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bunnylovesani · 6 months

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A Marriage Story

Summary: You met your husband Spencer at college and fell in love at first sight. A decade later, he’s struggling to be the man you need after spending months away in prison. Can you find your way back to each other even when outside influences want to keep you apart?

Content warnings: smut, fluff and angst all rolled into one, rough sex, oral sex, degradation, sub/dom dynamics, references to infidelity and divorce

WC: 10.7k

“Can’t sleep?” You peered into the living room to see your husband slouched across the sofa, sporting a stiff, groggy expression as he examined what looked to be a pine-green leatherbound book.

“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?” He mumbled in response, barely looking up. Spencer was snarky by nature- it was something you’d grown accustomed to and even found endearing- but you were woefully unprepared for just how much would change following his stint in prison.

“You can barely read in here, it’s so dark.” You grumbled as you stretched to turn on an orange light posted in the corner. Your fingertips brushed past the bobbly canvas of the lampshade as you recalled how the appliance was a wedding gift. You weren’t exactly sure who bestowed it to you but the memory made you a little misty-eyed.

“And you don’t have your glasses either.” You muttered under your breath as you readily paced to your bedroom down the hall to retrieve his black-rimmed specs. “Here you go.” You extended your arm out, waiting for him to take them out of your grasp but he paid no notice.

“Spence.” You nudged him but he just shook his head wordlessly and retreated into his pages even more, squinting profusely. Perching beside him, you tucked his unruly waves out of his face and nestled them behind his ear before carefully sliding on his glasses, letting them rest on the delicate bridge of his nose.

“Thanks.” He whispered after a while and you tried your best not to sigh at the state of your husband. His under eyes throbbed purple, the darkness consuming them in a veiny, crescent spill. There was no avoiding the way Spencer’s eyes had gradually dullened, as if the light had drained from them entirely.

“It’s 3 in the morning, my love. Clearly that stiff sofa isn’t doing you any favours, why don’t you try sleeping in our bed tonight?” You hummed, nervously pawing at his forearm in anticipation of his answer.

“Not tonight.” He dismissed, shaking off your hand as he recoiled from you.

“You always said that sleeping with me put your mind to rest. Let me scoop you up into my arms and I’ll bet those nightmares will ease right up.” You nuzzled into him playfully, badly craving that now unfamiliar warmth. It had been 3 months since Spencer returned home from jail and another 3 since you’d even slept in the same room.

“That was back then.” He replied coldly, swallowing a lump in his throat before finally looking up to meet your gaze. “The sofa is just fine now.”

“So you plan on spending the rest of our marriage sleeping in here, do you?” You laughed in disbelief, overwhelmed by the incredible misfortune that had struck your husband- and by cursed extension, you.

“I didn’t say that.” He ripped off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with tired frustration. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I have been more than understanding.” You observed the broken man hunched over before you with both pity and unbridled anger. “But my lenience has a limit. At some point, you have to get over it.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through.” He snapped back, almost interrupting.

“Because you won’t tell me.” You countered, blood pressure rising over his incredulous obstinance. “How am I supposed to help you if you don’t let me?”

“I don’t need your help.” He scoffed, shuffling back as if the slightest contact with you made his skin crawl.

“I am your wife.” You uttered solemnly, the words beginning to sound foreign to you both. “Or have you forgotten?”

“How could I? You never leave me alone.” He stated carelessly with such absurd cruelty that it made your heart split in two.

“Who are you? I don’t even recognise you anymore.” Your voice trembled as tears swelled and you willed yourself not to fall apart entirely right then and there.

“I don’t recognise myself either.” He murmured inaudibly.

Awkwardly plumping the pillows you had flattened as you rose, you straightened out your cotton nightie and headed towards the solitary bedroom, leaving Spencer glaring shamefully at the floor.

“Do you remember our wedding day?” You whispered into the doorway, unsure whether he would even hear.

“Of course I do.” He sighed heavily, as if the memory hurt him and he wasn’t too grateful for the reminder.

Realising that those were the only words you’d be able to coax out of him tonight, you proceeded down the corridor and slumped into bed defeatedly. The right side of the bed was always kept empty, partly out of habit and partly out of hope that he might, by some miracle, change his mind one of these nights and join you. A particular quote that your husband once read aloud from a Nietzsche book sprang to mind: “In reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man.” He had laughed it off as the words left his perfect lips, dismissing the mournful proclamation as pessimistic melodrama- but now you wondered whether the boy genius had, for once, been wrong. Clutching a rumpled old pillow close to your chest, you thought back to better days as your melancholy lulled you to sleep.

“Spencer, you’re so annoying.” You playfully slapped his forearm once you caught sight of the little drawings he was leaving in your notebook. “This journal is for my notes, not your mediocre art. Is that one meant to be me?” You pointed at the silly stickman with long hair and a speech bubble declaring ‘I love Spencer’.

“Well you’re obviously not the ruggedly handsome one.” He gestured at the nerdy-looking bespectacled caricature of himself. It was evident he didn’t have the highest self regard but you couldn’t figure out why- to you, there was no one more perfect. “Do you write about me in your little diary?” He glided the pages out of your reach and began flicking through their contents with a sneer. Knowing exactly what he would find, you allowed him to skim through your written confession as you witnessed his expression soften.

“I met a guy today in my criminology class.” He muttered, reading an early entry aloud. “I hardly know anything about him, but I’m already certain I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Is that crazy? To love a complete stranger? I think I would let him drive me into the furthest depths of insanity if it meant I could hold onto a piece of him forever.”

You blushed hearing your own words spilling from his lips, recalling the day you met on your first day of college.

“Wait.” Spencer put your notebook down before frantically rummaging through his backpack to retrieve his own. Yanking out a pine-green leatherbound journal, he flitted through its pages before turning it around and sliding it across the library desk. “Read this here.” He tapped a passage located right around the middle with an impatient forefinger.

“Okay…” You drawled hesitantly, sliding your textbooks out of the way to focus on the script put before you. “I met a girl today. That doesn’t really happen to me. Liking aforementioned girl is even more of a rarity but today, I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning. There I was, my nose deep in a second edition tome of Fundamentals of Research in Criminal Justice when someone who could only be described as a blinding ray of sunshine bounded into the lecture hall. When she took a seat in the back row beside me and made a deliciously snide comment over Garland’s incompetency in examining the Lombrosian Project, I knew I was a goner. Note to self: do further research on what it means to be ‘in love’.”

“Yours was a little more romantic.” He chuckled, observing the incredulous look on your face.

“Spence…” You shook your head as you grabbed his hand and tried unsuccessfully to convey the complexity of your feelings. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“I love you.” He said simply, like he had many times before but you never grew tired of hearing it.

“I love you too.” You grinned, resisting the urge to kiss him and give surrounding students in the stuffy library a show.

“Can I ask you something crazy? But promise not to think about it too much.” He chewed on his bottom lip with an almost crazed look in his eyes.

“You can’t surprise me anymore.” You nodded, giggling.

“Do you want to get married?” The question made you break out into a flurry of goosebumps, contradicting your last sentence entirely.

“W-what?” You raised your eyebrows, listening intently for a sign that he was just teasing.

“Right now. Lets go somewhere and get married.” You scanned his handsome face in shock as you realised he was being serious.

“B-but we’re only 22. We’re so young.”

“Yes, we are.” He calmly responded, allowing you to run through all your doubts.

“A-and we still haven’t graduated.”

“No, we haven’t.” He shook his head.

“And oh, our parents would be so mad!”

“They very well might be. Marry me anyway.” He flashed a broad, toothy smile and the way it made your heart stop gave you the only indication you needed.

“Okay.” You smiled.

“Okay?!” He repeated in surprise.

“Okay. I’ll marry you.”

Spencer shot out of his seat, lifting you up with him as he grabbed you by the face, planting excitable kisses over your lips and cheeks.

“Don’t we need to make appointments for this kind of thing?” You squeaked out between kisses, the logistical cogs in your mind whirring.

“Well, baby.” He paused, gazing into your eyes with a mischevious twinkle. “It’s a good thing we live in Vegas.”

Grabbing each other’s hand with a fervour you thought would last forever, you headed straight to a walk-in chapel, where along with two drunken witnesses you dragged off the street and a pair of vending machine wedding bands, you officiated your love. The haughtily dressed minister, who resembled a cowboy more than a government official thanks to his white, studded getup- took several takes before agreeing to ordain the ceremony. “Crazy kids…” he muttered under his breath when you managed to persuade him, ushering you down the altar with a disapproving sigh.

Spencer marvelled at how you could look so beautiful in a cheap, rented veil and he vowed that day that he would never dare take you for granted. He would make damn sure to remember just how blessed he was, no matter what life threw at him.

He remained true to his word for the most part, proceeding to spend the next decade or so faithfully by your side. As in most areas of his life, Spencer excelled at being a husband. After his first substantial promotion, he knew exactly what to spend all his savings on: he made a beeline to Tiffany’s for a long overdue engagement ring, surprising you with the small robin’s-egg-blue box on a random Tuesday night. You loved it, of course, and gushed over the lavish diamond, proudly flashing it to anyone who would let you- though you kept your tarnished old band on your bedside table and observed it with nostalgic fondness.

Every promise Spencer made, Spencer kept. From the silly details down to the crux of your marriage, he was unfalteringly respectful, supportive and always appreciative.

You certainly weren’t too shabby playing the part of his wife either. Dinner was always on the table, the house was always spick and span and you had no shortage of tight outfits to greet him home dressed up in. You hadn’t ever anticipated your role in life would be that of a housewife but Spencer made it easy- and if you had to be one, a loving, handsome genius was the man for the job. You figured you could do worse.

When the company you worked for years ago filed for bankruptcy and you were too burnt out to look elsewhere, your husband was more than happy to assume his new position as the breadwinner.

While the thought of relying on a man used to inundate you with horror, this particular man was like something out of a movie- for him, you made every exception, choosing a life of domestic bliss in suburbia over the dreams you once had. You weren’t the most fulfilled woman in the world but you’d never had serious concerns- until this year. It wasn’t Spencer’s habit of overprioritising work, nor his stretch in prison- it wasn’t even the thousand yard stare that painted his face at all hours of the day following his release.

It was the arrival of the sudden and unprecedented thought that he might actually leave you.

As many fights as you’d had over the years, the possibility that Spencer may not be the man you spend the rest of your life with had never once crossed your mind- you had it ticked off as a definite and planned your life accordingly around that simple fact. You thought you had agreed that nothing could ever tear you apart.

But now; the way he recoiled when you came near him and the disdain that dripped from his voice when he spoke to you had you reconsidering whether the man you knew would ever make a return.

It was your biggest fear and everything your mother had warned you about; her nauseating words gnawed at you as you remembered how staunchly she opposed your impromptu decision to get married. She never really accepted Spencer- choosing instead to graciously tolerate him as a favour to you, but neither of you were under any illusions as to what her real thoughts on the matter were.

“There you are, I was beginning to think you stood me up.” The lofty voice of your mother rang out and the air sharply shifted around her.

“Sorry, mother. I- uh, woke up a little late. Got caught in the midday traffic.” You sniffled, trying your utmost to be subtle over the fact you’d spent all morning weeping pathetically in bed.

“Yes, I suppose that’s something you can afford being unemployed and childless.” She scoffed, suspiciously eyeing up your puffy face. “Though I suspect traffic isn’t to blame on this particular occasion.”

“Of course it is.” You dismissed, taking a seat before her at the garden restaurant you had agreed to meet for lunch in. It was a little too snooty for your taste, but then so was she.

Burying your face in the menu before she had the chance to inspect your somewhat ragged appearance further, you tried to ignore her heavy sighing.

“I worry about you, you know.” She lowered your menu with a pristinely manicured finger.

“Oh trust me, I know.” You rolled your eyes and snatched the menu back, eyeing up the scandalously named cocktails and wondering how many you could get away with ordering.

“I’m being serious. Your whole life revolves around him. And he’s a mess. You know what that makes you?” She reached into her handbag and fished for a compact mirror.

“Please, enlighten me.” You groaned as she checked her mauve lipstick.

“A mess by extension.” She haughtily added, snapping the mirror closed with a snappy click. “And it’s my job as your mother to set you straight.”

“Lucky me.” You muttered, disinterested.

“Listen to me, young lady. I don’t care how old you get or how much you think you know, I know better. You need to come back down to Earth and realise that your marriage is failing.” She snakes her hand across the table and places it on top of your own. “Prison changes a man. He’s not the Spencer you once knew.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You retorted stroppily. “I know he’s changed but that doesn’t mean we’re going to- we’re not getting a- you know…”

“Divorce?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that.” You shrugged.

“It fills me with deep concern that you can’t even say the word. How are you going to function when he leaves you?”

“Mother!” You gasped.

“Oh, if and when, same thing.” She waved a hand in the air dismissively, her nimble pearl bracelets clinking against one another. “My point is, darling, you must accept that there’s a…significant possibility your life will change. You need to be ready for it.”

“No.” You shook your head, refusing to let her words sink in. “Spence wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave me.”

“Oh?” She finally removed her sunglasses and you caught sight of the genuine concern in her steely eyes. “What did he say to you before you left this morning?”

Your eyes shot to the floor as you remembered how he’d elected to go to work early, leaving the house without a farewell as was his routine these days. Seeing the anxiety and shame written all over your face, your mother sighed yet again.

“Men in these situations often seek comfort in others.” She softened her tone but not her words. “You’re too close to the situation to make him feel better about it. You know too much.”

“What are you trying to say?” You squinted.

“He needs to feel like a man right now. And you can’t give him that.” She innocently sipped from the paper straw floating in her lemon water.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You dismissed her, the thought of Spencer cheating inconceivable.

“Look out for the signs. If he’s working late too often, if he has secretive phone calls…” She trailed off. “It can’t hurt to pay attention.”

Although you tried not to let them, her words had a nagging way of worming themselves into your brain and never coming back out.

Later that evening, you returned to the empty confines of your house and spent several hours anxiously flitting your eyes to the clock on the wall. He should’ve been home early today.

“Spence, is that you?” You called out once you heard the faint clicking of the door unlocking. The slow thudding of his heavy footsteps was heard before he entered your bedroom, looking very weary and sporting even more stubble than usual.

“Who else would it be?” He asked with a shadow of a smile. Offering no explanation, he peeled off his blazer and loosened his tie as he perched on the edge of the bed.

“Must be a really tough case you’re working on with the amount of overtime shifts you’ve been putting in.” You cleared your throat.

“It’s, uh, it’s been a tricky one. Yeah.” A deafening silence followed his obscure reply.

“Did you give any more thought to taking time off work?” You continued, yearning to wrap your arms around him but resisting.

“No. I mean, yes I did, but I don’t want any time off. It wouldn’t help, I can hardly stand being at home.” You gulped at the hurtful connotation and he turned around to face you. “No, I didn’t mean like that. Not because of you. You know what I’m trying to say.”

“Not sure I do.” You muttered under your breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m a mess.” He dropped his head into his hands and took a deep, stabilising breath. “I just need time.”

“Of course, Spence, I understand that. It’s only that- well, i-it’s been 6 months. 6 months of me doting on you and letting you get away with acting and speaking to me however you like. At what point does it end?” Your words had a desperate tinge to them. “I need some kind of indication.”

“I can’t tell you the exact time and date that I will forget everything that happened to me.” He stood up with a huff and you knew you’d touched a nerve.

“Don’t get defensive, I’m just trying to talk to you.” You got up and stood beside him, laying a flat palm to his chest. “To get through to you somehow, anyhow.”

You could feel his warm, unsteady breath on your skin as he scrunched his eyes shut, wanting to be anywhere but here.

“Why can’t you talk to me? You used to be able to tell me everything.” Your voice cracked as you rubbed your thumb across his cheek pleadingly.

“I can’t give you what you want. Not right now.” He gently lowered your hand and stared into your eyes apologetically.

“We haven’t made love in so long.” You murmured hesitantly and he shot you an irksome look. You hated to bring it up but the pain of his rejection was getting too much to bear- you had to let him know how badly you needed him.

“Is that why you’ve been on my case so much lately?” He raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“No, of course not.” You sighed. “Not the only reason, at least.”

“Sorry, baby. I’ve been too busy dealing with major trauma to factor in your sex drive.” He quipped sarcastically.

“That’s not fair, Spencer.” You had anticipated such a response but your heart dropped anyway when you heard it. “It’s not just about that and you know it. I just miss my husband- all of him.”

“Things change.” He mumbled.

“Well, will they ever change back?” You snapped a little. “Tell me right now, can I get my husband back? Matter of fact, do you even want to come back?”

Your eyes betrayed you with a steady stream of tears pouring down your reddened cheeks.

“Do you still want me?” Your voice quivered, praying he wouldn’t take this opportunity to shatter you completely.

“Yes. I do.” He answered simply though there was an air of conflict about him. “I’ve loved being your husband. I just, I- not now. I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

He shook his head and paced out to the hall, shutting the living room door loudly once he was safely inside.

Your blood began to boil. All the grace and understanding you’d shown him this year and he couldn’t even finish a conversation without running away like a coward.

“You bastard. Come back here right now, Reid.” You barked out, running after him. “Or so help me God-.”

“You’ll do what?” He opened up, lean figure resting against the door frame. ”You gonna kill me, honey?”

“I just might!” You shrieked frustratedly. “I’m so unbelievably sick of you doing nothing but sulking and feeling sorry for yourself. Enough is enough. Wake up and smell the fucking flowers!” You crossed your arms, exasperated and a small smirk spread across his handsome face. “You’re smiling.”

“Such good attention to detail. This is exactly why I married you.” He winked and you slapped his arm a little too forcefully. “Yes, I’m smiling. You’re adorable when you’re bratty.”

“If being at my wits end with you means being a brat then yes, I’m the biggest brat in the world!” You started bawling- you knew it was irrational but you were too sensitive and overwhelmed with emotion to let his teasing slide.

“I know, I know. It’s okay, shh.” He pulled you in close, pressing your delicate head against his chest. “Come on, my love. You know I can’t stand seeing you cry.”

“How come you’ve been letting me do it every night, then?” You whimpered, pitiful words swallowed by the fabric of his white work shirt.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” He looked down at you, a noxious blend of guilt and sympathy flickering in his tired eyes. “I-I thought you understood.”

“Understood what?” You let out a muffled murmur as you drew in his heady scent, the musky cologne combined with his sweat soothing your overwrought senses.

“That even though I’m in a dark place-” He lowered his face until you felt his hot breath against your flushed cheeks. “It doesn’t, for a single second, mean that I don’t love you.”

“Really?” You gazed up at him lamentably. “It was starting to feel that way, li-like nothing I did was good enough.”

“I’m sorry.” He almost winced, his regret tangible in how tightly he held you. “It’s not you, you’re perfect. You’ve been patient and understanding and I’ve completely put our marriage on the back burner….there’s no excuse.” He fell back into the sofa, pulling you down into his lap as he gently spoke.

“God it was just the weight of it all- the weight of how long it was taking me to shake it off. The longer it took, the more I felt like a failure and I couldn’t stand coming home to you every night and disappointing you. Seeing the unfalteringly hopeful look on your face and knowing it’d be wiped off after one conversation with me…I started avoiding you.”

“Spence…” You wilted like a flower at his confession.

“But that was selfish, I know that.” He took your face in his hands and professed earnestly. “I can’t apologise enough, my love.”

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” Your heart leapt as your husband’s familiar warmth flooded you- and while you were grateful to get a glimpse of the old Spencer, you were also confused by the abrupt shift in his demeanour- if not suspicious.

“Honestly? You getting pissed off flipped a switch in me.” He looked just as puzzled as you at the admission. “All this time you haven’t gotten mad once- even when you’re upset, you’re always sweet. I guess it took you acting out of character to make me see just how badly I’ve been treating you. You brought me to my senses by threatening me.”

“And I’ll make good on that threat if you keep shutting me out.” You wagged a finger at him and he chuckled, clasping your hand and planting a soft kiss over it.

“If I ever talk to you like that again, you have my full permission to kill me.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You scowled at him playfully and he patted your damp cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, drying the remnants of your tears.

“I was reading my journal from our college days last night.” He admitted as you soaked up how good it felt to be in his arms again.

“I knew that dusty old green thing looked familiar!” You bit your lip to contain the smile about to burst through. “Why were you looking through that?”

“I needed a reminder of what kind of man I vowed to be. To stay true to that little nerd who couldn’t believe his luck when he got to marry you.” He pressed his forehead against yours as he filled your head with words you’d spent the last 6 months dreaming about. “If you’ll have me, I’d love to sleep in our bed again tonight.”

“You mean it, Spence? You really don’t have to if you don’t-“

“No, I really do. You’re my home, baby. And I’ve been away from home for too long.” He pulled you in closer until his lips gently met yours, kissing you so sweetly you thought you might melt.

“God, I missed you.” You whispered as a shudder ran down your spine, his touch proving to be too much after you’d spent so long deprived.

“I missed you more. I promise I’ll make it up to you. For all my mistakes.” He cooed but you weren’t even paying attention, all your focus centred on the dizzying way his large palm stroked your back.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He whispered, nudging his shoulder against your own.

“Mhm…” You moaned lazily, allowing him to drag you up and guide you into the comfort of your bedroom, which instantly seemed more welcoming now that you knew he was finally joining you.

“There, all tucked in.” He beamed after stuffing the edges of the duvet beneath your languid body. “I just need to change and brush my teeth, I’ll be right in.” He kissed your forehead and sauntered over to the adjoining bathroom.

Before you could surrender to sleep, you pawed clumsily at the nightstand in search of your phone, overcome with the urge to message your mother- you just had to let her know she was wrong. Composing a text to assure her your marriage was no longer in danger, you sent it through with a satisfied sigh. Unexpectedly, the screen lit up not a moment after you’d put it down, accompanied by a quiet chirp that let you know she had sent one back.

“Don’t let your guard down. Guilt is a powerful thing.” Her ominous words pulsed off the screen and left you feeling queasy.

“Remember what I said. Look for the signs.” A second text flashed across the screen.

You dropped the phone with a shaky clatter, as if your hands couldn’t wait to be rid of the thing. How could she remain insistent that Spencer had been cheating when he’d given next to no indication of it? You would’ve chalked it all down to her longstanding aversion to him and fallen into a peaceful slumber- if it wasn’t for the muttering you heard coming from the other side of the bathroom door.

Like a jumpy cat, you raised yourself against the headboard at once and listened with bated breath. Struggling to make out a complete sentence as the running water smothered his words, you cautiously crept over to the door and ever so slightly pressed your ear against it.

“I appreciate that but I can’t. We’ll have to reschedule.” Spencer’s muffled voice rang out, sounding slightly stressed. “No, I’m not thinking about leaving. I know I need you. Yes. Everything’s fine, I’m just not free tonight.”

You let out an exasperated breath, in pure disbelief over what you’d overheard. Before you could gather your thoughts, the tap stopped running and you heard the sound of shuffling footsteps, prompting you to leap into bed and swathe yourself amongst the covers.

“You asleep already, baby?” He whispered when he emerged from the bathroom, pressing his warm, pyjama-clad body flat against yours. You said nothing, remaining as still as a church mouse as he cosily nestled his face into the crook of your neck and dozed off. While your husband enjoyed the best sleep he’d had in the better part of a year, you spent the remainder of the night staring into the expanse of your dark ceiling, paralysed with fear.

A Saturday morning was usually yours and Spencer’s favourite day of the week; it meant you could sleep in, have breakfast in bed and make love until noon all in glorious succession. This particular Saturday was markedly different- partly because Spencer had been called into work- and partly because you couldn’t go a second without driving yourself crazy thinking about his affair.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Hotch is insisting he needs the whole team together.” Spencer rolled his eyes as he hopped around in a struggle to get his socks on. You sat up in bed and nodded complacently, not wanting to set off any alarm bells to your profiler husband. “Hey babe?” He asked, fiddling with his tie.

“Hm?” You smiled innocuously.

“How would you feel if you had to start working again?” He bit his lip and looked at you, full of intrigue. “Would you manage?”

“Umm, I-I don’t know.” You stuttered, caught off guard completely by his question. “Why do you ask?”

“Didn’t you have dreams? Goals you wanted to accomplish?” He asked sincerely and a thinly veiled panic began to rise in you.

“Sure, I guess. I didn’t plan on abandoning them but- I don’t know, life got in the way and other things took priority.”

“Hm. Okay.” He looked absorbed in thought as he grabbed his blazer. “I’ve got to run- how about I meet you for dinner at that new steakhouse in town? We’ve got a lot of things to discuss.”

“We do?” You gulped.

“I know I do.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead as you desperately tried to read his body language. “See you later.”

“Bye, honey.” You choked out as he breezed out the door, leaving you with bile rising up your throat.

You hated to admit it, but your mother was right.

“And-and then he told her he needed her!” You blubbed down the phone when you finally plucked up the courage to call her later that day. “And don’t you dare say you told me so!”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Your mother retorted dishonestly.

“But that’s not all- before he left this morning, he was asking me how I’d feel if I had to start working again!” You whined, your body racked with so much anxiety it made you nauseous.

“He’s trying to gauge how you’d cope if you no longer had him to financially rely on.” She sighed knowingly. “He’s trying to subconsciously prepare you. It’s almost thoughtful- in his own strange, dysfunctional way. Typical Spencer.”

“You really think this is it? He’s done with me?” You sniffed, desperately hanging onto the last thread of hope. “This might just all be a big misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I mean, the late nights, the phone call, the interrogation about your career. And the spontaneous apologetic outburst. It’s clear to see he’s bursting at the seams with guilt.” She tutted, feigning sympathy- but you knew she’d been waiting for Spencer to slip up for years. As much as it might have pained her to see her daughter like this, the satisfaction of knowing Spencer was almost out of her life outweighed the anguish.

“So now what do I do?” You whinged, the last thread snapped.

“You’re going to dress up in the tightest outfit you have, drive down to that restaurant and tell him you want a divorce.” She instructed with her signature self-assured candidness.

“B-but I don’t want a divorce.” You mumbled meekly, acutely aware of how pitiable you sounded.

“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice.”

Her words resounded in your aching brain as you rummaged through your closet looking for an outfit that fit the brief, ultimately settling on a satin black mini dress- Spencer’s favourite.

Driving to the restaurant rehearsing your parting words was nothing short of excruciating. You adored your husband just as much as you did the day you first met; spotting him in that lecture hall, shiny brown hair slicked back as he twiddled a pen between his spindly fingers and scrunched his eyebrows up in displeasure at the set text. It was like a bolt of lightning struck you- love at first sight.

How did you get to the point of divorce? Your brain was racked with potential guesses as to where along the line you lost him. Were you not interesting enough? You wanted to get your career back on track but you assumed Spencer would prefer a stay-at-home wife. Is that where you went wrong? Perhaps some woman at work was more engaging, perhaps he had more mutual interests with her than his boring wife.

Pulling into the parking lot, you braced yourself to head for the entrance and find your soon-to-be ex-husband. Who would get the car in the divorce? He paid for it so you supposed the courts would award it to him.

“Oh God.” You muttered under your breath, head spinning as you waited inside for a hostess. If you went by that logic, you’d be left with nothing.

“Do you have a reservation?” The young worker hobbled over breathlessly.

“Uh- probably, under a Mr Reid.” You twiddled your thumbs as she searched her database.

“Oh, he’s already been seated, just down there.” She pointed in his direction and you saw the back of his head, luscious curls nestling around the base of his neck. You sighed, he was going to be a tough one to get over.

“Baby, there you are.” He rose from his seat to plant a quick kiss on your cheek and as always, pull out your chair. Where were you going to find someone as gentlemanly as him? “Are you okay?”

“Sure.” You managed a small smile though you were sure he saw right through it.

“I’ve already ordered us some wine, they had that white zinfandel you like.” He said, pouring you a glass.

“Trying to get me drunk, Reid?” You swirled the liquid around, inhaling the sweet aroma.

“From half a bottle?” He chuckled nervously, your mannerisms already causing suspicion. “No, I want you sober for tonight.”

“That’s unkind.” You muttered unintelligibly, knocking back your glass in one go.

“Woah, slow down.” He cautioned as you clinked your glass against the bottle, prompting him to hesitantly pour you another.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes, great. What did you need to talk to me about?” You braced yourself for impact.

“Okay, well, I know it would be a big change but just hear me out. I think in the long run, it’d be better for you if-“

“Actually, no. Everything’s not okay.” You slurred, the alcohol already impairing your senses.

“Oh? What’s the matter?” He asked anxiously, fidgeting with his wedding band.

“I want a divorce.” You blurted out tastelessly.

“You- what?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he blinked rapidly. “A divorce?”

