed and help button up the duvet cover.

“Okay.” Chan accepts it with a shrug, giving him a kiss on the forehead when he’s close enough to reach. He scoots down under the covers and holds out his arms to Felix. And Felix aches.

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yoondles · 3 years

Text

Grow As We Go - M.YG

CEO! Min Yoongi x CEO! Reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: Marrying your ex isn’t really something you want to do.

Themes: Heavy angst, fluff if you squint for 2 seconds, smut, it ends happily.

Word count: 10k, Unedited

Inspo: Trivia: Seesaw by MYG & Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

Warnings: Yoongi calls you a whore, Yoongi’s pp is huge, reader is a virgin, talks about their toxic relationship, biting/nipping, breast play, light humiliation, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, creampie, unprotected seggs, mature language and that’s about it 😐.

A/N: lastly, I haven’t gotten the chance to proofread this and I’m sorry for any mistakes. This is my first fic so feel free to share your thoughts, thank youuu! 😭

You knew you were screwed. The way he held placed his hands inside his pocket, the heavy footsteps that would leave an impression to the carpeted floor of the airport, and the way his eyebrows arched. You were really fucking screwed.

It was the same posture he held one year ago, a few months prior to the separation that lead to the awkwardness that blossomed amidst your honeymoon days. It was eerie silence. You saw the way his veins would pop the moment he saw you as if he was clenching his jaw hard, trying to prevent himself from doing anything he regretted. You refused to make an eye contact with him.

The crowd was going wild, five months after your announced marriage, this was your first public appearance together, as a couple known by the entire nation. The fact that he was Min Yoongi didn’t help either, in fact, more people got interested in your relationship because it was about Min Yoongi.

He was one of the seven bachelors, the current head of BigHit Inc., a large conglomerate. He’s an adopted son of the late Mr. Bang, all of which grew to become individual talents, either blessed in terms of dancing, singing, poetry, even rapping. “Where the fuck have you been?” Cocking one of his brows up as he scrutinised you, looking at your small figure with an imposing look, something that would’ve threatened any normal citizen.

But not you. You knew Yoongi like the back of your hand. Having spent about 5 years of your life in an attempt to make the best out of your arranged marriage with him really helped out. Except for the fact that the two of you haven’t spoken for about one year prior to the wedding itself, and the fact that you were former lovers who decided it wouldn’t work out.

“Japan,” you shrugged him off, dismissing your assistant by giving him your luggage as you tried your best to hide your face from the agonising cameras that the paparazzi held against your face. Thankfully, they were kind enough to make way for the two of you, parting as the newly wedded pair made their way towards the vehicle.

He scoffed at your answer, baffled. He pushed his hair back in annoyance, “why didn’t you tell me anything about this?” You ignored him. Noticing the whispers and glances the people exchanged with one another. You were drifting away, pulled back to reality with the harsh grab you felt in your shoulder, stopping you from moving further. “About what?” You shook his hand off as you attempted to push through. The vehicle seemed to be moving further away from the two of you as tension was quick to rise.

“You, Japan?” You shook your head, walking a tad bit faster this time around. “Hello?” He spoke a bit louder this time, the large empty area made sure that everyone heard him. It was the echoes that reached you. “Just, let me get inside the car,” your voice was getting louder by the second, as the media started cluttering around the two of you, trying to get into the details of what seemed to be an argument between two of the richest heirs in South Korea.

“Can you let me talk to my fucking wife?” His voice was a tad bit louder than earlier, it was nothing that surprised you. He seemed to be fond with wanting himself heard, what shocked you though was the harsh grip that left you wincing as he pulled you inside the car. It was only when you were in front of the door that you managed to shake him off, opening the door yourself as you slumped against the leather seat.

Quickly, you turned away from him, closing your eyes as you forced yourself to shut him out. Pretending that Min Yoongi was a fragment of your imagination and he was no way real, that this was some made up bullshit you fantasised about at 3 AM. “Y/N!” He yelled out your name, anger evident in his voice, as the metal on his seatbelt crashed repeatedly against the plastic, cursing loudly as the driver began to move.

“You couldn’t have fucking waited, could you?!” The loud empty halls in your makeshift home was amplifying your voice. The loud banging of the door was your signal to continue your short rant regarding his unprofessional work, in front of the news outlets that would milk every second that passed in front of them.

“To hell with that, why didn’t you fucking tell me you were going to Japan?” You mocked his tone with a very small voice, removing your heels as you paraded the long hallway, rolling your eyes in the process. Coming to a halt the moment he pulled you back to him with a harsh tug on your wrist. You were quick to react, his face contorting as if confused as to whether he should apologise or continue his facade. “Why should I?” It was a push and pull type of relationship, undoing your dress in front of him was a huge part of the show.

The garment was quick to pool around your feet, swaying your hips gently as you flaunted your white pair of underwear. Moving towards the closet, eyes meeting his through the large mirror. For a moment he paused, taking a few seconds to glance at your body. Taking every curve, every mole, everything he could with such a short amount of time.

“Well, let me see. I’m your husband!”

“Legally, wouldn’t say I voluntarily married you.” You shrugged, grabbing the closest pair of pyjama you found. “Real mature, y/n. It would’ve been nice if I’d gotten a memo, you know?”

“It’s not like you would’ve cared.” You did your best in everything, and right now, pissing him off was on the top of your priorities. Casually grabbing the discarded garment as you walked outside your bedroom, dumping everything in the nearby laundry room, he continued to follow you around like a shadow.

You knew he was pissed. His breathing was a lot harsher, unlike earlier when he was wearing a mask, right now you could see he entirety of his face as he bit his lip in annoyance. “We’re going there, aren’t we?” You nodded, feeling a lot more giddy knowing you did your best to rile him up. Jumping your way towards the kitchen, greeting the maids as you walked over the counter, grabbing a yellow banana.

“Do you seriously think I have no right to know where you are? Is that another privilege I’m not entitled too, hm?”

“Yes, actually. I don’t want you meddling with my business, I want you as far away as possible.” He pursed his lips, placing his hands against his hips as he looked at you dumbfounded. “Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t care about your stupid company. I just want to know if my wife’s safe or if she’s dead.”

“Don’t use the wife card on me, Min Yoongi. Stop acting like you gave a damn about my well-being two weeks ago.” The air conditioning seemed to be working extra harder as the air surrounding the two of you seemed to be a lot more thicker and colder now. His eyebrow slowly arched upwards as he gazed at you, carefully shooting the banana peel inside the automated trash can.

Walking your way towards the fridge to grab a cold glass of water, as he intently gazed at you. “What are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, offering him a glass of water before placing it back inside the fridge as you washed it yourself. “I’m just returning the favour, it’s not like I knew where you’ve been the past two months.”

Yoongi was confused, it was amusing to look at him, acting innocently after the crimes he’s committed just three months into the relationship that sealed the two of you towards a muddy path to eternity. “Two months? What?”

“Yes, I don’t fucking know where you’ve been, how you’ve managed to slither past my hands, and how you fucking act like you don’t have a wife at home.” That shut him up. It was silence that followed the short confession you managed to squeeze out after days if trying to keep everything together.

“So to hell with Japan, to hell with you trying to know where I’ve been. Because I’ve been clueless for the past two months, not once did you tell me you were off somewhere.”

It was oddly, fulfilling. To be able to give your pent up emotions some freedom after a few days of relaxation. It was a different kind of satisfaction when you saw the way his face moved, the way his facial features would move with every word that left your mouth. You saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, as if figuring out why everything had to happen.

It was at this moment you declared your first victory, moving past him, making sure to touch his shoulder with yours on the way out of the kitchen, locking yourself in your bedroom. Your own personal space, far away from what was intended to be your shared space. Because you and Min Yoongi both appreciated privacy far too much.

It was an immature fight, sure. But that was everything that you and Yoongi had been. Immature lovers who wanted each others’ time for each other, the only thing that you managed to do well was break up publicly and settling everything in private. That was a big enough red flag, however, there was an agreement older than the two of you. Somehow, it managed to slap you both in the back of your heads.

Your relationship with him remained platonic. As if nothing had changed between the two of you, like you were the same pair of lovers who broke up with one another one year ago. Living with him had been many things, it was very exhausting having to keep up with his lifestyle.

It was draining to the point of no return, where you’ve been pushed past all your limits and somehow he chooses to ignore everything instead of addressing it. And it had always been like that, was there not any growth? You assumed there would be some, at least a few, but you thought wrong.

You wanted everything to die out, before proceeding with your plans. The two of you had made an agreement that within the span of two years, you’d be out of the marriage. However, with his brothers growing massively successful, the press made sure to watch almost every movement Min Yoongi made. It doesn’t help that he was private, now that he had to be exposed the media tried its’ best to pry him open. So yes, it had been very exhausting. You only needed two years, and you’d be back to the same situation you had been before.

Eating dinner had been uneventful. It consisted of you looking for the perfect video to watch while sitting in the dining table, your food getting colder every minute that passed. As if you hadn’t had an argument earlier, you had no idea where Yoongi was, whether he was safe or if he was fucking another bitch in the club, hell, maybe he was with someone who could satiate his needs, be there for him, fill up whatever you space you failed to replenish.

Was it painful knowing that? Yes. You could be there for him, you wanted him to at least try and approach you as much as you tried to form a coherent bond with him. It won’t be the same as it was two years ago, but you at least wanted to have a friendship with him. You want the two of you to be able to talk to one another without yelling, cursing. You wanted something to happen, something that was better than your current situation.

Your two weeks in Japan had been the greatest time of your life since your marriage. You’d assume that working there would be no different than if you worked from home, however, there was no empty space in Japan. There was no Min Yoongi reminding you that you were married, yelling that you hated your current life situation and that you wanted to escape. It was a breath of fresh air, but it only lasted for a while, not after his secretary bombarded your secretary.

The door closed with a loud “bang!”. It was something you’ve gotten used to over the course of five months, because you know well enough that Yoongi could never close the door without trying to release his pent up anger. He looked sleek, admittedly, he looked very charming wearing his black turtleneck, and his black coat. But you knew that you needed to stay away, as he removed his shoes, you shut down the television, walking fast while chewing on a piece of kimchi. There was a pause, it was the moment you made eye contact with him.

But you ignored it, walking away with your bowl towards your room. Normally, he’d find you in your room, however, he arrived earlier than usual. Fridays would usually mean that he’d be coming home late, trying to clear up his schedule for the weekends, but he was here in all his glory. “Have you been keeping up with the news?” You were holding a chicken bone, gnawing on it as you were about to pull the door, entering your room, but you were a few seconds late. You shook your head slowly.

He took a few steps closer as he began to open his phone.

“Min Yoongi caught desperately trying to save marriage!”

That was one of the very few articles that had appeared in his phone. Alongside, “Divorce Makes Way For The Newly Wedded Min Couple!” You gave him a shrug, unsure as to what he was waiting for, what reaction he wanted upon showing you mediocre headlines. “Well, I’m glad they’ve reported reliable news.” You could practically see smoke fume out of his nostrils in annoyance. “The fuck do you want me to do? Make a call and tell them no, when we were clearly in the middle of an argument earlier?”

He gritted his teeth, his tongue poking out his cheek as he placed both one of his hands in his hips, the other reaching his forehead as if he was trying to ease a random headache he managed to acquire within the three minutes of talk time you allowed each other to have. “This is the first time they’re seeing us, I’m quite pleased with the reaction.” The sarcasm was dripping off of every word, again, you shrugged. Gently placing the bowl down as you stared at him trying to figure out what he wanted from you.

“You’re a CEO, Min Yoongi. You’re not a performer like your brothers are, this doesn’t mean shit to the millions you earn weekly. None of this matters.” You knew that the reason for this was his brothers’ fame, they were out in the spotlight while he was in the dark. This urged the media to move towards Yoongi’s direction more, as he seemed someone who was more intriguing. Someone who’s name stood out in the crowd, despite not being a public character.

“Do you not care about the reputation you have as an individual?”

“Well in the first place, none of this would have happened if you sat down in your goddamn office chair, like you’re supposed to be doing. Not waiting for me in the airport,”

“Glad you appreciate the effort though, was I supposed to not greet you? After disappearing for two fucking weeks?” He let out a laugh, huffing as he placed down his coat somewhere in the sofa. “You yelled in front of everyone, I asked you to wait, to at least let everything boil down to the moment we were inside the vehicle!” It was a matter of proving who’s fault it really was at this point, it was the same immature fight you’d always have but never seemed to resolve.

“Why do you care so much about everyone else? Why do you care about their opinion, when they barely know you.” That was your conclusion, you halted, and moved towards your room. The bowl was left halfway full in the counter, long forgotten as you’ve lost whatever was left of your will to eat the moment Yoongi presented the news articles he found to be fascinating.

In an attempt to move on from the situation, you distanced yourself from him. The already existing wall between the two of you had only grown taller. You did your best to avoid him, even going as far as checking the CCTVs from your office just to see if he was home, letting him do his nightly routine before proceeding to going home yourself. You wanted no physical interaction, in fact, even the invitation that had been sent for the two of you had been forwarded by him through email.

Even your cellphone numbers had been rendered useless, as you barely talked through messages, not once had he called.

You didn’t know how the night would pan out, you just had to get through this, wear a dress that fit the theme, and pretend that the two of you had been happily married for the past six months. Easy, you thought it’d be easy. However, the void that stood in between the two of you had been way too big to even mend. So, you sat there, tapping your fingers against the soft satin fabric of your dress. Awkwardly licking your lips as you failed to make an eye contact with the man beside you.

