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ahhhwomen · 9 months ago

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I don’t know why I bite.

Vampire Empire

Part 1

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: We are going to ignore how long I disappeared, okay thank you. Also, y/n will not be in a proper relationship with the girls, she will very much be viewed and treated like a pet not a partner, but she will obvi still get the love.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death (later on)Minors DNI 18+

Summary: Your Master is a cruel woman, but you would never stand a chance against her, but what if they can?

Word Count: 3.5k

The keys jingle in a pattern.

With each step, the clash of metal calls out. It changes tune, depending on the day. If she’s tired, she drags her feet, it’s a slower melody. When she’s angry, there is a harshness to the smashing of the chain against her belt and a thud to her heavy boots.

You don’t know what her happy steps are, you think the sound would be smooth. Maybe, like she´s floating?

You wonder if you are ever going to hear it? If you are being honest with yourself, you don’t really know if you want to. At least her other behaviors are predictable, you can handle predictable, uncertainty however, that is an entirely different game. Not one you are very keen on playing.

Today, her steps boom like thunder, and her keys shriek like lighting.

Chills run down your spine; you press against the cold concrete wall. It scratches your skin. You press harder and cower closer.

You are shaking as she sweeps around the corner of your prison; she’s frowning today.

But…?

It hurts.

From yesterday. It still hurts.

She always gives you a day.

It still hurts.

You need a day.

It doesn't matter. You know you can’t stop it.

You close your eyes and submerge yourself in the void. You don’t like the dark, but she doesn't like it when you see.

Your cage opens with a shriek. You flinch as she touches your face, she is breathing down your neck and you feel yourself panic as she struggles with your collar.

It's never good when she takes away your collar.

Before you do something stupid, like fight back, a soothing voice guides you. It’s a whisper, that only you can hear. Drag in slow breaths, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Rinse and repeat. You do as they tell you.

You're in a sunflower field.

The heavy feeling in your stomach is from the big dinner you had, half an hour earlier.

The sun is setting, and you are smiling and laughing as you run through the field of flowers. They're ginormous, almost bigger than you. There is a weight to them as you push past. They scratch and irritate, but it's only temporary, so you keep laughing to yourself.

There is a whip to the wind, the sound loud and frightening. The flowers are louder, so you pretend not to hear. They rustle and dance in the harsh wind.

It's dark, but the yellow glow of plant life guides you. You don’t know where you are running to, maybe home, maybe the ocean. It matters not. You are happy, just you and the flowers.

When the wind calms and the sun peaks over the horizon you know it’s time to leave.

You trek through the soil and ignore the sharp stones that prick your pale skin, you wish you could stay, but it’s time to return.

You open your eyes when she leaves. She almost killed you today.

It's okay.

You deserved it.

Tomorrow, you rest.

Maybe.

Natasha smirks over the rim of her whisky glass. One would think the blonde would be professional after almost a century of doing business, yet she still stomps around like a child throwing a tantrum when she doesn't get it her way. The redhead almost feels bad for the poor pet that was going to be at the end of Carol's rath tonight, almost.

“Knock, knock.” Wanda stands in the doorway, her knuckles lightly tapping against the dark oak.

She’s dressed modern today. Her suit is fitted to perfection, it hugs her waist and expands her hips. She also went for a smokey makeup look, her eyeshadow a mix of dark brown and black, her lips a deep amber, just like her suit.

If attraction could kill Natasha would be one dead woman.

She smiles at her wife before signaling her in with a wave. She’s surprised to see Wanda, her wife comes by occasionally, and she has always dressed nicely, but this is new. Due to her desk stealing her view, Natasha can't see, but she can hear her wife's high heels as she passes through the threshold. Same color as the suit she imagines.

“What brings you here?” Natasha questions as she pours her wife a drink.

Wanda settles herself in the plush chair in front of her wife before bothering to answer. “Do I need a reason lovely? Maybe I just want to see my beautiful wife in her place of work.” Wanda grins while the other redhead hands her a glass of whiskey. Neat, just how she likes it.

Natasha scans her wife with suspicion, she wants something. She can tell by the way Wanda leans her body slightly to the left while her lips lift into a flirtatious half-smirk.

The shorter redhead lifts her eyebrow. “As nice as that may be, why are you really here?”

Wanda deflates slightly at her wife’s accusatory tone. She is right, of course, but Wanda was hoping she could butter her up a little before getting to that. Wanda will have to ask her out on a date soon and make herself a little less predictable.

She is ashamed to say it's been a while since their last dinner date, or movie night for that matter. However, it's hard to find the time when you have been married since the eighteen hundreds, and you both work more than any human would be capable of.

Which brings her to her point.

Wanda pulls in a breath, “I want a pet.”

Before Natasha can get a word in Wanda continues to ramble all in the same breath, “And I know, I know, we have already gone over this. But I'm lonely. The business has been slow since the Stark clan agreed to our peace offering. And while you are busy here, I want someone to come home too.” Wanda keeps her tone open and light.