“You heard me.” You gulped, trying your hardest to be stern even though you were about to fall apart. “You’ve run out of chances with me.”

“Baby, what? I-I know it’s been rocky but I thought we talked it through? You seemed just fine last night, I don’t understand.” He shook his head, eyebrows raised so high a painful-looking row of wrinkles stacked up on his forehead.

“I thought we were fine too, but I was wrong.” You took another glug of liquid courage as you avoided eye contact, knowing you would cave if you took even one glance at his big, round eyes.

“I know I don’t have much room to complain after what I’ve put you through but can’t we at least talk about it first?” He pleaded, heart jumping out of his chest.

“What is there to talk about, Spencer? You couldn’t come to me so you closed yourself off and found comfort in another woman- God knows how long this has been going on while I’ve been here pining after you like an idiot-“

“What?” He raised his hand, signalling you to pause your rambling.

“Don’t play dumb, I know you’ve been cheating on me.” You scoffed, determined not to fall victim to his gaslighting.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His mournful expression was replaced by one of bewilderment.

“I heard you last night on the phone to her. Who is she?” You cocked your head, a little smug over the fact that you’d caught him- what kind of a genius calls his mistress while his wife’s next door?

To your surprise, Spencer broke out into a laugh, taking his head into his hands as he shook it in relief. “You got me, baby. You caught me.” He smiled dazedly.

“I did, so I don’t know why you’re smiling.” You scowled.

“You caught me talking to my therapist.” He shot you an unimpressed glare. “I started seeing her 2 weeks ago and I didn’t want to tell you in case it didn’t work out. I didn’t want you getting your hopes up. But Jesus, baby. Divorce? That’s where you landed?”

“It’s not just that!” You jumped to your own defence. “How do you explain all the late nights at work- and that conversation we had this morning about my career?”

“That’s what I was going to talk to you about today. I got you a job.” He stated.

“Huh? Why?” You gawked, hesitant to believe anything he said.

He took a deep breath, shuffling his chair a little closer and taking your hand.

“Look, baby, I know you try your hardest to be a great wife. Too hard, if anything, and you’ve always been exceptional and far too good for me. As much as I love your dedication, you need to think about your own needs and prioritise those for a change. It’s no secret that you’ve been feeling unfulfilled for a while now, I can see it from a mile away. I should’ve addressed it sooner but, well, you know.”

“Spence?” You shook your head in uncertainty, wondering how you could’ve been so wrong.

“I should’ve never let you give your career up. I should’ve pushed you harder but I just loved having you at home all the time, it’s selfish, I know. My job is stressful but it gives me a sense of purpose, one I know you crave.” He explained, trying not to giggle at your awestruck face and your inability to form a single sentence. “What I’m saying is, I want to see you reignite that old passion you had. How would you feel about joining me in the BAU?”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for his admission and tears of shock and immense relief began coursing down your face. “Spencer, I can’t believe this.”

“In hindsight, I should’ve talked to you about it first but I thought it might be a nice surprise- I’m an idiot, you don’t have to take it, of course, if you don’t want to.” He backtracked, suddenly aware of how flawed his plan was.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a very long time.” You uttered softly.

“R-really? You want to do it?” He raised his eyebrows in that adorably curious way of his.

“I don’t know how you managed to figure out I wanted a job before I did, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Yes, I want to do it.” You nodded, too consumed with excitement to mull over your embarrassingly wrong assumptions.

“Now, it’s only a low-level position for the time being, just to ease you into the transition but you have the potential to-“

“I’ll be with you.” You smiled simply.

“Yes, for the most part. I thought it’d be a good way to spend more time together- not including the times when I’d have to fly out and can’t take you with me yet, although-“

“Spencer.” You interrupted him. “Thank you.”

“Well, of course. Anything for you.” He squeezed your hands and you felt the anxiety throb away. “Can’t believe you thought I was cheating.”

“You gave me some major indicators!” You scrunched your face up awkwardly. “And my mother pointed out that-“

“Ah, there we go.” He sighed, unimpressed. “That woman has had it out for me for the better part of a decade.”

“Sorry, baby, you know she has a talent for burrowing inside my head.” You confessed shyly, aware you should’ve known better.

“I’m going to talk to her.” Spencer declared.

“Huh?”

“First thing tomorrow, we’re going to her house and I’m throwing it all out there. After a decade of pent-up resentment, it’s time.”

Spencer usually avoided your mother at all costs, electing to work overtime on weekends when she decided to visit and often coming down with mysterious ailments during the holidays that prevented him from attending her get-togethers.

“Can’t wait to see how that turns out.” You chuckled gleefully. “And therapy, baby? Wow. I’m so proud of you.”

“I was sceptical at first but I think it’s helping- I’m learning to compartmentalise the issues and most importantly, not take them out on you.” He stared into your eyes and your breath hitched; even after so many years, he had a way of making you feel impossibly shy.

“You sound like a new man, Mr Reid.” You teased, the wine floating around your bloodstream in a way that made you deliciously fuzzy.

“It’s all because of you, Mrs Reid.” A smirk tugged at his lips.

“So we’re really okay?” You asked in disbelief, immeasurably relieved that the rollercoaster seemed to be at an end. “What now?”

“I’ll tell you.” He drawled in a softly seductive tone. “We’re going to order dinner and dessert, I’m going to get you a little too drunk.” He dropped his hand to your thigh, trailing up it as he spoke. “And then I’m going to take you home and fuck you.”

“Oh.” You squeaked, breaking into tingles at the prospect.

“That sound good, doll?” He kneaded your inner thigh and you felt your body go numb as words failed you. “I thought so.”

Seeing that the bottle on your table was glisteningly empty, Spencer beckoned over a waiter.

“Give me your most expensive wine.” He smirked while ordering. “We’re celebrating.”

Although he was a law-abiding federal agent, Spencer ran more than a few red lights that evening given the ravenous way his wife stared at him from the passenger seat, crawling out of her skin with the desire to touch him. As soon as he pulled into the driveway, you were both in a desperate rush to get inside. You clawed at Spencer’s shirt while he shakily tried to unlock the door, trembling with anticipation.

“H-hang on, baby.” The sound of clinking keys mixed with his groans. “God…”

You left messy, wet kisses all down his neck as he finally pushed the door open, taking you into his arms and guiding you indoors.

“Right- mm, here.” You whined between kisses, gesturing at the sofa as you kicked your heels off.

“My desperate girl, can’t even wait long enough to get to the bedroom.” He teased as he pushed you down onto the couch, hooking onto the waistband of your tights with his bony fingers and slowly dragging them down your legs- leaving small kisses down your thighs and calves in the process.

You let out impatient whimpers as he folded your dress up over itself and dragged down your panties.

“Were these your ‘I’m a strong woman’ divorce panties?” He chuckled as he yanked the tiny lace garment off your feet and threw it behind him.

“I needed as much confidence as I could muster.” You pulled him closer by the tie for a heated kiss. “I was about to lose the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You could never lose me.” He stared into your eyes with a dizzying intensity that made all the blood rush to your heat. “You’re my wife…” He drawled huskily as he ripped the front panel of your dress open. “Until the day I die.” Looping his fingers around it, he tore the material further with a loud tug, leaving your bare tits bouncing out of the tight fabric. “You jump to conclusions like it’s a full-time job.” He pressed his lips against your hot skin. “But I love you.” You wanted to laugh but a moan escaped your lips instead when he wrapped his tongue around one nipple, grasping the other with a rough hand. “And my God, do you have the best tits I’ve ever seen.”

You raked your fingers through his thick, messy hair as you squirmed beneath him, sure that if he made you wait any longer you’d start crying.

“Patience, baby. You’ll get it.” He whispered, dragging his lips down your body and leaving goosebumps in his wake. He left sloppy, open-mouth kisses along your thighs, so near your heat you could feel his warm breath fanning it.

“P-please, Spence, please.” You muttered, bucking your hips to close the distance between you.

“You know I always give my girl what she wants.” He breathed heavily, snaking his arms around your shaky hips and tugging you closer to drag his tongue across your clit. You melted into the sofa as he sucked on your most sensitive spot, locking you into an unescapable vice with his strong arms.

“Mmh…” You threw your head back, still squirming as he ate you with such passion and hunger that you committed every godless detail to memory. His hair became increasingly dishevelled as you twisted it into messy knots, fidgeting with the curls as he licked broad stripes up your clit with fanatical force.

“Fuck, fuck…” You grew delirious as he sped up, legs trembling from how good he was making you feel; you desperately pressed yourself further against his mouth, wanting to be devoured until there was nothing left.

“Can-can I, please, can you- oh God.” You rambled nonsensically as he showed no sign of slowing down, worshipping you with his tongue until you felt like blacking out. He groaned in approval as he flitted across your wet slit aggressively, knowing it pushed you over the brink every time. It had been months since he’d had you wrapped around his neck like this, panting in that slutty way that drove him wild- and as much as he wanted to savour it, he couldn’t wait much longer to have you. As you pushed his head down, he sucked so sloppily that the sounds emanating were nothing short of pornographic.

“Spencer!” You moaned out sinfully while you came, gripping his shoulders with your thighs as you dissolved into a mushy, whiney mess. Your hips twitched as he pulled away from you, wiping the drool from his mouth with the sleeve of his collared shirt.

“No need to yell, I’m right here.” He grinned, deriving great pleasure from seeing you fall apart.

“Oh God, I’ve forgotten how good you are that.” You winced, trembling from the force of your release.

“I’ll make sure you never forget again.” He smirked into the kiss as he pressed his lips against yours, barely giving you any time to come to as he ripped off the remnants of your dress. “Sorry about that, doll- I’ll buy you a new one.”

“It was my divorce dress, I never would’ve worn it again.” You giggled as you helped him out of his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers, desperate to feel him inside you. Your back arched instinctively as soon as you felt the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit; your head rolled back as you felt him slide in teasingly slow, letting you feel every last inch as he spread you apart and scattered sensual kisses down your neck. An obscene moan left your lips when he buried himself as deep inside you as he could.

“Spence, fuck, I don’t know if- ah.” You struggled to get the words out as he stared down at you with amusement. “Too big, I-“

“A few months without my dick and you’ve forgotten how to take it?” He jeers, a twisted smile radiating from him. “That’s no good at all, baby. We’re gonna have to teach you all over again.”

You bit your lip to conceal the whimper that threatened to spill as you nodded obediently, hanging off his every word.

“Breathe.” He pulled out by just an inch or two, ensuring you would barely notice before slowly pushing his hips forward and plunging himself to the hilt.

His hair dangled over his forehead, the unruly locks almost tickling you as he hovered above you, waiting for you to adjust to his thick length.

“Mm…” You peeped, looking at him coyly like butter wouldn’t melt.

“Yeah?” He whispered, nudging his nose against yours before you nodded. With the thousands of times you’d made love, he knew the meaning of every subtle cue and whimper; he knew you were often too shy to speak so he let you get away with using your varying whines as a form of communication. His dirty talk overwhelmed you, leaving you flustered and speechless- and he knew just how much you loved it.

Spencer pulled out half his length this time, grabbing you by the jaw to hold you lovingly as he thrusted in and out, making sure to look you in the eyes as his swollen cock massaged your walls. Ever the shy one, you tried averting eye contact and looking away from his intense glare but he gently guided you back with a firm hand. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he made love to you, your twisted eyebrows and parted lips too sweet to ignore.

You cried out when his thrusts grew rougher, panting heavily as he fucked you even harder than you remembered.

“You can take it, baby.” He cooed as he fucked you deep and slow. “I know you can.” He pulled out almost all the way before plunging his cock back in, coated in glistening arousal. “Deep breaths for me, doll.” He breathed with you, setting a tempo as you struggled to get anything but your whorish moans out.

“You like it when I stretch this little pussy out?” He groaned, wet flesh and skin smacking against hip bone. “Yeah you do.” He smirked as your cheeks flushed red at his lewd words. “How were you going to go through with a divorce? You can’t even tell me you like the way I fuck you.”

“Spencer!” You gasped, partly at his vulgarity and partly at the way his tip just brushed against your deepest spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“What, baby?” His hands trailed their way down to your hips as he sat up, gripping the handles of your body tightly as he fucked you onto himself. “We both know you could never find someone who fucks you this good again. Who pounds into your cunt exactly the way you need it.” Your jaw dropped at his crude words- he’d always had a penchant for making you flustered but it was clear that prison had made him even rougher around the edges. As much as you wanted to knock him down a peg, you couldn’t deny the truth to what he’d said; there was no upgrading after Spencer.

“You’re cockier than I remember.” You manage to breathe out, glassy eyes watering with overstimulation.

“And you’re tighter than I remember.” He smirked maniacally as he started rubbing rough circles into your clit, not slowing down the way he was sorely pummelling into you. “Goddamn, angel, you take me so well.” He muttered under his breath as he observed the mouthwatering way in which your pussy swallowed his entire length, gushing with arousal as the wet smacking intensified.

He swooped down to kiss you, swallowing your moans with his eager mouth as he pushed your knees against your chest. “You feel that?” He shuddered, guiding your hand to your stomach where his member was poking through the flesh, leaving an imprint.

“Uh huh.” You panted.

“You like having my cock this deep in your guts?” In an unexpected move, he pressed down on your lower stomach as you nodded to his question desperately. You screamed in blinding ecstasy as you reached your peak, the borderline cruel way in which Spencer continued pounding against your sweet spot proving too much to take.

“Look at that, I got my answer.” He licked his lips at the sight of his cock glazed in creamy arousal as he pulled out with a groan. You lay motionless on the cushy sofa, limbs numb as you noticed the scowl Spencer was sporting on his chiselled face, small beads of sweat running down his temples.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled darkly.

“Resting?” You upturned your eyebrows sweetly.

Before you could protest, he dragged you down the sofa and turned you over, positioning you to arch your back and expose your throbbing pussy to him.

“You think I’m going to let you get away with one round?” He spanked your ass with a firm, open palm. “I know you’ve been whining about this all the time to your friends. I know how desperate you’ve been for your husband to fuck you. Well, honey- I’ll give you something to talk about.” Before you could respond, he guided his veiny cock into your squishy walls, not giving you any time to adjust to the stretch as he pounded into you from the back.

“Is this what you wanted?” He demanded as he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up, holding your back flush against his body. “You wanted to be fucked like a whore? Answer me.”

“Yes! Yes, Spence, I want it so bad, treat me like a slut.” You surprised yourself with your sinful words, the rough treatment prompting you to act out of character. He pushed you back onto the bed, holding you down as he drilled into you with dizzying speed. The couch squeaked with the force of your face getting pressed into the pillows as you panted so breathily you thought your heart might give out. You bit into the cushions as drool seeped freely from your mouth and wet the dark grey fabric.

“Harder…” You murmured, barely audible.

“What was that?” Spencer asked in disbelief, slowing down a little to make your words out clearly.

“Harder. I want you to fuck me to within an inch of my life.” You confessed sultrily and a dangerous smirk crept across your husband’s face.

“Anything for you.” He was more than happy to comply with your request.

You spent all night tangled up in each other’s bodies, taking turns being mind numbingly rough and tooth achingly sweet. He whispered confessions of love in your ear one minute and he pinned you down hard enough to leave bruises the next. It was, without a doubt, the best night of your life.

Waking up the next day in Spencer’s arms gave you more euphoria than any drug ever could. He smelled of last night’s wine and sweat, intermingled with the floral detergent of your freshly washed sheets.

“Good morning, baby.” He cooed when he saw your eyes flutter open. “Or rather, good afternoon. How’d you sleep?”

“Never better.” Your husky voice replied. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a while.”

“I guess I’ll have to carry you to your mother’s, then.” He chuckled, pulling you in closer so that your head rested on his smooth, bare chest.

��What? You’re not still serious about doing that.” You looked up at him pleadingly.

“Oh, yes I am.” He scolded playfully. “She convinced you I was having an affair and encouraged you to get a divorce. I’d say there’s a conversation to be had there.”

“You know, I really wish you weren’t so respectable sometimes.” You dreaded the prospect of such a confrontation.

“There was nothing respectable about the way I was splitting you open last night.” He countered mischeviously and you rolled your eyes to distract from the blush creeping over your cheeks. “Come on, I’ll buy us breakfast on the way. Get dressed.”

“But Spence!” You tried to argue but he had already climbed out of bed, humming showtunes on his way to the bathroom. With a hefty sigh, you swung your legs round the side of the bed and started searching for your underwear.

“Are you sure? It’s not too late to turn around.” You twiddled your thumbs standing outside your mother’s house, her near-black wooden door looming over you as you waited for her to answer.

“Yes. Stop being a wimp.” Spencer replied just before the door swung open.

“Oh. Hi darling.” She eyed you up before slowly turning her head. “Hello Spencer.”

“There’s my favourite mother-in-law. We thought we’d surprise you with breakfast.” He lifted the brown paper bag containing drive through diner food.

“As if I’d eat that.” She raised her eyebrows contemptously.

“Come on, mom, are you gonna let us in or not?” You piped up after seeing she had no intentions of making things easy for Spencer.

“Yes, fine, in you come.” She opened the door wide and stepped aside, letting you both enter her lavish home.

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” He commented a little snarkily, noticing the extensive remodeling work that had been done.

“Oh yes, we did it last spring. I suppose you haven’t been round for years so you wouldn’t know. Are you avoiding me, Spencer?” She took a seat across from you both in the living room.

“Me? Never. Just like you’d never convince my wife to get a divorce, right?” He quipped and your stomach twisted over how little it took them to start arguing- you’d only just walked in through the door.

“I’ve only ever advocated for what’s best for her.” She stuck her nose up at her son-in-law.

“And why are you so certain that’s not me?” He snapped, genuine curiousity tinging his voice.

“You’re not good enough.” She replied with a resoluteness that must’ve hurt.

“Why, mom? What’s so bad about Spence?” You asked.

“He’s just not who you were supposed to end up with. You were not meant to give up your life to be a housewife to a mediocre man.” She answered simply, like she didn’t even have to think about it.

“So you resent him because of my career choices?” You couldn’t help but laugh a little as she shrugged. “Mother, I chose to leave the field. He had nothing to do with it, he supported me-“

“Oh, I bet he did. Having a woman at home to cook and clean must’ve been too tempting of an offer to pass up.” She scratched at her right arm- a leftover habit from the nicotine patches she used years ago. She claimed she quit smoking but you suspected she’d be in dire need of a cigarette after this conversation.

“That’s ridiculous-“

“She’s right.” Spencer interrupted you. “I was more than happy to have you at home. I preferred it, really. And I didn’t say a word even though I knew you were making a mistake, even though I knew it wouldn’t make you happy.”

“See. The pipe cleaner admits it.” She scoffed and you shot her a venomous glare. “Not to mention what you’ve put her through this year.”

“I know I haven’t by any means been a good husband, but I wouldn’t cheat and I’d never want a divorce. I’m trying to make things right.” He confessed earnestly.

“How?” She scowled, clearly believing him to be beyond redemption.

“He got me a job at the BAU.” You chimed in, wanting to see the smugness wiped off her face.

“And I’m seeing a therapist.” Spencer continued. “I’m determined to be better.”

She sat there in silence, incapable as always of expressing any remorse.

“I love your daughter and I’m not going anywhere. I’d like it very much if we could somehow start over.” He shot her those puppy dog eyes of his and you sincerely believed if she didn’t give in, she must be the only woman in the world immune to his charms.

“Alright. Alright, Spencer.” She sighed after a short contemplation. “If my little girl is happy, I suppose I have no choice.”

“The bastard actually managed it.” You thought as you witnessed his beaming smile flood the room with light, his vibrancy so infectious you knew even your mother noticed.

“Glad to hear it, mom.” He joked and she choked on the water she had begun to sip.

“Don’t push it.”

“Told you it’d all work out.” He said excitedly while he opened the car door for you, practically skipping out of your mother’s house.

“I know, and she actually invited you round?!” You shook your head in disbelief as he started the engine and drove away from her gated residence.

“Maybe we’ll make these trips a weekly habit.” He suggested, resting his hand soundly on your thigh.

“Not every week. I need some alone with my handsome husband.” You gushed, admiring his perfect side profile.

“You must have me confused with someone else, lady.” He chuckled as he switched on the radio. “Oh my God, baby! This song!”

“No way, I haven’t heard this since, since-“

“That time in college.” He winked at you and you threw your head back in laughter, precious memories flooding your mind as the familiar pop tune hummed on.

“Yeah. That was the first and last time we ever do it on a carnival pedal boat.”

“Hey, never say never- I see a lake right over there.” He pointed out the window as you drove by.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” You slapped his arm playfully. “Those days are behind us, we’re old and boring now.”

“If this is boredom, sign me up for eternity.” A warm smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“God, I love you, Spencer Reid.”

“I love you even more, Mrs Reid.”

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #matthew gray gubler

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daycourtofficial · 3 months

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I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part III

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 1k | warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

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Feyre laughed as Rhysand had told her about Cassian’s most recent disastrous hookup. The female came by the townhouse, knocking furiously before stalking inside past the entire family, and serenaded all of them in song in hopes of finding true love with Cassian.

Rhys had to politely escort her out before telling Cassian to please limit his dating life to females who did not have singing ambitions.

Feyre’s voice was soft as they sat at the table, Rhys waving to the waiter to fill up their wine glasses. “What about Azriel? Does he have any awkward hookup stories?”

Rhys’s shoulders locked up at her question, swallowing harshly as he looked down to his glass. The light air between them sank quickly, the uncomfortable silence making Feyre antsy as the waiter topped off their glasses.

“No. No he does not.”

That conversation was all Feyre had known for a long, long time about Azriel’s love life. For years she would look up to find him watching her and Rhysand, Cassian and Nesta, and eventually Elain and Lucien, his eyes not lingering for long before quickly looking away. For years she had wanted to ask, but everytime she had the chance, she dropped the subject.

She watched for so long as Azriel adored his friends, never extending that adoration to anyone outside of the Inner Circle.

Once she had broached the subject with Cassian, playfully suggesting to him the two of them should set Azriel up on a date. Cassian had sobered up immediately, looking directly at Feyre before telling her simply, “do not ever make such suggestions again.”

Until today.

Feyre had walked into the foyer, expecting her mate and brother-in-law to be there. Rhys had tugged on their bond, but hadn’t sent words of explanation to her. Blue eyes moved between Azriel and Rhysand before landing on the female between them, brows quirked at the sight of her. She was pretty - an Illyrian nose and lips, dark curls down her back. Her ears were the first giveaway - sharpy, pointed tips that had dark curls tucked behind them. When she opened her eyes, violet eyes met Feyre’s, the High Lady didn’t have to wait for Rhys’s voice to fill in the gaps. The similar features to her mate would have been enough to give it away, if it weren’t also for the fact Feyre had just completed a set of portraits for Rhys - one to honor his deceased mother and sisters.

She just had them hung up in the drawing room three doors away.

Feyre took in the way they were both keeping some distance from her, but Azriel’s body was slightly in front of hers, ready to push her back if necessary. As if anyone, even Feyre, could be a threat.

She looked to her mate and watched the way his eyes kept flitting to her back at the empty space behind her, his hand lifting slightly and hovered over her back before his eyes met Feyre’s.

Don’t tell her who we think she is.

Feyre wanted to ask him what the hell was going on, but the female in front of them moved forward, bowing at the waist deeply before addressing her. “High Lady.”

Rhys wanted to roll his eyes, the action a repeated one whenever you two bickered.

“My apologies, your grace.”

The bend of your waist just so, barely perceptible, a subtle way of saying this is obligation, not respect.

“Alright, asshole.”

The memory would have made him laugh if he weren’t watching it play out again before him. Feyre cleared her throat, moving forward and extending a hand out. “Welcome to our home.”

You took her hand, a firm grip that made Feyre nod. Rhys’s voice was soft in Feyre’s mind, we thought it might be better for you to show her around.

Feyre masked the surprise she felt, instead offering an elbow out to you. “May I show you around?”

Everything inside of Azriel vibrated as he had to stay in place, a mere observer as Feyre escorted you down the hallway, his restraint on his shadows loosening once you were out of sight. The dark tendrils slithered across the room, shadows clumped in the spots you were, basking in your scent. Several of them made their way to the path you took with Feyre, leaving footprints in your wake.

“Feyre won’t let anything happen to her.”

Azriel’s eyes were practically black as he gazed at Rhysand, his throat dry as he spoke, the first words he had spoken since seeing you in that bar.

“It’s her, I know it is.”

And before Rhys could respond, Azriel disappeared into a swarm of shadows, several still lingering in his absence. Rhys watched them swirl about the room, watching them flit about in all the places you had been.

Azriel rematerialized in a place long untouched, his shadows slinking off of him and coating the ground at the comfort they felt at being back. The sounds of the Sidra helped drown out the ringing in his head as he walked the overgrown path, his shadows attempting to push down some of the grass to make his movements easier. His feet grew heavier with each step, making his way through the wards and the threshold, until the shadowsinger found himself standing in the front hallway of the house.

From here, he could see a sliver of the living room and of the kitchen. It was a limited view - one he spent many nights taking in, allowing his shadows to echo your voice through the house, allowing himself just one moment to play pretend.

From this vantage point, he couldn’t see who was inside the house. If he took a step forward, he would see the empty couches, the layers of dust that had accumulated since his last visit. He would see how dark and lifeless this place had come to be with only him to fill the space.

But he can’t see all of that yet. Instead his feet planted themselves in the spot, his shadows carrying your voice around like a song.

Because for the first time in centuries, they finally had new notes to play.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers

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series taglist: @doodlebugg16-blog @ceoofyearning @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @willowpains @anarchii @i-am-infinite @bsenpai @sstrohma @teenagellamaangel @allthatisbuck1917

Thanks for reading ❣️

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel x y/n #i got cursed like eve got bitten

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mooishbeam · 1 year

Text

『♡』 Obey Me

♡ featuring: kaeya x f!reader

♡ summary: you learn your lesson for disrespecting the calvary captain wc: 4.1k+ (i am so sorry)

♡ cw/tw: wax play, humiliation, degradation, sex toys, dacryphilia, rough sex, hard dom, overstim, orgasm torture, edging, bondage, squirting, pet play if you squint, kaeya is kind of an asshole, pet names (dove, pretty girl, sweetie)

notes: idk how the word count did that I'm too silly. feral kaeya does something to me tbh. n e way I promise a shorter one next time hehe. art by ttalby_ on ig <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Kaeya isn’t used to feeling like this.

The interesting days of tasks and adventitious missions superseded his need for activities outside of the Knights of Favonius. He often stumbled—more so, needlessly interjected—into petty situations. He lived for theatrics, an audience to indulge emotion and intimacy in its most vulnerable state. A man who solves the problems of the public before his own knew neither authentic nor genuine connection. Kaeya was well aware of how easily he made hearts swoon, with a silver tongue and attractive timbre, a mask imperceptible. When you arrived as an apprentice for the 6th Company, he assumed you’d be just as easy, just as captivated. You were anything but. You barely acknowledged his existence for the first year, and he’d be wrong to say your lack of dalliance didn’t chip away at his self-esteem.

Something egotistical in him wanted your attention. Romantic prospects were dispensable to him, but you had to know who he was. After all, who doesn’t love the Calvary Captain?

Just for fun he told himself, as you became the first person to turn him flushed and sow seeds of doubt surrounding love in his heart. Kaeya finally managed to achieve your regard and all you asked for was his name. The audacity of you, to ask the captain who he is? He nearly busted out laughing. He gently held your hand and kneeled to kiss it, maintaining eye contact throughout.

“Kaeya, my dear.”

You were surprised to find him waiting for you outside the headquarters one day, handsome navy strands haloed in confidence, a delicate flower and perfumed letter in hand. Kaeya watched you read it in silence, his poem dedicated to you, requesting a date. You couldn’t help but smile at his charm, despite his sweaty palms as he awaited your answer. An accumulation of the little things; the bouquet of roses he bought you weekly, so you’d always have a fresh one, making sure you were always hydrated, his ability to make you laugh in trying times. You were both full of adoration, though he wouldn’t admit how invested he was. The only person who glimpsed the truth was Diluc. Kaeya rambled in his drunken stupor at the tavern, and Diluc sighed at the overdramatic sonnet. “My heart beats for her like no other. Will this be my fate? My Greek tragedy?” he mumbled through hiccups.