You clutched your tiny purse as you had been escorted out of the car by Min Yoongi himself, doing your best to try and act natural. Hooking your hand against his arm, as he cleared his throat in surprise, raising a brow towards your direction as you began to walk the red carpet. Similar to the airport scene, the media was everywhere. In addition to the crowd you’ve managed to form, a bunch of business elites were also waiting for the arrival of the lucky couple, having big names in the business field, wanting to please the two of you for possible collaborations and merges. The two of you were the star of the show.

You began critiquing the way the two of you walked, how his steps were far larger than yours and how you always fell behind. The way your arm awkwardly hung from his, how you attempted to push back stray pieces of hair with your other hand.

Parties had always been your cup of tea, you enjoyed them, you saw them as business opportunities. But for the first time in your life, you lacked the confidence to power through the event, your feet were already worn out from the heels you chose to wear, everything was not going as planned and you were terrified that it showed through. What a hypocrite you were, scolding Yoongi for caring too much despite being anxious yourself.

There was a buffet, wine, champagne, and all of Yoongi’s brothers had also been present. They greeted the two of you, which you happily returned, never missing the sly smirk they gave off especially the way Taehyung laughed at your awkward posture, pointing out that he read the previous articles that mentioned the two of you. The part you dreaded was yet to come, it was at that moment that the old Mr. and Mrs. Choi walked in front of your and began asking you questions.

“You look wonderful tonight!” Mrs. Choi gushed at the two of you, her hands clinging onto yours and Yoongi’s as she began to shake the two of them. You smiled politely, exchanging quiet glances with Yoongi, you were screwed. The old couple loved gossiping, they were familiar with all distributors and were often referred to as the “trusted affiliate” that could juice out everything out of a growing issue in South Korea.

“So do you, I really love your earrings!” You returned the excitement, pointing out wherever your eyes had landed first, so it happened to be her earrings. “Thank you! I got them from Chanel, a little outdated but they do the job.” A few awkward sentences later, they began to ask you about what they were really here for. “I’m so glad the two of you were able to attend, I’ve been anxious since the moment we read the issues, we thought you’d be separating, again.” It was the emphasis on the word again that had Yoongi clenching the glass a little harder, enough for the tips of his finger to turn white. However, his composure remained calm, you gently tapped your heel against his leather shoes.

“Arguments do happen, I’m sure you and mr. Choi have also been victims of small fights every now and then, in the end, don’t we all find ways to resolve these?” He ended by bringing the wine closer to his lips, the dark hue beginning to stain his pink plump lips. The couple laughed.

Navigating a conversation with the Choi’s had always been dangerous, at any moment either one of you could stumble upon a trip mine. On top of this, the lack of communication with Yoongi could lead to possible contradiction of your answers, you didn’t discuss anything nor did you prepare for any interviews.

Their many attempts to find new headlines had almost been unsuccessful, almost. “When are you planning to have kids?” Mr. Choi asked, drinking the sparkling drink in his hand as Mrs. Choi complimented him through her fond eyes.

“Right, it has been six months since the two of you had been married. When are we seeing little Yoongi’s, little y/n’s?” The four of us shared a hearty laugh, “well, my wife and I want more time for each other. Not to say we don’t have any plans in the future, but we don’t intend to have kids as of this moment.” It was a good enough answer, barely any information but it was enough to get a good click worthy title. “Oh, interesting. As much as we’d love to stay, we do have to meet a few more people.”

“We’d leave the two of you be, I’m certain you’d want to talk to hipper and younger guests.”

The two of you gave a polite smile, sighing loudly as they finally left your table. You downed the glass of wine faster than you had done before, the heat in your throat finally easing the tension you’d been feeling. You shared an awkward glance, lightly chuckling after deeming the interaction as somewhat successful.

“You did great,” you praised Yoongi, he started scratching the back of his head as his cheeks glowed in a pink hue, avoiding eye contact for a few seconds. “Who would’ve thought that that would work out?” Biting your lip as you shyly smile at him. It was you getting flustered all over again, similar to how your dimples would show, how you’d look at your feet in order to avoid his stares, those five beautiful years had always been dear to your heart. However, the breakup was almost inevitable.

The two of you were growing at your own pace, while you were busy preparing to be the next CEO, Yoongi had already been managing the company. Although you tried to make ends meet, it still happened. It started with small immature fights, soon it evolved to the days you would fail to meet, bigger arguments emerged, and although you tried your best to settle everything, you were not in the right state of mind. The never ending pressure that erupted from your family, the business meetings, the small problems you encountered in your day-to-day life. Everything collided.

You wanted to find comfort in Yoongi, you wanted him to be the safe space you needed whenever you wanted, but you became selfish. You would tell him everything, disregarding the fact that he too had problems, that he was also suffering considering that a job meant to be split into seven members, were all being handled by one. He tried his best, but on some days it got too much for him to handle, and one day, he finally exploded. He ended the relationship the two of you had, a five year relationship ended in the course of three months.

And now here you were, using your newfound attitude as a way to cope with the heartache that you still feel deep within your heart. Acting like a spoiled kid who was denied for the first time.

What you didn’t know was how much Yoongi had been suffering too. How much he wanted to come to you, and how much he needed to be with you. To him, the arrangement was a blessing in disguise. It felt like a huge blow in the gut when you had suggested a divorce after the noise you’ve made died down, from then he began to feel dejected. Slowly overworking himself, trying his best to distract himself from the fact that you would never be his. The distraction he made soon lead to distance, distance between the two of you.

He tried to act tough around you, spiteful even. But when he remembers how you implicitly rejected his proposal to a life with him, he’d attempt to push through. Putting on this mask as if he was tough, that he was different from the Yoongi you once knew, that he’d no longer be there for you. He halted all of his actions, actions he thought would bring the two of you together. Forming a stronger bond compared to the five years you’ve spent together.

With you acting poorly in front of him, using aggressive retaliation, and him being terrified of the rejection you unknowingly did, your relationship was in a standstill. You were two people who wanted each other, and sadly, there might be no way of knowing that you two did feel the same way.

Despite the flashing lights, the smiles you tried to offer other business associates, you still ended up back into your dark and gloomy house. It was large, had many empty walls and was barely decorated. There was no way of telling if the house was occupied or not, it was far too... professional? It had no character, no visible sign of change, it was bare.

The dark room you managed to inhabit for the past six months reminded you of how lonely you’ve been feeling, how different you were from the persona you tried to play outside of the walls. You’ve grown so accustomed to loneliness that it became such a huge part of your life, you could barely even remember how you acted before you were married to Yoongi, how carefree you were. It was pitiful how a rich, privileged woman like you was stuck inside a place you didn’t feel comfortable in.

It wasn’t the idea of being alone that made you feel lonely, it was living with someone with no physical reaction despite being entitled to at least a little bit of skin-on-skin contact, a hug would’ve been a big help. With these thoughts, you pulled your hand away from Min Yoongi’s as you began to wave the pathway towards the front door. Crossing your arms as you moved in, avoiding him as you made it as quickly as possible towards your bedroom.

Yoongi stood behind the door, for a night that had gone so well, your reaction had been far too harsh. Leaving him as soon as you had the opportunity, as if he were something so toxic to you that you couldn’t even stand being with him, alone, for at least a minute. He felt his chest swell, it wasn’t the good type of swell, it was fucking painful.

Removing his leather shoes, and walking towards the master bedroom, he asked himself what ifs, what if the two of you managed to handle everything more maturely, to the point of having a proper relationship up until now? What if the two of you had really wanted it? Would things be better?

Good grief, of course, things would have been so much better. He cursed himself silently, muttering under his breath as he took the moment to blame himself for just ending the relationship the moment he had the chance too. He didn’t even give himself enough time to process the decision he’d been making. On that same day, he was collected by Kim Namjoon, his brother, in a local bar. He was passed out, his Armani suit reeked of alcohol as he tried his best to push Namjoon away. Telling him desperately that he was fine and that he could drive himself home.

If only fate had been a little forgiving, if only. Coincidentally, on that same night, two establishments away, you’d been busy getting drunk. Two drunk adults had been found passed out, the two of them reeking of alcohol, upset about the same relationship that could’ve been something if it weren’t for their carelessness.

The bitterness of yesterday had easily died down the moment that your nostrils engaged with the familiar scent of coffee, it was an early Saturday morning. The curtains had been automatically opened using an A.I, giving you a marvellous view of the infinity pool outside your room. Stretching your limbs as you carefully stepped outside after putting on your Hello Kitty slippers, you were greeted by your husband doing what he was best at, making coffee.

The situation would’ve been more lax if the two of you were on speaking terms but, you weren’t. He offered you a fresh cup of coffee, something you were quick yo take, a soft “thank you,” escaped your lips before letting the warm liquid pass through. Whilst you stood there in your Sanrio pyjama, the other man stood fully clothed with his suit. He was all geared up for work, something you never quite understood. From what you know about him, he’d always been quite the workaholic, he didn’t have time to pause.

“I’ll be off,” he pursed his lips, forming a thin line of something that resembled a smile. You nodded as you took another sip of the warm coffee. Just like that, he left holding a tumbler with coffee, and his car keys. “Well, at least he bothered this time...” you murmured, walking towards the refrigerator to gather ingredients for your pancakes.

You were busy dancing as you flipped distorted, the television was playing, it served as your background music as you enjoyed the short freedom you had. You made another cup of coffee, bringing the mug and grabbing maple syrup from the cabinet, drizzling it on top of the semi-perfect pancakes. Comfy in your pyjamas, you sat down in the couch and began to dig into the pancakes. You were in the mood, for just basically anything. You were at peace, that was what you felt. Two seconds away from pressing the button to finally turn it off, a scene quickly caught your attention.

The man who made you coffee was the same guy in the TV, Min Yoongi was guesting with his little brother on a survival program, it was about a new girl group awaiting for their debut. Today was the day they get to decide which of the members would be debuting as an official member, as a collaboration between two of the largest entertainment companies Yoongi was called out in order to monitor the members. Hoseok had been a judge since the beginning, here he was sitting next to Yoongi as they made small talk. You paused, holding the empty plate as you grew more intrigued.

Everything was going well, up until they met face-to-face with the trainees. All of the judges reunited with one another, one particular judge, Suran had been quite affectionate with Yoongi. It started with a handshake, that was no big deal, it was a formal exchange between two important judges on the show. It was something normal, very normal.

The show escalated smoothly, rushing towards the kitchen counter as you quickly washed the plate despite the maids offering you their own hands. You jumped towards the couch, and sat down, your heart was racing from the adrenaline rush. But it was all worth it as the show continued. There was nothing that interested you, aside from Min Yoongi, so of course you paid attention to him the most. It caught you by surprise when the camera panned towards their direction, there was a soft voice as Suran held Yoongi’s hand, complimenting his bracelet, making small connections with his hands. “It’s really pretty,” Suran murmured, the host went silent upon noticing the interaction between the two of them.

Yoongi was quick to bow, thanking her as soon as possible. “Your cheeks have gotten really pink!” Hoseok exclaimed, his laughter echoing through the stage. Clapping his hands every once in a while as he continued to make fun of his older brother.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal to you. You weren’t exactly the jealous type. However, with the way you and Yoongi were right now, and how quick he was to react to Suran’s simple compliment, the way they exchanged smiles, how they held eye contact for even a split second. Everything was making your blood boil.

You swallowed hard, it didn’t help that throughout the rest of the show the judges and the trainees kept teasing the two of them. How much did you have to pay for in order to get the same treatment as Suran did? Why did he act that way? Most importantly, how come Yoongi never lets you see this side of him, why does he always have to be mad or annoyed whenever he talked to you? How special was Suran to him that the moment the two of them stood close to one another, they had no trouble navigating through their conversation.

Oh you definitely weren’t jealous, yes you were simply making comparisons and that was natural, right? No, you hated yourself for feeling this way. How come he acted like that around her? Why can’t he act like that around you? You were annoyed at how he moved on, how happy he was. On the other hand, here you were, watching he two of them converse, still moving on from the breakup that had happened more than a year ago. You pitied yourself, you really did. “Fucking hell,” you muttered upon noticing the pooling tears from the corners of your eyes. It was at this exact moment that someone had kneeled before you.

When had he arrived? And why were you only finding out about this. Yoongi was looking at you with a worried look in his face as you desperately tried to hide your face from him, closing your eyes as soon as possible and grabbing the neck hole of your shirt as you lifted it up to cover your eyes. He grabbed the remote control and finally shut down the TV, “shh,” he quietly engulfed you with his body, the scent of his cologne slowly emanating from him. He guided you, lifting you up and walking towards your bedroom, covering your face from the rest of the maids that began to throw looks towards your direction.

It was the humiliation that struck you the most, the fact that he caught you watching his guesting on a show, and somehow found a reason to start getting jealous and ending up in such a pitiful condition which involved crying for affection was beyond you, you didn’t know what had happened. Why did you let yourself do this? You silently cursed yourself. “Baby, what happened?” He had a way with his words, somehow he managed to blend in a nickname, somehow that was enough to remind you what you had lost.

You shook your head repeatedly, trying your best to deny any feelings you showed. Pulling your shirt down, you were forced to meet his eyes, his thumbs found your tear stained cheeks, wiping them off gently as he locked eyes with you. “Why, what’s wrong?” He asked you again, you built up the courage, it was either now or never. “I don’t like seeing you with Suran, no, I don’t like seeing you acting like that around anyone else.” Your hiccups got in the way, but you managed to tell him exactly what you had wanted.