She wasn’t here to accuse her wife of not giving her enough attention, they both knew that their different work would keep them apart, but while Wanda would spend long nights in her home office, Natasha would spend them in her company office on the other side of the city.

Natasha drums her fingers sharply against her desk, she wants to shut the idea down immediately.

Having a frail human pet would mean having a weakness. Natasha knows her wife well. She knows her wife will get attached, and she knows it will never end well for either of them.

On the other hand, she understands her wife's needs. Natasha spends most of her days in the office, working to uphold their cover, while Wanda spends her days all over the city settling their other business. Their schedules never align either, Natasha works days, Wanda nights. She has to admit, it doesn't sound half bad to have someone to come home to the few nights she can afford it.

Wanda is waiting with bated breath as her wife concludes.

“You have already set up the meet, haven’t you?”

Wanda gapes slightly but conceals it before her wife sees. She knows her too well indeed.

She slumps into her chair, “Yes.” She lifts her finger to stop Natasha from commenting, “In my defense, I was coming here to get your approval.” Natasha chuckles to herself.

“And if you didn’t get it your way?”

Wanda smiles bashfully, “Then I would go without you.” Natasha has to blink away tears from how hard she laughs, she is gripping her stomach, wheezing while answering, “I would expect nothing less my love.” She rights her posture and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. She glances at her wife hiding her blush behind luscious red locks.

She can never say no to her.

Clapping her hands together, she responds. “Fine, you win.”

Wanda practically shines with mirth and joy, “But,” her companion eyes her carefully, nodding to confirm she´s listening. “I get to pick the name that goes on her collar.”

The other redhead huffs, “Fine, but it better not be something stupid.”

Natasha shrugs and her wife leans over the table to slap her shoulder in warning. Natasha smiles all the same and shakes her head, “Yeah, yeah, nothing dumb.” As much fun as she is having with this, she is a busy woman.

She runs her hands down her black suit, thinks of what paperwork to finish, and mumbles a question about when they need to leave while sorting through the latest update about their progress on Project X. Wanda, without missing a beat, states a simple, “Now.”

Nat drops her pen and pinches the skin between her eyebrows. Wanda shrugs half apologetically as Natasha fixes her with a hard glare.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grumbles a short, “Right, we better get going then.”

It's been almost a decade since she has set foot in one of these shitholes. Nothing has changed, the cages are just as small, and the odor stinks the same, alcohol, blood, and fear.

Wanda shifts uncomfortably as they wait for the salesman to get his spreadsheet, Natasha silently watches from the sideline as he sorts through a mess of paper and fast-food containers to find what he is looking for. She chastises Wanda for not finding a better establishment. Back in their time, this was the usual, but nowadays they have far better alternatives.

Wanda leans against Natasha to whisper, “It was the only place by a few miles Tash, and it’s the only place we have time for.” Natasha stays unimpressed. Wanda smirks at her wife and tucks a strand of loose hair behind the other redhead's ear before discreetly licking the shell of it and whispering sweetly, “I will make it up to you.” Natasha shivers under the attention and the salesman grunts a weak, “found it” before leading them into the main hall.

The ocean swishes in the background as you lie on your blue, shark-themed blanket in your modern bikini. The sun gleams over your head. Your skin stings and you shift onto your stomach, you must have forgotten sunscreen again.

Nonetheless, you purr under the shine of good weather; you wish you had taken a book with you. Maybe next time. For now, you stretch out and lay your bare arms against the warm sand. It will be stuck in every crevice, but it's nice.

A light breeze passes you.

You suck in a big breath, it burns, but you ignore it. It smells of salt and….. salt… and….?

Ice-cream.

It smells of salt and ice cream.

You think you may stay for a while today. You might visit tomorrow, but you would rather not.

If it doesn't burn too much, you hope to sleep tomorrow through. After all, if you are really lucky, you may not wake up again.

This place is even more depressing than Wanda had anticipated.

She and the other redhead had been to a similar place a few decades ago, but this was just sad. Not even the potent scent of blood can get her to ignore the uncomfortable sound of churning, empty, stomachs.

If they lived in a different city she would have taken her wife to a more humane operation, but with limited time comes limited opportunity.

The male and female sections are separate, in the left hall she can smell the odor of young men eager to please, while in this hall she can see the curious and smell the fearful. The gruff man showing them around had introduced them to a few pets by now, but she had to admit they were not what she was hoping for.

There had been one pet she took a slight liking to; a young woman, in her mid-twenties, she was in the puppy section, an enthusiastic little thing. But in the end, she was a little too pushy for Wanda’s liking, Natasha hadn’t seemed too keen either, so they left it there.

The kitten section wasn’t too bad, but every time she thought she was building a connection, Natasha would step into the pet's line of sight and they would cower away one by one. She knows her wife is putting on a stern face to test the poor little things, but it was starting to piss her off big time.