As your relationship blossomed, work withered. An emerging problem reared its ugly head. Your assignments consumed your daily life and dwindled the moments spent with Kaeya. In the beginning stages of dating he understood, exuding nothing but patience and encouraging words. He didn’t expect you to drop work for him, and he was willing to accommodate the hectic schedule. Romantic gestures were limited to light caresses or kisses, clandestine sessions in abandoned alleyways. Frequent dates reduced to a couple a week, then a month, then none. The worst instances were when you assured Kaeya you’d arrive, only to call him a couple hours later with a tired apology, still stuck at your office. You promised him you’d make time for yourself and practice self-care, but it was evident you weren’t listening to his advice. You were no stranger to quickies, kindly offering them to Kaeya if he ever needed “destressing”. But the captain was never a fan of rushed affairs. He wanted desperately to share extended time with you, and you had none to give. It became easier to lie than to admit how overworked you were.

Kaeya didn’t come to headquarters today, but you recall the conversation from the previous night.

“Mm, I’m missing my little dove. Think you can come see me?” he said, tilting your chin up to meet his loving gaze.

“Of course. I don’t have a lot of work tomorrow so I should be done early.”

“Great. I’ll make dinner for us. Be at my place by 8, okay?” You agreed to the timeframe.

Now that you’re comprehending the incomplete documents strewn across your desk, you regret your conviction. You shouldered the weight of everyone in your division. It’s getting close to the date, and you’ve barely scratched the surface. You fumble for concentration, anchoring down to finish the rest of the list. You make haste and shove the papers at Hertha. I still have time to get there you thought. Glancing up at the clock as you dart out the building, your eyes widen at what it reads. 10:15 pm.

Fuck. You’re running now, skirt bouncing and bag rustling, navigating busy streets with an uneasy mind. Once again you promised, and once again you broke it. How could you be so careless? You catch your breath when your hand contacts the door. You relax before giving a few light knocks. The door swings open.

Kaeya’s hair is free from its usual constraints, draping down his back and shoulders, wispy bangs hugging his sharp features. He’s clearly pissed reclining against the doorframe. He stares at you with his arms folded in front of the parted button down that peaks into the muscular, scarred chest underneath.

“Kaeya, I-”

“Get inside.” He turns and walks to the kitchen. You follow him inside and take note of the cold portion of a beautiful plate—presumably your meal—sitting on the table. He swishes the nearly finished red wine before taking a sip. You search aimlessly for an acceptable excuse while he leans against the table with his hand, glass in the other, eyes trained to the floor. Each second of silence simmering makes your stomach knot tighter, and he lets you stand uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry, I... There were a few roads closed in the area. I had to take a different route.” you fib. He gazes at you, panning up and down before forcing a sarcastic smile.

“How unfortunate. Are these the same roads that made you three hours late?" His jaw tightens.

“It was pretty busy today-”

“I’m feeling generous tonight, so I'll give you one more chance to be honest.”

You sighed. “I’m so sorry. There’s been a lot of work lately. It’s not fair to you to deal with my problems.” He scoffs deeply, downing the rest of the glass and sets it on the table.

“If this isn’t working for you, I understand.”

“Oh? Are you suggesting a separation? Not even the gall to try and make it up to me?” he sneers.

“You’re handsome and people like you. It’s not hard to find other options.”

“If it’s not hard, why is the one thing I truly desire so difficult to hold? A petal drifting unpredictable wind, too quick to grasp.” He starts stalking towards you, relaxed but seemingly irritated. The contrast between his words and actions unnerves you.

“How many times must I tell you to take care of yourself, to not let them walk over you, to come to me if you need help?” He gets to you and snakes his calloused hand behind your neck, a firm grip. Yearning lips are inches from yours, his hair tickles your eyelashes.

“Why can’t you just listen to me, (Y/N)? Hmm?” He’s lenient, but you feel a shiver up your back and heat pooling in your stomach, nonetheless.

“I’ll try harder. I promise.” you say, barely above a whisper. The pad of his thumb swirls your cheek.

“I won’t entertain promises. Show me your dedication.”

“What do I do to prove it?” A sadistic grin grows across his face, and lips graze your ear, sultry voice coiling around the shell. Your breath stalls.

“Tonight, I’ll eat you up slowly-” Kaeya peppers soft kisses between the words against your jaw. “-savoring every. Little. Bite.” He trails down to your neck. You're melting in his hold, grabbing his robust arms for anything to stabilize you. "And when I’m picking you apart, and there’s tears in your eyes and you’re begging and you can’t take it anymore-” He drinks up your anticipation, an amused chuckle from the shudder prickling your skin.

“-you’ll sit there and obey me until I'm done. Like a good pet.”

You’re stripped of everything besides your underwear in front of the restlessly eager man. Standing in the center of this candlelit room, you feel miles away from him as he sits fully clothed on the edge of the bed. He’s lax, legs spread with a nonchalant posture; they invite you to kneel between them. Sex with Kaeya was never like this. Though infrequent, your back-alley blowjobs were done with kindness and haste. It was one thing for Kaeya to ogle your mouthwatering figure, another in the humiliating state he constrains you to. Your hands are bound by leather handcuffs that clip to a chunky black collar on both sides, limiting the movement of your wrists to just centimeters away from your face. You could move if you tried to, but the collar locked and tightened around your neck the harder you struggled. In the middle was attached a dangling leash, empty of its owner.

The vibrating lace panties he put you in buzz agonizingly low against your clit, sending gentle bursts to the butt plug filling deep, foreign space in your body. You’re glutted, chafing your thighs together to numb the sweet ache dotting your core.

“C’mere dove.” Kaeya orders, his finger curls in a guiding motion. You take one step assuming his entreat, and he retorts with a tut.

“Aht aht, dogs don’t walk. Get on your knees and crawl to me.” Embarrassment overcomes you as you drop to your knees from the filthy demand. It’s degrading, having to crawl without the use of your arms. You scuffle with balance, and he takes pleasure in playing with the controller. Your rocking rear and wobbly legs find rhythm on the floor through the violent highs and lows of vibration. It was harder due to the position you stumbled in; the bullet teases you in the right spots. You finally reach him, resting your head on his knee, exhausted for what’s to come. He merely pats your head and uses the other to stifle the smug smirk.

“Good puppy. Look at me.” Suddenly, he wraps the leash around his hand and pulls in taut. It snaps your eyes to his lustful expression, a thick aura that encapsulates you, suffocates you in his command. Kaeya zips his pants down to spring his throbbing cock free, a dark brown gradient to the mushroom tip.

“Suck. If you let anything spill, I’ll punish you” he cooes. You lick the pre come away, fixating on the sensitive tip. His breathy sighs show appreciation. You lick in circular motions around it before lolling your tongue and taking all of him between your lips. His girth makes space in your mouth impossible until the head presses the back of your throat. “Ugh, fuck” he groans. Kaeya stands and pulls the leash towards him, enough to nuzzle your nose against his pubes. You gag and slobber over his balls from the constant pressure in your throat, and he keeps you there, watching the tears ball in your eyes, unfazed by your retching pleas. He keeps a firm grip on the back of your head.

“Can you take it?” It’s almost mocking, as if he can’t see the mascara that smears your cheeks and your sweaty, breathless figure. You nod anyway, eager to please. He hums approval before pulling out completely and hammering his length down your throat. His heavy balls smack your chin at a savage pace, and strings of spit connect your puffy lips to his shaft. It’s barbaric and your throat is raw from the impact, but he chases his high. You’re absolutely powerless, your hands can’t even push his thighs back. However, subconsciously it felt nice, to be out of control, at the mercy of someone else using you for their impulse. The whir in your soaking panties feels richer now, tangling in your lower back and clouding your senses. All you smell and feel is him, it was like you never worked a day in your life. Like you were made for this, and this alone. Obscene noises come from your squelching mouth and Kaeya’s broken moans. Fuck and yes are all he can handle through constant whimpers, and you feel him trembling toward his release. He tilts your head to get a better view of you, spit and tears mixed with strands of hair stuck to your skin. You were a mess. But his eyes are solely on you, drenched in adoration and pure love for your trust in him.

“I want this pretty face on me when I come” he whines and speeds up his thrusts before spurting hot, creamy ropes down your throat, painting your mouth white. He twitches wildly on your tongue till rest, and his guttural moans echo in your ears as you hollow your cheeks to suck him clean. A satisfying pop emerges when you free his tip, and he recollects himself. He somehow looks completely untouched, besides the sheen of sweat; the poise of a prince.

Once Kaeya comes to his senses, he eyes the evidence of wetness that soaks through your panties, along with drops of pre come you failed to notice. Truthfully, you tried hard to avoid spilling anything, but the sensations in both your back and front were dizzying. He drawls a dramatic sigh, and loosely fiddles with the leash.

“Didn’t I say not to spill anything?” His words are methodical, weaving enough vitriol to make your blood still at the upcoming punishment. “I’m sorr-”

“You made a mess. Clean it.” He drops the leash and waits. What you assumed to be a towel clean-up was quickly refuted as you felt the tension of his boot press on your upper back. With just enough weight, he forces your body down towards the fluids, arms crossed. You lick it up without complaint. “Good puppy” he praises.

Kaeya picks you up as if you’re featherlight and sets you on the edge of the bed on your stomach. You can’t see what he’s doing, and the silence frightens you. Immediately, the judder of the bullet increases significantly—not enough to make you come, but just enough to torment. You attempt to sway from undying heat between your legs, yet the static overtakes. Unbeknownst to you, the butt plug begins to vibrate, as well. You whine and arch your back involuntarily. You finally hear a deep chuckle from Kaeya. His fingers graze your sopping underwear.

“So naughty, you got like this just from sucking me off?” He pushes the bullet harshly against you. You mewl from the feeling. “Please Kaeya, it’s too much.”

“Shh, I know, I know. We still have a long way to go.” he soothes. He spreads your ass to reveal more area, and he’s hushed to an alluring whisper in your ear. “(Y/N). I’m going to spank you. And each time I do, you’ll count. One, thank you. Two, thank you. Up to sixteen. Understand?”

“Yes” you rasped.

“Good girl.”

Kaeya massages your backside and prepares a slap. His palm crashes sharply on one with a resounding crack. Blazing surge sprawls across the whole cheek, but you manage to stay afloat. “One, thank you.” He promptly delivers another, a staggering strike to match the other cheek. “Two, thank you” you hissed. He kneads the smoldering dough in his hands and smiles at the juices stuck to your inner thighs.

“Such a pervert. You’re not enjoying this, are you?” he teases. The lines of pleasure and pain blurred for you long before. The crackling fire of his hand swatting your ass makes you cry out. He’s brutal, and the grip you have on his sheets colors your knuckles white. You endure delicious thwacks with a tender bottom all the way through thirteen. Your malleable mind forgets to count past that, forgets your place. Kaeya feigns hurt. “Am I that forgettable? Should we start over?” A shudder trails down your back.

“M’no, Kaeya ple-ase. ‘M sorry.” you stammer. He swipes your tears with his thumb and licks it. “I’m touched by your tears” he groans. He moves back to your searing bottom, digging crescent shaped indents into the welted flesh with his nails.

“Do you know why I had you count to sixteen?”

“N-no...”

A low hmph. “That’s the number of dates you missed.” You go pale for a second. “It won’t happen again, Kaeya. Please!” you beg. The need for release ruins your rational thoughts, and he can taste your desperation. “Please what, dove?” He plays ignorance. “Tell me exactly what you want.” He caresses your face lovingly, despite his cruelty.

“Wanna come, I need it so bad, Kaeya.” His name rolling off your tongue in lewd fervor makes his length constrict in his pants. You’re putty in his presence, and he delights in molding you to his wishes.

"Are you worthy of it?" he taunts. Fresh tears brim your eyes, and he can’t fight back the snicker in his throat. He walks away from you, and you’re left alone until you feel the mattress give way under his knee. What little sight you had in front of you is robbed by the silky black blindfold pulling stiff on your eyes. “Too tight?”

“A little.” He loosens it a bit and kisses your temple. Suddenly, a sphere makes contact with your lips, and you open. The ball gag secures around the back of your head, and you’re already salivating from the stretch of your jaw.

“You know what, I’ll let you come.” he lulled. You can’t hear the malicious tinge in his words, and he swiftly turns both vibrators up to a harrowing speed at the same time. A strangled moan gets caught in your throat and you quiver and lurch over. He spanks your sore behind in response.

“Keep your back arched. I want a perfect view” he husks. You use the stamina you have left to stay in that position. Your hips are unconsciously rutting against the bullet, and the ecstasy lapping at your swollen clit sends trails of fire up your stomach. Kaeya watches the saturated outline of your convulsing vulva, the honeyed, muffled moans unending and palms his erection.

“I’m sorry, this must be so hard for you” he soothes. “Almost as hard as it was for me to hear you lie so blatantly.” Kaeya wasn’t a man that held grudges, but he took amusement in your reactions. All he can think about is breaking you, with each touch and kiss; so that you travel through heaven and hell, drowning in desire until he carries you out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you come hard, hole fluttering around nothing with electricity squirming in your bones. However, the pressure doesn’t stop, it seems to vibrate faster as you buck and cry. “Oops, wrong setting.” He turns it up higher, the bastard. It rips through your orgasm, already approaching another and you can’t take the sting. “Tell me if it’s too much” he sneers. Your hands jolt and snap back to the collar.

“I’ll turn it off later, I’m kind of busy right now. You know, work and stuff.” What? He wouldn’t leave you like this, right? Undecipherable noises bounce around the gag, but none persuade him. Footsteps get quieter, then the door shuts.

You can’t look or beg for Kaeya, and tears begin to stain the blindfold. Buzzing roars in your ears, your limbs are too weak to hold up and you can barely breathe. Your thighs shake from sick passion, and you come undone again over the persistent toys. The twenty minutes he was gone felt like hours. Your muffled sobs are uncontrollable, come cascading down your legs and spit dribbles from your lips. You aren’t sure how many times you came before he got back.

The Archons must have shown mercy; the vibrations stopped. You hear that suave voice resounding in your brain.

“I think you’ve earned a break.” he says, freeing the panties from you. The plug steadily glides out of your pulsing ring, and he removes the blindfold. Kaeya is the first thing you see, and for a moment he shines like royalty. The gag comes off and you’re babbling Kaeya’s name over and over like a chant, a devoted disciple. He cradles your face and hushes you.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” He flips you on your back. You’re in a daze gazing at him but his attention is lowered to your spread legs, slabbering at the slippery aftermath of his abandonment.

“Beautiful. A living work of art” he whispered. His mask dissolves before you. He reaches for one of the red candles glowing vividly on his nightstand and returns with the wax-leaking stick. You share a soft kiss, warm and pure while he tilts the candle over your chest. He’s careful with the course and allows it to dance across your breasts, down your sternum and above your pelvis. Each crimson plop and fleck are its own singing thrill, but your awareness is diverted to his wanton kisses, the nips on your bottom lip. Heat reignites your core. Once he blows out the candle, he smudges French kisses down your neck, tracing the pattern of the wax to subdue the burn. “You’re flawless” he breaths against your nipple. He sucks one while pinching the other, the occasional bite on your slightly bruising skin makes you wince. He slides off the bed and starts stripping with an insatiable thirst that longed to be inside you, shirt and pants thrown about. In one swoop, he grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge.

“If I uncuff you, will you behave?” You nod frantically with the clinking metal, and he detaches the restraints. He brings your legs over his shoulder, and you feel the cockhead prodding your slit. Kaeya sinks his tip into you, and you’re suddenly overcome with frenetic throbbing that ripples through your hypersensitive clit. “W-wait, Kaeya-” You don’t have nearly enough strength to protest when you grab his wrists settled on your waist—he’s determined to fuck it out of you. “Mm, just a little more” He’s craving, his veins rub your walls all the way to the base. With his balls flush, he pulls out and drives into you. The first pump sends a flaming shock through your body, an abyssal fall you succumb to. You can’t register the erotic screams or pleasant shock of Kaeya as a stream of liquid coats your bodies and drenches the sheets. Your hysterical sobs and innocent sorry’s are music to his ears, better than any melody in Teyvat. He rubs circles on your lower belly and starts again at an unrelenting pace. “I-I can’t Kaeya, ‘m coming so hard.” you wail, writhing from the deep strokes coaxing your g-spot. Your stomach quakes and you grip him like a vice, he can’t stop the feral urge. “Fuck- aww, sweetie. I know, I know. Can you do another one, for me?” He tries to keep his composure, but his voice is bordering unhinged, dying to see you squirt again. Kaeya's chest pins yours and he pummels your cunt with your shaky legs locked around him. Your nails latch onto his back and you weep into his shoulder. The emotion is too intense; your heart thrums viciously in your ears.

“You’re my pretty little fuck toy, hmm?” he stutters through thrusts. “Just lay here and take my cock. Quit your job. Be mine entirely.” Loud plap’s accompany his silent plea, and you feel another orgasm boiling. His palm pressing on your womb makes you incoherent and he chuckles. “Aw sweetie, it feels too good?” he mocks. You touch foreheads. You’re both teeming, waiting for each other. “Give it to me. Come on my cock like a good slut” he demands. Wave after relentless wave splinters you, and the gushing sprinkler covers him exactly like he wanted. Kaeya moans at the sight. “Shit, ‘m coming.” He pursues his sputtering hips, shooting thick globs that greedily crowd your sex.

Kaeya breathes heavily as he comes down from his peak twitching inside. You still tremble sporadically in his arms. He rubs your back, placing calming kisses all over your face. “You alright, pretty girl?” You’re edging on unconsciousness. He stays with you until you gather responsiveness.

When you wake, the collar is off, and you identify concern in his eyes. “You weren't this scared when you were killing me” you murmur quietly. Kaeya flashes a genuine smile. “If you died from good sex, that’d be quite the compliment on my part.” He props you into his lap facing him, and you're reposed on his chest. He pats your hair, staring off into nothing and everything.

“I’d much rather have you in pieces. Because I’m the only one that can put you back together.” It was a passing thought, one that shouldn’t be said out loud. It churns in your gut, and you aren’t sure why.

“You worked so hard today. Let’s take a bath, okay?”

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya smut #kaeya

1K notes · View notes

shotmrmiller · 9 months

Text

Needs must

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

WC: 2.1K

TW: prostitution, explicit fingering, and smut-ish.

ive got 4 other ideas for this goddamn escort au and one of em is MY BOY JOHNNY. oof i cant wait. im mad it took me this long to do this. I wrote this listening to rich sex by nicki minaj.

You had needs. No matter how magical, a toy can only do so much for you. You wanted the praise of another human being—the warm touch of their hands around your waist, your neck. God, you needed to get laid. But after the disaster that was your last relationship, how nasty it ended, you couldn’t even ring your ex-girlfriend up for a booty call.

Sucking your teeth, you look at your phone. Noon. Well, maybe one of your friends you’re about to meet up with for a weekly Saturday brunch knew someone who would be interested in a no-strings-attached situationship.

—

Flipping the card in your hands, you chewed on your bottom lip in deliberation and looked down at the business card— the color of bone with raised black lettering. Ghost, it read, with his number on the back. How you ended up with this in your hand made you almost regret having reprobates for friends. An escort. That’s what they had shamelessly suggested. You had almost choked on your eggs benedict when one of them pulled out a contact card from their wallet and placed it by your mimosa. I mean, really. Preparing to argue about their lack of sense, they brought up a great point. It was either this, someone who was there for what you needed whenever you needed it, or your toys which were in a pathetic state from constant use. Your ex called it quits because you simply couldn't find the time to maintain a proper relationship— your demanding job took up most of it. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this.

Ghost. What a name. But you suppose it didn’t matter what his name was, only that he could do his job, and with the way your friend gushed over him— he’d leave you walking side to side. You needed this. You worked too hard for too many hours to not spend your money on some self-care.

Fuck it. Maybe he will be just a one-time thing, you thought, and sent his number a text.

—

Closing the door of your car, you briskly walk towards the small cafe Ghost had sent the address to; A cute little quaint coffee shop. Coming to a stop, you straighten your office skirt and run a hand through your hair before opening the door. Breathing in the coffee aroma, you look around for who you’re looking for, spotting him sitting in the back. The click of your heels echoes inside the cafe, catching the attention of your awaiting companion. He looks up and rises to stand, and it takes you aback. It was like witnessing a grizzly standing on its hind legs. Jesus.

He was tall, so tall, and broad. Wearing a black beanie and covering the lower half of his face with a mask, he extends his arm out to shake your hand, and you internally scream at how shapely his arm alone looks over his long-sleeved shirt.

“I’m Ghost. It’s a pleasure, love.”

Choking back a moan at his accent, you put your hand in his and say, “No, I’m sure it’ll be all mine.” You can see his dark eyes crinkle at your quip.

“If we get through this smoothly, the next time we meet I’ll make sure of it.”

As you let out a playful laugh, Ghost reaches for the back of your chair, pulling it out with a chivalrous gesture. “And a gentleman? You definitely know how to sell yourself.”

“No, love. This is just a common courtesy. I don’t need t’tell you that I’m good,” and in one smooth motion, he extracts a sleek, forest green matte folder from the leather business bag lying at his feet.

“I need this filled out, just the usual— hard and soft limits. Safewords, nicknames, allergies, and so on.” You pick up the folder and open it, skimming over the contents of the front page.

“This really is your job.” You flick your eyes from the folder to him and he’s already looking at you, watchful and steady.

“O’ course it is. I take my clients, and future clients, seriously. I enjoy wha’ I do but it will never be at the cost of another. I will not make you uncomfortable in any way, nor risk your health. I aim to please you, not the other way around. And I cannot do tha’ if I don’t know tha’ you’re allergic to latex or completely against something I might do.”

He gives a slight cough, and you divert your attention from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s a pretty thing like you seeking out someone who offers these types of services?” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes you.

“The same reason the one who gave me your card did— just looking for a good time, no commitment.”

He raises his eyebrows at that but makes no further comment. Smart man. Glancing at your wrist, you check the time. “Right,” and lean forward to get up when Ghost shoots up from his chair to pull out yours. “I’ll have your folder ready for you by the weekend,” and turn your head to face him.

“Is that when you’ll want this, then?” and you give a casual shrug.

“If you happen to be available.” He reaches out and gently grabs your hand to pull you in for a tight embrace. Softly, he whispers in your ear, “I’ll be seeing you then, love.”

You leave with a silly little grin on your face.

—

The weekend comes and you’re a puddle of nerves. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this anxious. The knock on your door startles you out of your inner ramblings. It’s time. Taking in a deep, calming breath, you open it.

Ghost calmly walks in, and starts taking off his mask, and then leather jacket.

“I’ve one absolute limit I forgot to mention,” he says in a firm tone. “I do not kiss. It is not a negotiation.”

Well, you couldn’t give a damn if he didn’t. Nonchalantly, you shrug and say, “And mine is that we always use a condom.” With a nod and a chuckle, he eagerly grabs the folder from your table and starts flipping through its pages.

“A’right, love. Go get on the bed f’me.” The smirk he gives you is positively wicked. “I saw tha’ you have like to be told wha’ to do.” He jerks his chin towards your room. “And take everything off.” With nervous excitement, you run off, haphazardly tossing your clothes on the floor.

—

Eyes covered with a blindfold, all you hear is your shaky breathing and his footsteps on your plush rug. Your nerves feel exposed, raw. As you lie on the bed, you suddenly feel a firm grip on the flesh of your thighs, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. The room's cool air contrasts with the warm heat radiating from his touch, pulling a hiss from your lips as he pulls you toward the edge of the bed.

“Atta girl, love. Open your legs f’me, lemme see that pretty pussy.” The lack of eyesight helps you to focus on his touch alone, making you fearless, and your legs drop open without hesitation as you lie on your back.

“Look at tha’. Aren’t you just a dream? Hm?” he puts his hands on your knees, keeping your thighs open, wet cunt exposed. “And you waxed, too. Hope tha’ wasn’t f’me.” You feel a fingertip slide from your hood, down to your clit and hole, spreading your juices around the labia and back up. Your nerves are on fire, your pussy clenching around nothing, forcing juices to drip down to your arsehole.

“A’right, pretty. Touch yourself. Shove your tiny little fingers into your,” he pauses to suck the skin of your inner thigh, “cunt and show me how to make you feel good.” He then moves his mouth closer to where you need it most, and bites. Are you defying me? Did you suddenly become deaf as well, once I blindfolded you?” and you aggressively shake your head.

“No! No, sir. I hear you, loud and clear.” With a tight squeeze to your thighs, he says, “Then do as I say.” Moaning, you slowly bring your hand down, starting from your chest. Your palms rub against your pebbled nipples, down to your soft stomach, until your fingertips meet your swollen nub, then move in soft, tight circles, mewling at the feeling. The groan that reaches your ears is so lewd, you could come from that alone.

“Tha’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. Look at how wet you are, fuck, show me just how you like it.” And you do. A vulgar noise comes from your hole once you stuff yourself with one finger, slowly stretching, before adding another. It’s something, but not enough, not what you want. Not thick enough, long enough, and that thought makes you whimper in disappointment.

“Aw, are your fingers not satisfying? I’ll help you, sweet, only because you look so delicious spread out f’me like this. So vulnerable, bare.” His breath fans over your cunt, over your clit, and it sends a jolt up your spine— but he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch. It feels like you’ve been waiting for hours until he finally, finally, pushes a thick finger into you, and curls it, rubbing against the right spot, over and over, and then pushes in a second, threatening to tip you over the peak. The feeling is intense —your walls clench around him firmly in your rising pleasure.

“Oh, g-god, Ghost pleasepleaseplease,” squealing as you fuck yourself on his hand, and when your hypersensitive nerves pick up on the sensation of his scorching mouth on your clit, with a pulsating suction, your muscles tighten and tremble, to the point of pain, until Ghost gives one hard suck, forcibly pushing you off the edge. The wail you let out is ear-splitting— as ecstasy slams into your body, like waves crashing at shore. Your thighs squeeze Ghost’s head irrationally tight, but he doesn’t care, just groaning into your core, lapping up your juices like a dehydrated man who’s found an oasis. Your body stings— prickles from the vicious high you’re riding—chest heaving with sobs from the sheer force of it, fingernails digging into Ghost’s scalp, yanking on his hair. As your soul melts back into your body, you absentmindedly thank all the bloody gods for having friends who really do look out for you.

Whimpering pathetically, your limbs go limp, loose, heavy. Ghost easily picks your body up and moves you toward the center of the bed, vertically, the blindfold still robbing you of your vision.

With a grunt of effort, his hand firmly settles by your ribcage, sinking into the softness of the bed, and then he slips a folded pillow beneath your hipbones, expertly arching your spine into a delicious angle. His hand firmly connects with your rear, not just once but twice, feeling the exquisite sting of it. The room falls into silence, only to be interrupted by the clinking sound of his belt buckle. Your body tenses as you hear the unmistakable sound of plastic being torn open, and then you feel his thick and warm shaft teasing your entrance. A moan escapes your lips as he penetrates you, his movements slow and sensual, until his hipbones press against your backside. Taking his time, he slowly pulls back his length, dragging it against your slick walls, before pushing forward again, covering your body with his own. His right hand is flat on the bed by your right shoulder, while his left curls around your neck, gently forcing your head to tilt back onto him. The tip of his head grinds against the entrance of your womb.

He moans softly into your ear, before quietly purring, “Let’s see how many more orgasms I can wring out of you, pet.” The tightening of his makeshift necklace around your throat is your first and last warning of what is to come.

—

He pulled four. Four gut-wrenching, shattering orgasms before finding his own release. He left you a drooling, sloppy, sweaty mess on your bed, completely languid and relaxed. Somewhere, you faintly hear your phone ping with a notification. Hissing as you get up, you limp to your living room, and see it on the sofa. Unlocking it, you see that it’s Ghost, sending you his Cash App information. Holding in a chickle, you send him his money and wait for his confirmation.

It was a real pleasure, doll. Let me know when you need me again.

Cackling to yourself, you place your phone back on the table.

Bastard.

He knows you’ll definitely be seeing him again.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader

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nappingmoon · 1 month

Text

I think the way to higuruma’s heart is through acts of service.

wc: 1.3k

the first time you wake up in higuruma's bed is the day after you meet him. he's still sound asleep, and he looks like he needs it, so you let him rest while you get up. when confronted with the choice of slipping out the door or staying, you don't think twice. you make your way into his kitchen, and it's clean-- simple in a way that is just so him. you grab two mugs and get started on a pot of coffee.

you’re not too familiar with him yet; unsure of how he takes it, so you make a simple batch of black coffee and decide to wait to ask him, finding you like the idea of learning along the way.

when higuruma walks into the kitchen, still groggy and hair tussled, it takes him a moment to digest what he’s seeing. he blinks slowly, eyes adjusting to the light pouring in from the window. you’ve got a cup in your hands, full and still steaming, while another sits empty to the side.