“Y/n...” he paused for a moment.

“How come you act like that around them, while you treat me like this? Why do they get better treatment? I’m your wife Yoongi, how come I get the leftovers while they get full course meals?” You heard how ridiculous you sounded, cringing at your choice of words and the way they flowed out of your lips. But you were humiliated enough, if it were a different situation then maybe you’d be laughing at yourself. “I want you all to me, Yoongi. And I know that it’s not possible, but I want us. I want what we both lost,” his fingers carded through your hair, the other massaged your back in a soothing manner, there was dead silence for a moment.

You knew you lost him.

His arms snaked around you, pulling you in closer to him as he gently placed a kiss on your forehead. He lifted your face up using his thumb, finally he kissed you on your lips. “But you already have me, y/n.” You knew it wasn’t real, there was no way this was happening right now. “You have me,” he muttered against your ear before gently sealing the space left in between your lips.

The tears you poured were all worth it, you knew from that point on that the relationship you once broke had been finally mended. You felt weight being lifted away from your chest.

You were sighing against his lips, fixing your posture as you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands slowly moving south. Grasping your arse as you shifted your position, sitting on top of his legs. You didn’t know what had taken over you at that point. You were desperate for more. The whine that left your lips wasn’t something you had voluntarily done, the moment he pulled away from you, his lips were a lot more plump. His chest was heaving, he threaded his palms in his hair as he eyed you. The two of you did your best to catch your breath.

It wasn’t the first time you stopped in the middle of doing something so sensual, you’ve always wanted your first with someone who you were willing to fully commit to.

Within the five years that you’ve spent together, Yoongi had always respected your boundaries. He stopped the moment you told him. He was a man of self control, but you knew that at some point he’d eventually reach his peak. Right now, there was nothing else you’d wish for aside from this finally happening. “Do I have you?” His forehead touched yours, his warm breath fanned over your saturated lips, closing your eyes you once again touched his lips.

He groaned against your lips.

Something unusual erupted from inside you, it was something you’ve felt before. Only now, you weren’t doing anything to stop it. Your lips parted, neck bending sideways as your breathing stuttered. His lips began working wonders, never leaving a spot on your neck untouched.

The flame that erupted from inside you began to engulf you, the moment you felt his lips against the side of your jaw, you knew you were done for. You began to slowly move your hips, moaning as you felt him nip slowly against your skin. His hands wandered through every crevice, eventually finding untouched area just below your cute little top.

You moved faster, trying to chase something you weren’t quite sure for, but for a moment you thanked the heavens above for Yoongi’s rough pants. You were a stuttering mess, grinding harder, pushing yourself even deeper against his thighs as you tried to reach something, just anything. You knew you were close, so close.

His hands worked wonders under your shirt, already unclasping your garment. Yoongi gave you all of his attention, which is why your heavy breathing didn’t go unnoticed. You were inches away from reaching that something, however, he pulled you away from your rhythm with one quick nip against your jaw, his hands clasping against the flesh of your arse, coming to a disagreement as he pulled onto them, giving you a quick slap.

“Yoongi,” you didn’t know if you were pleading him, maybe it came to you out of instinct, annoyance, you weren’t sure. But you were in too deep, you could honestly cry if he didn’t give you what you needed at that moment.

A low chuckle erupted from him, his chest moving against yours, reminding you of how close the two of you were. “Patience baby, this is your first time...” he gave you a quick peck. Holding the hem of your shirt as he gently lifted it off of you, catching his breath at the sight of your bare breasts. Hands finding their natural position as he flipped the two of you, you head cushioned against the pillows as you stared at his eyes, completely captivated by how desperate he looked, how desperate he wanted to lay his hands against your perky buds.

Starting from your lips, he made his way slowly downwards, making sure to nip the exact spot he knew to be sensitive, at this moment you hadn’t bothered to check if he was leaving marks, but with the time he took to make his way where you had wanted him, you would honestly be pissed off if you didn’t have any. He suckled on one of your breasts, making you arch your back off of the soft mattress. Gasping loudly at the newfound sensation, a drug you were exposed too for the first time, you felt his smirk. Long slender fingers began to touch the other, only adding more to the pleasure, making sure that neither of your mounds felt left out.

He pulled out of the other with a pop, mouth lingering downwards, kissing around your belly button before making its’ way towards the other one. The light illuminated the signs he left on your other boob, out of curiosity you touched your gleaming bud while he put all of his attention on the other. It was far more sensitive, your breathing had turned harsh, your throat felt constricted as you failed to let out moans, Yoongi’s ears were filled with nothing but short gasps. Your hips used your legs as support trying to get any form of contact, however, Yoongi’s legs never faltered. You only grew more desperate with every minute his lips dwelled on your breast.

Your underwear would surely be clinging onto your lips by now, you were irritated by the fabric, you wanted more, you needed it off of you.

“Yoon, please,” tears were pooling by the corner of your eyes, despite begging Yoongi whilst grinding your hips against his body, your hands grounded him against your breast. You were dazed, as if you were drowning and yet you didn’t want to be pulled out of the water, it was painful, and yet you indulged in it. It was a newfound addiction you knew you didn’t want to let go off, it was driving you crazy, towards the edge of all the boundaries you wanted to break.

He hummed, sending vibrations through your chest, you moaned loudly. You chased your breath, trying your best to calm down as he lapped your breast. You groaned even harder, protesting and demanding for something else. He grounded your hips with one of his hands, forcing you to lay still as he let go of your breast.

“God, y/n,” he left his words hanging, you lay still catching your breath as you tried to process what was happening. Sweat trickled from his neck, temporarily staining his black top. His hair was a mess, something you were responsible for, desperately clinging onto it as he showed you undiscovered territory with the small flicks of his tongue. Gently kissing your lips, you let out a sigh of relief upon feeling his calloused fingers against the material of your bottoms.

Raising your hips as you he managed to pull your underwear and your pyjamas at the same time. He pulled away from the kiss, appreciating your naked figure, his mouth was slightly open as he drunk in every detail of your body. You had nothing left to hide, lifting your chest slightly off the bed, flaunting your curves.

The moment he was able to process everything that was laid before him, he knew he was screwed. Memorising every detail, even the small mole in your thigh, everything was imprinted in his head. He knew that he’d be having a hard time from this day forward.

“A fucking goddess,” he murmured under his breath, making eye contact with you as he gently dived down, spreading your legs farther away from each other. Slowly, you revealed your entire body to him. He felt like wanton, appreciating the way your tight nether lips gently opened for him, slick evident in your thighs caused by the never ending squeeze of your legs a few minutes ago when he’d been too busy appreciating your breasts.

You looked away from him, it dawned you how exposed you had been. The way he was fully clothed, with nothing but unruly hair as evidence of the sensual act you’d been committing, you felt humiliated. Despite the fact that he was on his knees, attempting to make an eye contact right below you, you knew he was in control. He gave quick pecks just below the area you had wanted him most, “look at me,” warm air hitting your womanhood. You were innocent in this sense, everything he’d been making you feel was a first to you.

“Y/N,” he licked the inside of your thighs, and when you refused to look at him for the second time, he pulled you downwards. Like a rag doll made for him. His tongue darted straight to your clit, you’re knees felt like jelly. Closing your thighs as a response to the sudden movement, his arms we’re quick enough to wrap around your thighs, forcing them open as he let his tongue lick through the mess you’ve managed to create.

He suckled on your clit, as if licking it gently weren’t enough. Leaving open mouthed kisses, as he pushed onto the sensitive bundle of nerves using his wet appendage. You desperately hold on to the sheets, crinkling them, using your arms as support as you tried your best to hold on for your dear life. You could feel every movement he made, the way his tongue desperately tries to enter your tight hole, the way his lips would wrap around your clit, the way he would smirk after hearing you moan his name repeatedly.

“Shit, Yoongi!” You’re voice called out to him, a tad bit louder than your moans. You gasped for air, hands wrapping around his hair, legs quivering upon the new sensation that set fire to your entire body. He continued to lap your cunt, your lips growing even tighter around his tongue. The sounds he’d been able to produce was enough to drive you to the edge. Hearing how loud he was able to make your cunt sound was beyond you.

A few short breaths, the quick tug in your stomach, and the elated beating of your heart. It came crashing down on you.

You did your best, trying to close your thighs as it began to feel too much, beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you clung onto his dark hair. With one last gasp, and the closure of his lips, you came with a yell of his name. Your release was greeted by his lips, drinking you in like his favourite wine, overwhelmed by the stimulation you felt you begged him to stop. You rode your high against his muscle, finally, he pulled away.

His chin was gleaming, signs of your release scattered around his lips. Using his thumb, he picked it up. “Open,” he raised one of his brows towards your direction, you looked at him in confusion only to follow his orders. You were greeted by his thumb, you sucked on it, not hesitating despite tasting your own cum. He pulled it out only to replace it with his mouth, sharing the familiar taste, on a regular day it would’ve been odd, but to hell with it.

Whining against him, you tugged his sweater, demanding it be discarded somewhere in the expanse of your room. Chuckling once more he finally pulled away, with a quick flick of his wrist, he threw his top somewhere. You were greeted with a body you weren’t used too. He’s been working out, oh, he’s definitely been working out.

The way his chest moved as he heaved on top of you, the way his arms would flex and the veins that crawled from his hand to his shoulder, as if he was carved by the greatest sculptors. You swallowed harshly. God, he was fucking gorgeous.

You were brought back to reality when his finger poked your entrance, biting your lip as you watched in fascination, the way you wrapped around him, the way it quivered after its’ peace had been disrupted for the first time. Pumping his hand slowly as his eyes never left yours, watching the way your face would contort with every movement, closing your eyes as tightly as you could, soaring higher than the clouds that you had to remind yourself to breath every once in a while.

He felt you flesh, making slow movements as he tried different angles, deciding which one made you moan the loudest. Finally, he found your spot. His movements getting a lot harsher by the second, “god damn it, Yoongi.” You cursed him under your breath, gasping as he went faster and faster. “You think you can take more, baby?” his voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the way his hand moved harshly against your weeping cunt.

“More, please, more,” you chanted your mantra. Your wetness spreading to the rest of his fingers, a second one slipping into the mix. His movements were fast, but not fast enough. You tried to meet his thrusts, his eyebrow cocking upwards at the way you moved below him, observing how desperately you wanted to reach your climax for the second time tonight. “Who would’ve thought you’d be this desperate for my fingers, hm?” His voice getting lower and lower throughout the duration of the sentence.

You were in your own little bubble, his hand quickly surging forward, scissoring his fingers apart in an attempt to get you more loose, to get you to open up for him. Two fingers weren’t enough. Gasping as you felt his fingers do their best to stretch inside your needy little hole, his other hand reaching forward as he tried to distract you from the sudden movements he made inside.

Your clit was getting stimulated, while his other hand pumped even faster. You’re mind went blank, unsure as to what Min Yoongi had been saying for the past few minutes. You assumed you would reach your limit at any second, however, you felt a jolt of pain when he inserted his third finger. Cursing loudly as you held his hand, your breathing growing more shallow. He pumped his hand a little harsher, giving an emphasis to the three fingers he had inside of you.

He pulled the other away from your clit and stilled his movements, you tried to move away from his hand, doing your best to form coherent thoughts as you were torn between pushing even deeper or pulling away. You gasped for air, feeling him kiss your cheek as his deep voice murmured against your ear, “you’re going to need more than two if you want us to go all the way in, baby.”

Jesus Christ, how big was his cock?

These were your exact thoughts, “a minute, Yoongi.” You did your best to relax, forcing your hold to relax as he held his hand steady your cunt desperately in need of action. His other hand went back to massaging your clit, while the remaining began pumping in a slower manner. Despite getting used to the feeling of having three fingers inside of you, it was still too much for your tight unused cunt. However, it made you feel something, soon, the pain was ebbing away. “Faster,” you wish you hadn’t told him that, as his palm began hitting your clit in an abusive manner, driving you over the edge.

The strange feeling began to build up inside of you, his pace grew faster, faster, and faster. Before you knew it, you came undone. You pushed his fingers away, your legs shaking as you desperately closed them. Despite not having anything inside of you, the pleasure was still very evident. You opened your eyes to a wet Min Yoongi, realisation dawned you. “Fucking hell,” he smirked, shushing you gently as he pried your legs open, observing the quivering hole that once sheltered three of his fingers.

You had squirted.

It explained so much, the way the sheets were damp, the way his chest had been shining, your cheeks were flushed.

Your eyes found his bulge, restrained by his belt and the rough material of his pants. You didn’t know what had taken over you, but you wanted his cock. You wondered what else he could make you feel. “Want your cock, Yoongi, please. Need it so bad,”

“Do you think you could handle more?”

You nodded eagerly, despite the dwindling tiredness in your eyes, you knew you still wanted one thing just before you pass out. You wanted to explore how much you could take, what else you could possibly feel, you wanted everything. Desperation. You were desperate for everything that Min Yoongi could give you. “Please,” that was all it took to push Yoongi over the edge. His pants and his boxers had been discarded in a flash, you gazed at him, specifically at the massive thing between his thighs.

You gasped.

Maybe you were taking more than you could afford to take, upon seeing the worried look in your face, Yoongi was quick to comfort you. Telling you that there was no rush in taking things this far, but with a quick roll of your wet cunt against his hard cock, he ceased his words. Letting a growl erupt from his chest as he moved his cock against your pussy. “You’re a beast, y/n.” Positioning his manhood against your wet hole, slowly entering you. Just his tip felt massive enough, the tears that threatened to spill earlier, were full on leaking out of your eyes as you shut them.