“I didnt know if liked sugar and milk in your coffee, or I would’ve brought you some in bed, handsome.” you say, lips just hovering over the lip of your cup. you place it down softly on the coaster and stretch for a moment before grabbing his and turning around, filling it with the rest of the brew. you call out over your shoulder, asking for the instructions to his preferred tastes, but are met with silence. you turn.

“h-” he starts, but seems unsure of how to finish. “how did you figure out the coffee machine?” he asks, and you both know it’s not the question that was supposed to come out. why are you doing this? why are you still here? most of his other endeavors have always fled in the morning, the bed cold and the house empty by the time he awakes. he felt the connection between the two of you last night, but normally the people he pursue leave without a trace, and he’s gotten used to it. it’s what he knows. so why are you in his t shirt, sipping from his mug, and acting like this is normal? why does he find himself wishing it was?

“there’s only four buttons on here, and one is for the clock. you don’t think me so simple, do you?” you tease with a smile.

no, he doesn’t. quite the opposite, in fact. he thinks you’re brilliant. you had met at a bar downtown and talked and talked, the tension eased by a few fruity cocktails. taken by your wit and humor immediately, he found himself inviting you over to extend the night a little, maybe have a glass of wine or two. not entirely surprisingly, you ended up in his sheets, all giggles and sloppy kisses and passionate touches. he fell asleep, sated and content with his limbs intertwined in yours.

instead of answering your question, he replies, “just a splash of milk, please.”

your quirked brow betrays your skepticism. "not even a little sugar?" he seemed to have had the largest sweet tooth last night, if you correctly remember the sweet drinks that were downed absentmindedly between quips, stories, and touches that lingered just long enough to be more than friendly.

he's sheepish when he replies "i shouldn't, right? i have to limit my sugar somewhere or later down the line I am going to have to see my doctor more often and I am trying to avoid that. she's a scary lady."

he's not finished with his sentence before you tip in a small dash of sugar. "you're still in your early thirties. give it another decade or two before you start worrying about your blood sugar." you bring the mug over, bare feet padding softly on his hardwood floor as you approach. "i don't think a little sweetness in your life will kill you."

as he takes the mug from your hands, his fingers brush over yours. he doesn't look away from you eyes as he lifts the mug to his lips, but just before he takes a sip, he murmurs, "it might."

you hum and walk back over to where your mug sits on the counter. leaning against it, you ask, "how'd you sleep?"

"better than I have in ages," he replies, and his tone is oddly sincere. "I wasn't expecting you to still be here."

"should I not have been?" though you try to sound confident and carefree, a light waver in your voice reveals the fear at the idea that you've gravely misunderstood him and embarrassed yourself to no end in the process.

your thoughts don't get to stray far, however, because he's quick to respond. "no, no. it was a pleasant surprise. you have been a truly pleasant surprise."

your cheeks warm and you suddenly find his cabinets fascinating. "you're not supposed to be smooth first thing in the morning, you know." you grumble.

he's closer now, directly in front of you, and he places his mug down, just to you right. as he retracts his hand, it comes up to tilt your chin back towards him.

he's so handsome it's unfair.

"i'm sorry, sweetness, can I make it up to you with some breakfast?" he asks, his voice entrancing and still thick with sleep. the gesture and the question leave you breathless, so you just nod affirmatively. he places a kiss to your temple before turning and digging around his fridge and grabbing the ingredients he needs to get started.

soon after that, you become a constant in his life. he hadn't planned on you as a part of his routine, but you just, fit. in the mornings he finds himself spending less time in the bathroom mirror fixing his suit. now he wakes up eager to get dressed and sit on the edge of his bed with his choice of tie, waiting for you to take your spot between his legs and tie it for him. seeing the furrow in your brow as you adjust it just right, fixing the collar and tugging on the lapels to make sure he's perfect, it all makes him swoon.

before you, his lunch couldn't even be considered a break. he would just pop open whatever prepackaged meal he had bought that day and eat it in between readings of contracts and reviews of cases. now, he leaves his office without fail, never missing the time to eat and listen to you talk about your day.

when his bouts of insomnia get worse, you're there to help him. the house starts to smell like lavender. you've got all kinds of melatonin gummies and you don't let him say no to a massage, first focusing on his temples and scalp, then laying him down to work the knots out of his back. he's snoring by the time you're halfway down.

when he gets really stressed and the pressure starts to get too much, he comes home to a quiet house. he finds you in the bathroom preparing a bath with salts and soaps. you usher him in, insisting on taking care of him- carding water and shampoo through his locks and providing him with a safer space than he's ever had in his life.

higuruma is a lawyer. he deals with people who spin words all day. lies, loopholes, and secrets are all imbedded in his quotidian conversations with clients and colleagues. you, however, don't ripen him up with flattery or kind words. you don't make promises you don't intend to keep and you don't mince and twist your words to use against him. you simply do what you think is right. your actions have captured him far more than any words alone could do. in return, to show you how much he has truly come to love and need you, he looks to what he knows best. contracts.

though, when he's down on one knee, the legalities of it mean nothing to him. all that is important in that moment, and for the rest of his life, his you.

#this was supposed to be like three paragraphs #idk what happened #higuruma x reader #higuruma hiromi #.hiromi #higuruma fluff #jjk higuruma #ecriture #divider by @/firefly-graphics

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jahayla-parker · 7 months

Note

🎆 Requests: Please note these will be likely shorter than my longer requests (I say that but you all know me 😂). These cannot contain a lot of specifics or anything like that. Rather, it’s a simple concept and a character. Limit is 1 request per follower for this option given the time it’ll take to do these.

what about finnick odair x wife!reader where he has to go back to the games and she waits for him and they reunite back in 13 and she is glued to his side during their time there cause she's afraid to lose him and it's like hurt comfort and fluffy <333

Heartbreak’s Cure : Finnick Odair x Reader

Descr: 5k wc, Finnick and his wife reunite in District 13 after Finnick returns from his second Hunger Games and they help each other through the aftermath of him being reaped a second time. Hurt-comfort, flangst

Warnings: hunger game type content and applicable warnings, trauma, sadness, mentions of Mag’s death, mentions of Finnick’s background (including brief mention of Snow selling his body).

“Finnick!”

“Fin!”

“Y/n?”

“Honey?!”

“Fin!”

The couple’s screaming continued as they raced toward the sound of the other’s voice.

Y/n sprinted around the corner of the dull gray slabbed walls of the medical corridor when her eyes finally caught sight of who she’d been searching for; her husband. The air left her lungs and her body abruptly halted upon seeing him.

Finnick had been bolting down the hallway when y/n suddenly appeared as she turned the corner. He briefly paused in breathless relief before he once again began charging towards his wife.

Y/n copied Finnick’s needy rush and ran straight into his extended arms. She buried her head into the crook of his neck as he lifted her up. She hooked her legs around his waist as he held her to him so tight it was difficult to breathe. But she couldn’t care less. He was alive! He was home!

Finnick spun them around as he closed his eyes and admired the way it felt to be able to hold his loving wife once again. “Hi love,” he finally spoke, his voice a soft whisper.

“Hi Finny,” y/n whimpered. “Are you alright?” She asked, leaning back against the supportive hold he had on her tailbone so she could see him.

“I’m perfectly fine now y/n/n,” Finnick vowed, pulling her back to him and protectively holding her tight in his arms. He was so relieved his sweet wife was okay. That Snow hadn’t been able to harm her before she’d made it to District 13.

After a heartfelt kiss between them, y/n pulled away as her worry took over. “Let me take a look at you,” y/n pressed, not believing Finnick‘s well meaning reassurance. She again leaned back while staying in his arms, her legs still around his waist as he held her up. She frowned as her eyes noticed the multitude of scratches along his face. “Liar,” she whispered with a pout.

Finnick chuckled lightly. Damn he had missed her.

Y/n hopped down from Finnick’s arms and grabbed his bicep. “C’mere baby,” she cooed as she lead him to the nearest stretcher. “Here, sit down,” she instructed. When he complied, she kissed his forehead and gave him a warm smile. “Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts,” she commented as she quickly pulled over a tray of random medical supplies. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are there any injuries I can’t see?” Y/n continued to interrogate worryingly.

“Honey,” Finnick smiled. He gently grasped y/n’s wrist as she softly tried to clean his skin.

“I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but I gotta clean it,” y/n explained, giving her husband a sympathetic frown.

Finnick grinned admiringly and shook his head. “It’s okay, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he explained softly. “Breathe Honey, I’m okay”. Finnick lovingly rubbed his thumb against the inner side of her wrist to soothe her.

Y/n set the washcloth down with a sigh. She wanted to help her husband. She looked around to take a quick inventory of the room. It had been awhile since she was last in this wing. Seeing a stack of cases of water bottles, she hummed and hurriedly sprinted to it. She effortlessly pulled out an unopened bottle and brought it back to Finnick with a small smile. Surely he was dehydrated! “Here, drink this, it’ll help.”

Finnick replied with a sympathetic sigh. He understood why she was fussing over him, he’d have been much worse if the roles were reversed. But, it didn’t mean he wanted her worrying so much. As such, he sipped on the water she’d passed him; not mentioning to her that on the flight back here, the nurse had hooked up an IV to help his fluids. After taking a considerable drink, he twisted the cap back on and took ahold of y/n’s hand. “Honey,” Finnick softly scolded, tugging her hand away from the water bottle as he tried to get her to stop fretting over him. “You look really good in my sweater,” he commented, changing the topic as he took notice of what his wife was wearing.

Y/N’s cheeks heated up, prompting her to bashfully look down at the stretcher’s wheels. She let her eyes flicker briefly to the sweater in question before biting her lip and slowly lifting her gaze to Finnick’s. “I.., sorry, I needed something that smelled and felt like you,” she explained.

Finnick shook his head, a prideful smile now gracing his lips. “You don’t need to apologize,” he commented lovingly as he tenderly guided her closer by curling his thumb resting under her chin. “Were you okay honey?”

“It’s fine, you’re here now,” y/n smiled. “That’s all that matters,” she hummed, leaning closer as she moved her hands to cup her husband’s defined cheeks.

“No, no,” Finnick argued. “How were you while I was away?” He repeated, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. “What all happened? What did I miss?”

“Me,” y/n giggled with a smug smile.

Finnick chuckled, his cheeks turning a soft red. “Well that goes without saying, my dear,” he winked. After a moment of silent bliss, he turned his expression to a look that communicated he wanted her to give him an actual answer.

Y/n shrugged. She’d struggled while he’d been gone. But he didn’t need to know the depths of that. At least not right now. She knew her husband well enough to know it was futile keeping a secret from him. Even if it was for his own sake. He’d know at some point. For now though she would keep it as vague as possible without hurting his feelings by keeping it inside. “Nothing other than just worrying about you,” she murmured quietly, eyes closed.

Finnick frowned in understanding. “Oh love,” he purred, his fingers reaching out to grip the material of his her their sweater.

“I .. I got your message though,” y/n elaborated, peering into Finnick’s loving eyes.

Finnick grinned and tugged y/n closer to him. “Good,” he murmured, fingers moving to trail her cheeks.

“You’re not allowed to talk about your death like that again though, Finnick Odair,” y/n scolded in a soft voice.

Finnick chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Odair,” he grinned, pulling her in for a kiss.

Y/n was resting beside Finnick’s medical cot in the hospital corridor of District 13 when she felt him stir. She quickly set down her notebook and faced her husband. She frowned lightly as she noticed the confused look in his eyes. He had been sleeping when the medic came in to adjust the medication dosage coursing through his veins. It had been like this off and on for the last few hours, so y/n hadn’t paid much mind to it until she felt him stir beside her in response to it.

Finnick tried to keep the tears from building up in his eyes as he tried to scoot away from whoever the person was beside him. He had thought he made it back to y/n, to District 13. But he didn’t remember being put under and upon opening his eyes he saw a nurse-like figure standing before him in a medical room so clearly he’d been dreaming. Of course he had. He’d been dreaming of his precious wife and making it back to her ever since he’d been reaped for the second time. He didn’t recall anything after the arena collapsing in on him. He thought he had, but he had clearly been dreaming of those events. So he figured he must’ve been captured after their attempt to escape the games. As such, he presumed this nurse before him was from The Capitol. It was the only explanation for why his wife wasn’t by his side when he thought he’d reconnected with her earlier. Hence why he began resisting the medic’s attempts to adjust whatever they were pumping into his body through the IV in his right arm.

“No, no, no, no, no, hey,” y/n rushed out, turning to face Finnick more directly. “Finnick? Hi, I've got you,” she informed him as his frantic eyes darted to her face. “You're safe. Finnick, can you hear me?” She asked, noticing the distant look in his sea-green eyes. “They're here to help you, you need to let them help you,” she pleaded, squeezing his hand.

Finnick’s eyes snapped down to his hand as he felt a squeeze. He looked back up at y/n and gazed into her eyes as the pieces returned to him. He hadn’t been dreaming. He had escaped the games. He’d made it back to y/n. She’d been beside him the whole time. He just hadn’t looked to his left upon waking up.

“That’s it, babe,” y/n cooed encouragingly. “They are just helping your body heal,” she smiled softly, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

Finnick hummed in relief. His hands moved to wrap around his wife. He held onto her as he tried desperately to not cry against her shoulder. He was home. He was back with his girl.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention,” Finnick pouted playfully. To emphasize his point, he stretch his right hand and the attached IV over his lap to poke y/n’s side.

Y/n raised her eyebrows at her husband in question. She’d been giving him plenty of attention. In fact, she was certain he had to be growing tired of her constant presence and fussing over him. “You need more attention?” She questioned knowingly.

Finnick nodded with a smug smile. “From you? Always,” he grinned.

Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly as her cheeks flushed. “You’re lucky I love you,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

Finnick resumed playing with y/n’s hand he was holding. “The luckiest,” he agreed proudly.

Y/n simply bashfully bit her lip and buried her head against Finnick’s bicep as it rested on his cot.

“I’m tired of laying here in this stupid bed though,” Finnick said to explain his earlier comment.

“Finnick,” y/n sighed. She lifted her head off his arm to look down at him.

“I want to go home,” Finnick said, almost whining.

Y/n frowned. “I know, I do too,” she acknowledged. “But, Finnick, we have to stay in District Thirteen until it’s safe to go back,” she reminded him cautiously.

Finnick shook his head. “I know, I didn’t mean home-home”.

“What?”

“Not as in District Four,” Finnick elaborated. “While that would be nice,” he hummed, “I meant wherever it is here that our home is now, wherever you spend your nights”.

Y/n smiled adoringly at her husband. “Let me go ask them again when you can leave, I doubt it’s changed, but if you promise me you’re feeling okay, I’ll try to persuade them,” she offered.

“I promise,” Finnick nodded with an appreciative smile. He tugged y/n’s hand back just as she went to head towards the hallway, “but be quick”. When her head whipped around quickly, her eyes full of concern, he blushed before hurriedly explaining his thoughts. “‘Cause I missed you,” he whispered shyly, grinning again when his wife kissed the top of his head lovingly.

Y/n closed the door to their bedroom behind her as she and Finnick entered the hall. She turned towards her husband with a timid smile. They were about to head out for a light stroll so she could show him around. “Can I hold your hand?” She requested quietly, needing to physically feel his presence to remind her he was here after so long.

Finnick smiled, “you never gotta ask, sugar”. He kissed his wife’s warm cheek. “But, I have a better idea”.

“Which is?”

“Piggy back ride?"

“Finnick,” y/n scolded, shaking her head. “You should be taking it easy,” she reminded him. When he playfully rolled his eyes, she glared protectively back at him.

Finnick hummed and took ahold of y/n’s hands. “I promise I’m fine, honey. I wouldn’t put you through dealing with the aftermath if I wasn’t,” he promised.

Despite Finnick having convinced y/n he was able to give her a piggy back ride, she wasn’t done being protective over him. She’d just gotten her husband back! She wasn’t about to let something happen to him! As such, she had been doing everything under the sun to protect him from even minor things like loud noises, bright lights, etc.

Finnick knew what y/n was doing and her reasoning behind it. So, he’d complied with her wishes and heeded her warnings, all while smiling bashfully. He was beyond appreciative of his wife’s considerate measures. And he found her actions insanely cute.

They couple had taken a quick break so y/n could help one of District 13’s other residents find the supplies closet. Luckily the room was nearby, so she was not away from her husband for more than a handful of minutes. However, when she returned, she was less than pleased. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Y/n hissed at Mike, one of District 13’s leaders. He was evidently having her husband help him move some boxes of equipment. Y/n knew the boxes with the particular symbol that was on the one Finnick had been about to pick up were often pretty heavy. It was certainly not something Finnick should be doing right now! “He just got back, have Gale help you with carrying that!” She critiqued with a harsh glare.

Finnick sucked in his bottom lip as he tried not to laugh lightly or smile at y/n’s behavior. He shrugged minimally at the man beside him before he made his way over to his wife. “I’m okay, angel,” he cooed in a hushed voice so only she could hear.

Y/n nodded silently in response to Finnick’s reassurance. She gave Mike another sharp glance and then took her husband’s hand and led him away from the room.

Finnick froze momentarily before he stiffly turned to face y/n. They’d been eating lunch alone in the corner of the cafeteria when he suddenly heard her sniffle. Why was she crying? “Are… are... are these good tears? Or bad tears?" He asked quietly. He only got a hum in response, making his brows furrow further. “Y/n?”

“Both”.

“Both?”

Y/n nodded. When she felt Finnick’s worried eyes on her, she shrugged. “Bad cause I missed you and I was so worried,” she explained. “But, good cause you’re home now”. She knew she was speaking in broken sentences, but it was the best she could do right now without breaking down from her emotions.

“Sugar,” Finnick whined sympathetically. “My sweet girl.. I’m so sorry-”.

Y/n rapidly shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Finny,” she whispered lovingly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to. I just, I don’t know I just…”

“Shhh...just let me hold you,” Finnick instructed warmly. He knew how to make his wife feel better. He grinned as she wasted no time sliding down the bench to him and snuggling up. “I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

“Promise?”

Finnick swore his heart both soared and broke over the sweet but scared tone of y/n’s voice. “I promise angel,” he vowed, smiling to himself as she buried herself in his hold even further.

“No, no, you need to lie still,” y/n instructed as Finnick yet again fidgeted. There were resting in their shared bed, almost about to fall asleep when he’d begun tossing and turning.

Finnick turned to face his patient wife’s beautiful face. He batted his long eyelashes at her. “Baby, could you play with my hair?” He requested in a gentle whisper. He closed Jo’s eyes as y/n instantly complied with his wish. “That feels so nice,” he murmured.

“Good,” y/n smiled, her fingers dancing through Finnick’s sun-dyed golden locks.

“I missed you,” Finnick whispered blissfully.

Y/n smirked playfully. “You missed my fingers in your hair,” she teased.

“No,” Finnick argued, holding y/n’s wrist to stop her playing with his hair for a moment. He turned his head to look up at her. “I’m serious, I missed you,” he replied with a frown.

“Hmmm, I know sweetheart,” y/n informed her husband, craning her neck to kiss his forehead. “I missed you too,” she whispered.

“I was so worried about you,” Finnick admitted as his mind went back to his worries over y/n’s wellbeing during his time in the arena.

“I’m never letting you go again,” y/n declared warmly. She tightened her grip around Finnick’s chest as he peered up at her at an angle from where he lay on her torso. “Snow will have to pry you from my dead arms. No one is going to hurt you anymore Finnick,” she spoke protectively.

“Hmm,” Finnick hummed as he inched his way up. He kissed her head lightly before lowering himself back down to use her as a pillow. “Don’t talk like that, honey,” he scolded lovingly. “I’m not losing you either.” He closed his eyes as he turned so his cheek was pressed up against her chest. “We’ll finish this out together, that’s the only option. Okay?”

“Okay,” y/n agreed quietly as she hugged Finnick tightly. “Now, sleep, my love. I'll keep you safe."

Y/n woke abruptly as she felt her husband tossing around beside her in bed. Her eyes snapped opened as she heard his whispered cries. A frown instantly formed on her face as she quickly sat up and turned to face Finnick. She softly shook him. “Finnick.. It’s me, it’s y/n. It's okay, it was just a dream." When his eyes finally opened, they were wide and watery as they analyzed their bedroom. “You're not there, Finnick. You're home, you're safe,” she promised, being able to read his worries without needing any verbal explanation as to what he’d been afraid of.

“Fuck, I …,” Finnick winced slightly, hating that he’d cursed in front of his dear wife. He was also so proper around her, declaring she was too precious to hear such profanities. But tonight he couldn’t help it. He felt horrible for having woken her. He knew how tired she’d been from sleepless nights as she waited for him to return. She should be asleep… not taking care of him and his nightmares. He knew she didn’t mind, she’d helped him through similar ones countless times before. But still, she should be resting. “I’m sorry.., I didn’t… I was back at the-,” he began rambling quietly.

Y/n nodded quickly and squeezed his clammy hand. “It’s okay, I know sweetheart,” she cut him off so he didn’t feel he needed to explain himself. “What do you need? What can I do for you right now Finny?”

Finnick’s shiny eyes lifted to meet his wife’s compassionate face and he gave her a timid smile. “I just want to be held for a little while. I’ve missed your touch,” he murmured.

Y/n smiled warmly and opened her arms. “Come here baby,” she instructed as she pulled Finnick to her chest.

Finnick shuffled down the bed so he could rest his head back on y/n’s chest. Like he’d done hours ago, before he’d moved to her side so they could sleep. “Like I expected, you're much comfier than my pillow,” he muttered softly as he nuzzled into her.

Y/n grinned and craned her neck in order to kiss Finnick’s scalp.

Finnick’s fingers played with the material of y/n’s sleep top. “D-do you mind if we stay like this for a little longer?” He questioned hesitantly. He wanted her to sleep, but he really needed this.

“We can stay like this as long as you want sweetheart.”

Finnick hummed in relief and snuggled against y/n further. His eyes began to become heavy again, but he kept blinking to stay awake.

“I'll protect you. They've never going to touch you again,” y/n promised, playing with Finnick’s hair the way he adored and always seemed to soothe him. As she noticed his eyes looking tired, she slowed her combing movements slightly. “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be all right, no one can hurt you now”.

Y/n futilely tried to pull her muscular husband away from the cracked door. They’d been on their daily walk when they passed by the mission center which happened to have it’s door slightly parted. However, it was what had been playing on the screen inside the room and the sounds it caused to float into the hallway that caught Finnick’s attention. The crew in the mission center had seemingly been reviewing various clips from the latest games. Unfortunately, it turned out they happened to be passing by just as Mag’s death began to play.

“No,” Finnick argued weakly against y/n’s attempts to pull him away. “I deserve to watch this,” he croaked. “I caused it, I need to live with the pain of that”.

Y/n gritted her jaw and furrowed her brows. She had to keep her anger in check. She wasn’t mad at Finnick, just at his statement. Her precious husband didn’t deserve any of the atrocities he’d had to endure. “You've suffered through enough,” y/n declared firmly but kindly, pulling her husband’s head to her shoulder. She whispered loving words to him as she lead them down the hall and back to their room.

As they reached the doorway to their bedroom, Finnick pulled back. His eyes were red and dripping, lips in a deep frown, and nose scrunched. “I also failed before the games, I didn’t make sure you had a safety plan in place,” he argued.

“Finnick, you had Haymitch make sure I was picked up and taken here, too District Thirteen before the games even began, for my safety,” y/n argued. “Besides, sweetheart, that’s not your job. And I’m fine, please don’t burden yourself with that”.

Finnick shook his head. “I should’ve found a way to tell Mags the plan,” he sighed. “I should’ve found a way out of letting Snow sell my body,” he added. “Katniss had me in her crosshairs early on, I didn’t train enough after the last games”. “I promised you that I’d never let you down but I did”.

”Finnick Odair,” y/n gasped. “Look at me.” Once he finally met her gaze, she presented him with a small smile and a tight hug. “I'm so proud of you”. She shook her head inside the crook of his neck. “Seriously, none of those things are true or your fault”. “You have always had so many things working against you, Finnick. I’ve always been so proud of you, even without taking that into account. But you need to. I’m so proud of you baby, you did what you had to do and came back to me! I know it wasn’t easy by any means,” she hummed, “but you did it. I didn’t lose you. And that’s because of you. I’m so proud. I’m infinitely sorry you had to go through all of that, but I’m so proud of you coming home to me”.

Finnick whimpered appreciatively and pulled y/n closer to him. He’d missed this. He’d needed her. He never wanted to be apart from her ever again. His sweet wife was his everything. If he had her, he’d be able to heal from his pain of the latest games.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but I'm here if or when you want to,” y/n offered quietly as she and Finnick sat at the table for a late lunch. They’d been eating when someone who had passed by mentioned something to their friend about the latest games. Y/n had noticed the way Finnick tensed immediately. She figured he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, but wanted him to know he could whenever he was.

Y/n had been correct. Finnick hadn’t been ready yesterday afternoon to talk about his experiences in the arena this past time. But, tonight he seemingly was. It was brought up unexpectedly, but she was pleased he felt comfortable and stable enough to begin talking about it.

Finnick had expressed several thoughts about his experiences in the arena when a question came to his tired mind. “Did… Did you watch?” He asked quietly as y/n helped him undress due to his fatigued state. He watched as she hesitated in her movements for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/n admitted quietly. She lifted Finnick’s shirt over his head and tossed it towards the bin. “I… didn’t really want to,” she admitted, “I hated that you had to go, to do that all again”. She sighed and her fingers trailed down to help him step out of his jeans. “But I needed to know you were okay,” she explained slowly, “and I wanted to be able to understand what you went through.,. As much as possible that is, of course…” She helped hold him steady as he removed his pants. “That way if you didn’t want to talk about it or needed someone to understand slightly more than I would’ve without watching it…,” she rambled.

Finnick turned to face y/n, a tender smile on his lips. “You..,” he shook his head, “sugar, you’re far too sweet, you didn’t need to put yourself through that. But I appreciate you doing so and being so considerate of my potential needs to begin with”. He kissed her forehead delicately.

As Finnick began to try to help y/n undress for the night, she shook her head lovingly and stopped him. He was so exhausted. He didn’t need to help her tonight. “I’ve got it baby, you’re tired,” she spoke softly.

“I want to,” Finnick argued quietly, “if you’re okay with that! I don’t-”.

Y/n nodded quickly to silence Finnick’s worries. “I am, Finny. Just don’t want you overdoing it,” she mused, kissing his cheek.

Finnick hummed and resumed his efforts to help y/n out of her day clothes. “Is there… was there anything you saw that you want to talk about?” He asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment. But, upon meeting Finnick’s genuinely curious eyes, she sighed. “…l heard you crying my name,” she said, thinking back to the moment she’d watched her husband crumple to the floor of the arena in agony.

Finnick gave y/n a sympathetic smile, sensing her worry and needless guilt. “I just needed to hear your voice, to know you weren’t actually hurt,” he explained. “I know they were fake. But.. you were…? You’re alright?”

Y/n nodded and grabbed Finnick’s hands from her shoulder and squeezed them. “I was just upset I couldn’t be there to reassure you I was fine,” she informed him. “But, I wasn’t hurt. Do you want to tell me about what it was like, babe? Get it off your chest?"

Finnick looked away as he began to cry. “S-sorry,” he murmured quietly in apology. “I shouldn’t be... I shouldn’t be crying. I.. I’m stronger than that… I’m sorry honey… I…”

“Finn,” y/n cooed. She let go of his hands and moved hers to cup his face and guide it towards her. When his eyes met hers, she gave him n a sweet smile. “Sweetheart, you never need to apologize to me. Ever. And, certainly not for crying…”.

Finnick nodded and melted into his wife’s embrace. “I… I thought it was real,” he began. “I… they copy… and it was your voice. I know it! It was so accurate! I…,” he shook, prompting y/n to rub his back soothingly. “I thought they’d hurt you.. that The Capitol.,. Snow…,” He trailed off.

“I think.. I thought about that a bunch too,” y/n murmured. “I think those sounds were made using by mixing up and splicing recordings from my games years ago, Finny.”

“I should’ve known that,” Finnick scolded himself. “I’m,” he sniffled as more tears escaped his eyes. He knew she might be watching the games and hadn’t wanted y/n to see him break down the way he had in that moment. He’d promised her he’d be strong and make it back to her. Yet all it took was some old audio clips and he’d shattered. He couldn’t deny the heartbreak he’d felt hearing her screams and cries. But he should’ve held it together. “I’m sorry.. I should’ve been stronger than that, I-“.