Gasping loudly, making an inaudible noise as you felt his tip enter you tiny little opening. “Taking me in so well,”

“Pussy still tight after taking all three of my fingers, you’re a fucking whore.” He stilled his movements, pausing every once in a while as he was slowly hugged by your body. “Ha-ah,” you moaned as he pushed it in even further. “How are you this fucking big,” your manicured nails marred the flesh of his back, marking it with small little crescents. He ignored your remarks, instead he focused on how he’d possibly fit everything in you. You thought you’d be ripped in half when he first entered his third finger, however, at this point you were certain you’re literally split into two. His monstrous cock doing its’ best to intrude your virgin walls.

Inch after inch you felt your sanity being washed away from your body, for a split second you knew your soul lifted away. Your eyes rolling back as he continued to penetrate you with his massive manhood, tiny scars forming in his back from how hard you gripped him. His thumbs sinking on your hips in an attempt to keep you grounded as he pushed himself in. The only warning you got was a quick peck on your forehead before he pushed to the hilt. You yelled, back arching off of the comfortable mattress, your tears staining your cheeks. With the way his breathing became shaky, how his words would falter and the short pauses he took in order to process the idea of having him spear through you in its’ entirety, he was over the fucking moon.

Moving away from him in an attempt to ride him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the desperate actions you took just to get fucked. Pulling out until its’ just his tip before harshly slamming back down, knocking the air out of your lungs as you tried to form coherent sentences, before giving up halfway through and just yelling his name repeatedly. “Ruining your tight fucking cunt for everyone else,” his breathing was harsh, he came in raging inside of you. Harsh pain emerging from your pussy as you took your first and last cock, biting down on your lip as you tried to calm yourself down.

Pulling your perked up nipples before releasing them with a pop, adding more pleasure to the large intrusion in your walls. You couldn’t hear anything, the only thing you could process was the filthy sound your cunt made against his balls. The discernible wet noises, the way the bed creaked against the wall, the way he heaved on top of you, for a split second the two of you owned the world. His lips met yours, his gentle kiss was far different from his rigorous thrusts.

Just when you thought he couldn’t go any faster, he’d prove you wrong with the next. Marking your neck with more purple hues, making you completely his, giving an emphasis on every suck with a harsh thrust, ending it with a gentle kiss on your exposed flesh. You knew you were going to be sore the next day.

Assisting your legs, wrapping them around his waist, he felt your cunt clench around him. “You’re close aren’t you, your cunt clenching around me, refusing to let go of my cock.”

“You’re mine, y/n. No one can ever fuck you the same way as I do,” he growled against your ear as his pace started getting harsher. You couldn’t keep up with him, the next thing you knew you were a shaking mess before him. Coming undone and clenching him, making your pussy a lot more tighter. You tried to push him away, you had already come undone three times in one night, you didn’t know if you had the capacity to cum once more.

However, all you got out of him was an apology, pounding even harder with the added pressure of his thumb circling around your clit repeatedly. “Carving my dick inside of you, because you’re all mine,” You whined in protest, more tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you tried to keep your composure. The pain of overstimulation taking over your entire body, you were all worn out.

Despite all the earlier attempts to push him off, at this point you had no energy left. So you took it all, growing far more needy for another gush of liquid in your cunt, yelling out gibberish as his pace slowly began to falter. Biting your lip, closing your eyes, you felt another tug in your stomach. As if your first orgasm had never ended, you were cumming, for the last time, hopefully.

“All. Fucking. Mine.” With each word he thrusted harder, you felt warm liquid painting your walls white as you choked out a sob. Clinging onto him as he gently pulled out. Meeting your eyes and gently wiping away your tears, jokingly slapping his arm afterwards. “The audacity you have, after doing it so roughly.” His gums appeared in front of you, the same gummy smile that made your heart bloom finally appearing once again.

He kissed your forehead before tucking you in bed, the sticky feeling from the sheets only making you wince. He stretched out his back before walking towards your bathroom, soon enough you heard the shower. Despite the icky and sick feeling of the sheets, you managed to take a 30-minute nap, only to be woken up by Yoongi gently blowing on your face. “Let’s go upstairs...” he whispered softly, pulling you up, as he wrapped your robe around you.

Carrying you as if you weighed nothing, as he walked around the house with nothing but his towel wrapped around his waist. For the first time in months, you finally got to see how his bedroom looked like. You groaned in pain after he put you down against the grain of his marble counter. Grabbing a wash cloth and rubbing the damp towel all over your body, using warm water, finally cleaning up the mess he’s managed to make. Dressing you up in a pair of your own pyjamas he must’ve gotten earlier.

You clung onto him like a baby koala afterwards, forcing him to lay down with you in his bed. The scent of pine trees covered the silk sheets, accompanied by his favourite cologne from Paco Rabanne.

Just as if a year of separation hadn’t happened, you found your way clinging to his body the same way you did when the two of you had been dating. The small peck on top of your head was nothing unusual, the instinct of having his arm gently wrap around you after such a tiring day from work. Slowly, everything pieced itself. You wondered just how you lived through a year without him, how much you wished you’d spent it together.

He inhaled your scent, closing his eyes as he felt the satisfaction rushing in his veins. “I love you, y/n... so much, so, so, much.” He whispered against your ear, lips finding your temple as he gave you another kiss. Telling you how much he appreciated you, terrified that somehow the two of you would find your way back to the same place you ended up in, all alone and in desperate need of comfort from each other. Yoongi took his time to tell you all the sweet nothings he wished he told you before you separated.

By the end of the day, the two of you were just thankful you’d finally found your way back home.

#bts #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts imagine #bts imagines #min yoongi smut #suga smut #agust d #agust d smut #min yoongi imagine #suga imagine #bts x reader #bts x you #yoongi imagine #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #bts au

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drunk-on-angst · 3 years

Text

A soukoku short, sorry it's so tiny.

Warnings: Angst, Character Death

Word Count: 856

Voices

When I first heard his voice I despised it. It was cold, unfeeling, emotionless. It was like talking to someone from across the grave. It was so empty. That voice, coming out of a fifteen year old boy…it was unimaginable. It reminded me of the monster in me. Inhuman, unfeeling, hollow, just a cry of rage. It’s because it reminded me of that hideous thing that I hated it so, and I hated the person it came out of.

Later I noticed changes. Life started blooming in his voice. It wasn’t a barren landscape anymore. One touch of green, followed by another till you could see a single bloom in that wasteland. My greatest wish was to nurture it. A small hint of happiness, enthusiasm, excitement, disappointment, irritation, love…one after another they bloomed in his voice. I liked it. I enjoyed it. It was beautiful. The only thing I wished was they blossom for me, but that never happened.

Days, weeks, months, years…I haven’t heard it. I want to hear it. I need to hear it. His mocking tone. That soft chuckle. His velvety tone. The way he used to drag his words sometimes. I missed it. I missed him. The small echo of his voice in my head…it isn’t his. It’s not his. I need to hear it again.

Now…as my ears rang, blood filled my mouth, everything was hazy. The world a blur of blue, black and green. In that chaos, as all my senses were overwhelmed, I heard it, clear as day. His voice. My eyes brimming with tears I could see a vague blur of his sandy coat and soft brown hair.

‘No…I’m not too late…please…Chuuya…no.”

That’s all I could make out. His pleading cries. His broken voice. Warm tears fell on my cheek, they weren’t mine. His voice, the thing I yearned for so long. Finally. It was sweet like honey, all the pain went away, like I was being covered with a thin silk cloth, caressed softly by his gentle hands. The bliss. Could there be anything better than this. I was numb all over but that voice was still there. And as my vision faded to black, beside my ear I heard the velvety whisper, ‘I love you.’

Eyes

Eyes are windows to the soul. Isn’t that what everyone says? Well it’s true. Everyone’s eyes betray them. But mine do not. My eyes have no emotion, or so I’ve been told. I’ve never taken particular interest in other people’s eyes either unless it was to figure something out about them, but it was different for him.

His eyes were alive with youth. With a cold blue fire. A good look at him told me he was different. There was something there I had never seen in anyone else. Most assume that the world of blood and darkness was all I knew, of course that isn’t true. I’ve seen people and all I’ve seen is hard cold glares, not the slightest bit of love, not the slightest bit of warmth. Yet he…he was something new to me. Warmth in a fire? A gentle anger? He was a walking oxymoron. I didn’t know what to make of him, but I liked him.

His eyes always stayed like that. I thought the mafia would make them hard and cold, but he stayed the same. It gave me hope, it’s the first time I had felt that. Hope. Yes that’s what he was to me. Hope that not all people are dead and cold. Hope that there was still kindness in humanity. Hope that I could find happiness in him. My greatest downfall of course, had been hoping he’d find the same in me. In the boy who’s eyes are demon eyes. A boy who’s eyes have no emotion. No, there was no hope for that.

Do I regret it? No, not really. I wanted to change, I was going to change. I would become soft and kind. I’d bring happiness to others. However, my only source of happiness, those beautiful blue eyes, where were they now? Filled with light because his hated foe had left? Looking with love at another. Oh how I wanted those flames to be mine. That kind blue fire. I needed it to burn me, to see me how I saw it. But those eyes will never shine for me, not ever again.

The flame…it was dying. I was too late. I cursed fate, I cursed myself, I cursed everyone and everything. Right in front of me he was dying, and what could I do? Nothing. I was too late. How could I have been so late?

Tears bloomed and fell on his cheeks covered in dried blood. My tears. I cried out for him. For the only person I loved, the only person who I had found hope in. But it was too late.

I saw his eyes cloud over, grow dull and numb. Is that how my eyes looked? No wonder he could never love me. I bent down to his ear, the only thing I could do to keep the fire alive. I whispered, ‘I love you.’

#soukoku fanfic #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fic #bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #soukoku #soukouku #fanfic #angst #anime #Mika's soukoku shit

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sanguinescorpios · 3 years

Text

Still Alive

dream x f!reader

PART ONE

summary | Just under 20 years ago, the world slipped from humanity’s grasp and fell into the lap of mutant creatures. While most humans hid from the variants, some, like reader, grew restless in the bases they grew up in and needed out. What will happen when reader realizes that she doesn’t stand a chance in the wild on her own, and can something deeper blossom from a survival-based alliance?

warnings | none!

word count | 1.7k

I had never seen a flower before. At least, not that I could remember. Things like that didn’t exist within the confines of the city walls, the beautiful, living things. The things that reminded you you were alive. My gaze fixated on the object before I even knew what I was looking at. Its petals swirled with pinks and purples, hues I had only seen in worn-out wool and peeling paint. Deep emerald leaves adorned a similarly colored stem, all woven together intricately and standing out amidst the field of brown. I marveled at the plant, bending down to hold it delicately between two fingers. It was incredible, even better than in photographs.

I spent months looking through the old textbooks Zoe had found, simply admiring the anatomy of different flowers and plants from the Old World. She was so excited to show me. I can still picture her jumping up and down as she entered my room in her tattered sports jersey and two-sizes-too-big jeans, a huge stack of books cradled like a child in her arms. Her tight curls were always pulled up into two buns, perfectly placed on the top of her head and bouncing with her childlike movements. I had quirked up an eyebrow at her as she wordlessly dropped her findings on my cot with a thump.

“Books,” she had said, looking at me with a newfound glimmer in her eye, “textbooks. We can learn!”

There was plenty of other information in those textbooks, but the flowers fascinated me. They caught my attention not just for their beauty, but for their mechanics, too. As I read, I began to appreciate how their roots anchored them to the earth, how their stems acted as passageways for water and nutrients, how they came in so many shapes, shades, and sizes. I wanted to know everything I could about them. I had always been that way, I guess.

A nearly foreign feeling emerged in me as a smile curled its way onto my face. The muscles were rusty from a long hibernation and they weren’t sure how to react to the sudden use. Dust found its way into my eyes as my cheeks rose with the grin, so I brushed it away quickly. That, I was used to.

“A cosmos,” I said to no one but myself. Of course, it was a cosmos.

The world before me was barren, a bleak expanse of land that seemed to never end. How the fuck was I supposed to survive out here? Despite my extensive studying, I wasn’t necessarily well-versed in survival. I had no protection out here, no roof over my head, and no soldiers with weapons on watch for intruders, or worse, for variants. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. Variants were the one thing I knew almost nothing about, despite how hard I tried to get information from the watchmen and neighboring families. In all honesty, we didn’t know much about them, just that they didn’t seem to like us too much. One week the world was our terrain and the next it was theirs. I had never met one and I wasn’t planning on doing so, but I no longer had control over that. I chose to leave and there was no turning back.

That didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Adjusting my pack on my back, I grabbed my flask and poured a bit of water over the stubborn flower.

“Hope we make it, little guy.”

One last look at the distant confines I used to call home, then I was walking again, this time never turning back.

. . .

As it turns out, walking across one huge expanse of dust and dirt isn’t very fun! In fact, it’s fucking brutal. I had no idea where I was going, that much was clear not even ten minutes into the journey. Leave the city, that was my only plan. A shit plan, in hindsight. I reached into one of the many pockets of my pack and pulled out my water bottle. Last sip, that’s not good. If I could just go a little longer and reach the forest, I’d be okay. Much of the landscape had been torn apart over the years, but there were still occasional patches of green, at least that’s what I had been told. Just a little farther, surely I would reach it soon.

The hours dragged on, all melding together into one blurry week of sleeping in a ripped tent in the middle of nowhere and barely eating or drinking. When my eyes focused on a small dot of green in the distance, I nearly brought my hands up to rub the mirage from them, but I knew better than to do anything like that before washing. Especially after the week I’ve had, too much dust and not enough water.