“No, Finnick. No,” y/n argued protectively. She leaned up and kissed his nose. “I don’t need you being strong all the time. I just need you. Vulnerabilities and all. Because that’s the real you, that’s all of you. And I love the whole real you.” She grinned as a bashful smile formed on her husband’s lips. “It’s all over now, Finny. No more having to pretend to be someone else for the cameras. You can just be yourself from now on. Just my wonderful Finnick Odair,” she cooed. As he leaned into her, she paid attention to his tears. She continued to sweetly dry them as she whispered loving words. After a few minutes, he’d stopped crying and was just resting in her embrace. “Fin, it's so good to have you home,” she whispered.

“I missed this,” Finnick confessed quietly.

“So did I.”

“You’re my happy place.”

“Don’t get cheesy on me,” y/n teased as Finnick stepped back so they could resume getting into bed for the night.

“I was away from you too long,” Finnick defended simply. “I gotta make up for the missed chances to flirt with my beautiful wife,” he winked, smirking as y/n looked away flustered.

“What can I do for you right now Finnick?” Y/n questioned as she faced him and saw his tears had returned.

“All I want is your lips against mine right now,” Finnick informed y/n. His cheeks turned brighter and brighter red until they matched the color of his teary eyes. “It sounds stupid, but I want to also physically feel your love-” he attempted to explain, feeling he needed to justify his request.

However, y/n didn’t need any reason to kiss her sweet husband. She quickly slid her hands into his hair on the back of his head and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Both y/n and Finnick cried quietly into the kiss as they moved impossibly closer to each other. It had been far too long since they felt this secure and untroubled over the other. When they pulled back, they instinctively rested their foreheads against each other’s, staring at one another. “I love you,” they whispered at the same time as they felt a small piece of their broken hearts begin to repair.

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kkami-writes · 11 months

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Black Blood — chapter 11 cw. smut, subish!jisung, handjobs, cum consumption wc. 2.4k reference. han vlog

Most of the members are out this weekend, enjoying their limited free time as much as possible. Yet you can still hear Jisung, the boy is in his room and singing rather loudly. Eventually he quiets down, though honestly you didn’t mind it. The boy had such a beautiful voice that it surprised you that he was actually a rapper and not a vocalist. They could have told you he was apart of vocalracha and you’d believe them.

Moments later you can hear a knock at your door. You close your laptop before moving towards the door, finding Jisung behind it with a smile.

“Hi Ji, what’s up?”

“Well, me and Innie were supposed to go out today but he fell asleep on the couch. I don’t wanna disturb him so I was wondering if you’d like to watch a movie. I was thinking Howl’s moving castle since we talked about it last time,”

“Oh yeah, sure. Sounds fun,” You agree easily, turning off your lights before moving to follow Jisung back to his room. You walk through the living room and you almost coo at seeing the maknae knocked out on the couch. He looks like a sweet angel as he sleeps and you move to place a blanket over the boy.

You realize though that Jisung is not leading you to his room.

“Uh, isn’t this Felix’s room?” You question.

“Yeah but the wifi isn’t working in my room for some reason so Lixie is letting me use his room,”

You shrug, following the boy without another word. Jisung has his laptop under his arm, making his way to the bed, plopping down before patting the space next to him before going to set up the movie. You crawl over to the space, sitting rather close to the other due to the small bed. If Jisung is bothered by this, he doesn’t say anything.

The two of you get comfortable as he begins to let the movie play and you’re both content, sitting in silence to focus on the film. A giggle falls from your lips when Jisung begins to mime the actions of Howl in the movie, proving that he’s watch this about a million times before, having memorized most of it.

‘Merry-go-round of life begins to play and you find yourself swaying to the romantic sound of the piano. The piece is devastatingly beautiful, one of your favorites from the other ghibli films. You remember dreaming about dancing with someone to this song. Someone you loved.

You glance over at the boy next to you who is still very engrossed in the movie. You nibble at your lower lip, contemplating about asking Jisung. The worst he could do is say no, right?

“Hey,” You turn to the boy who also turns his head as you call out to him. “Will you let me indulge in something for a second?” Jisung tilts his head curiously but nods. You move to take the computer from his lap, pausing the movie before opening a new tab on youtube. You find a shorter version of the song and let it play as you place the computer so it’s out of the way. Crawling off the bed, you extend your hand out for the male to take. Jisung slides his palm into yours and you pull him up, moving your other hand to his shoulder.

He takes the hint well, placing his hand upon your waist before moving fluidly to the song. The two of you dance circles around Felix’s room, him twirling you a few times. Giggles fall from your lips as he happily sways you to the soft piano. It’s impossible to not admire the pretty boy in front of you, his heart shaped smile or the cute beauty mark on his full cheeks.

If your heart still beat you’re almost certain it would be throbbing against your ribcage. The feeling confuses you, it’s something you’ve never really felt before, even when you had been alive. Maybe once but it was something you’d rather forget.

You pull yourself closer so you can rest your chin on one of his shoulders and Jisung’s arms move so he can wrap them around your middle. The two of you move slower as the music starts to fade but even as the song ends, you stay in his embrace for a few more seconds. When you finally pull away, he’s looking at you with fondness swimming in those boba eyes. One of his hands move to your cheek, stroking the smooth skin with his thumb.

You’re pretty sure that your heart would be racing right about now with the way Jisung’s looking at you. He leans down just a little, your noses touched and you can feel his breath ghosting against your lips. He pulls your face towards him and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt as you pull him flush against your body, melting against the embrace. Jisung’s lips are soft against yours, head tilting to get a better angle and it has you sighing softly.

But when Jisung’s tongue is swiping across your lower lip, the sensationsnaps you out of your daze, suddenly realizing what was happening. You push him away, a look of panic overtaking your features.

“Shit! Fuck. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I just - I got caught up in the moment and,” Words continue to spill from your lips, unable to stop rambling. Jisung becomes nervous as he watches you freak out. He has to grab onto your forearms to get you to stop.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m the one who initiated,” Your mouth closes and opens again like a fish, no longer sure what to say. “Yes?” Jisung can see you want to ask something.

“Why did you kiss me then? What about your boyfriends? I don’t think they’ll be very happy if they find out,” You mumble out, gaze falling to the floor as you try to untangle yourself from his grip. It’s then that Jisung realizes that they haven’t actually told you anything yet, having trying to figure out when the right time would be. Right. He might have forgotten about that.

“Oh um. We might have, uh, already talked about it?” Even though he phrases it like a question, you know it’s not. You blink at him.

“What does that mean?” Jisung has the audacity to blush and look away from you. He begins to fiddle with his hands awkwardly.

“Well we um, just thought that if you had decided you wanted to feed on us, it would be okay? We all discussed that we’d all be interested in that. If it makes things easier we’d be! Happy to let you feed on us…We already feel really comfortable around you and so…yeah,” Now Jisung is the one rambling and you’re having trouble trying to keep up with him.

“Ok wait. Let me see if I have this right. All of you talked about me and agreed that if I wanted to fuck you guys to feed, it would be ok. That all of you have explicit permission to let me be intimate with me,”

“Uh. Yes. That is correct,”

You press your fingers to your temple, still trying to wrap your head around this revelation. These boys were going to be the death of you (ha, get it?)

“You know, usually you let a girl know that their boyfriends have given them permission to do stuff before you kiss her,” Your tone is light, letting him know you’re just teasing him. If you’re honest, of course you had thought about the boys in the way. You were a succubus for satan’s sake, in the presence of some seriously attractive boys but you had always known that they were together so you assumed they would be 100% off limits. So the proposition is interesting to say the least, and if they were willing, what was the harm of saying yes?

“Sorry…I might have forgotten that we hadn’t talked to you about it yet,” Very typical Jisung, he’s lucky he’s so cute.

You let out a soft sigh. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to know now,” The air becomes slightly awkward, neither of you knowing what to say. Jisung is the one who pipes up.

“So…can we continue then?” You look over at him, his round cheeks flushed. Seriously, he was way too adorable for his own good. Still, it gives you a nice little confidence boost you need.

“Yeah? You wanna kiss me that badly?” Your head tilts to the side, tongue running across your teeth and Jisung’s eyes zone in on the movement of your slick muscle.

“Yeah…” Jisung breathes out and you tug him closer to push him back onto the bed. You come to swing your legs over him, straddling the boy and moving your hands to cup his cheeks, tilting it so he’s looking up at you.

“You want a kiss baby boy?” Jisung swallows visibly, eyes never leaving yours.

“Please,” It’s the way he asks so sweetly that you can’t deny him anymore, leaning down to push your lips against his. Unlike the first kiss, this one isn’t sweet, it’s far more needy and intense. A whine falls from Jisung’s throat as your tongue traces along his bottom lip. He eagerly parts his tiers so you can slip the slick muscle into his wanting mouth. You take your sweet time exploring his mouth, his own tongue coming to lick at yours.

When you pull away to breath, Jisung looks absolutely breathtaking, his eyes half-lidded and lips swollen. It makes you grin, seeing your effect on the boy. As you take him in, you notice he has a mole in the juncture of his collarbone, getting the sudden urge to kiss it. So you do, trailing your lips from his jaw to his neck until they reach his collarbone. Jisung’s hands come to rest on your waist, throwing his head back to bare his neck to you.

You attach your lips to his smooth skin, sucking softly, not enough to leave a mark - at least not one that will last. Jisung’s bottom lip is between his teeth as he worries it, trying to not make any embarrassing noises. So you deliberately roll your hips down against his hips and a groan slips from his lips. He’s already hard, straining against his pants as he begins to push you harder down against him.

“So needy huh?” You hum, thoroughly enjoying how desperate he’s getting for you. He looks so gone already, pupils dilated and lips parted.

“Noona…please,” Jisung’s voice breaks, slightly croaky with how dry it feels.

“Please what?”

“Please…it hurts,”

“Aw, do you need some help baby?” He nods his head, continuing to try to move your hips against his aching clothed cock for any semblance of friction. You move to shimmy down just enough so that you’re in between his legs. Fingers move to undo his jeans, pushing them down so his cock flops out. Jisung is painfully hard, the tip flushed red and leaking precum. Saliva pools in your mouth before spitting directly against his cock, an action that has Jisung preening.

You wrap your fingers around his shaft, spreading your spit all along his cock to make the slide easier. Jisung’s head is thrown back, hips bucking up eagerly into your hand desperately. Normally you’d just edge him for that but you can tell how bad he needs it so you let it slide. You twist your hand as you stroke him off, paying attention to the head of his cock. Jisung is actively whining, begging for you to go faster.

So you oblige the poor boy, jerking him off faster and squeezing at his length. The only sounds in the room were Jisung’s moans and the lewd squelch of his slick cock. You lean up so you can press kisses to his neck and Jisung gasps, easily becoming more squirmy under you.

“Noona…Noona! ‘M close,” He mumbles out and you’re not surprised. Jisung had been so needy that it makes you wonder when is that last time he last had sex.

“Go ahead baby, cum whenever you want,” You let out a small hum, hand speeding up and thumb pressing against the tip. The moan Jisung lets out as he comes is borderline pornographic, thick white stripes landing on his stomach and your hand. Slowly you help him ride out his high, stroking him until he has to stop you.

You glance down at your cum stained hand. While you didn’t actually have to ingest semen to feed, it either being inside you or on your skin worked perfectly well. However, you’d be lying if you weren’t curious. So you bring your hand to your lips, licking at your stained fingers, letting out a hum at his surprisingly sweet taste. Jisung’s watching you slack jawed and hazy eyes. He thinks he probably would have gotten hard from watching you do that but he’s so exhausted, eyes threatening to close all the way.

“Fuck - why am I so tired?”

“Ah, that’s probably me. I also feed of the energy you release when you cum, making you much more tired than you probably would be. You’ll get used to it though,” You run your clean hand through his sweaty bangs, pushing them out of his face. You slip off of him, going to the bathroom and return back with a damp washcloth. You help clean the boy up whose about to pass out. Jisung is able to pull his pants back up before he’s all but collapsing against his pillows.

You giggle at the boy, moving to get up to let him get some rest. He grabs onto your wrist though, stopping you in your tracks. You turn around to look back at him, head tilted.

“Mm, will you stay?” He asks, voice heavy as sleep threatens to take over. A smile graces your face and you simply move to crawl back onto the bed, pulling the boy close to you, his head resting upon your chest.

“Um, let’s not tell Lix what we did in his bed ok? Just a secret between you and me?” Jisung mumbles out before dreamland finally takes him.

“Yeah, agreed,”

a/n: ok look, I know what you're thinking. kaia??? howls moving castle again? FIRST OF ALL!!!! Jisung is just so ghibli coded and that's not my fault. SECOND OF ALL!!! that's what he literally did in this vlog so, not my fault again <3 Also finally!! we're here, it's about to get reaaaaaaaally spicy now ^^

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ereardon · 10 months

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The Backup || Chapter 2

[Jake Seresin x Reader]

A friends with benefits AU

Overview: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits?

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Chapter summary: Y/N goes on a first date with someone and sparks fly; Jake shows his first crack of jealousy

Warnings: Implied smut, cursing

WC: 3.3K

Previous chapter here; masterlist here

[Please see note at the end, tag list is closed but please follow/turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead]

“He’s hot!”

You turned your head to where Phoenix was pointing and grimaced. Goatee, Chelsea boots, jeans skinnier than yours. “Is this 2014?” you asked, turning back to the table and putting your hands on the sticky wood. “No thanks. Going to get a second round. Want anything?”

“Rum and coke.”

You pushed your way to the busy bar, propping your elbows up and flagging the bartender. “Rum and coke and a tequila soda please.”

He nodded, turning away and you looked back at the table. A tall blond was chatting up Phoenix, one of his arms looped around the back of her chair. You rolled your eyes. Everyone always flocked to Phoenix. Men, women, it didn’t matter. She had that carefree attitude that attracted people like flies to honey. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t jealous. Her taste was abysmal but that was besides the point. She had options, and you envied that.

“Here you go.” The waiter set the drinks down. “Twenty two dollars.”

“Let me get that for you.” A voice from your left appeared out of thin air. You turned. A credit card extended from his massive hand, held out over the bar. The arm was covered in a leather jacket, and you trailed your eyes up his arm to his face which hovered a good foot above you or more. Dark hair, slightly overgrown, and a sharp jawline with a slightly hawkish nose. His eyes flickered down toward you and you felt your heart throb in your chest.

“I have a tab,” you interrupted, sticking out one hand, putting it over his hand that hovered out with a credit card glued between two massive fingers. You didn’t pull away and neither did he.

The bartender’s voice interrupted. “Name?”

“Natasha,” you replied, and he moved away, tapping Phoenix’s name into his system and finding her card from when the two of you had arrived an hour before.

You felt a rush of air as the stranger’s hand pulled away, sliding his credit card back into a thin black wallet. He looked down at you from where he was leaning against the bar. “Now I owe you a drink, Natasha.”

You shook your head but he never flinched. “Natasha is my friend over there.” You pointed at Phoenix who was now laughing with a new person, this time a girl wearing a tight miniskirt. “I’m Y/N.”

His voice was deep. “I’m Liam.”

He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. A mysterious almost Adam Driver-like quality. You leaned forward, pressing one leg against his. “Here.” You reached into your purse, tugging at a loose business card and holding it out. “If you were serious about that drink.”

Liam held the card up in the dim lighting of the bar, one thick black eyebrow raised as he read off the card. He lowered it, sliding it into his pocket, inching forward, musk filling the air around you. “Are you here to meet guys, Y/N, or to get stock tips?”

You tossed your head back in a laugh. When you caught Liam’s eye he was smiling, lips pulled tightly together but in a grin. “I know better than to look for tips at a bar in the Marina,” you replied. “I’d just go to the Philz at Embarcadero.”

Liam’s lip twitched up. “I’ll let you get back to your friend.”

“Thanks for the hypothetical promise of a drink,” you replied, picking up both drinks.

Liam’s hand reached out, fingers spread across your bare wrist. “Y/N.” His voice was deep and gruff; it scratched that inner part of your ear that felt like a tickle. You looked up, eyes wide. “I’ll call you.”

You grinned. “You better.” You could feel his gaze, hot on your back, as you made your way back to the table where Phoenix was now alone.

“That took ages. What was the hold up?”

You looked back at the bar. Liam held up his drink with a wink. You turned back to Phoenix, taking a sip of your tequila soda. “Nothing. Just some guy.”

“Some guy, huh? Any potential?”

You snuck one last look at the bar. Liam’s spot was empty. You turned back to Phoenix and shrugged. “Probably not.”

***

“You can’t seriously think this looks good.”

Coyote walked out of the fitting room in a pair of green chinos and a quarter zip sweater layered over a white shirt. You stood up from the chair and reached for his collar, fussing with it as he grimaced.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

“Stop fidgeting,” you snapped. He dropped his hands to his sides and you gripped his shoulders, pivoting him toward the three-pane mirror. “You’re insane, this looks perfect.”

“I feel like a Ken doll.”

You opened your mouth to respond as an older woman appeared behind the two of you. “Aren’t you two a lovely couple!”

Coyote’s face in the mirror transformed into a sigh. It wasn’t the first or third or tenth time someone had mistaken the two of you for a couple. Sometimes it was hard not to. Whether it was picking out new clothes at a J. Crew or Christmas tree shopping in Oakland or late at night at the bar, his arm slipped around the back of your chair, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Oh we’re not together,” you replied after a moment.

The lady frowned. “Why not?”

You looked up at Coyote. Why not was a good question. He was everything you wanted in a partner. Strong and stable and kind. He could predict your needs based on your mood and he wanted the very best for you.

Coyote smiled down at you. You grinned at him. Why not was only for you two to know.

***

“Fuck!”

You slammed back against the mattress, chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin from where you laid naked in Jake’s bed. He looked over at you with a smirk. “That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groaned, slapping one hand over your eyes, blocking him out.

Jake laughed, one hand squeezing your thigh. His grip was tight and familiar. “You love it,” he replied, rolling out of bed and pulling on a pair of boxers. “Want some pizza? I have some in the fridge.”

“Yeah, sure.” As Jake rounded the corner into the kitchen you reached for your phone on the nightstand, a voicemail from an unknown number blinking on the homepage. Frowning, you clicked on it.

Hi Y/N, this is Liam, from Tostado’s bar. What are you doing on Wednesday night? I’d really like to see you again. And I still owe you that drink. Call me when you can. Talk soon.

Jake returned with a box of pizza and two beer bottles wedged between his fingers on one hand. “Everything OK?”

You smiled, sliding the phone face-down onto the table. “Yeah, everything’s great.”

***

“Tell me again who this is?” Coyote pinched a french fry between his fingers and popped it into his mouth.

“His name is Liam, we met at a bar last weekend.”

“And how do we know Liam isn’t a serial killer?”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your drink, leaning back into the plush seat of the restaurant booth. “Javy, are we really going to do this again?”

He sighed. “I just worry about you.”

“I know you do. But I’m a big girl. And besides, don’t you want me to find someone?”

“Of course I do.” It was a thin whisper.

“What did I miss?” Jake slid into the seat to your left, immediately reaching for his beer.

“Y/N has a date tomorrow,” Coyote said.

Jake’s eyebrow shot up. “Is that so? What’s his red flag?”

“He has none.”

Jake laughed but it sounded empty. “Sounds like bullshit to me. They all have red flags.”

“Just because you date teeny boppers with the emotional intelligence of an eraser doesn’t mean I do, too.”

“Not my fault you pick the biggest losers on the planet to date in a city that’s literally chock full of startup geniuses.”

Coyote watched with wide eyes as you and Jake laid into each other. Your face was practically red. After a pause you leaned back and shook your head. “New subject. Has anyone seen Bradley’s new motorcycle?”

Jake launched into a full rundown of the specs of Bradley’s new bike. You finished your pasta, nodding in rapt attention, but the heat of Coyote’s gaze was undeniable. At one point, you looked up to catch him staring at you, head tipped, like he was solving a puzzle. You smiled, and he did, too, but it didn’t reach his eyes. You turned back to Jake, trying to ignore the pinch in your stomach.

***

The wind rippled through your hair as Liam returned from the bar with two drinks. He smiled broadly, lips spread back but still closed. You held out a hand, wrapping it around the plastic cup. “Thanks.”

Liam took his place next to you near the boat railing, the water splashing high on the sides. “Is this what you had in mind for a first date?”

You shook your head. When he had first suggested the two of you take a nighttime tour of Alcatraz you had been surprised. But it turned out to be monumentally more fun than you had imagined. You’d worn the complete wrong type of shoe — a pair of stiletto boots — and on your way back down the side of the hill to the ferry boat you had stumbled and Liam caught you. His arms were solid and strong and to your shock he crouched down.

“Get on.”

You had hopped onto his back, and he carried you down the side of the hill, all the way onto the boat. He set you down gently, hands caressing your thighs carefully. You could still feel the mark of his fingertips on your skin when he was inside getting drinks.

“Well?” Liam asked, taking a sip of his margarita. “You up for one last adventure?”

You smiled. “Another surprise?”

“One more,” he promised. “Or if you’re desperate to get off this boat with me I can call you an Uber the second we get to the Ferry Building.”

“Not at all.”

“Good.” This time, he flashed his pearly white teeth. “Do you eat meat?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Liam were squished in a small booth in a restaurant in Chinatown with a vast spread of food on the rickety table in front of you: pork dumplings, half of a roasted duck, fluffy buns filled with red bean paste, shrimp shumai.

You stabbed a dumpling with your chopsticks, plopping it into your mouth.

“That’s so good.”

Liam’s knee knocked against yours as you reached for another bun. “Have you been to China?”

“Never. But it’s on my list.”

“I spent two years there teaching English,” he said, taking a sip of beer in-between words. “Unreal experience.”

“I’m jealous,” you said. “I’ve only ever lived here and LA, where I grew up.”

“What made you leave LA?”

“My best friend,” you replied, lifting the neck of the beer bottle to your lips. “He got a job out here after graduation and said it was the best place ever. We both kind of needed a change of place, to get away from where we were from.”

“San Francisco is the greatest escape,” Liam said, “and it’s a vacuum, sucking you in, all at once.” Even though it was dark, you understood what he meant. There was something about the city that called to you. When it was night and the streets were practically empty. Something overwhelming when the fog finally broke and you could see for miles across the abundant hills. San Francisco was more of a home to you than LA ever would be. It was your escape, but it was also your Hotel California. You could show up anytime, but you would never leave.

“What do you do?” you asked, leaning forward, one ankle brushing over his calf. Liam’s hand dangled off the back of the red booth, fingertips dancing lightly on your shoulder.

“I’m a publisher.”

“Books?”

He nodded. “I’m here for six months. A kind of sabbatical.”

You frowned. “Six months? Then where are you going?” “Back to New York.” You sucked in a breath. “I live in the East Village, off Eleventh Street.”

“New York,” you breathed. “I’ve never been.”

“It’s different than here,” Liam replied. “This has the better Chinatown.”

You smiled. “What do you like better?”

“Neither one is better,” Liam said, his voice graveley and deep. You felt his fingers brush gently over your shoulder, and you unconsciously nudged closer. “Coffee in New York. Mexican food here. People in New York are ruder, but genuine. People here are California kind — pleasant, but hollow. I like being close to the water. But New York has bagels and there’s so much more life at three in the morning.” He paused. “Besides, you’re here. So that’s an automatic win for San Francisco.”

Under the flickering fluorescent light of the Chinese restaurant, you looked up at Liam. For the first time in a long time, you felt it. That spark. That small piece of chemistry every romcom, every romance book, every person who had been in a committed relationship said was the start. The one little ember that would ignite and start a whole forest fire. And despite all of the noise, the shouting and the clamoring and the sound of dishes smacking against linoleum tables and chairs screeching as they got pulled back on the sticky tile floor, for a moment in time it was just you and Liam sitting next to each other in silence, your smile reflected on his face, his fingertips warm against your shoulder.

Outside, the air was chilly. You winced as the two of you stepped into the street, your feet aching in the heeled boots. “Wait here,” Liam said, ducking into the store next to the restaurant the two of you had emerged from. He returned a few minutes later, holding out a pair of red silky slippers and you laughed as he bent down, unzipping your boots carefully, sliding the slippers on. You sighed in relief, heels hitting the ground for the first time all night.

“I can hold those,” you said, reaching out for the boots.

He straightened up, towering over you, and shook his head. “I’ll carry them for you.”

Liam’s hand found yours as the two of you walked down Grant Street. There was something calm about him. Sturdy. As you rounded the corner onto Market Street, your gaze flickered up at him.

“When can I see you again?” he asked, voice melting into the wind that whipped down the street, blanketing the two of you in a chill.

“I’m free on Friday.”

He grinned. “Friday then.” Liam pulled out his phone as a black sedan pulled up next to the curb. “I ordered you an Uber Black to take you home.” Liam stepped forward, opening the door. You lingered for a moment, your right hip brushing against his.

“Goodnight,” you whispered. For once, you wanted him to kiss you. It wasn’t a reluctant end of the night forced event. It wasn’t out of pity or to cut the date short. It wasn’t because you felt like you owed him for a drink, a dinner, a ride. You wanted him to kiss you.

So when he leaned down, one hand cupping your cheek, you sucked in a breath, his lips landing on yours, soft and pillowy, the pine scent of his musk overwhelming your senses as he pressed closer, his thumb sinking gently into the soft skin behind your ear as you opened your lips, letting him in. And when he pulled away, you were breathless. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Liam murmured, taking your hand, helping you down into the leather backseat of the car, placing your discarded boots down at your side.

You watched him fade into the dark as the car pulled away, headed west, your lips still bruised with the thought of him.

You were so caught up that you didn’t feel your phone buzz in your purse, Jake’s text sitting unread.

How was the date? I have tequila.

***

You and Jake had agreed early on that you’d keep your relationship, or whatever you could call it, a secret from the group. Not only would Coyote flip, but it would create another layer that would inevitably create fissures if and when things went to shit with the two of you. Which, taking into account both of your dating histories, was practically inevitable.

Only once had you come close to exposing yourselves.

It was Bob’s birthday party, which had started at a restaurant in the Mission and ended at a rooftop in Cow Hollow. Jake had struck out early in the night with two different blondes, first at the restaurant and then at the second bar. You had early success chatting with a guy from the first bar, but by the time you got to the rooftop he confessed he lived with his mother and sometimes slept in her bed.

“Ew,” you shuddered, taking a shot, physically shaking away the ick that had crawled under your skin the moment he said that.

“What happened Stink? Strike out?”

You glared at Jake. “Fuck off.”

He tipped one of the small shot glasses down his throat and winced. “So did I.” Jake leaned in closer, his hand brushing against your low back. You felt a tickle of excitement creep up your thighs. “Want to get out of here?”

“We can’t, it’s Bob’s birthday. Someone will see.”

“You leave first, I’ll wait five minutes and follow. Your apartment is just ten minutes away.”

You looked up at Jake. He had stepped closer, his thumb hooked against the waistband of your shorts, the edges of his hair stuck to his golden skin from the sweat. It was hot, July, and the evening breeze that usually chilled San Francisco was nowhere to be found. And yet, somehow all you wanted was to be rolling around with Jake in a mess of sweaty limbs. “You’re desperate for me, huh?” you whispered.

Jake rolled his eyes and you smirked. Just as you were about to pull away, head for the door, you straightened your glance. Phoenix had her eyes trained on you across the room. Quickly, you sidestepped away from Jake, his fingertips falling from your waist. “What?” he asked, loudly. Too loudly.

“Shh,” you hissed under your breath, taking another definitive step away from Jake and jutting your chin out toward Phoenix. Jake looked up, catching Natasha’s eyes, and then grunted.

“Fuck.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, pushing him out of the way, trying to cut across the room toward Phoenix to explain.

“Wait, Y/N.” Jake grabbed your wrist.

You turned back, thrashing out of his grip. “Jake. Let go of me.” Your eyes burned into his and he opened his fingers, letting your wrist slide away, out of his grasp. “You better hope she doesn’t suspect anything.”

By the time you made your way across the rooftop to Phoenix she was pounding another drink, the memory of you and Jake cozy near the railing a distant memory. But that didn’t stop the tiny little voice in the back of your head that said you two were ticking time bomb. That sooner or later, one of you would make a mistake. And it wouldn’t just be your pseudo-relationship on the line. It would be all of your friendships, too.

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

In Your Corner

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | WC: 3,885

It had been supposed to be another great year that had come to a close for you. Every year, without fail Tony would throw you a party, but this year he was preoccupied with his family. He hadn't even had the time to send you a text.

That hurt, but you new infants were a lot of work so you gave him and Pepper that pass, but as you entered the communal kitchen you found yourself disappointed again. You'd been used to waking up to the smell of a homemade breakfast made by your best friend, but this year Wanda was off to Cannes with Vis for an impromptu trip, she too had forgotten to text.