I had been preparing for my lunch break when I spotted it, excited to get my hands on my tenth granola bar of the week. All desire for a break left my body, replaced by the desperate need to get to that forest before nightfall. There could be water in there, shelter, food, the possibilities were endless. I picked up my pace, feet moving with fervor despite my obvious exhaustion. My pack threatened to slip off my back, but I ignored it.

I reached the edge of the forest by nightfall, a shudder running through me at the thought of spending the night alone in the dense environment. Anyone or anything could be living here, and they could be hungry. The ground didn’t feel safe, too open and vulnerable of a place to sleep, but the sliver of moonlight shining down on me wasn’t enough to find anywhere else. This would have to do.

A few restless hours passed before I had finally fallen into a deep sleep, my back pressed uncomfortably against a tree and my pack serving as a makeshift pillow. I didn’t bother to set up camp, figuring I’d pick up and move in the morning anyways. I expected to get a few good hours of sleep at least, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, I was shaken awake by unfamiliar hands and a gruff voice.

“Get the fuck up,” the voice barked as my eyes adjusted to the morning light, peering up at the shaded figure looming over me.

“Wha-what?”

“Get. The fuck. Up.” The figure grabbed my pack from underneath my head and I groaned at the rude awakening. In my early morning haziness, I barely questioned the individual’s orders. My body moved before my brain told it to, pulling itself out of the fetal position and standing up, unsteady but sturdy enough.

As I rose to my feet, I took a good look at the person for the first time. He stood tall, towering over my frame with long legs and broad shoulders. Underneath his hood, a mask shielded most of his face from me; it looked to be made of some sort of wood and with the jagged smile that was carved into it, it was borderline terrifying. Dark blond hair toppled out and around the thing, curling messily at the ends. He sported muted green cargo pants and a thick belt bearing a multitude of knives and other weapons I didn’t even want to imagine. A black T-Shirt spread across his torso, strong arms emerging from the sleeves and gloved hands gripping a satchel against his hip. If this went south, I was outmatched.

“What made you think sleeping on the ground was a good idea?” he hissed out a few minutes later as he led me through the trees, taking angry steps at least two yards ahead of me.

“I didn’t have many other options,” I responded simply, not sure what he wanted from me and still groggy with sleep.

“Well, you picked the stupidest option.”

I rolled my eyes, who did this guy think he was? Sure, the ground wasn’t the smartest choice, but it was all I had! I huffed, kicking at a rock as he stopped to check...something — who knows what he was doing.

“You got a name, mask boy?”

He shushed me, holding up his index finger as he looked around at our surroundings.

“It was just a question-”

“Dream,” he cut me off, “now shush.”

He said it simply, like it wasn’t the most absurd name anyone had ever heard, and went right back to surveying the space around us. I poked my head around at him, trying and failing to get this mystery man’s attention.

“Is that your real name?” I inquired, making awkward eye contact with the mesh-covered eyeholes of his mask and wishing I could see his face when he answered. Maybe then I’d know if he was bluffing or not. Or if he planned on killing me.

“It’s what you’ll call me.”

There was a finality in the way he said it, a sternness in his voice that I wasn’t about to argue with. A beat passed in utter silence, me waiting for him to continue the conversation and him already three steps ahead of me on the path. Dream isn’t a chatty guy, noted.

I jogged to catch up to him, slowing as I reached his side. He didn’t seem like he was going to kill me as soon as night fell on the already dark forest, but keeping him in my sight was the safest bet.

“You’re not gonna ask my name?” He turned to face me, raising an eyebrow and bobbing his head as if to say ‘go on’. I gave him my name and he grunted in response — men.

He persevered through the forest, cutting away branches and leaving a green mess in our wake. I had no idea where we were going or why I was following his lead so easily, but he seemed confident and I trusted his confidence more than my own.

“So…” I dragged on, twiddling my thumbs and shooting him a look, “do we have a plan here or are we just gonna wander for the next five hours of daylight?”

He rolled his eyes, letting out an “ugh” as he pushed through another set of leaves. I wasn’t wrong; the sun would be setting soon, and based on how he reacted this morning, he wasn’t a night owl.

“Our camp is set up a few miles north. We should get there before nightfall.”

Did he say our?

#dreanwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken fanfic #mcyt writing

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stanknotstark · 3 years

Text

Research and Dating (No They Aren’t Connected)

“So, if you could kidnap me really publicly that would be great.”

“...why?”

“I kinda forgot about this research essay due tomorrow? And like, my prof knows I’m a hero- I even brought my laptop so I can write it in your cell. Is the wifi password still the same?”

It’s Thursday at 8 P.M. and your essay is due in 4 hours. It wasn’t that you had procrastinated it’s because-nope, ya, you procrastinated. Now you were freaking out about it when the glorious idea came to you.

There were, of course, perks of being frenemies with Loki. You have visited his his base of operations before, his ‘evil lair’, been thrown into one of his cells and ‘suffered’ until he got bored of the Avengers searching for you like chickens with their heads cut off and made theatrics by showing up to them with you in his hands and ‘failing’ to keep you away from the Avengers saving you.

In all actuality, you had sat in a golden cell but Loki had sat right outside the cell with a chair and read while eating an apple. You couldn’t read the title of the book so you asked him what it was about and Loki had been a little hesitant but fell into your pure curiosity and explained what he had been reading. You’re sure he liked your curious mind as you started asking more questions and challenged the ideas the book gave. It lead to a long discussion of morals, and death, and at one point whether apples or pears were better. It was fun is what you’re trying to say.

That’s how your friendship blossomed.

So, you call up Loki, yes he has a cell phone, and ask him without explanation at first, “So could you, like, kidnap me but publicly?”

You can hear the cogs turning in Loki’s head at your request. “Why?” He asks in a smooth voice, betraying no emotion.

“I kinda forgot about this research essay due tonight? And, like, my professor knows I’m a hero. I’ll even bring my laptop so I can write in your cell, the wifi password is still the same right?” You ask Loki.

Loki sighs over the phone, you can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes.

“Yes. Fine. Be at Madison Square Garden in 15 minutes.” The god says and hangs up.

You smile and pump a fist at your best friend’s save.

You’re at Madison Square Garden in record time and Loki makes his entrance a show.

You’re sitting down outside the stadium when Loki materializes from green clouds of magic that open a portal then float into the air as if they’re a sign that’s flashing the words ‘Loki is here!’ in the night sky of NYC. When he sees you he rolls his eyes but people start paying attention so you play along with his ruse.

“Loki! What mischief do you plan to get up to today? It doesn’t matter, I need to bring you in!” You yell at him, almost laughing at how stupid this all seems, and push civilians back behind you.

Loki chuckles darkly, “You. You are my mischief today, your poor Avengers will never find you. You will become my slave.” Loki says with a voice that is dark but his eyes light up with amusement.

By now hundreds of people have stopped their night to watch you and Loki, phones out and recording everything.

You smile sardonically at Loki, “Not if I-”

Loki grabs you and pulls you and teleports. When you’re at his base you sigh and pat him on the arm as he pulls from you.

“Thanks, I owe you big time Lokes.”

Loki frowns at the nick name you chose. “Please refrain from calling me that or I shall teleport you to your professor and have you face the repercussions of procrastination.” Loki threatens.

You chuckle, roll your eyes, and head to the cell. It’s just in case someone actually does pop in to ‘save’ you.

When you’ve settled in the cell Loki raises the golden barriers and magics a chair near to settle with you.

“What do they have you writing about now?” Loki asks.

You had asked him for help writing other essays because Loki has an eloquent way of speaking. You felt it made you sound smarter and because you spent consistent time with the god you had fallen into talking like him sometimes.

“It’s for my disability class, the sociology class?” You ask Loki if he remembers you telling him about it, at his nod you smile, “Ya, so basically we’re to argue whether we feel prostitution should be legal or not in America considering how much it helps the disabled.”

You laugh at Loki’s frown.

“Which side do you argue for?” Loki asks with a small squint as if trying to determine the side before you tell him.

“I believe it should be legal but have restrictions and rules. If in the wrong hands it could be really bad but at the same time if it’s in good hands it could be really good. It’s a risk but we won’t know how well it’ll work if we never try, you know?” You say with a pondering look. Loki purses his lips but nods at you.

Loki magics a book into his hands and lets you start writing away. The whole thing is very comforting to you. Sound wise, you can hear Loki let out puffs of breath when he finds something amusing in his book, Then, there’s the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard as you write. Other than that you just enjoy being with the god, even if you aren’t interacting with each other.

You’ve been harboring a crush on him for awhile but have always kept it hidden. You value his friendship too much to do anything that could jeopardize it. Not to mention, Loki hadn’t shown anything on if he likes you or not. He occasionally flirts with you in battle but that’s about it. So, you feel you know he isn’t attracted to you like that.

“Loki what’s another word for great?” You mutter.

“Glorious, grand, impressive?” The god supplies you with choices.

You hum but don’t say anything and continue typing. After you finish your paragraph you look at Loki who glances at you.

“Thanks.”

Loki smirks at his book, “Anything for you, darling.” Loki says in a low voice while reading his book.

See, the nick names had started early on. At first they had confused you but when you had been in battle and helping Tony, Loki had called Tony ‘sweetheart’ so you reasoned Loki just had a thing for nicknames. That doesn’t stop the jolt in your stomach when he does call you sweet names like that though.

You shake yourself out of your reverie and continue writing. You’re like one, maybe two, paragraphs from being done. You try your best to elongate time to hang out with Loki more but when you finish your essay you don’t have any other excuse.

That’s why, when you finish and close your laptop with a small ‘click’ and Loki stands and asks if you would like to spend time at his apartment, you’re shocked.

You stand looking at Loki with wide eyes.

Loki takes this as an answer and coughs a little, bringing a hand up to rub at his face, he’s trying to hide his embarrassment.

“I am sorry, I crossed a boundary, it won’t happen again.”

“No!” You yell, nearly dropping your laptop as you reach towards Loki. You scramble to hold it to your chest again and look at him, shyly pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I would love to. I was shocked, I always figured I’d be the first to ask.”

Loki looks at you a little doubtfully but sees the truth in your answer and smirks. Instead of replying he waves a hand and the barriers disappear then he holds his hand out to you. You gladly take it and suddenly you’re both standing in a tidy apartment.

It’s very modern and looks costly. The furniture is all contemporary and different shades of white, brown, and gray, with the occasional splash of emerald green in throw blankets and decorative pillows. You don’t really notice but Loki still holds your hand.

Loki pulls you by his hand towards his kitchen and puts a kettle of water on on the heating stove top.

“Tea? Or are you more of a coffee person?” Loki asks you with a glance as he pulls out his tea. You finally realize Loki has yet to let go of your hand but you’re not going to complain.

“I love both, but tea will be good for now.” You say lightly, glancing down at your clasped hands when Loki isn’t looking. A small blush heats up your cheeks and you let a stupid smile cross your lips.

You and Loki settle against his bar, still holding hands, while you wait for the water to heat in the kettle.

“I never had the chance to ask but why are you studying psychology and sociology? I figured a superhero’s salary would be quite enough to live comfortably? Don’t tell me they under pay you.” Loki asks, his tone laced with a threat when he says the last part.

You chuckle. “No, it pays well enough, enough to pay my way through school. I want to help people though, that’s what makes me truly happy. So, naturally, psychology and sociology were natural choices because they help me understand people, the way they think, how they tick, so I can better help them.” You explain.

You look up at Loki who looks at you with an unreadable emotion on his face. Loki then brings a hand up, tucks a rogue lock behind your ear and keeps his hand there. “You are too precious for this world.” He whispers as he looks at you. You feel you cheeks heat up and can’t keep eye contact with Loki.

Loki clears his throat and drops his hand from your face, looking away from you as well. However, he doesn’t stop holding your hand. You feel your hand become clammy from nerves and hope this doesn’t gross out Loki. At the thought your hand twitches in his and Loki merely squeezes your hand.

“What other hobbies do you favor, seeing as they obviously kept you preoccupied enough to procrastinate your paper?” Loki asks.

You smile at the ground because you realize Loki is trying to better know you.

You look up at Loki again, who is already looking at you. “Well, surprisingly enough research and reading are my main hobbies.”

“Oh?”

“I love learning so I read up on whatever subject pulls at my attention at the moment.”

“And what draws at your attention right now?” Loki asks curious.

You flush and look at the ground, kicking it softly with the toe of your shoe. You mutter the answer.

Loki chuckles, brings his free hand up to tilt your face till you look at him. “Say that one more time, where I can hear it darling.”

“Norse mythology.” You say softly, embarrassed.

Loki’s eyebrows lift in shock. The look on his face showing that he did not expect that answer at all.

Thankfully the kettle begins whistling and causes the moment to be broken and forgotten.

Loki makes a cup of tea for the both of you and you both move to his living room, seated on his couch. You’re both sitting close enough to touch at the legs but don’t hold hands anymore. You set your mug on the coffee table in front of you, too hot to hold. Loki however basks in the heat of his cup, his hands wrapped around the mug as if he has just come in from a blizzard.

“I have plenty of texts you may borrow if you want to learn about the true mythology.” Loki offers, looking at you calculatingly.

You had hoped Loki would drop the subject seeing as your research was drawn from your want to learn more about Loki than actual Norse mythology.

Whatever, shoot your shot, right?

“I’d much rather hear your tales than anyone else’s.” You say, your hands picking at your jeans with nerves.