The remainder of the team had seemingly also forgotten, each one just hanging around the compound and your lover was off on a mission so you couldn't fault her for the lack of text.

——

So, there you sat, on your shared floor with a pint of whatever frostbitten ice cream was left in your freezer as you watched Friends reruns and cried into your couch cushions as Rachel and Ross fought over the terms of a "break".

The show continued on, laugh tracks sounding off, even when it wasn't really that funny but your focus had since shifted to your dry phone. When you realized no one would remember now as it'd already reached noon you settled into the loneliness and slipped off into a nap.

—

Natasha was stressed to the max on a quinjet, pacing back and forth as Clint flew them home. She'd been gone for two weeks now, and she told Fury that there was no way she'd miss your birthday. It was too important to her that the two of you at least have time to celebrate.

Your life was the most important thing to her, so of course the day of your birth was as well.

So he sent in some agents to replace them as the bulk of the work had been completed and all that was really left was the clean up. There was no reason to extend what had already been extended from a weekend away to two weeks.

When they landed she rushed off the jet and went straight to the common area. She was softly panting from the exertion, but her breathing slowed to nothing as she surveyed the room. Steve and Bucky sat on opposite ends of the couches reading, while Sam and Peter were on the ground, the former one cursing as they played a round of Mario Kart.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Clint's eyes widened as he walked in as Natasha growled. The men in the room looked to her confused, the youngest of them all was the first to speak. "We're having a chill day Mrs. Romanoff."

"Wrong answer," Clint tossed out before rushing out of the room to debrief with Hill as he promised Natasha he'd do for her sake.

"Now why would you be doing that Parker?"

"Natasha, we don't have the energy for your riddles, so speak your peace," Bruce boldly piped up from the corner he'd been sat in.

"Banner, I suggest you leave now," she gritted, her fists bunched up, and the scientist lost all of his bite when he remembered the Hulk wasn't going to be on his side. He soon left with his head down and metaphorical tail tucked.

Which was the best gift your wife could honestly offer: his disappearance. He'd been nothing but bitter since you two got together.

"What's wrong Nat?" Bucky asked, much softer and genuine. Of all people here he'd be granted a pass as he'd not been here in the years prior.

"I'm just wondering where the decorations are, and why my wife isn't here surrounded by the people who she celebrates joyously every year."

Expressions of guilt, and trepidation overtook the entirety of the limited team members faces.

"Friday, where's Y/N?" Natasha asked, only adding salt to the wounded men as she replied: "Asleep upstairs on your couch, it appears she had cried herself to sleep about a half hour ago. Shall I wake her for you Agent Romanoff?"

"No, please do let me know if she wakes up." Friday agreed, and she shifted her attention back to the men who'd all stood to their feet.

Natasha's heart had sank at the notion of you feeling the way you did, as if you were easily overlooked, and not valued, so she knew she needed to fix the mess everyone had made.

"Peter, swing to the bakery at once and return with a tray of those cupcakes." The young boy looked defeated, your wife didn’t hold this against him, on account that he was a kid, but she didn’t waver with her glare and that got him to scramble to activate his suit and leave.

“Wilson, Rogers, and Barnes, go decorate the garden, leave behind your generous gifts, then stay out of sight for the rest of the day."

The redhead then shot off texts to everyone else to scold them just in case they too forgot. Then she took off to the gym lockers so she could freshen up without having to enter your shared floor and risk waking you up just yet.

After she changed from her suit into a pair of shorts and a muscle tee she set off to collect you for a day of last minute, but proper plans. The guys had just finished their part, and left to Wilson's apartment so she could fix the day.

As she entered your shared space she was greeted by an obnoxious laugh track, your melted ice cream and your sleeping form.

Natasha took a minute to survey the scene, and after a moment of admiring you her heart effectively broke as she eventually saw the dampened fabric of your couch. If not for her desire to celebrate your birth she'd be stealthily bringing an end to all that made you this sad.

With a quiet, determined step she moved about your shared floor, cleaning up the mess you'd been accumulating ever since she left. Then she settled a kiss to your cheek as she shut off the TV before venturing off down the hallway to run you a warm tub full of water. After she set the place up with a sprinkling of gifts, and a whole lot of love she’d set off to collect you.

To her luck you'd just groggily sat up, she found it funny that the silence is what woke you up as you'd just been snoring through Friends only a half an hour prior. "Natty?"

"Good morning sleepy head," she teased as she moved out of the hallway and into your sight. There was a dullness to your gaze as you tiredly surveyed her, not subtle at all as you looked her over for wounds, then again to check her out.

Natasha smirked, and began to approach you, she settled down beside you and cupped your cheek. There was a glimmer of hope in your gaze, and she spoke fast, making sure not to crush it. "Happy Birthday moya lyubov'."

"You remembered?" You sobbed, a bit dramatic you'd realize later, because of course she did, but in the moment you felt relieved. "Oh detka, how could I ever forget such an important day, hm? It's my most treasured."

Her lips pressed to your cheeks, catching the tears that slipped through your lashes, then they traversed the expanse of your face until they finally landed on your own as she pulled your body into her lap in one swift motion.

"Why's my pretty girl up here alone on her most special of days, hm?" Natasha knew, but she wanted to try and get your perspective and see the best possible way to change it. "Because everybody forgot Natty," you hiccuped as you burrowed into her neck. "Except for Friday."

Natasha hummed, her body slowly rocked yours in an attempt to hopefully soothe you as her own blood boiled with pure contempt.

"My sources say there was a cosmic fluke on Wanda's behalf, because she adores you so."

Natasha prayed for her sake this was true, because though she'd lose in a fight with the unfair advantage of powers, she wouldn't refrain from smacking her around anyways.

"The rest were simply forgetful idiots, but they felt terrible and have started the apology train," she decided to be honest, forgoing her initial plan to lie to protect your feelings. The men didn't deserve such shielding, they instead deserved to stew in their guilt for eternity.

"I-I don't mean to be dramatic Natty," you sniffled, "But I never forget anyone, why would they forget me? I just want the same in return."

"I understand detka, it's fair to expect," she agreed with a soft tone, "I just want you to know I would never forget, I only didn't text because I was racing home to surprise you."

"I know you would never forget honey, some years it's you who has to remind me," you giggled, and it instantly brought a smile to your lovers face to see you already perking up.

"Well, in the spirit of such a monumental occasion I have ran a tub for you, and set out a new outfit for you to slip into for our plans."

Your head whipped back from its place on her shoulder, face instantly lighting up, "Plans?"

Natasha shook her head with a fond smile, her fingers then raised up to her lips to imitate a zipper and so you whined: "Natty please?"

"Detka, I want it to be exciting, so go get ready and meet me in the garden when you're done."

The two of you stood to your feet, reluctantly moving apart, but before you fully separated your wife pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

"Take your time, and relax your mind Y/N." She pecked your lips a final time, then left.

As you entered your room your heart swelled at the sight of the outfit she'd bought, you'd been eyeing the fit for awhile, and of course she had been watching you just the same. Nothing was ever going to get by your super spy of a wife.

Once you finished your soak, with a new set of body products, you slid out and into the new royal green cropped sweater vest, and skirt. Then after handling your skincare routine you skipped all the way to the garden where you found your wife stood there patiently waiting.

Natasha subtly gulped at the sight of you, and for a moment the both of you remained silent as you looked the other over. She had changed from her casual locker attire into a loose fit black button up polo, with a pair of grey slacks. It was a simple choice, but still deeply alluring as her arms managed to bulge out the stretchy fabric, and her pants were form fitting enough that you could admire her toned behind.

Once you reeled in your devious gaze you were reduced to a woman on the verge of another breakdown. There stood your wife with a bouquet of black roses, and honeysuckles. It had become her goal to pick you meaningful flowers, and the contrast in bright colors meant to symbolize eternal love, intermixed between the more dark, morbid version of the classic rose was for an that leads to a beginning.

In the moment your curiosity was peaked, but you settled on letting the day play out before you sought out clarity. Your wife was cunning, and never moved without a plan, and you were never one to doubt her so you'd easily wait.

Natasha's free hand hung in the air, beckoning you to approach her, and as you accepted she swiftly pulled you into her body. She lowered the bouquet, allowing you the chance to smell the unique combination before she set them in a vase on the center of the decorated table.

“You look gorgeous love.” Natasha blushed, and softly huffed, “That was my line detka.”

As you giggled mischievously into her chest she gave the nervous spider-teen who was lingering on the side of the compound a thumbs up from behind your back. Peter lowered the pink box, and white bags onto the table with his webs, then as previously instructed he vanished.

“He’s just a kid Natty,” you called your wife out as you tried to pull away from her, but she kept your bodies connected with a hand on your lower back, as her lips sought your warmth.

Once satisfied she let you go, eyes admiring the way that yours stayed shut an extra beat, you always took a moment to recover, even when it was just a peck on the lips. You swore you’d never get used to the feeling of hers against yours. It was electrifying, and no matter how brief there was never a lack of love to be found.

Once you shakily breathed out through your nose, and your eyes fluttered open you were met with your wife who was patiently waiting. Natasha pursed her lips, then doubled down. “That’s true Y/N, that’s why I still let him see you, but he also has a phone with a calendar.”

You knew not to push it, because in the end she wasn’t wrong. Instead you thanked the boy via text, and put your phone in dnd, no longer caring about the sudden influx of well wishes, as your greatest one to be was sat before you.

Natasha handed you a sandwich, and then after listening to you animatedly tell her stories of the guy’s stupidity, she reflected back and told you all about Clint’s on their mission. Then as if having the power to summon him, the man was beside you with a candle and a lighter.

“Happy Birthday Y/N/N,” he greeted with a grin and a stubbly kiss to your temple. “The kids made you this,” he passed you a paper with the whole Barton family on it, and right to the side of them was you in Nat’s arms with Liho on your shoulder. Then he passed you an envelope, “And Laura purchased you this.”

While Natasha pulled out a gorgeous cupcake decorated to look like a peony you tore it open.

“Oh my gosh, no way!” You shrieked, “We’re going with them to Disneyland Natty!” She met your enthusiasm with a nervous chuckle, then seamlessly blew passed her anxieties as she lit the solo candle and began to sing. Clint joined her in the celebratory tune, but fortunately for you your wife’s melodic voice carried the tune.

Clint slipped off a moment later, with a to go container of various flower inspired cupcakes, then Natasha guided you to her sports car. It never ceased to make your heart flutter when she naturally moved to buckle you in. There was never a time in your whole entire time knowing her that she didn’t do this. It was actually how you realized she liked you in the way you did her. Because once you actually saw how she unbuckled Tony’s for him in contrast.

“Where are we going?” Natasha shook her head and chuckled softly, “Stop asking baby girl, you know I’m a steel fortress with this stuff.”

You grumbled all the way, until you saw the arcade, with Yelena and Kate grinning outside. Natasha couldn’t contain her laughter as you raced from the car and into her sisters arms. The blonde spun you around, then after you were back on the ground Kate pulled you in.

“Come on Y/N,” Yelena shrieked, “We must play as many games as possible. The final winner gets the crown in Kate Bishop’s hand.

You raced off with a shout of: “Game on!”

“Thanks for coming so last minute, I know you just got home from an undercover mission,” Natasha genuinely said, and the archer turned to her with a tired smile. “It was the least we could do, plus, look at how happy they are.”

Natasha did look, her eyes hardly ever left you to begin with, but in moments like these, where you were in the middle of unbridled joy, she especially wanted to be a spectator. Seeing you and Yelena playing like little kids always made her heart soar, and her mind run with dreams.

Of a future similar to this moment, but with house parties and summer barbecues. It was all she wanted, and she reckoned it was time you two got started on the rest of your journey. So, after about an hour of free fun, where you beat Lena in the final game, reigning you champ she called out to you both to say it was time to go.

“You’re welcome for letting you win,” Yelena angrily said, making you giggle as you realized she most certainly did no such thing. Her eyes narrowed, but a grin soon overtook her face as you yanked her into a goodbye hug. “Thank you for coming out to celebrate my birthday.”

“I will never miss a chance to beat you at air hockey Y/N Romanoff.” Her arms tightened, and she softly whispered: “Happy Birthday.”

“Okay, let’s wife swap now.” Natasha’s tone was playful, but a spark of jealousy was easily detected. “Hold your panties Natalia. Y/N is all yours. Also Kate Bishop is my fiancé, not wife.”

“She’ll be your was with that attitude,” you teased as you shifted to say goodbye to the archer. Who, as was her job, coronated you the ‘Arcade Supreme’ just before slipping you a gift bag then taking off with her grumbling fiancé.

“We’ve got a few more stops detka.” Natasha escorted you back to the car, then the rest of the adventure unfolded as she took you to all of your favorite places. Including the cat cafe where she surprised you with an adoption.

You’d been begging for months to get Liho a girlfriend, but then you ended up getting a male orange tabby, with a missing eye. “He looks kinda like Fury, let’s take him to shield!”

“Detka, I want to live a long life with you,” she teased as you held the cat up. “Stop tempting your fate with the doppelgänger of our boss.”

“At least you agree with me,” you huffed, then set the cat back down before letting your wife take you out of the cafe with the promise of returning in the morning for the little fella.

“You think Liho will mind that his girlfriend is a boy?” You shrugged, smirking around the straw of your frappe. “Love is love Natty.”

It was encroaching evening now, so you’d figured that the night was coming to a close, but when your wife passed the exit for the compound you realized her plan was ongoing.

With the windows rolled down, and your hand interlocked with your wife’s as she drove you across city lined you began to realize the burden of your depressing start had dissipated. The tension in your body melted away, and in a show of direct appreciation you brought her knuckles up to your lips and kissed them.

“What was that for?” You were looking out the window at the vast greenery of New York, but you could hear her smirking and had to fight off the urge to roll your eyes. “Do I need a reason to show you, my dear wife, affection?”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, “I suppose not, but if you were saying thanks, I’d also like the same gesture deposited upon my lips please.”

Just as much as you were left a total mess after each kiss, she was left with an insatiable need for more. If she had it her way you’d never part. Her lips would be against yours all day, and if not there, at least somewhere on you.

Before you could even consider her proposal the redhead had pulled over abruptly, the blur of greenery was now more clear to you, and a feeling of serenity washed over you at the view.

“Where are we love?”

Your wife was nervous, something she rarely ever felt, and never let anyone see. Today is going to change the trajectory of your life for good, and she just hopes you’re happy with it.

“Home.” You furrowed your brows as you whipped your head around to meet her gaze after processing the word she’d just blurted. Seeing her nervous smile upon doing so made you lose the frown of confusion. A much softer crease overtook your face as you matched her smile as best you could. “What do you mean?”

“Here.” Natasha unbuckled herself, then she hopped out and gently pulled you from the car. “I, well actually, Tony and I have been working together on this for awhile now.” You cut her off with a gasp of genuine surprise, “You and Stark have been working together and he gets to live to tell others about it?” Natasha rolled her eyes, but before she could clarify you gasped again, this time with a horrified look.

“Oh my gosh Natty, did you kill him?” Her face fell into one of pure mortification. “What? No!”

You cast her an unbelieving glance, but then you lost your edge, tone obviously teasing, “Maybe that’s why he didn’t text me today…”

Natasha glared at the notion, and vowed to trip the wires in his suit for such a slight. Then she remembered his hologram that was waiting for you with birthday wishes beyond the hedges.

“Detka, please focus,” she chided, then pulled on your hand until you were just beyond the greenery, and stood before a gorgeous home. The walls were painted a blue tinted grey, with black trimmings, and it was two stories tall.

“This is,” she began, but you cut her off with a squeal, “Our home? Are we finally…” Natasha cut you off next, “Yes, we only have one final mission detka. To settle down for good now.”

“I love you so much Natasha!” She gladly took you into her arms for a hug, then before you could protest she scooped you up like she did on your wedding day, and ran the both of you beyond the threshold of the home. Her lips slammed to yours in the heat of the moment, but the kiss was weak as neither of you could refrain from smiling like idiots. “I love you too Y/N, more than I ever dreamed possible.”

When the night came to a close a few hours later, you heard your phone ding just as your eyes had shut. You begrudgingly peeked an eye back open. "Happy Birthday Y/N/N, I had no service, but I promise you a stack of chocolate chip pancake's when I return on Monday. ❤️"

You smiled, grateful for Wanda's gesture, albeit late it was much better than never at all. All you ever wanted was to have a group of people to love you the same way you'd loved them.

With Natasha pressed into you from behind, an arm wrapped tightly around you as she snored softly you knew without a doubt that you were at the very least loved with reciprocity by her.

—

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x wife!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #gxg

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evermourning · 10 months

Text

𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - han jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader, lovertober entry viii

genre: fluff, comfort, non!idol au

wc: 8.9k

warnings: brother's best friend!han, language, mentions of alcohol, reader is OBLIVIOUS and jisung is WHIPPED, making out, gets very suggestive, getting caught, starts really fucking slow.

a/n: daylight. lover's final track. what a fitting way to end lovertober. thank you all so much for the immense support i received with this series...can't wait to see you for my next one!

p.s., i'm sorry about the length (i got carried away </3) and the delay (i have been so so so busy), please enjoy!

you'd known han jisung for a very, very long time.

you were ten years old. it was a sunny september afternoon, and you were sitting on the brick stairs of your childhood home, watching with annoyance as your stupid brother and his stupid friends played football in the front yard.

your brother minho, ever the athlete, was the quarterback, of course. he was yelling terms that were so foreign they sounded like another language as the scrimmage commenced. you were bored out of your mind.

that is, until one of his friends sat down beside you.

"hi. you're min's little sibling, right?" he asked. his knees were covered with scrapes and cuts, a bandage places hastily over his left one. he had fluffy black hair and two dark eyes you could get lost in if you looked for too long. he gave you an awkwardly adorable smile.

you nodded skeptically. minho's friends were usually up to no good.

"yeah. why?" you asked, and he giggled. it was cute.

"i always see you hanging around whenever i come over, so i just wanted to know. why do you sit on the step watching if you never play?" he asked, genuinely wanting to learn more about you.

"my mom wants us to get our exercise in, so she basically kicks us outta the house until it's dinnertime." you explained quietly. a little "oh" formed on the boy's lips. "what's your name, by the way?"

"jisung." he said playfully, extending a hand out to shake yours. "and you're yn, right? minho's always talking about you." as if he'd been listening in, minho appeared behind him in an instant.

"jisung, we're down a player. you can't just be chatting up yn like that." he rolled his eyes. after jisung muttered a string of insults beneath his breath, minho crouched down to your level. "if he starts nagging you again, come get me, okay? i'm your big brother. i've got to be looking out for you."

"he wasn't nagging me, though?" you said, confused. "we were just talking." minho sighed.

"okay...but i'm gonna keep an eye on him. i don't care if he's my best friend. he hurts you and he dies. violently."

being friends with lee minho meant ground rules were established. they were short and to the point, usually things about privacy and things people say and whatnot, but there was one main one, one he enforced the most.

yn is off limits. no exceptions.

to minho, the idea of any of his friends dating one of his family members was just so weird. he didn't really want any of them to hurt you and have to cut off a valuable friendship. so, he made it very clear to them that they frankly did not have a chance with you.

jisung was sure he did, though.

he knew his feelings for you were so wrong, and that minho would most likely gut him if he ever told him, so he bottled them up. for years and years. fighting urges to kiss you silly when he saw your outfit for prom, when he saw you in a swimsuit, anything. once he went away to college, however, he hoped that his feelings would simply melt away and he could move on from you.

how terribly wrong he was.

fast-forward to a decade later, he was now standing outside your front door, inhaling deeply. he knocked once or twice before minho excitedly opened the door.

"hey, jisung." he stepped aside so jisung could enter, smiling widely. "how's college going?"

your final years of high school were peaceful, yet lonely. minho and his friends had ventured off to different universities, leaving you to fend for yourself. jisung, namely going to some fine arts school where he was pursuing a career in music production.

jisung caught minho up on how life was going, expressing his dismay about being dumped as he slipped into the kitchen to grab a drink.

"i didn't think you'd be drinking this early, ji." minho teased. jisung laughed, taking a swig before offering it up to him. when minho shook his head, jisung chugged the rest of it with a chuckle. "oh, by the way, i've got something to tell you. don't be weird, but yn's coming home too. i think they'll be home...in an hour or so?"

jisung choked on his drink. so much for not being weird.

"there's no way." he muttered, resulting in minho raising an eyebrow. "i haven't seen yn in what- two years? three years? how...are they?"

minho smiled, almost slyly, checking his phone.

"you're about to see."

the front door opened, and you came in frantically, your face lighting up as you saw your older brother. you rushed over to him to give him a tight hug. when you turned your head slightly to see jisung, your face lighting up into a dazzling smile, jisung swore actual butterflies were flying around in his stomach.

you had gotten fucking hot.

somewhere along the line, you'd had some glow-up that turned you into something akin to a fallen angel. (actually, you'd always been gorgeous to jisung, he'd just noticed it more now).

"as i live and breathe, han jisung!" you beamed, hugging him tightly. jisung swore his cheeks were blooming red. you smelled like lavender and chamomile and he wanted to wake up and smell that every single day of his goddamn life. "you're so different, oh my gosh. you look amazing."

your jaw was honestly dropped at his transformation. he was lean, yet muscular, his body toned and tan. his hair was curly, a chocolatey brown color that complimented his eyes and skin tone so well. and when he looked at you, smiling, god...

"tell me all about it!" jisung said a bit too eagerly, leading you to the sofa to sit down with you. "how is university? have you made a lot of friends? what are you studying?"

his question made you remember a necessity.

"wait! thank you so much for reminding me, ji. i've gotta text my boyfriend and tell him i've gotten here safe." you smiled cheekily.

jisung saw red.

"i didn't realize...you were in a relationship." he said with gritted teeth. you nodded, a bit confused as to why the mood suddenly changed to something much tenser.

"yeah, um, it's not a super serious one, we've really only been together for like five months tops, but he's sweet." you said awkwardly. something about how jisung was staring so intently at you made you feel like you had to explain yourself.

"what's he like?" jisung asked indignantly. "uh, y'know, just in case i meet him...so i can...get along with him better."

he was not slick. how the hell did you not pick up on it?

he didn't know, because he breathed a raggedly sigh of relief as you laughed and began vividly describing your boyfriend, eliciting a grimace from jisung. god, this guy sounded fucking annoying.

"let's see...he's absolutely my type. he's adorable, kind, funny, caring, and hella talented. he's a great singer." jisung was a greater singer too. probably even better than this guy. he would crush him in karaoke. "but i wish he could play the guitar...that would make him so much more desirable to me."

jisung had a guitar in his trunk he was fighting demons not to go grab. it was the way your boyfriend sounded like a carbon copy of him that had him fuming. for fuck's sake, he was right here!

it was unfair, in jisung's eyes. once you'd admitted that your boyfriend had a very short temper and could be very controlling, he'd whipped his head around so his eyes could meet minho's. minho simply shook his head.

knock it off, he was saying.

how the fuck was this absolute douchebag able to date you but jisung wasn't? it was so fucking rigged.

your boyfriend wasn't even that handsome, either. he looked like any average twenty-something year-old guy. if anything, he had absolutely fucking nothing on jisung. jisung was the hottest guy he knew. a solid twelve out of ten. this guy was a four or less on a good day.

he reassured himself, remembering he had so many fucking weeks with you, without your boyfriend. his only problem, however, was not you or that guy you were fawning over. it was lee fucking minho.

twelve years and not a single ground rule changed. jisung was still not allowed to make any advances on you. therefore, he had to get better at being sneaky.

his first (and only) attempt to get you to break up with your boyfriend was on a wednesday. it was rainy, diminishing the possible activities you could do, so you opted to watch a movie with minho, jisung, and one of their other friends, chan.

it was some horror movie you couldn't stand one bit, jumpscares at every turn. you were flinching and hiding your face in jisung's shoulder. he wrapped a strong, comforting arm around you, to which minho gave him a look.

"hey, i got you. it's just a movie." he murmured softly into your ear. you giggled.

"ji, stop it. you're so cuddly, i have a boyfriend." you whispered, not to interrupt the movie. the words stabbed him in the throat.

"i know." he said quietly, drawing his hands back slightly. "but he's not here right now. you don't need to talk about him. you were talking just yesterday about how you were worried he didn't care for you. why are you still with him?"

"well...my friends are his friends...and we have so many memories that i'd hate to lose..." it was excuse after excuse. god. this guy had really fucked with you bad. maybe if your boyfriend ended things with you, you could learn to truly love someone, namely a super sexy and talented guy named han jisung.

"that's no reason to still be dating him. you could always try and end things on good terms and then-"

"jisung, enough." your voice was firm, implying this was the final time this conversation would be held. so much for trying. eh. he'd never been much of a negotiator in the first place, anyways. now, he just had to hope and pray and pray and pray for some amazing miracle.

four days later, it happened.

minho called jisung over to hang out. the day was rooted into his mind. they were laying on the sofa, one of the cats on minho and another in between jisung's legs, scrolling through social media. you were off in your room, on the phone with your boyfriend. the walls weren't super thin, so he couldn't really hear your conversation.

until the volume raised. louder and louder until you were full on yelling and jisung could hear every single sentence. every single word. every single vowel and consonant that left your lips. you were furious.

judging by the bits and pieces he was straining to hear as he acted disinterested, your boyfriend was pissed that being back in your hometown with all of your brother's friends meant that you were fucking them behind his back or something. you were on your last straw with his controlling attitude and you lost it.

"i'm so sick of you! we're done. don't fucking text me or call me." you snapped, hanging up and flinging your phone (jisung knew this because it made a loud crash, tumbling to the floor).

minho stood up awkwardly.

"i'm gonna, um, go check on them." jisung stumbled to his feet, scaring off the cats.

"i'll come with you, min. yn's close with me, too." minho wanted to say something, it was so obvious. but his mouth remained shut as they walked towards your room.

you were laying on your bed, crying. your eyes were red and the mountain of crumpled tissues upon your nightstand progressively grew and grew.

"honey," minho began, his voice soft. he only ever referred to you that way, gentle and caring. this, jisung knew all too well, was the very reason minho was so protective of you. minho had loved and cherished you since the day you were born, fighting off the monsters in the dark just to see you smile. it wasn't that minho wouldn't be able to forgive anyone who hurt you, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

and that in itself was his biggest fear. jisung was minho's closest friend and confidant. minho trusted jisung with his life. however, this also meant that accidentally hurting you would be seen as the greatest betrayal of his life.

you flopped over, staring at minho with red-rimmed eyes. he sighed, a sweet smile upon his seemingly cold features. you really brought out the best in him.

"i'm sorry about what happened. do you need me and ji to get you anything? something to eat or drink, a blanket, more tissues...or if you want to talk, i'll stay and listen." he sat down on the bed, and you sat up to scoot over and lean into minho, fitting with him like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

"is it raining outside? i wanna look at the stars. me and him used to do that and i want solace." you mumbled as minho rubbed your back. he turned to jisung, thinking for a split second.

"i'm going to start making you some dinner. a good meal will get your mind off of this. the hill outside is perfect for stargazing. jisung can go with you. come back when you're feeling hungry, okay?"

you nodded. jisung's heart skipped a beat. this would be his first time alone with you all break! a win was still a win, regardless of whether or not the situation was ideal.

and now, here he was, laying in the cool grass alongside you. you were moping.

"there are clouds everywhere! it's not worth it. of course the universe fucks with me on a day like today." you whined. jisung gave you a hug, cursing himself when you flinched. was he coming off too strong?

you were right, though. a thick layer of clouds completely covered the stars, painting the sky a drab dark gray. the only thing that could be seen was the bright reflection of the moon, shaped into a mere crescent.

you clung to him, creating a damp spot on his shirt with your tears. he wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

"it fucking sucks, ji. i'll never get to go on all the dates i planned with him. i-" your voice broke. he patted your back. "i had a list. a list of all the things i was gonna do with him. now who can i do them with?"

"you can do them with me!" he interjected, a bit too frantic for his own liking. when you looked at him weird, he had to come up with some quick excuse he'd pray you'd believe blindly. "not in any romantic sort of way, but if you want to do them, i'm right here. we have all the time in the world."

you really didn't.

you gave him a tired smile before hugging him tighter.