Loki hums with a small smile as he takes a sip of his tea. “Of course, darling. There is no better way to learn than from the source of such tales.” Loki says smugly.

You feel a smile break over your lips as you look at Loki who basks in his arrogance.

“I better watch out, stroking your ego,” You say, Loki raising a brow at your mischievous smirk, “Otherwise you might start sounding like Thor.” You say to knock Loki down a peg. Loki scoffs with a roll of his eyes but you don’t miss the twitch of his lips.

“Do not compare me to my oaf of a brother.” Loki says, finally setting his mug of tea down, resting his hands in his lap. You also don’t miss the twitch of his hands, as if they want to reach out towards you.

There are too many signs that Loki obviously likes you, it’s almost overwhelming, but you keep yourself pulled together before you ask him the question.

“You know, I’m just kind of going out on a limb here, but uh...You ever plan to ask me out, take me on some romantic dinner or something or do I need to give more incentive?” You say, the confidence in your voice a facade because inside you’re freaking out.

Loki keeps a blank face as you look at him. Then, he lets a smirk break out over his lips, glances at his tea but his eyes come back to yours.

“Is that such a good idea? Considering you are still my enemy?” Loki asks.

You grab your tea so you have something to do with your hands, sipping from the earthy, spicy liquid. You let yourself think, letting his question roll off your shoulders and shrug. “I could care less what the Avengers think but we can keep our relationship hidden if that would keep you happy?”

Loki purses his lips, his eyes squinting at you. “They would cage you, would they not? If they knew you were fraternizing with the enemy?”

“Yes, but I have no doubt you’d let them keep me for long.” You smile at Loki who huffs out laughter.

“You truly want me?” Loki asks. You don’t fail to hear the insecurity in his tone.

You set your tea down, grab both of Loki’s hands in yours and look at him, baring all your emotions on your face. “More than you will ever know.”

Loki squeezes your hands with a soft tilt of his lips.

“Then I suppose it is inevitable. Shall we partake in a date tomorrow night, say seven?”

You smile at Loki. “I would love to, Lokes.”

Loki rolls his eyes at the nickname but you know he doesn’t mind it, much.

Needless to say, you were granted an extension of time to turn in your essay while also scoring a date with your crush.

#research and dating (no they aren't connected)#loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #so like i started writing this before my writing had truly developed into what it is now #so the first part might be a bit iffy and stuff #i tried to fix it but i don't think i did so #anyways im not completely upset with how it turned out #reader insert #my writing #prompt

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pure-kirarin · 3 years

Text

The flowers of evil - Sanji x f!reader (Hanahaki)

A/N : Hiii ! thanks a lot for this request. I had a lot of fun writing it ! I didn’t know what hanahaki was before. I really adored it. It’s such a beautiful metaphore for one-sided love. I hope that you will like this !

Hanahaki definition : a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated (wiki)

Warnings : Angst (but happy ending) - Unrequited love

____________________

You forgot when it all started, when these doomed flowers of evil began to blossom allover your body, asphyxiating you, extracting the air from your lungs. The mysterious sickness took over your body, metamorphosing it into a garden of murderous flowers.

Red spider lilies, a field of them, encercled your frail limbs in your sleep, strangling you almost to death, sealing your agony. It was a slow process, a sadistic sickness that savoured each second of torture.

But what was worse ? The pain of the thrones scratching the delicate skin or the pain of a love that was doomed to fail ?

As the flowers grew, you simply withered. Watered by your tears, every day, every breath bringing you closer to an end. For a crime you weren't guilty of, for a love you have never asked for.

« If someone told me that I'd die this way...I would've killed myself. »

And it was true. Your paths crossed with the Strawhats by a mysterious fate. They have found you just after your ship got wrecked by the marine.

You were the only survivor. How ironic.

It was as if you survived just to die to that illness.

The evil flowers have spared you to savour the pain.

Since there were no options, you had to stay with them, but little by little they grew on you just as you grew on them. But someone stood out. His kindness was something you have never encountered before. It was all in the eyes, in his laugh, in the way he treated you like you were the only woman on earth. Oh god, it seemed perfect, too perfect ?

« I am so happy to be his friend ! »

Why couldn't you settle for that ? Why did you want more ?

It was greed and yearning. Craving a happiness that wasn't yours. He wasn't one to give his heart to one woman. You knew it too well, but then, why did you want otherwise ?

The heart wants what it wants. You stopped looking for a reason.

It all started by a habit, a ritual. Coffee in the morning, no sugar, no breakfast.

The cook always woke up earlier to prepare food for the crew. You on the other hand, weren't a breakfast person.

Until you met him.

« Y/N-chan, you're up early today too. » He said, back turned to you, pouring coffee in a cup.

The smell of the coffee invaded the kitchen. You were sitting in front of the table, hair in a mess, yawning. His voice was soft and comforting ; a morning breeze.

«I like waking up early. I get some peaceful moments before everyone else wakes up. » You chuckle.

He puts the cup in front of you. Not only the cup, also a plate with a pastry on it ; a croissant. You look at Sanji, confused ; he knew that you didn't eat for breakfast.

« I made this especially for you, (Y/N)-chan. It's bad to skip breakfast. »

You still remember the buttery richness of the croissant, the face he made as your teeth sunk into it, Just try it for me, he said. And he was right. It was delicious. Was it his skill as a chef, or his encouraging smile that stimulated your appetite ?

Your appetite for something else grew simultaneously.

The long nights you have spent contemplating the stars on the deck. The times he taught you how to use a knife and how you almost cut your finger. And the sweet, sweet taste of croissant balancing the bitterness of coffee, like a bandaid on a deadly wound.

If you didn't love me, why did you do all of this ?

Sometimes, when your chest couldn't take it anymore, you were visited by that thought, that cruel thought. You blamed him. How couldn't you ? It was his kindness that made you fall. It was his gentle smile that was going to be the end of you. And yet, what hurt most wasn't the flowers that grew in your lungs, it was the pain of not being loved in return. The pain of not being good enough for a man like him.

At first, it was a few petals that you coughed. You didn't understand, but when he was closer to you, you felt so light, when he was further, it felt like death. Your yearning for him grew, your body was moved by a fever that made you wish to be dead.

It took you a few days to figure out that the sickness that was gnawing you from the inside like a worm was love sickness.

You knew the condition, it was hanahaki, you have read about it in some fairytales. How could it be real ? Its victim has flowers grow inside of them, grow till it kills them silently.

You tried to hide it, but how when you had a month to live at best ? Everyone started to notice your pale complexion.

You were decaying by the day. In front of you, you had the disease and the cure.

« (Y/N)-chan » His voice. His damned voice making you fall even more. You turn to the side, facing the wall, resting in your bed. You refused to look at him. Did you really loathe him for not loving you back ?

Seeing that you didn't answer, he just keeps talking,

« These are beautiful flowers.. » He says as he looks at the red spider lilies resting in a porcelain vase. Would he say the same if he saw the flowers on your body ?...

« You should tell me if you don't feel alright...You're different those days. You don't even eat anymore. You can count on me. I know that you will feel better if you open up.

-You know nothing at all, Sanji »

You cut him off and sit down on the bed. You were just wearing a nightgown that showed your bruised arms. Fine cuts caused by the flowers that grew on your skin were displayed. You had to snatch them violently multiple times a day.

« You know nothing at all, you said that these flowers were beautiful. Do you even know what they mean..Sanji ? »

He looks at you in disbelief, he holds your arm, looking at the cuts. His touch feels like ice and fire on the bruised skin. His thumb caresses softly a wound, making you shiver. Don’t touch me in that way or I will fall even more...

-Who did this to you ?!

The bruises were like ones of ropes ; it was the stem of the roses that would encircle your arms in your sleep. You snatched off your arm, how could you tell him that it was him ?

You did this to me Sanji.

- It's none of your business...Come on. Leave me alone. I don't want to see you.

The words you spit out felt like poison and hurt him. You didn't even dare looking in his eyes. Those cruel words, you said them so he goes away. To stop the suffering. His worrying looks hurt more as they emphasized your unrequited love. You put a hand on your lips, nauseous.

-(Y/N) ! This is serious. What is the matter with you ? You look sick. I'll call Chopper right now. You go rest.

He gets up and you follow him, almost falling on the ground. You hold his arm, head on his back.

-Don't go ! Please don't. I don't want anyone to see me like this. There isn't anything Chopper can do for me. I am done with all of this. I want it all to end.

[ If it hurts this much, why am I still in love with you ? If it pains me so much, enough to kill me, why does it have to be you ?

If only I have closed my eyes and let myself die that day. If only I died along with my comrades. I would have had a meaningful death.

But here I am, having to die of love.]

You stepped back and started caughing red petals. You put both your hands on your mouth trying to cover it. Sanji turns back, terrified. He didn't understand what was with you, his cheerful, gentle (Y/N)-chan. He didn't understand why you pushed him away like this, as if his fingers burned your skin. As if his mere sight was killing you.

-Don't look at me...Please...Sanji...Don't look. You fall to the ground, your head looking down and tears running down your cheeks. It pained him so much to see you in that state. The petals you were coughing looked like blood. It was stupid, he felt cruel to think that even in such a state you looked so delicate, a flower.

He held the hand that you had on your face and moved it away to take a look at your face, eyebrows frowned, an anger growing inside of him. So, you, his (Y/N)-chan was in love with a bastard that didn't love you back ? It was certain. He knew about this condition.

Hanahaki, a mythical disease born out of one-sided love.

-(Y/N)-chan...This is...

-Hanahaki. You whisper, you can't hide it anymore now, it's too late,

He holds you against his chest, now thorns growing around your body. And you thought that in that moment, you could die in his arms and you'd be happy. Maybe in another life, you thought, maybe in another universe you'll love me back. Maybe it's the price I have to pay for having you...

-Don't die on me. Please. I am sure that...That this bastard loves you back. I mean...You are a goddess, (Y/N). How could anyone...do this to you. Tsk. It makes me sick just to think of it. I'll go look for him and bring him right now ! Hell, I'll kill him if he doesn't love you back.

You have a bitter smile. The flowers grow more and more, you were now vomiting entiere flowers that fell into his lap. You held onto him tighter.

-It's impossible...He is...An idiot...He doesn't even notice and it's right in front of his eyes...

-It doesn't matter. Just tell me who and I wi-

-Why ?! Why do you keep being so kind to me ? Why did you do all of this ? Why are you so gentle, so caring ? Why did you care that I don't eat breakfast ? Why did you make sure I don't feel cold on the deck ? And most of all, why are you like this with all girls ? It kills me...bitter laugh. Your kindness is killing me ! Don't act like this if you don't want girls to fall for you, you idiot ! Don't play with my feelings !

The blond man froze instantly. He has never imagined than a woman like you would fall for him, and to realize that you were suffering because of him left him in a loss of words. Him, Sanji, the lovecook, the man that devoted all of his existence to please women, those delicate creatures that he wasn't worthy of. The same Sanji was the reason of your distress and the object of your desire.

To feel desired to the point of death was flattering in a cruel way but also so foreign. He has convinced himself that no woman would love him and he was happy that way. It was enough for him to share the air that you breathe. But you were offering more ; a flower so pure, so delicate that his fingers could turn into dust.

-It's me that you love ?...

You didn't have any strenght left. You didn't answer. Your days were counted. You felt your chest getting lighter after confessing. It was relief. Words that had to be said.

-It's because of me that you were suffering so much...(Y/N)-chan...You...Wanted someone like me this much ?

He holds you tighter and the thorns sink in his skin, but he didn't care much, the pain that he was feeling inside was way bigger.

-I never thought that I deserved someone like you. I never thought that I deserved to be loved. It was enough for me to see you smile. But you are telling me that you are dying because I don't love you back ?...I would give up my life for you. And because you want someone like me, because you love me this much, I will make you the happiest woman on earth.

It was at this moment that you made him realize, you, on the verge of death, that even a man like him could be loved ; A man that even his father didn't want.

Your eyes were veiled by tears, was he saying this only to mess with you further ? However, the flowers stopped from spreading, and the petals started fading away little by little.

-Sanji...You...I...

He puts a finger on your lips and just says with a smile ;

- (Y/N)-chan, thank you for loving me. For wanting me so bad...Nobody has every loved me the way you do...Nobody has ever loved me to death.

He kisses your tears and adds ;

-I love you too.

#hanahaki disease #hanahaki #one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario

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bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

if i could tell her — todoroki shoto

ೃ in where shoto todoroki is hit by a sudden realization that the love of his life was right in front of him all along and all it takes is for her to cross the crossroads for him to finally realize.

ೃ pairing: todoroki shoto x fem! reader

ೃ tags: mutual pining, fluff

ೃ wc: 980

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask! ♡

Timing is irrelevant when two people are meant for each other.

There will always be a time and place for everything. But, for love? There was no such thing.

You and Shoto Todoroki met during a time when he was still such a mess, when he still had so much to figure out. How could he have known that the love of his life was always with him? How crucial every word, every action was, or how losing you would be something he would always regret? Who would’ve known that your departure from UA in your second year to study in a Heroes Academy in Canada, would be so detrimental?

Yet, here he was, a lovestruck newbie pro-hero who booked a plane ticket on his first week off for the first morning flight enroute to Quebec.

You were going to be his tour guide around the city as per his request made through terribly awkward text message. and it was going to be a date… as friends of course. Nothing more nothing less.

The two of you were set to meet in Fontaine De Tourny. A beautiful fountain park found in front of prestigious parliament buildings in Quebec City. It was said that a famous korean drama was filmed at the exact same place according to Shoto’s own research. If that meant anything, then Shoto was absolutely clueless as to what that may imply.

The morning light was beaming so effervescently, sparrow birds were chirping to their heart’s delight, the autumn trees along with the breeze reflecting a different orange hue that symbolizing the end of something. Something for you and Shoto. It was the end of wistfulness and nostalgia that both of you have grasped in your stained hands. Hands that were stained with meaningful memories that the both of you were never going to forget.

Today was going to be your reunion after so many years of longing and of missed opportunities.

Maybe, something was to blossom out of this meeting? Possibly, a realization concerning both of your feelings or a scientific discovery that all this time there was something there that was just hidden in plain sight. Hidden behind Shoto’s emotional scars or your bright facade. Maybe things were just one-sided all along? unrequited love perhaps? It was getting more unhealthy for Shoto if he kept on thinking about it. All that’s left to do is wait patiently on a bench and read a poetry book (a gift you had given to him before you left) to calm his nerves and to soothe his senses.

Several minutes have passed and he couldn’t stop his impatient eyes from looking for you in the crowd of passersby who were crossing the street and going off in different directions. None of them walked their way to the park, and the only thing Shoto could do was sigh at that thought.

Shoto would do everything to see you again. He’d search for you in crowds, in empty fields, and soaring clouds. In these foreign city lights, and passing cars, on winding roads and wishing stars. Shoto wonders where you could be now. How long has he waited for his lips to call out your name in a different light and for that day to finally arrive. You were going to show up, that was a given, but the anxiety and anticipation swelling up inside him was just too much for him to take. This was his only chance to try and express his feelings. If he messes this up then… what happens next?

More importantly, what would happen if you don’t return those feelings back?

“Sho-kun!”

He turns his head from left to right, looking for that honey dulcet voice that just called out for him. Standing up from his seat to get a clearer view of his surroundings… and there, he finally finds you. The girl in between all these blinding lights and high buildings. Wearing a white cotton dress that made you glow like a fairy, with a matching ribbon straw hat to complete the look. You were absolutely ethereal and Shoto could do nothing but stand frozen in place and stare agape at your beauty.

“Sho!” You continue to wave at him, your smile painting a ray of sunshine all over your face, jumping in your place as you skipped your way to cross the street. Unable to contain excitement at the thought of seeing your dear icy-hot friend after all these years.

The stoplight turns green and you grind to a halt. Waiting patiently for the cars to all drive by and for the light to turn red so that you can cross the road and run into Shoto’s arms. Tall autumn trees and dappled light on the city pavement shifting under your feet, skirting the cracks. As if it was waiting for you to take your leap and finally tell him everything you wanted to say.

Shoto continues to watch you hop to each white dashed line on the street like you were playing hopscotch. Your graceful figure taking each step carefully and steadily, as if it was the yellow brick road leading you to Oz. His lips turn upwards into a smile, watching your figure grow closer and closer to him. His hands in his pockets, rummaging for the box containing the crystal necklace that he was planning to give you when he confesses.

The words from the poetry book (that you had given him) rush through his mind and he realizes how fitting it was.

How fitting were these words to the feelings he had for you.

❝ Mass is not proportional to volume.

A girl as pretty as a violet.

A girl drifting in the sky like the petals of a flower draws me to her with a force greater than the one exerted by the earth. In a single moment, I fell and rolled toward her without a rhyme or reason, just as Newton's apple did.

With a thump. With a thump.

My heart bounced from the heavens to the earth in a dizzying pendular motion.

Such was the moment I’d first fallen in love.❞

“(Y/N)... there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 @lovelytarou @ramunegoddess , @serossimpy @laudthingcat @f0leysgurl

#shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff

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itsallyscorner · 4 years

Note

Ooooh can I do positions with Sebastian Stan???

Omg hi!!!🖤 Thank you sm for the request, I hope you like it!🥰

Thank you for the requests!! And thank you for the support love! I hope you enjoy this and my other requests (which I need to do soon)!🖤🥰 @its-izzys

💌.

positions

a/n: Decided to switch it up for this one and made the song about Seb’s feelings towards the reader:)

warnings: Some smut for you filthy animals😉

Heaven sent you to me

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

It has been known that Sebastian has poor judgement in romantic partners. Now, that doesn’t apply to everyone he’s dated but there are a few who were just out of line. Everyone knew he wasn’t the best at relationships. His family, friends, heck even his fans could see through the facade of his so called “girlfriends”. He could never tell the difference between someone who’s using him and someone who genuinely liked him. Sebastian was one to be intoxicated with his feelings and loses himself in the moment. Which was probably why he never found anything wrong with the ‘candid’ paparazzi pictures or the constant posting of proof that someone was with him.

You were different from all the other girls he had dated. You were like Spring to his Winter. You symbolized a new beginning for him. Like how Spring would mark the beginning of a new season with its blossoming flowers and the awakening of animals, you brought liveliness to his cold and dark life. You actually terrified him to the core. He was afraid to fall for you because you were well off on your own. In his head you didn’t need him, but he needed you. You kept the grown man on his toes and without you he was not sure how he would survive.

Unlike the other girls, he was scared to loose you. Not only were you the most loyal, selfless, kindest, and caring person he knew. But he knew you genuinely loved him for him. He knew that you could care less about the fame, his social status, or the money. You wanted him for him. You wanted him at his worst, at his best, all parts of him. And it terrifies him that he could fuck it all up in an instant and loose you completely. If that happened he wouldn’t know what to do because he’s never experienced a love like yours. Compared to the others, he wasn’t going to repeat history and make stupid decisions, this time he was going to try and not fuck it up.

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

’Cause I'll be

Sebastian would do anything to make you happy. Seeing that contagious smile on your face always gave him butterflies in his stomach that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Hey Sebba?” You asked as you knocked on the wall of his home office one day. Sebastian’s eyes leave the script he had been reading for the past hour and a half as he turned to your figure leaning against the doorframe. You were cladded in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of those biker shorts that made your bum look incredible.

“How was your nap, draga?” He was about to get up from his swivel chair when you motioned for him to stay. You settled yourself onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Resting your cheek against his head you began to play with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck.

“It was good. Except someone wasn’t there when I woke up.” You softly answered as Sebastian pressed light kisses along your neck.

“The bed was cold without you.” You frowned against his hair. The scent of his shampoo filling up your senses.

“I’m sorry, I got excited when the script came and I couldn’t help myself.” He apologized as his squeezed your hips.

“Yeah, I know.” You chuckled as you leaned back to look down at him. He stared up at you with those ocean eyes that you just wanted to constantly dive into.

“Oh! I forgot to ask you.” You jumped in his lap as you remembered the text your mother had sent you earlier that morning. Sebastian nods at you, “What’s up?”

He saw how you slightly shrunk into your body and how your arms unwrapped around him so you can fiddle with your fingers. A little tic you had when you were either nervous or embarrassed. Sebastian comfortingly pressed his large warm hand against your back as the other took one of your hands into his.

“So...um. My mom’s birthday is during the weekend and we’re planning on having a dinner party with the family.” You started as you looked at your and Sebastian’s connected hands.

“My mom said she’d like it if you came along. She wants to finally meet you and she thinks the rest of the family would too.” You finished as you glanced up at him.

You were quick to tell him that it was his choice. You didn’t want to pressure him into suddenly meeting your family. Though it would be nice for him to finally meet everyone, you had to respect whether he was ready or not.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’d love to come!” He immediately agreed, a wide smile on his face that made the sides of his eyes crinkle. Your head snaps up to him in shock. You were expecting to find a playful glint in his eyes but it was nothing but sincerity and joy.

“Wait, you want to meet my family?”

“Of course I do, draga. It’s your family we’re talking about! They’re the most important people in your life and it’d be an honor to meet all of them.” He explained as he gripped both of your hands. Sebastian felt himself smile when he saw the corners of your lips raise to your cheeks.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, Seb. Thank you!” You excitedly wrapped your arms around him again pulling him into a suffocating hug. You felt his chest vibrate against yours as he chuckled.

He hummed as he savored the feeling of your limbs wrapped around him and how elated he felt when you were around him. Wrapping his arms around your figure he mumbled into your ear, “Plus, I should finally thank your parents for creating the love of my life.”

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

The aroma of spices lingered around the house after the delicious dinner Seb had cooked. You guys decided to have an at home date night since the two of you weren’t in the mood to get all dressed up for a restaurant. Plus Sebastian had just gotten back from the airport after months on end of filming in Atlanta.

The two of you were now out on the balcony of your shared apartment sipping on glasses of wine. The two of you looked out towards the city as you leaned against Sebastian’s chest. There wasn’t much talking, just the sounds of the city and each other’s breathing.

“Thank you for dinner. Although, it should’ve been me cooking for you, because you literally just came back from filming.” You turn around in his arms as you admire the man in front of you.

“No, I wanted to cook for you. You’ve been so understanding with my job and the hectic schedules. Plus we had to be apart for so long, I owe you.” Sebastian explained as he moved a strand of hair from your face.

You shook your head at him, “You don’t owe me anything, Seb. You’re just doing your job and I understand that.”

“No, I do. I get that we had our night time calls and FaceTime sessions but it just isn’t the same as being in person with you.” He started.

“You’ve been so supportive and patient with me. While I’ve left you waiting here for so long.” He shook his head at himself before looking down at you. His blue eyes now dark with longing and lust. He leaned down to brush his nose against yours. His plush lips leaving a lingering kiss on your own.

“Let me take care of you, (y/n).”

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)

Sebastian laid you down gently on the cool comforter of the bedroom. The atmosphere around you two felt heavy as your lips clashed together with desperation and passion. Though the months of not seeing each other were miserable, it began to all feel worth it when you felt his touch for the first time again.

Your hands roamed his body, only stopping when they were hovering over his sweatpants, where a bulge was starting to form. Sebastian pulled away from your lips and took your hand, placing it to rest along his shoulder.

“No, don’t worry about me. This is about you, I just want to focus on you.” His voice was soft and quiet compared to the events that were about to go down between you two.

He gazed down at you for a moment before his palm came up to rest against your cheek. He latched his lips onto yours, nipping at your bottom lips to grant his tongue access into your mouth. Your tongues poked and licked against each other. The heat below you was getting hotter and hotter, making your heartbeat race and a thin layer of sweat to form on your body.

Sebastian moved on to kiss along your jaw and neck. He stopped at your neck, nipping and sucking on the skin until a mark began to form. He helped you take your shirt off, throwing it aside to land on the floor. He watched as your breasts bounced in your red lace bra as you landed on your back again. He sucked in his breath as he looked at you through hooded eyes.

“Take this off, Sebby.” You voice was low with sultry as your nails teasingly dragged on his abs. He yanked his shirt off and threw it to the side. He dived down to claim your lips again, his hands running down to grip your thighs and wrap them around his torso. He ground down on you causing you to softly moan as his clothed crotch pressed down on your mound.

His mouth teased your nipples through your bra. He grazed his teeth along the lace material before sucking on your clothed nipple. He repeated the same action on your other nipple. You pulled on his soft hair as you watched him concentrate on pleasuring you. Your nipples were now peaking against the lace, wanting to be freed from the material. One of his hands flatten on your back and fiddle with the bra until it comes undone. His warm tongue attaches to your breast as soon as they’re exposed, giving them both the attention they needed.

He helps you take your shorts off before removing his sweats. He shifts himself so he’s laying in between your legs with your soaking heat in front of him. You feel his breath against your core causing goosebumps to form on your arms and legs.

“Draga I could smell you all the way here. I’ve been making you wait for too long, huh?” His voice teased you with hints of dominance. He enjoyed the effects he had on you. The way you instantly opened your legs for him and how he was the only one who could make you dripping wet without even doing anything.

You nodded against the pillow and looked down at him. A smirk was on his lips as his nose swiped along your clothed slit. He pressed a searing kiss above your mound as his eyes remained connected to yours.

“Who made you this wet, baby?” He asked huskily against your heat. He felt you clench around nothing as he kissed the wet lace that covered your pussy.

“You did, Seb.” You breathed out.

“Damn right I did.” He pulled your panties off you, the cold air meeting your heat. His mouth was agape as he was met with your heat glistening with arousal. He moaned at the sight and stuffed his face between your thighs. You let out a moan as your eyes fluttered shut.

His tongue flattened against your folds until he found your bud. His mouth latched onto it, sucking and licking at your clit. You emitted a moan, your back arching, as his mouth helped release the tension that was building up in you. He hummed in approval as he brought his fingers to spread your wetness through your folds. His finger teased your entrance before it smoothly slipped in. Sebastian groaned as he felt you clench down on his finger. He moved his finger in and out until he felt you ease up around him. He added a second finger stretching you out a bit more. He made a come hither motion with his fingers as they rubbed against your walls. When his fingers began hitting a familiar spongy area, your toes curled as you hips rutted against him.

He wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you down. You were a mess above him. One of your hands gripping the sheets as the other pulled on his hair. Your head was thrown back, your hair sticking to your face as you moaned at the immense pleasure Sebastian was giving you.

“I can feel you. C’mon baby, cum on my fingers.” He rasped out before his tongue flicked rapidly at your bud. Your knees had came up to your chest as the tension in your body had reached a peak. With the harsh and fast movements from his tongue and fingers, you came with a loud choking moan as your body trembled above him. Your cum spilling all over his hand. Sebastian licked you clean as you came down from your high. He kissed your thighs before coming up to rest his forehead against yours.