"you really would? that's so sweet. you're such a gentleman, jisung."

that night, he died and came back to life. and so, the most important mission of his life began.

mission: make yn fall in love with me and do it all without minho finding out was officially a go.

he was snapped out of his daze when minho opened the door to the back porch, signaling that dinner was ready. like the perfect brother he was, he'd cooked up three plates of your favorite meal. your eyes lit up at the plates neatly made and you finished it almost instantly. minho and jisung watched you as you slid the fork between your lips for two very different reasons.

the way minho looked at you was almost motherly, like he wanted to hide you under his wing and keep you safe, to protect you every step of the way. his heart was absolutely shattered seeing you so beaten up over your now ex-boyfriend. he should've known, he told himself again and again as he sliced the vegetables, he should've known that guy was bad news. he wanted to wrap you in a bone-crushing hug and spill words of remorse and sorrow from his heart-shaped lips, to apologize for not being there for you.

jisung wanted to kiss you until you were a flustered mess beneath him. he wanted to run his fingers through your hair and caress your soft cheeks. he would have to shake these thoughts off for his next week, a week filled with definitely-not-dates with you.

monday

you stared at yourself in the mirror, spinning a bit to see all of the angles of your outfit. you'd just recently bought this top and you were a little unsure about it.

ending things with your boyfriend had completely thrown off your schedule for your break. and here you were now, getting ready to go to an aquarium with someone you hadn't seen in years. a knock sounded on your door. it was soft, as if the echo was a question.

"come in," you said, a tinge of unsureness upon your tongue. the door slid open to reveal jisung, wearing a cute crewneck and baggy jeans. he began smiling widely once he saw your outfit.

"you look stunning. i- i don't even have any words to describe you, you look so lovely. like the first warm day of spring." you felt your cheeks heat up at his words. for somebody so energetic and funny, he certainly was eloquent. it was as if he had some magical control over words and syllables, combining and separating them until he'd made the perfect match.

"thank you so much, ji! you look amazing too." his outfit was simple yet stylish, the color palette blending incredibly with yours. jisung never went out of his way to put this much effort into an outfit. was there any reason? (spoiler alert: there was)

his cheeks flushed pink at your words, and he outstretched one hand for you to take.

"shall we go?"

you'd never really noticed his hands before. you'd never really needed to in the first place. but they were soft, as opposed to the small callous on his index finger, probably from writing lyrics and schoolwork all the time. his hands weren't huge, but they were larger than minho's. his nails were painted expertly and delicately in hues of navy blue.

"i didn't realize you still painted your nails." you murmured, and he looked up, laughing sheepishly. "i remember being so jealous that i could never paint mine like you did. that's why i always asked you to do mine for me."

"practice makes perfect, i'm afraid. but you can ask me anytime, and i'd drop whatever i'm doing to help you. just say the word and i'll be there in the blink of an eye." his declaration seemed a bit off for just helping you with your nails, but everybody expressed emotions differently, so you shrugged it off.

his hand was still outstretched, never once faltering, as if he knew at some point, no matter the journey, you'd take it. and you did.

the aquarium was somewhere you'd always wanted to go with your boyfriend. it held such nostalgia and beauty that you'd been dreaming of the day you could go there with someone you'd enjoy it with. you were happy it was the first idea on your bucket list, something to get your mind off of the miserable day before.

you honestly still couldn't believe you were doing this with han jisung himself, anyways. he was your brother's best friend, and he was way too cool for you. he'd seen you as a little sister his entire life. this idea of his was out of the care and concern of his heart in the utmost platonic way possible.

jisung, on the other hand, was trying not to trip over his own two feet as he held your hand, seeing the awe in your eyes. he squeezed your hand with excitement, hoping his hand wasn't sweaty or anything. oh god...what if it was? he told you he needed to "readjust" his hand before profusely wiping it on his jeans until he was certain it was drier than the gobi desert.

the aquarium was absolutely beautiful, in shades of blues and greens. all sorts of aquatic creatures reside behind walls of glass, swimming around without a care in the world. it was divine. you walked around with jisung, hand in hand, pointing out various sea creatures. he seemed especially taken by the sharks, excitedly swiveling his head between you and the tank whenever they swam by.

eventually, you made your way to a room in the back of the aquarium, a large rounded glass tank in front of you. the lights had been dimmed to a midnight blue, letting the pale moon jellies show themselves. they languidly floated around, a dazzling sight. they were like clouds of the sea.

a wooden bench with a black leather cushion was positioned next to one of the tanks, and you and jisung sat down to rest your feet, weary from all the standing. he was looking through his camera roll at the photos he took.

you smiled at the little things he does. you'd been noticing them much more recently. the way his lips stretched into a crooked grin when he saw something he liked, the way he pouted if a picture came out bad or too blurry. it was endearing.

but it was also odd. the last time you'd been able to identify such minuscule details about jisung was when you were fourteen years old and had the fattest crush on him known to man.

you pined over him for a good seven months, making all sorts of excuses to hang out with minho and his group of friends. most of the time, his answer was a solid no. but sometimes, when he'd sigh and say "yes, but be good", you'd try and have all sorts of conversations with him. you loved his enthusiasm and interest as you spoke, as if he was hanging onto every word.

eventually, you came to the conclusion that he saw only ever you as minho's annoying kid sibling and was only being nice to humor you. you'd laid in bed, crying into your pillow, face warm from guilt and humiliation. from that day forward, you were always wary of men. you were scared that they wouldn't like you if you were too forward.

it was incredibly foolish, you realized. you'd based this claim off of absolutely nothing at all. you'd assumed jisung didn't like you. but there was no way he did, you were a hyper and silly kid and he was a teenager focusing on sports and whatever guys did.

"hey," he said, snapping you out of your walk down memory lane. a small smile graced his pretty face. "wanna take a picture with me and the jellyfish? we can make them into matching polaroids. i know you wanted to take polaroids with your boyfriend as a like- a couple idea, so we could be killing two birds with one stone?"

it was a great idea. you scooted closer to him, and he leaned in. jisung wrapped an arm around your waist, and you softly gasped at his gentle contact.

"say cheese!" he smiled brightly and you did along with him. you didn't think you'd be smiling like this the day after ending a months-long relationship. and yet, it felt like some enormous weight was lifted off your heart. you felt...free. and happy. really happy that you were experiencing this with han jisung, out of anyone.

you were so caught up in this inexplicable feeling of joy you didn't notice the pretty pink colour on jisung's round cheeks, or how he was staring at you the entire time.

tuesday

"have you seriously never been to a drive-in movie? not once in your life?" jisung asked in shock, from where he was leaning against your doorframe. he held your list in his hand, scanning it up and down. "they're holding one tonight. guess what they're playing?"

you thought to yourself.

"hmm...some cheesy-ass movie from the 80s?" you guessed, eliciting a chuckle from jisung's lips. you'd spent the entirety of your time "sleeping" and thinking about them. he'd been plaguing your mind all day- not that you minded, though.

"close enough. they're playing grease. that's from...1978, i think?"

you sighed, getting up to run a hairbrush through your messy hair. you couldn't go out looking like shit. that would be horrid.

"is it really?" at his nod, you giggled. "damn. i thought it was the 80s. i can't really make that assumption, though. i've never seen it in my life."

the way jisung's jaw dropped to the floor was so comical it was almost cartoonlike.

"what the actual hell. you've never seen grease?" his expression was stony, and for a second you were scared you offended him. then, you remembered it was jisung, who was rarely ever serious. "get your things and get in my car. we're going right now. you cannot go another second without seeing grease."

so here you were, in the passenger seat of jisung's sleek black convertible. he was driving well, focused on the road. at one point, his hand absentmindedly drifted over to rest upon your thigh. you felt your cheeks begin to heat up. when jisung became aware of the placement of his hand, he retracted his hand in a flash, apologizing profusely. his face was beet red. it was adorable. you grabbed his hand and put it back on your thigh, much to his astonishment.

"it's okay. i don't mind." you murmured softly. "you're not hurting anyone with your hand there. and the physical contact feels nice. the warmth of your palm on my freezing leg is enough for me. makes me feel human."

jisung absolutely melted at your soft words. now this, this funny feeling in his stomach which only surfaced around you, that he yearned for day after day while he was away at university, was exactly what he craved.

if he really did succeed in making you fall for him, how would it go? he'd done some digging, and your university was only a half an hour or so away from his. he could imagine it now, so vividly it was almost a film playing in his brain on repeat. he could text you sweet messages like "good luck!" or "how was your day?" and if he felt like it, he could come see you.

he would be the best boyfriend ever. way better than that dickhead guy.

he pulled into the drive-in theater, where an assorted group of cars where already there. various people had already settled in and were watching the beginning of the movie. few families were there, but most of them were people on dates.

"do you want to get out of the car? i have a picnic blanket my roommate from university lent to me that i'll gladly lay out on the grass, if that's what makes you comfortable." jisung suggested, pulling out a patterned grey blanket from the back seat. "i'm okay with whatever you want."

"let's sit on the grass. we're on a hilly area, so we'll still have a good vantage point. and besides, from up here, you can sing your heart out."

"we can sing our hearts out." he corrected. "don't think you're getting out of this one easy, hun. be happy i'm not forcing you to learn the entire 'greased lightning' dance."

you'd always liked funny guys.

the movie began, the plot exactly how you imagined it. however, it was actually really good, with fun choreography and surprisingly good songs. jisung knew every word, an imaginary microphone magically appearing in his hand the minute he heard the first few beats of a song.

it was so fun. he'd pass the "microphone" to you, staring at you in awe when your lips parted and you began singing the melody, soft and sheepish from embarrassment. your voice was heavenly. like the song of a siren, the way you hit every note with talent and poise and then proceeded to giggle it off saying "you weren't as good as him" was absolutely insane.

at some point, you had become so incredibly engrossed in the movie. rizzo was walking through the school, singing her heart out and it was so powerful you didn't even notice the wide expanse of goosebumps covering your body.

"oh my goodness, you're shivering." jisung noticed with urgency, and you peeled your eyes away from the screen. now that your focus was no longer on the movie, you felt the chill begin to overtake you. you snuggled into jisung, trying to capitalize on the heat leaving his body.

"you're right, i didn't even notice..." you gasped slightly, your teeth chattering. jisung pulled off his coat and gave it to you.

"here, put that on." he said, getting up to grab something else from his car. what was he hiding in there?

"won't you be cold without your coat, ji?" you asked with concern. he was wearing grey sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt that wasn't made of any warm material in the slightest. he grinned, pulling out a fluffier blanket and wrapping it around the both of you.

"not anymore." he moved in closer until you felt your body against his. it was almost therapeutic. your head fell onto his shoulder, eliciting a tiny gasp from jisung's adorable lips.

the drive home was anything but silent as you excitedly rambled about the movie, explaining your favorite parts to a quietly satisfied jisung. he loved listening to you talk about things that made you happy. the way your hands moved to match your words with fluidity, the way your voice became higher with some foreign excitement. it was just like how you were when you were little.

"what are you smiling about?" you teased, noticing his adorably rosy cheeks in the pale moonlight.

"i'm sorry...i just absolutely adore listening to you talk about things you're passionate about. it's so endearing." he admitted, immediately focusing his eyesight towards the road ahead as to not see a reaction he'd be disappointed by.

if he'd just looked with his periphery, he would've noticed the flustered mess you'd become with a single response.

that night, you laid in bed, thinking long and hard about your relationship. these endeavors with jisung were exactly what you'd wished for time after time with your ex, only for him to fall short.

wait.

now that you were spending time with him again, you'd come to a conclusion. han jisung and your ex-boyfriend were uncomfortably similar, with their clothing and hair styles, their mannerisms, and their personalities. it didn't give you uncomfortable flashbacks in the slightest. in fact, you came to a massive conclusion.

you'd never gotten over jisung.

that was why you'd dated someone so similar. and you were still just as hopelessly in love with him as you were when you were a teenager.

oh shit.

saturday

you were in too deep.

every single date with jisung, you fell more and more in love with him. with his smile, his laugh, his gorgeous eyes, his caring nature, every single thing about him.

with every touch he placed on your skin, light as a feather, you felt yourself tread further and further past the point of no return. you couldn't stand it. you were running out of opportunities to confess.

what if you never saw him again after this? the next time you'd see him would probably be his graduation, and by then he might be in a relationship with someone. not a good one, because you'd come to the conclusion that nobody loved jisung like you did. even when you felt like you didn't, some core part of you kept that.

you loved passionately, most of the time confidentially. you kept your crushes to yourself. but if you had determined that you quite literally could not live without him, now that you'd grown so accustomed to seeing him every day.

you were in your sleep clothes, an oversized hoodie that was a hand-me-down from minho and flannel pajama pants when minho knocked on your door.

"good morning." he said softly, smiling at you. he held dori in his arms. "i made us breakfast. care to join me?" you loved weekends when you were with your brother.

your parents were always busy, so you'd really been raised by minho. he worked as a dance teacher outside of his studies, working late nights at the studio just to provide for the two of you. you loved your brother, to the moon and back.

you sat at the table, eating breakfast, contentedly listening to him talk about how his students were progressing nicely. you were so busy trying to get a piece of a scrambled egg onto your fork you almost didn't hear him pop the big question.

"so, um...jisung has been coming over a lot recently. care to enlighten me as to why?" he asked, almost nervously. "he's my best friend, yet he's coming over for you, and you're hanging out with him what- every night? i'm not mad at you or anything. i just wanna know the truth."

you sighed. you were much too embarrassed to admit you had any sort of feelings for jisung. it wouldn't hurt if you didn't lie...rather...skirted around the central idea, would it?

"he's been helping me cope with my breakup. i love you and i know i can tell you literally anything, but there's just something different about telling your story to a friend. you already know it, min."

minho probably did not believe your sob story one bit. however, if he didn't, he clearly didn't show it, because his lips parted to release a soft "ohhh."

"i get it. thanks for being honest." his words sent a pang directly to your heart. you hated lying to your brother. but, you were going over to jisung's house tonight and you had to make sure there was no suspicion on minho's part.

after a strenuous hour of getting ready, you were finally prepared. you took a deep breath, knocking on jisung's door. his family home was in your neighborhood, luckily, so you could just walk.

he opened the door, his eyes warmed at the sight of you.

"you've done it this time. you're the most gorgeous person i know. there's no competition. i know you're just in casual clothes, but damn." his mouth was agape, and he looked you up and down. you laughed at his words, trying to avoid the fact that your face was burning from his simple compliments. "i'm rambling, oh my god. let's go inside."

he stepped aside so you could enter. you'd always loved his house. his parents were very fond of interior design, so it was so architecturally beautiful it made you smile. the couches, walls, paintings, and doors were all color coordinated. once jisung led you through the door to his room, your lips stretched into an even wider grin.

it was so...him. rock band posters were plastered everywhere, and it was organized and minimalistic. he had a computer and some producer supplies, and in the corner of the room sat a gorgeous acoustic guitar.

"wow, it's so beautiful!" you said in awe, running a hand down the smooth wood. "i've always wanted to learn how to play. can you play some songs for me?"

he nodded, pulling the guitar off its stand.

"let me tune it real quick, and then we're good to go. any song recommendations?" he asked as he began tuning the instrument. his fingers moved swiftly, expertly. he bit his lip in concentration. "sad songs? love songs?"

"a love song would be nice. you can choose one." you responded, coming over to sit beside him. he thought for a bit, before beginning to strum a lovely chord progression. the song was on the tip of your tongue, and once he started singing, you were in for it.

i found a love, for me...darling just dive right in, and follow my lead

it was perfect. of course it fucking was. you felt your stomach flip with delight, playing into some hopeless fantasy that he was singing it for you. that he was playing the guitar so beautifully, trying to convey a message.

i found a girl, beautiful and sweet...oh, i never knew you were the someone waiting for me

you inched closer. his eyes were focused on yours, and he sang with a smile, never missing a beat.

'cause we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was

was he singing it to you? was he telling you to your face that he loved you, or were you just delusional?

but darling just kiss me slow, your heart is all i own, and in your eyes, you're holding mine

you couldn't do it anymore. he had to know. you couldn't hide it anymore.

"jisung, stop." you said shakily, and he obliged.

"what is it?" he asked, concerned. had he done something wrong? he would admit, he was carried away with his serenade because all of his feelings were so fucking real, but if he was making you uncomfortable, he'd stop instantly.

better now than never.

"um, this is gonna sound really weird, and you have every right to say no or tell me to get out..." you were rambling, and jisung was silent with an unreadable expression. "i have, like, really strong feelings for you. and it didn't just happen. i loved you when i was little and i love you now, i just stuffed these thoughts away to the back of my mind. if you think about it, my ex was just a cheap copy of you."

jisung wasn't talking. he was just staring at you with his jaw dropped.

oh shit. you fucked everything up. over a decade of friendship. ruined.

"it's okay, i'll just go, i'm so sorry...it's obvious you don't like me back." you said, humiliated. as you went to leave, you felt jisung's hand wrap around your wrist.

"did you just say i don't like you back?" jisung murmured in disbelief, shaking his head. "oh my god. you are so fucking oblivious."

you cocked your head.

"what?"

he led you to sit on the bed next to him, his skin flush against yours.

"how have you not realized i've been head over heels in love with you since we were in grade school?" he sighed. "i never pursued you because min doesn't let any of his friends date you. but i thought of you every day while i was at university. i dreamed of you when my brain was too tired to think. i dated here and there but i was a horrible, horrible boyfriend because i never wanted them. i wanted you. but you never noticed me pining over you. does that make sense?"

you nodded, fighting the tears of joy threatening to fall from your eyes. you reached a gentle hand towards jisung's, and he enveloped your hand in his, holding it tightly.

"can i...kiss you?" he asked softly, waiting for your permission. you nodded, your heart racing as he leaned in. his thumb brushed against your cheek as his lips met yours in a gentle kiss ten years overdue.

it was sweet, laced with a quiet passion that grew as he kissed you again and again. it was so lovely, almost as if fireworks were shooting off in the distance.

when he finally pulled away, his hand rested on your hip and he was breathing a little heavier, staring at you with a twinkle in his molten chocolate eyes.

"will you grant me the immeasurable honor of being mine? no lies and no miscommunication this time. i promise." he held out his pinkie, and you giggled as you curled yours around his.

"you've got yourself a promise, ji." you replied, bursting with delight.

a realization dawned on jisung. he hadn't even brought minho into the equation.

"one problem. minho wouldn't be happy with me if he found out about this. he's told his friends and i it for years- you're off-limits. but now...i just broke his rule. we're gonna have to sneak around behind his back..."

you patted your boyfriend's shoulder. god, it felt divine being able to say that.

"it's okay. he won't catch us." you laughed softly, giving jisung a hug, solidifying your love in stone.

thursday

you'd almost been dating jisung for two weeks! this was an achievement for you, because every single day you were with him felt like you were drifting away on a fluffy cloud of ecstasy. he made you unfathomably happy.

so far, hiding your relationship from minho was going surprisingly well. to try and throw him off of your trail, the three of you started going out more when minho didn't have work. you'd also convinced jisung to prioritize minho's texts and hangouts for the time being.

it was a lot easier said than done, though. minho was observant and cautious, picking up on any unusual signs and forcing you to come up with lies on the spot. he'd look skeptical, but not push the question, thankfully. however, some gut feeling told you he'd find out any day now.

how would he find out? you asked yourself. would he see you two in public from a distance? would a friend inform him? would he find out accidentally? it was a scary thought.

one night, you were laying on your bed, reading some book your mother had recommended to you. it was an amazing book, filled with intrigue and plot twists that left you reeling and begging for more. in between your legs, resting his head on your chest, was jisung.

you'd learned from him being your boyfriend that he was a total sucker for physical touch. like a koala, he was always clinging to you by any means possible.

"baby..." he whined, flipping over to rest his chin on your tummy. "what's in that book that could possibly be more important than me?"

"someone just got murdered, ji. they're trying to figure it out." you replied ignorantly, eliciting a whine from jisung. you giggled, reaching a hand down to entangle your fingers in his dark curls. he sighed dreamily as you massaged his scalp.

"boring, boring, boring." he muttered, grabbing your book out of your hands and placing it neatly onto the nightstand. "shit. how should i save your page?"

"there's a bookmark in the book! use it! han jisung, if you doggy-ear that page, i will fuck you up." you laughed loudly.

thankfully, tonight you had zero worries about minho catching you and jisung. he was working out with chan and then he had an hour and a half teaching private lessons for one of his students. he wouldn't be home until at least 8:45pm, and since it was like 6:30 you could probably sneak jisung out by 8:20pm and get a twenty-five minute grace period to make it look like nobody had been over. life was good.

all of a sudden, jisung gave you a devilish grin, and positioned himself so he could easily climb on top of you.

"ji, what are you doing?" you asked with a chuckle, reaching up to caress his soft face.

"givin' you lots of kisses, duh." he leaned down to brush his soft lips against yours, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. the kiss grew more and more heated in a blink of an eye. it happened so fast. one second he was giving you gentle kisses, like the touch of a fairy, and the next his tongue was in your mouth dancing with yours.

he pulled away after a very long makeout session, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his raw, swollen ones. he licked them with a smile, and shifted a bit so he could lean down and press wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, shoulders, and collarbone. you almost groaned at the sensation, but covered your mouth with one hand. jisung giggled at this.

"you don't need to hide those pretty noises, babe. nobody can hear us. we're alone." he snickered, before resuming his work kissing and sucking on your neck until your skin was littered with baby bruises the color of cherries. thankfully, jisung wasn't an idiot, so he only left marks in places you could easily cover with concealer or hide with your shirt.

to him, you were ethereal in this position, pressed into your bed. lips raw and parted in an "o" shape, hair splayed out in a halo around you, your chest heaving.

"you look debauched in the loveliest way possible, gorgeous." he grinned, his fingers now reaching down to the buttons of your shirt. "don't you feel embarrassed at all? i'm literally going down on you on your childhood bed."

you laughed breathily.

"shut up and kiss me again."

your response was cut short. you would have said something more, something almost provocative, if your door didn't open abruptly.

"hi, honey. i'm home early. my student was sick, so i'm gonna get started on dinner-" the scene was almost comical. you and jisung both turned your heads in slow motion to see minho standing there, a grocery bag in his hand and shock upon his face. "jisung. get the fuck off of them or i'll snap your neck."

jisung shot upright, cheeks beet red as he helped you up. minho noticed the marks on your skin instantly. he looked furious. you'd never seen your brother this way, ever.

"we have been friends for what- fourteen years? and what has been the recurring thing i have told you, time and time again?" minho hissed. jisung hung his head in shame.

"you said yn is off limits." he murmured. he slowly lifted his head to meet minho's eyes, searching for the tiniest speck of sympathy, but there was none there. "look- i can explain."

"what is there to explain, jisung?" minho snapped. "'oh, i always want what i can't have, so i'm gonna defile my best friend's sibling behind his back.'"

"min, that's not what happened." you tried. no luck. "i confessed to him first. if anything, it was me. not him. don't take this out on him just because you won't take it out on me."

"don't even say anything. i don't want to hear a single word out of you. everything i do is to protect you! i've looked out for you our entire lives. i...i love you immensely and endlessly, yn. that much is true. but i can't allow this. i wouldn't want to lose jisung because of something you did or something he did to you. and i wouldn't want to lose you because you're so hurt by someone like him." minho's voice broke. he was done. he sighed, and stormed off.

you turned to stare at jisung.

"i, um, think you should go." you murmured, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his cheek. his toned arms made their way around your waist, and he hugged you tightly.

"okay. text or call me if you need anything. let's figure this out tomorrow."

you were with jisung. you loved him so much. but what was the cost of loving him?

friday

minho wouldn't speak to you.

he left for chan's before you woke up, sending you a brief text telling you where he was. you opened the fridge to see a plate stowed aside for you, a sticky note with your name on it on top. huh. even though he was mad, he still went out of his way to make breakfast for you.

you knew you were in the wrong. it wasn't okay of you to sneak around behind minho's back, but if he was too petty to talk to you, then it'd be hopeless.

after eating, you called jisung. he picked up on the first ring, like he always did whenever you called.

"minho won't text me back. he's leaving me on read. god, he's petty when he's mad." his voice sounded a bit gravelly, meaning he'd probably just woken up. you hoped your call didn't serve as an alarm for him.

"i feel bad, ji." you murmured, flopping down onto the couch. the cats sensed your discomfort and padded over to you, rubbing against your legs and purring to try and get you to relax. "i know he would've been mad either way, but do you think he would've been less of a dickhead if we'd just been up front about it?"

"i guess. i'm embarrassed i suggested we keep it a secret. but what's past is past. now, we've got to figure something out. i love you, but he's my best friend of fourteen years. and i love him, but i've been madly in love with you since i was a kid. i don't want to lose either of you."

you smiled fondly at his sweet words. sometimes, he always knew the right thing to say to put you at ease.

"when he gets home, i'm going to talk to him. i'll text you how it goes." as you were saying this, the front door opened and he stood there, looking at you with a cold expression. you wanted to cry. "speak of the devil, he just got home. i love you, bye." you hung up, feeling absolutely powerless. but you weren't defeated yet. you still had your words.

"min," you began. "now that we've blown off some steam since last night, can we talk? jisung and i care so much about you, and neither of us want to lose you."

you followed him to his room, where you sat down on the bed beside him. he was not too enthusiastic.

"well, you shouldn't have jeopardized that by fucking my best friend." minho replied solemnly. you were infuriated.

"i haven't fucked him at all, min. don't jump to conclusions. besides, we haven't even been dating for two weeks. see, the reason we were hanging out so much is because he was helping me with a this sort of- bucket list that i had, of date ideas. and i didn't get the chance to do them with my ex, so i did them with him." you explained. minho was listening, thankfully. "and then, i realized i had feelings deep down for him i'd been harboring since i was younger. and i couldn't keep them in anymore, so i told him. and he told me he'd been in love with me since i met him."

minho nodded, his eyes still untrustworthy.

"okay. how much do you love him?" he asked.

"i love him so much it hurts to see this happening. you're his best friend and he's suffering without you. he was texting me, complaining all night. and no, i know what you're going to ask. i don't love him more than you. romantic love and familial love are on two very different ends of the spectrum."

minho was silent for a moment, reaching out to take your hand.

"i'm sorry for acting this way. i'm sorry for punishing you with silence. i've watched you grow up from a little kid with big round cheeks to the successful, loving person you are today. when you broke up with your last boyfriend, it took everything in me not to go fucking kill the guy for breaking your heart. but this, this is different. jisung is my best friend. i love him so much, and i don't know what i'd do with myself if he ever hurt you. if anybody i cared about hurt you." you gave your brother a tight hug, and he wrapped you in his arms.

"i understand. but we both know jisung isn't that kind of person."

"and you," minho whispered, and you barely caught it. "will you promise not to break his heart? i'll...i'll think about getting behind this if you do."

"i promise. i swear on my life."

that night, you lay in the grass once more with jisung, staring up at the stars. his arm was wrapped tightly around you as you pointed out various constellations with a jubilant look upon your face. god, you were adorable. he rolled you over slightly so he could press a loving kiss to your lips.

the sky was clear, the clouds pushed away to reveal an angelic array of twinkling lights, set against an ebony blackdrop.

"you can see the stars tonight." you whispered gleefully. jisung laughed.

"you can, can't you? they're really beautiful. just like you said. just being here with you brings me eternal solace." he brought your hand to his lips and softly kissed each of your knuckles. "i love you, to the moon and to saturn."

taglist: @darkypooo, @hyunbae-35, @kpopmenace143, @stateofdelicategrace, @elizaschuyler18, @lillithathecat, @imastraykidsfan, @nightimescapes, @mal-lunar-28

#evermourning #stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #han jisung #han skz #han x reader #han jisung x reader #lovertober <3

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bettyfrommars · 8 months

Text

v a c a n c y

Eddie x afab!Reader

This is a short snippet of a world I've been thinking about for a while, loosely inspired by the film Equilibrium where feeling is a crime punishable by death, but also by my fascination with abandoned places, wastelands, and the idea that, even though love sets us up for pain and grief, life is not worth living without it. I hope to expand on it eventually. Hint: this might also be interwoven with my nightmare Eddie.

wc: 1.3k

18+MDNI, dystopian au

This is rough, I just spit out this scene because I needed this Eddie to cheer me up.

The sting of the frosty air bit your cheeks when you stepped out of the motel room you shared with your aunt Ramona. Wiggling the knob to make sure it was locked, you zipped up your coat, and then checked to make sure it was locked one more time for good measure.

Nearby, someone whistled to get your attention.

You snapped a look across the way to find that the newest resident of the Grove Motel was out in the parking space in front of his room working on his van. He waved a wrench in the air at you. “She needs tender loving care when it’s cold outside,” he shouted, possibly unaware of the noise ordinance for loud voices on the premises.

You wondered if perhaps he had mistaken you for someone else, so you adjusted the bag on your shoulder, turned your back on him, and kept going.

The steel of the wrench clinked to the cement, and then, at a jog, he caught up to you, and extended the spread out fingers of his hand for you to see. “What do you think?”