“I missed the taste of you. Missed you so much.” He muttered as he licked his fingers. He left some of your cum on his fingers so you can have a taste of yourself. You sucked on his fingers until they were clean of your juice.

Sebastian pressed a sweet kiss to your lips as he lined himself up with you. One hand interlocked with yours while the other led his cock into your sensitive entrance.

“Te iubesc.” He said as he pushed himself into you. Your breath hitched as your walls hugged onto his length. You were filled with him to the brim. You felt the veins along his length and the weight of him in you.

“Si eu te iubesc.” You whimpered as he pushed even deeper into you. His eyes intensely locked onto yours as his hips rocked back and forth. His cock pushing in and out of you. He was dizzy with the feeling of you around him. You were like a drug and he was addicted to you. Everything about you was perfect. He fit into you like a puzzle piece, like you were meant for him, and he didn’t need anyone else. Just you.

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

Sebastian would do anything for you. If he could, he would take you around the world to show you new places that you’ve been dreaming of visiting. He wasn’t afraid to show you off. Of course, he was private when it came to your relationship, but when he had the chance to show you off he always took it. He was proud to take you to premieres and introduce you to his friends and co-stars. Everyone could see how deeply in love he was with you. They’ve never seen him so entranced with someone. From the way he looked at you to how his hand was always protectively on you.

Sebastian thanked his lucky stars as he watched you lean against the balcony railing of the hotel you two were staying at in Paris. You were watching the city below you as the wind blew against your hair. The sun shined on you enhancing your natural glow. You looked so relaxed and carefree as if you’ve never had experience a day of stress in your life. He saw a small smile on your face as your fingers skimmed the rail.

You turned around to see Sebastian sitting on a chair inside the bedroom. He was staring at you, a dreamy look on his face. You smiled at him and giggled.

“Get over here and look at the city with me.” You motioned for him to come over as you held your hand out for him. He got up and took your hand, bringing it up to press a kiss on your knuckles. You turned around to lean against his chest as his buff arms wrapped around your figure. His head rested on your shoulder, pressing kisses against the bare skin every few minutes.

He could stay there for eternity. You in his arms as you both silently watched the hues of pink, purple, and orange take over the sky in Paris. You were all he needed, it didn’t matter where he was, he just needed to have you with him.

draga ~ darling

te iubesc ~ I love you

si eu te iubesc ~ I love you too

#ally’s 700 celebration #ally’s requests #marvel #mcu #avengers #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan headcanons #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #Bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier

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violetsoju · 3 years

Text

airport

kuroo tetsurou · fluff · 2.2k

warning: slight suggestive theme, mild language, characters are aged-up

a/n: did i write this on impulse because i still can’t believe i was actually in this situation? maybe. did i write this as a manifestation of having a kuroo to bitch about and assure me? maybe too. did i get more encouraged to write this after reading a discussion in a server on bra sizes and brand recommendations a few days ago? maybe three.

“Kuroo, I’m serious. Stop laughing.”

A distinct cackling laughter from the speaker of your phone fills the four walls of your bathroom, along with a lazy lopsided grin flashing on the screen that’s perched on the wall mounted shelf next to the sink.

“But you’re making it so hard not to! Plus, you’re supposed to brush your teeth for two minutes, not talk and brush your teeth at the same time for two minutes.” Kuroo reasons, laughter turning into soft chuckles.

“Sorry babe, but I didn’t catch anything you said just now because you sounded like a fish blubbing underwater, except you’re blubbing white foam instead of bubbles.”

He finds it hard not to grin like a fool at your figure from his side of the screen, hands on your hips with a toothbrush stuffed in your puffed-up cheeks, hair pushed back with an elmo headband that he finds ugly yet cute because of the two ridiculously huge eyes dangling on top.

You mumble something yet inaudible while wiping away the drool of toothpaste dripping down the side of your mouth, a small pout dotting your lips.

“Rinse up and tell me from the top again once you’re done, alright?” Kuroo sighs, shaking his head adoringly as he manages to make out a ‘fine’ out of the string of muffled sounds from you.

And do you listen to him completely? Of course not. So he rests his left cheek on his palms, humming to the bits of information you try to squeeze in without accidentally swallowing tap water while cleansing your face.

The white tiles in the background shift to cream walls shakily, along with the shuffling sounds of room slippers against the wooden flooring. “Then as we were walking towards the karaoke place, I somehow fell behind the rest and ended up beside him. And guess what happened?”

“He confessed to you?” He jokes, oblivious to where this is heading, yet.

“God, I’d rather that happen.” You take a seat in front of your study desk filled with skincare products tucked on the side, placing your phone against the wall. “Instead, he called out to me, which I turn to him and find him looking at my boobs, saying ‘oh, its nothing’,”

Kuroo visibly flinches a little, eyebrows furrowed in disgust, eyes widening slightly, like he just tasted a sip of milk that has gone bad. “Excuse me?”

“He was looking at my boobs, Kuroo. My boobs. Shamelessly. Saying ‘oh, its nothing’. What the heck?” You mentally thank yourself for not opening the cover of the toner in your hand, to save the mess you would have made from all the expressive hand gestures.

“And you were wearing your usual tank top, right?” He smacks his lips together, as if trying to get rid of the bad aftertaste.

“Yeah, the usual square neck rib knit tank top that I always wear.” He tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion. Your wardrobe of tops flashing through his head. “The one that you don’t understand why I own a several pieces in different colours. That one.” A long ‘oh’ resonates through the speakers, the particular top emerging from the sea of clothing.

Kuroo processes the image for a few seconds. “That’s not revealing at all.”

“Exactly! It’s like the most basic thing? There’s tons of girls out there who wear the similar thing as me too.” You tap your toner onto your face with your hands. “And I was even wearing a jacket on top of it? It’s not like I was fully exposed or something. But even if I didn’t have my jacket on, I don’t see how it’s taken as a sign to stare brazenly like that. I wear whatever the heck I want to make myself feel and look good, not for someone else to ogle at, unable to keep their raging hormones in check.”

He hums in agreement. “What did you do or say to him then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what made me so pissed at that moment either.” You sigh, reaching out for your wash-off mugwort mask. “I snapped at him, telling him that when he talks to girls, he should be looking at them in the eye, not at their boobs.”

“That’s my girl.” Kuroo flashes his signature cheshire-grin. “What did he say then?”

Your lips purse together, recalling the situation. “I don’t think he even heard me. Partly because you know how I rush through words like I’m rapping when I’m mad.”

“Told you to apply for that rap competition show on tv.”

“Kuroo.” Your glare earns an apology and light-hearted chuckles. “Another reason why I don’t think he heard me was because he actually had the balls to sit next to me during the karaoke session.” His eyebrows arch at the statement. “To which I dragged Mizuki to sit next to me and he got pushed to the side with the other guys.”

He huffs through his nose with a tinge of frustration, fingers running through his dishevelled hair. “How old is he again?”

“20, I think. But still, that’s no excuse for being so disrespectful towards girls and women. He’s already a full-grown adult for crying out loud.” You set the timer to 15 minutes on your phone, shuffling to your bed. “Out of all the boys I’ve met that are of his age or back when we were his age, I’ve never met such a disrespectful guy. In this area of discussion, I mean.”

“You mean you haven’t met such a horny monkey before.” Kuroo summarises. You snort at his remark, making yourself comfortable under the covers while waiting for the mask to work its magic.

“So you’re mad that he looked at your boobs.”

You place your phone between your folded knees, slouching against the bed frame. “Of course I am. It’s a violation against my body. How the fuck does he think he’s entitled to look at someone blatantly like that? Imagine someone staring at your dick like its nothing.”

The stupid cocky smirk appears on screen again. “Not gonna lie, but I would be proud. Or amused.”

“Freak.” You scoff, scrunching your nose at his reply.

His amber eyes gleam under the dim lights through the screen. “You sure you’re not mad at anything else?” He prods, not letting you off the hook.

“I guess I’m so mad because I never expected this to happen to me. I mean, look at me. What’s there to look at when I’m basically as flat as an airport?” You gesture to your breasts, ignoring his ‘you’re exaggerating’ interjection. “I would understand if he was staring at someone voluptuous or well-blossomed. But what’s the point of staring at a wall so flat there’s no cracks or dents in between?”

Kuroo’s sharp yet soft features settle into a knowing look. “So there is something else that you’re mad at.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That is?”

“You’re upset that your boobs are small.”

Your eyes take a 360-degree turn, huffing exasperatedly. “I’m not. I’m happy with the way they are.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

His firm discerning expression in the 10-second-long stare off has you heaving a long sigh in defeat. “I mean, there are times which I wish they would be just a little bigger…” You hesitantly admit, biting the inside of your lips. “So I don’t have to rely on push-up bras that much. And they would look nicer in wireless bras… Or in deep v neck cuts… Or plunge dresses…”

“Babe, they’re perfect with the way they are now.” Kuroo’s words doesn’t come out as pity or consolation; it’s filled with raw honesty and sincerity.

You glance down at the soft flesh beneath your oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Kuroo. “I know, but sometimes you can’t help but want more, right?”

“I understand, it’s natural.” He nods in acknowledgment. “But we have to be grateful with what we have, don’t we?”

A soft smile tugs the corner of his lips at the sight of your pout. “You’re right. Why did I get myself so worked up just because of one horny monkey when I have such an amazing and supportive boyfriend?” His lips curl up with a little more pride at you remembering and reusing his little remark.

“At your service, always. And ever ready to chase off any horny monkeys in sight.” He places his hands to his eyebrows as a salute dramatically, earning a hearty laugh from you.

“Question time. On the bright side, don’t you save more on bras because they require lesser fabric than bigger sizes? Less fabric, less production cost?”

“If only it were like that, Kuroo. You know what, we’re going bra shopping for our next date.”

“May I be granted the honour of choosing the fine piece of garment?” He places his hand over his right chest.

You hold onto your imaginary ruffled dress in the air, dropping into a mid-curtsy. “If I have the honourable chance to be blessed by your gracious kindness to pay for it, be my guest.”

“Of course, m’lady.” He bows curtly, giving you a flirtatious wink.

You giggle at his sappiness. “Okay my turn. Aren’t you jealous that you don’t have the chance to hold them like other boyfriends do for their busty girlfriends when their boobs swell and get sore during their periods?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. “It’s not like that’s the only time I get to touch them.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Pervert.” You gasp, covering your breasts with your arms.

The timer on your phone beeps, signaling it’s time for you to wash off your mask.

“Didn’t take you to be a boob person. Thought you were more of a butt person.” You place your phone back on the wall mounted shelf in the bathroom, turning on the tap water to run.

“I’m neither. Because I’m a you person, your person. A person that loves you as a whole, not by parts.” You swear you can see him giving you that smug grin of his with your face submerged with water, washing off the remaining residue.

“You know, maybe God deliberately blessed you with a lesser amount in this aspect.” His voice echoes through the speakers.

You reach out to your face towel hanging next to the sink and place gentle pats on your face. “And why is that?”

“Because God knew that you’d be unstoppable if you were blessed in all aspects. I mean, look at you. You’re already slaying it despite your fun-sized boobs.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva from the fits of laughter at his comment. “What the hell, Kuroo. No one calls a C cup and below fun-sized.”

“If people call those below the height of 160cm fun-sized, I don’t see why I can’t do the same with breast sizes.” He reasons with a nonchalant face.

“Fine, fun-sized boobs they are.” You give in, switching off the bathroom lights. “Your drop-dead gorgeous kick-ass girlfriend has fun-sized boobs.”

“And I love it. That’s what makes her special too.” He adds, face full-on smitten with love.

“Shut up, cheesy conman.” You chuckle softly, your face a mirror image of his.

“Well, you chose one yourself. No refunds.” The coolness of your moisturizer helps soothe the warmth blossoming across your cheeks, but not the warmth spreading throughout your chest like a cosy fireplace on a cold winter day.

【☾】

Zero and one digits flash on the top right of the screen, signalling it’s way past your bedtime. You’ve been on the phone with Kuroo for close to two hours, no wonder you feel yourself drifting to sleep each second. Kuroo senses it too, from the way your eyes twitch and lose focus.

“Alright, last question before we wrap up for today. When are you hanging out with them again?” He asks, stifling a yawn.

You let out a yawn as well, stretching your arm over your head, popping a few bones. “I don’t know, but I may skip if he’s tagging along.”

“Nope, we’re going together. Me and you.” Kuroo states matter-of-factly with droopy eyes.

You rub your eyes that has been lidded with sleep. “What if you’re busy on that day like today?”

“Then I’ll just clear my schedule for the day. Gotta show the lil boy who owns this airport.” His deep voice croaking through the speakers of your phone.

“Airport?” You question, confused at his statement, wondering if sleep has started to take over your sense of hearing.

“Airport.” He gestures at his tiddies sleepily.

“Kuroo…” Your distressed groan doesn’t stop him from his babble.

“Gotta show to him that it’s a private one too, not some public area that’s available to any common folk like him. Right, babe?”

a/n: in Chinese, there’s a saying of calling flat chested girls or girls with small boobs as 飞机场, which means airport because the airport runway is flat. so it’s like one’s chest is so flat that it can run the plane lmao. all sizes are precious, don’t get me wrong. this is purely for entertainment purposes

shoutout to @moonboohoo for being my irl Mizuki that day ily ❤️

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #hq imagines #dont worry guys im not bothered by the incident anymore #i just thought it would be funny to write about #small tiddy gang unite #and i finally have a piece thats not over 3k words omg #mini achievement unlocked 🔓

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