He was referring to the new skull ring he wore, and was about to tell you a story about how a Hell’s Angel traded it for a six pack, but you were fixated on something else.

“You’re not supposed to do that,” you gestured to the chipped, black polish on his short fingernails, not to mention the jewelry adornments he so proudly wore. “If they catch you, you’ll get a fine.”

“Fuck ‘em,” he put a cigarette to his lips, lit the end with a metal zippo from his pocket, and then clapped the lighter shut, keeping the coffin nail in the corner of his mouth as he spoke. “They can put me in jail, wouldn’t be the first time.”

You came to a full halt on the pavement then, unnerved by his unique and utterly idiotic nonchalance. His gaudy rings, the flash on his vest over his leather jacket, his long hair, everything. Hell, you could very well get a fine for just associating with him. “They banish people too, you know? To the Outer Limits, I bet you wouldn’t be so cocky then?”

He puffed a laugh out his nose and leaned in, his voice a murmur that melted into a purr. “Well, then, you don’t know shit about me, sweetheart.”

You dodged to the side to avoid him, marching ahead with brutal determination.

“Hey, hey, hey, please wait,” he jumped in front of you, waving his arms. “I’m sorry okay? Just...wait,” and then his hands were up, palms out to mime the invisible wall between you.

Your gaze lingered on the dead tufts of grass around the sidewalk, but then cautiously rose to his brown orbs rimmed in gold.

“My name’s Eddie,” he bobbed forward before bouncing back on the balls of his feet. “I’ve been seeing you around for a couple weeks and thought maybe I’d introduce myself.”

“I know who you are,” you swallowed. “You moved into Curtis and Janey’s old place. They were friends of mine.”

“Oh shit, that’s right. He was taken away, wasn’t he? By those rent-a-cops with the cowboy hats.”

You nodded, working your jaw. “Curtis and his wife, they were always holding hands and kissing and…” a part of you worried you’d get in trouble just for speaking the words. “...being really affectionate with each other.”

Eddie gave an exaggerated grimace. “Yikes, that sound like some hardcore stuff.”

“Don’t make fun,” you inclined your head. “This is serious.”

He broke into a chuckle, biting his lip. “I can tell that you think it is.”

You kept walking, only to have him take backwards steps to keep pace with you, wallet chain bouncing with each jolly movement. “So, what’s your name?”

“You’re not from around here, I can tell,” you let him know, mumbling your name so it was almost inaudible.

“What gave it away?”

“Do they not have laws against feelings and self-expression where you’re from?”

“No, they do,” he spun on his heel to face the same direction as you. “I guess I just don’t care about their rules.”

You came to another abrupt stop to gape at his casual smile. You’d never met anyone like him before, and it made you curious almost as much as it infuriated you. He appeared to welcome your assessment of him with matched intensity, rolling his bottom lip through his teeth a few times.

“I have to get to work,” you stepped from the curb, gnashing your teeth.

“Are you taking the bus?”

“No genius,” you spat over your shoulder. “I’m waiting for my limousine to pick me up at the curb.”

At that, Eddie guffawed with laughter and sprang up next to you, shuffling in little hop-steps. “You had me worried there for a second. I thought maybe you were dead inside like the rest of them.”

“I’m plenty dead inside,” you muttered, thinking it was time to take your pills again, the medication that kept you from feeling anything and sucked any and all joy out of life.

“Do you want a ride?” He exhaled toward the sky, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I know a guy with a van who has some time to kill.”

“No thank you,” was your quick and curt response.

“Suit yourself,” he flicked the butt into the street just as an old, rusted Plymouth cruised by with a huge dent in the door. “But if you ever need like, milk or sugar, you know where to find me.”

“I won’t.”

A few yards from the bus stop, he called your name, and you spun around to face him, brow creased with irritation.

“Was that Led Zeppelin I heard coming from your place the other day or was I dreaming?”

You froze, panic flushing arctic ice through your veins.

The enjoyment of music was absolutely forbidden in your territory, and the only thing on the radio were news and religious stations. You’d kept your dad’s old cassette player and a shoebox full of tapes hidden in the wall behind your dresser for years. It was a secret you’d kept so long, you were always very careful about when you listened and how loud.

You were shaking your head, moving your jaw, but no words could come out. He would tell on you, and then the Troopers would come and ransack your room and take the only thing of your father’s you had left.

“Please don’t,” you took cautious steps, searching his face. “I can’t, I won’t listen anymore, but please don’t tell anyone. I’m begging you.”

Eddie frowned and grinned at the same time, confused. “I would never—” and then he realized you were actually freaking out, and his tone got very soft. “Hey, listen, it’ll be our secret, alright? I like to listen to music too.”

You looked around, worried that the aluminum skeletons in the junkyard next door had ears. You believed him, you had to. You’d been caught and you were at his mercy.

“I was just going to say we need to get you some headphones.” He bucked his chin and gave a proud wink, “I know a guy.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson blurb

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fyodior · 1 year

Text

june 19th

✦ pairing: dazai x gn!reader

✦ notes: my 4th installment of blurbs for my boy's birthdays (bbb). i love him so much it hurts. let's all pretend this isn't 2 days late <3

✦ warnings: surprisingly sfw, talks of death/suicide (it's dazai), minor angst but painfully sweet at the end

✦ wc: 1k

Birthdays were hard for Dazai. The congratulations, the gifts, the cake, the smiles, only reminded him of one thing – he survived another year. A concept that was still difficult for him to grasp. It was admittedly getting easier, slowly finding things worth living for, but still hard. When he spent so much of his life, so many of his formative years, hoping for nothing but death, it’s hard for that not to be in the back of his mind.

When birthdays felt like a failure. When the number ticking up made Dazai feel like a coward. A further reminder that he hadn’t built up the guts, that he was still naïve enough to think there was something worth living for, and he just hadn’t found it yet. A spineless fool who could never practice what he preached.

The only thing that made him crack a smile when he was strongarmed into blowing out the candles of the cake that Elise demanded, was how antithetical it was to wish for death at a celebration of his birth. A paradox of his own creation.

Dazai could never really understand why anyone wanted to celebrate his birth. He couldn’t think of a single person who, for a reason outside of personal gain, would be sad if he died. Sure, Mori and much of the Port Mafia would mourn the loss of one of their most cunning executives, Odasaku would miss having a drinking buddy, and Chuuya would miss having someone to antagonize, but no one would miss him. No one would miss Osamu Dazai as an individual and a soul, for all that he is and is not.

So why was it worth celebrating his life – the opposite of his death?

You were the first person Dazai ever met who actually cherished him for who he was, and not what he could provide. His life meant something, meant everything to you, and was more than worthy of celebration.

The first to look him in the eyes and tell him you would be sad if he died.

“You are so much more than a Port Mafia executive, or a Detective Agency detective – you’re so much more than No Longer Human, and even more than my partner,” you whispered to him one night. “You, are Osamu Dazai. A soul unlike any other, and a soul just as worthy of existing and being loved.”

Of course, he never really quite believed you – and you didn’t much expect him to, either. Not with how this life had treated him. He spent his whole life being told his worth extended only as far as what he could do, never who he could be.

Even when you spent hours gently unwrapping every single bandage that adorned his fragile skin, and kissed every single scar that marred his body, Dazai still didn’t quite comprehend. Not even when you helped him wrap fresh ones, each sealed with a kiss, assuring him that he didn’t have to hide but you would always support his comfort. But that was okay. You didn’t love just to receive love. You loved because he was worth it.

So when his birthday came around, the first of which the two of you would be spending together, you were very intentional with plans. You wanted to make him feel loved and cherished and worthy, but not push him past his limit – or make it feel artificial. It couldn’t feel like it was just going through the motions and playing out the stereotypes of a birthday. It needed to be suited to Dazai, so that he could see that it was on purpose.

Just a typical weekday, you turned off his alarm and woke him with a gentle kiss, whispering a sweet “happy birthday, my love” against his lips. Not even Dazai could fight the way his lips curled into a smile. You washed his hair in the shower and rewrapped his bandages for him, and he even let you apply a few swipes of mascara on his fluttery eyelashes, telling him it was so he could look extra pretty for his special day.

Sending him off to work with a perfectly crafted latte and a flurry of I love you’s, you sat down on the balcony with a paper and pen to write his birthday letter – his only gift, aside from the exorbitantly priced bottle of sake you bought to pair with dinner.

Dear Osamu, it began.

I am a lovesick fool. Your heart has corrupted me in the most irreversible way possible, and your soul has eternally entangled itself with mine. You blind me with your kindness, your passion, and your devotion. I have more love for you than there are stars in the sky, and you are worthy of every atom.

It is only when the ink of your pen starts to run dry that, three pages later, you decide to conclude the letter.

Happy birthday, my one true love. You matter. The letters were lacking in opacity but enriched with love.

And when Dazai finally arrived home, telling stories that likely were not supposed to grace the ears of non-Agency employees, you surprised him with a simple, yet very deliberate dinner. Crab and sake – just what he liked. The laughs got louder as glasses were poured, and tears collected at the corners of his eyes as he read through your letter. You matter, he mouthed silently as he read the line.

And for the first time in his entire life, an inkling of a sliver of a thought entered his mind, that maybe, just maybe, you were right.

#dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x gn!reader #dazai fanfic #dazai fluff #dazai x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #osamu dazai

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multiwreckedmess · 6 months

Text

February Filth Fest Day 28

Prompt: Mommy Pairing: Neighbor!Wooyoung x older!reader WC: 4k Summary: To Wooyoung, you were everything. You didn’t even know he existed. Older and audacity turned to maximum, he’s determined to make you never forget.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Wooyoung or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. By clicking the “Read More” you agree that you are of age to interact with my works.

TW//CW: TBH THIS IS MOSTLY PROLOGUE. Reader called ‘mommy’ and doesn’t like it at first, wooyoung is desperate, age gap undefined (it’s not suggested that it’s HUGE but it’s there). oral (fem receiving). CLIFFHANGER END

“You remember Wooyoung right? Youngie?” Your mom tugs you over to a young man, black hair half back in a ponytail, orange shirt just slightly too unbuttoned, kicking back a beer. “Aw mom! I can see in her eyes she doesn’t!” Wooyoung’s eyes crinkle as he extends his hand to you. Your eyebrows raise. Mom? Grabbing his hand you shake it tentatively. Strong muscular fingers grip back, fitting your hand fully in his warm palm. Your mother doesn’t let the silence linger long, mercifully. “Our Wooyoungie has been taking such good care of us while you’ve been off making your own little homestead on the coast!” “Now you’re speaking far too highly of me. You feed me just as good as well. It’s an exchange of labor for services.” He gloats, swatting lightly at the air in front of himself as if the words praising him still hung there. “You eat so well it's always a joy to share, besides, it helps me get through the leftovers.” She lightly ribs you, trying to get you to join into the conversation.

To be honest, you felt guilty. The only child setting out into the world by moving as far away as you could while staying within the continental United States. You’d intended to see your parents more but the realities of limited vacation time and cost of travel hit quickly. The pandemic years certainly hadn’t helped. If anything they prevented you from establishing a normal visiting schedule and left you floundering to fit them in between projects and personal days. You’d finally been able to decide on the yearly block party, held every summer, to make your grand return. Calling up old friends and arranging it this way ensured you’d see most if not all the folks on your obligations list. However, seeing your mom smiling so fondly at this kid, almost more proud of him than she seemed of you, made your stomach turn. The beast of jealousy churning a pot inside of you. You barely track the rest of their pleasantries, simply watching their borderline flirtatious body language as you nurse your beer.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up! I swear Wooyoungie has told me so many cute stories of you, I can’t believe you don’t remember him.” Elbowing your arm gently your mom hisses, “play nice, he’s a gem!” Wooyoung tilts his chin up and out, craning to receive a kiss on the cheek from her as you stare. “So, you and my parents are close,” your lips curl, tiptoeing slowly into the shallow end of the conversation. “Oh yeah! Well, I started shoveling their walk in the winters and salting the sidewalk which they seemed to really appreciate. So, Mom invited me to dinner after one particularly bad snowfall and I’ve been keeping them company when I can ever since.” “Mhm,” you hum shortly, suspicious of him. “Well you haven’t murdered them yet.” Wooyoung cackles, “do I really look like a killer?” “Isn’t that what all the witnesses in crime series say? That the murderer didn’t seem like the kind of person to do it.” His eyes flit down from your head to your toes. Wooyoung had always been a cute kid. Charming, sweet, a little spicy, but his good nature charmed the neighborhood. Or at least the adults of the neighborhood. He always got along better with adults. The kids of the neighborhood were less enchanted. They called him a suck up, kiss ass, brat, annoying, and worse all in the name of envy. Envy for how the adults loved him and took care of him. So many neighborhood nights out ended in tears for him, maybe it was good you didn’t recall those days. He shook his head with a smile. “Still I’m a little upset you don’t remember me.”

***********

“Hey, some of the ‘big kids’ are heading up to the local bar!” A girl named Gina tugs at your sleeve. The street lights flickering on and only the young and unaccompanied left at the party it was a natural progression of the night. A quick four block walk from your home you shrugged, it wasn’t like you held any particular affection for anyone in particular but it also wasn’t an arduous trek. Besides, this is what you came home for, right? Socialize with the ones who knew you before you knew yourself.

That's how you ended up drinking a gin and tonic at the back of the bar, letting the wash of noise and alcohol blur your nerves. You’d selected gin and tonic out of habit more than anything, the tap list overwhelming and no cocktail menu to be found. A safe bet, difficult to fuck up too badly. Laughing congenially along to the stories retold by friends, you feel lost in the crowd. Stories that went like “oh remember when Ricky did this” or “Cassy has a funny story about when Hunter lost his tooth” which you didn't remember, why would you? Not to say you shared no memories, just that most of them were the aftermath rather than the incident. Always too buried in your books to notice the hijinx happening. Now burying your nose in your glass you nod along to save face. Yes, you were there but somehow also not.

“So you remember all of this but not me?” Wooyoung slides along your side. Some form of brownish liquor in his hand. “No, it’s called being politely interested.” “Ahhh,” he grins and sips his drink. “I’ll note that, the politely bit. I’m already interested so I think I’m good there...” You roll your eyes, “interested in my mom.” “Your mother is a beautiful lady. And smart. And kind. Why shouldn’t I be interested?” He knows he’s being cheeky but part of it is payback for your memory lapse. “Don’t you love your mommy?” The word mommy hits you like a truck. Rolling up your spine and crashing through your skull with the force of a brick to the back of the head. “Wooyoung? Oh my god. Wooyoung.” You mutter, shocked, dismayed. It’s him. It’s definitely him alright. Wooyoung grins like a jackal in front of you, gnawing on the small plastic swizzler straw in his drink. “I know you.” “Do you?”

Thirteen. That’s how old you were when you went to your last neighborhood block party. It was the last summer you spent preoccupied with fictional boys instead of real ones. There was already a change in the air, all the neighborhood kids seemed just so much younger than despite the difference being only a couple of years. Watching them rough house and play from afar you’d been set out with ‘eldest’ duties so that the parents could absolve themselves of direct supervisory responsibilities. Which was fine to you, you’d be tipped generously at the end of the night by the parents without needing to do too much. Suddenly two small arms encircled your legs, an equally small face buried in your pant leg, absolutely wailing for mommy. Tapping on the black mop of hair, red eyes and a runny nose looked back up at you and upon seeing your face cried harder. Prying your legs from his arms you lean down to meet his eye level, “can we go find her? Your mom?” He sniffs and nods, lower lip quivering. “Jung Wooyoung,” his small voice tremors. Taking his small fist in your hand, you lead him farther into the party. It doesn’t take long to find her, gathered in a small circle of moms, laughing jovially. Her smile fades as she sees you toting her son, face red and puffy. “Should he be in trouble or someone else be in trouble?” She’s very brief in her assessment, half exasperated half sympathetic. “I’m sorry I’m not sure Mrs. Jung. He just ran up to me like this asking for you.” Squatting next to her son you notice, she has the exact same wash of jeans as you. “Jung Wooyoung, can you tell me what happened?” The boy glances up at you, eyes wide, sitting on the pavement with a hard plop. “Jung. Woo. Young. Your mom is asking a question.” He notices you notice him staring and he hides his eyes. “I’m so sorry miss, I can take care of him from here. He really likes pretty girls but gets so shy around them. You can go!” Mrs. Jung looks apologetically at you, scooping Wooyoung up onto her hip. Smiling you look him in the eye and wave, watching as he smiles back shyly and buries his face.

“You were such a cute kid!” You coo. “Is that really all you remember about me? Cute little kid? Damn.” This was not exactly the reaction he was looking for. Wooyoung wanted the gasp and the dramatic reveal, of course, but being called cute was not the highest adjective on his list. And only one fleeting memory of his mother calling you a pretty girl. His mother was incorrect though, you weren’t just a pretty girl to him, you were an angel. He was immediately obsessed, watching you silently with flutters in his stomach listening as the adults talked about your achievements. Not only kind and beautiful but smart and self sufficient and bold and fierce. He remembered one of your summers back from college, reading on the front lawn in a bikini, waiting for the sun to slowly turn you a pleasant golden shade. Only briefly passing by on his bike the image seared itself into his mind, fueling his late nights as he flipped through your instagram. “I really thought the world of you,” he muses. “And what about now?” You ask with a laugh and a grimace. Wooyoung looks you up and down. “I could ask the same to you, you said I was a cute kid. What about now?” “Oh come on, you have to know this is a touchy subject for me…you can’t just say that you thought the world of a person in the past tense like that. What, I must be some washed up hag, desperate in her neighborhood bar.” Wooyoung hums, smirking, “well now i don’t agree with the hag part but I like the desperate, desperate i can work with.” He gently takes your drink and swills the dregs. “Another of the same?” “I want whatever you got. Order me that.” His eyebrows shoot up, “oh come on. You’re the older one, you should treat me.” He smiles sweetly and bats his lashes. “I’ll come with you so you know what to order next time.” You roll your eyes. He’s really too cute for his own good. Your heart sinks a little. He’s really too cute to be hanging around you like he is. But you take his glass with yours and slide them across the wood top bar. “Two whiskeys, on the rocks!” Wooyoung flashes his winning smile, “on her tab please.” He finishes with a head tilt in your direction and a wink. “You’re such a baby.” “Only for you mommy.” He bunts the top of his head into your arm as you blanch at the sudden endearment.

You hate it on instinct. You’re not his mommy, yes you’re older but you're not his mommy. You’re not anyone’s mommy. You don’t want to mother anyone for any reason. You wanted that care and attention. Still, you don’t correct him and let him continue to press his side to yours. The pressure of contact from another person is nice, even momentarily.

“So,” Wooyoung sips gingerly at his drink, “tell me what you think of me now. I can’t settle for being a formerly cute baby. I won’t.” He pouts, lilting his head. With a heavy sigh you look him up and down, simple fitted black t-shirt, tight black pants, and moto-boots. “If I were closer to your age-” “EH!” He shushes you abruptly, finger to your lips. “It’s not about you. Tell me about me.” “Fine. You want to hear you’re attractive? You’re attractive,” you give him an exasperated glance. The heat of the alcohol warms the sides of your face, making you feel giggly. The whiskey goes down shockingly easily, loosening your inhibitions. “What about me? I’m the one in distress.” Wooyoung steadies you, bringing awareness to your swaying, letting you lean back against the wall slowly with the support of his hand. “I think you’re the first woman I ever worshipped and now I want to make good on that.” “Wooyoung, are you coming onto me?” You as incredulously, eyebrows almost launching themselves from your face with the speed they raise at. “I’d very much like to if you’d let me.” “You’d like to what exactly?” “Cum on you. Or in you. Whichever you’ll let me.” His forwardness leaves you gagging on unspoken words. You think for a second you ought to slap him as you see red around his smug smile. “Wooyoung do you hear yourself?” Wooyoung slides his hand up, leaning into you on his elbow. He smells like earth and spice and alcohol. “I think you’d like it too. Not to brag but, I think I’m better than spending the rest of the night in your old twin bed with your decade old back massager.” Stunned by his too all too accurate prediction of your plans your brain barely processes the way you lean into his light kiss on the cheek. Your face feels warm, he is warm. And soft, so soft. His brashness has you melting a little bit, there is no halfway here. No room for interpretation. He wants you, and it makes your stomach flutter and legs turn to jelly. “So, wanna get out of here?” Wooyoung says with a small smirk, eyes downcast sheepishly. “If we get to my place and you wanna back out I’ll happily sleep on the couch with the cat. I just don’t want either of us to be alone tonight.” Tender heartstrings plucked expertly by a master songsmith, you sigh. Foolish. Stupid. Irresponsible. What would your parents think when you didn’t come home? Your head shakes as you type out a short text to your mother, a sentence excuse about staying the night with Gina. Or was it Gia? The keyboard swims under your thumb. The rest of you melts and lets the younger man wrap his arm around your waist to guide you safely to a cab. Again you marvel at how warm he is, how his fingers splay casually in the divot of your waist. Cheeks burning you duck your head out of the bar, as though it would be shameful to be seen with him.

Wooyoung kisses with the desperation of a starved man, drinking in as much of you as he possibly can before coming up for air. The electric lock on the door has barely even finished latching when his arms snake around your waist, lips attaching to the nape of your neck. “You smell so good,” his face is smashed into your shoulder, the both of you stumble and struggle to remove shoes as he further tangles himself in you. The second you're free of them he’s turning you, pressing your back into the wall as his leg slots easily between your thighs. Winding your hips together you teeter on your tip toe as he kisses you, teeth tugging at your bottom lip lightly. “Ooh mommy, I’m going to make you remember me-” he moans into your open mouth. A burst of air comes through your nose as you suppress part of an awkward laugh, “Mommy?” “Yeah, your baby’s gonna take good care of you.” His mouth stretches into a grin against your cheek, nose bumping against you until your head falls to the side, granting access to your throat. “Right mommy? I’m taking good care of you right?” Teeth nibbling a searing trail to your shoulder, you can’t help but moan. You don’t hate it. Your mind hates it but your body loves it. His insistent desperation for approval from you is almost as intoxicating as the drinks you’d shared. “This mommy shit is weird Wooyoungie.” Wooyoung sucks a bruising spot into your collarbone, skin immediately flushing, meant to leave a mark. Shivering you moan again, letting your head fall to your opposite shoulder, grinding your hips against him. “That’s not a nice thing to say mommy,” his grip on your ass tightens. His hands pull you down to him, pressure in your gut building. “Fuck! Oh baby-” the phrase slides from your lips before you can pause and overthink what this might say about you. “Yeah, is your baby making you feel good?” He tenderly kisses over the growing bruise. “Wanna be mommy now?” “Fuck-Wooyoungie-you’re fucking incorrigible,” you groan. Between the alcohol and the pounding in your gut, you really don’t mind it. Silencing the small critic and setting that voice in time out, you slide to his bedroom, stripping bear besides your undergarments.

“Damn mommy, you’re a walking wet dream,” Wooyoung looks at you from under his bangs, making a home for himself at your feet, waiting for the word to dive in. Eyes traveling up your legs to the crevice between them, he can barely wait longer. He’s been waiting since puberty. The hunger to prove himself to make you his, growing all the more as your life proceeded without him. His gaze heats you from your core, anticipatory buzz gripping your gut. “Yeah baby?” You practically whisper, throat taut. Slowly but surely his hands travel the tops of your legs, large and warm on your skin. Everything is burning and tingling and on a knife's edge as they stop at your hips, resting his full weight on you. His face comes barely a foot from yours. “Can you tell me how much you want this?” He smiles, Cheshire-like. “I’m fucking aching baby,” you plead maybe just a bit too desperately. “Can you help mommy out?” You can barely finish the sentence before his plush lips are on yours with a bruising amount of force. Eagerly his hands slide between your thighs, tracing the edges of your panties. “Mommy,” he gasps into your open mouth, “are you already this wet?” He teases a thumb over the growing damp spot. Nodding, your legs slide easily for him. “Yeah baby, all for you.” Pressing against your clit more earnestly he rubs in small circles. Your head goes back into the pillows immediately, pressure deliciously building in your core. The skin of his shoulders is cool as he nudges your thighs even wider, his lips replacing his hands. A shock of electricity runs up your spine as you realize he’s pulling your hips down against his face, bridge of his nose nudging you through your panties. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” Wooyoung mutters barely loud enough for you to make out. Fingers slipping between your panties and your skin he can barely breathe as he tugs the fabric over your hips. Caught between a fixated stare and a shyly glancing away he pulls down even more, practically cumming in his own underwear as your cunt is finally revealed. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” “That’s not even the pretty part of me,” you feel the heat of embarrassment creep up the side of your neck. Wooyoung looks up at you from between your knees, frowning incredulously. “Every part of my mommy is pretty, especially her cute little cunt.” He says before unceremoniously burying his face in your folds. Licking and slurping like a starved man, you don’t even register the auditory assault, squealing so loudly yourself your head rushes. “Wooyoung! Oh shit! Oh FUCK!” You scream and fist the sheets, fighting your urge to snap your legs around his head. The pleasure twists in your gut as his tongue flicks against your swollen clit, a finger teasing your hole. “Grab my hair-” Wooyoung gasps, “pull my hair. I’m not fragile.” It doesn’t take any more convincing as you tug at his black locks. His lips buzz with moans of approval as you ride his face. His finger crooks inside of you, just enough to press against the top of your walls, right into the squishy spot that blurs your vision and has you seeing stars. “I’m gonna cum, oh fuck baby, I’m gonna-” His face presses more insistently against you, practically drowning himself in your sex. If he was going to die young he’d want to die like this, nestled in your heat. “Do it.” Coating his chin in release your eyes flutter closed. Clamping down around the slight resistance his finger gives. He’s right. Much better than your vibrator. You release him from your grasp as he comes up for air, both of your eyes are hazy with lust as you look at each other.

“Can I suck your tits?” Wooyoung’s blunt tone does nothing to disturb your post orgasmic cloud. “C’mere baby boy,” you say as you slide your bra straps off your shoulders, unclasping the band without a second thought. Wooyoungs eyes bulge as you so easily and carelessly reveal your breasts, half reclined back in his bed, like he’d imagined all those years ago. It’s nothing to you but everything to him. You see them every day and he’d only seen them in his fantasies. He swipes lazily at the arousal still clinging to his lips and chin, transfixed by your tits. Almost reverently he reaches for them both, fingers fanning out over the pair and squishing into them. “Oh mommy,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of one, “they’re perfect.” “Wooyoungie-” you’re nearly dying of embarrassment, heat flashing through your body as he interrupts you. “They’re just like I imagined.” “Shut up and suck before I regret this,” you laugh, masking your tension beneath brusque humor. Wooyoung doesn’t seem to mind. In fact his eyes practically sparkle as you demand he follow through on his request. Lips encircling your nipple he kisses tenderly at first, hand resting on the opposite breast to make sure it was also attended to. Soft skin in his palm and on his lips, Wooyoung hips move autonomously, rutting against whatever warmth his cock can find. His tongue flicks over your hardened nipple, fingers pinching the other lightly and listening for your moans of approval. Again, he flicks harder, pinches harder, and feels you respond louder and harder as he’d hoped. He keeps escalating until it feels like his heart is going to burst from excitement, leaning into you as he nips at your flesh. Yelping you swat at him playfully, “don’t be a brat!” “Sorry mommy, i just love you so much,” he smiles and nips again. Truthfully the pain feels good, stinging only for a moment before the buzz of endorphins rushes through your spine. “S’okay baby,” you purr and coax him between your thighs, tugging at his underwear. “You’ve made a real mess of these.” “All for you,” he’s breathless as he tosses the ruined pair casually across the room. Leaning close to you again, he kisses you as he rummages under the pillows. You can feel him smile against your mouth as he finds his prize. Pulling away he brandishes a gold foil packet proudly. “A boyscout is always prepared.” “Goddamn, is this just a normal thing for you?” Your heart drops just a little bit disappointed that you might not be special to him. He’s just so smooth, every action carefully planned. “No,” he tears the foil packet with his teeth before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I heard you were going to be in town and I wasn’t going to lose you again.” “You sound obsessed,” you giggle, hands tracing the veins of his lower abdomen as you watch him roll the latex over his length. “Yeah and I’m going to make you just as obsessed about me.”

Sorry, i just don’t know that i wanted to write more of this. I just do NAWT know how to write a mommy kink, it’s not something i’m particularly into which usually doesn’t really stop me when writing but IDK. I liked the beginning but then the mommy stuff felt shoehorned in.

#February Filth Fest #ateez smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez wooyoung smut #atz smut #kpop smut

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