Wanda rolls her eyes as the feeble man struggles with yet another lock, she lifts her suit jacket and checks the expensive gold watch ticking away, fifteen more minutes or they will have to come back another time. Given that this was the only available time she and Nat had had in a few weeks the dire truth of not getting a pet today was settling in.

“Here she is, now she's not much to look at, but since you wanted to see them all,” the man shrugs and Wanda has half the mind to bite his head off. Before she can do anything of the sort Natasha takes her by surprise by stepping into the cage before her.

Nat ignores her wife as she steps into your cage, she has seen you before.

You were Carol's pet, or at least she thought you were. But it seems you were a less permanent part of the blonde’s life. Your cage was different, it was slightly bigger, the poorly dressed man had said something earlier about you being a leased pet.

You look horrible. She is studying you from a few feet away and she can still see the horrors you must have been through.

She knows Carol is violent, it's why she has spent so long trying to negotiate with blondie. Their clans were never on the same page and yes, threats were constantly made, but this was something else. Natasha would never think the pathetic woman would do this just because she could.

She hears Wanda step in and gasp at the sight of you.

You are lying on the hard floor with your back turned to them, a rag the size of a hand towel barely covering your bottom. Your hands are stretched out under the lamp, the only heat source you have, you have been beaten to a pulp. There are deep lacerations covering you, your entire body is one big bruise, and dried blood covers every crevice of both your skin and even part of the walls. But that was not what caught either of their attention, no, it was the lack of life they could sense from you.

Natasha kneels a few feet away from you and studies you carefully. Her hand rests against her cheek as she tries to focus on your heartbeat. It beats, but there was something off about it. It's slow like you are asleep, but she can hear in your breathing that you are still conscious.

She tilts her head and talks off-handedly at the man behind her.

“Is she sick?” She hears him scoff but ignores it in favor of closing her eyes and trying to feel you.

“Of course not-“ He waves his hand, “all that,” he gestures at your body, “was her own fault.”

Before Natasha has time to reprimand the pig, she hears a crunch behind her followed by a heavy thud.

She huffs and raises herself slowly before opening her eyes and looking at her wife with her peripheral vision. “I thought we agreed to not kill anyone today.”

Wanda stares at her with empty eyes. “No. We agreed on not killing any innocent people tonight. As far as I am concerned, I am just following his logic, after all this was all his fault.” Wanda gestures at the dead man's body.

Natasha turns to her wife while rolling her eyes.

Wanda ignores her wife's sass and looks past her to take you in once more. “Who is she?”

Natasha shrugs and gazes at you over her shoulder. “She was Carol´s plaything, but I guess Carol never owned her like I thought.” Wanda raised her eyebrows in surprise and stared at Nat, “That’s y/n?”. Her eyes move down to you again, “last time I saw her she sure as hell didn’t look like that.”

Natasha nods and crosses her arms in thought, “well it seems Carol is an even worse owner than she is a negotiator.”

The last time Wanda had seen you was when she joined one of Natasha’s meetings a few months ago, you were a new thing back then. You had scars, but they were pink and healed, you were a skittish little thing, but you ate, you had some color to you, and you sure as hell didn’t feel like this.

You could feel their eyes all over your body. You hated it, you never liked it when people looked too hard or thought too long, it always meant the same thing. They were assessing whether or not you are a feasible option as a pet. You know you aren’t, you know they will scoff and turn their backs to you as if you disgust them, like you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as them.

You get it though, they are probably right.

Usually, such a thing wouldn’t bother you, you are used to it by now, but there was something about their scents that put you off, you felt out of place even more than usual, and you hated it.

You were too focused on pretending to be asleep to assess what the heavy thud against the concrete could have been.

Whatever it was, must have had something breakable inside of it as you could hear a clear crack as something bounced off the floor. You decided you didn’t care, you only cared about the sudden voice that took over all the space of your enclosure. Powerful enough to command any and every room, you know this voice. It belongs to one Natasha Romanoff, and suddenly the voice behind her made sense too. You had only seen the redhead once, but you would remember her anywhere, just as commanding as her wife, and even more scary, Wanda Maximoff.

If you weren’t scared before, you were positively shitting your nonexistent pants now.

You try to keep your breathing even so as to not show any hint of awareness, you have no idea what they could be doing here. Had Master sent them? Were these the last moments you would have, were you going to die in this tiny, claustrophobic hellhole?

You were panicking, and you know they can sense it. Feel it. No matter how many times Master called you such, you weren’t an idiot. You know what they are, you know what they can do, what they will do.

As you hear one of them take a step closer you turn into a stiff board. You stay completely still as you feel your lungs start resisting the air you desperately try to force into them, you have this sudden need to flee or to bear your neck and beg for them to finish it quickly. Right after the thought passes your mind you shrink in shame, Master will kill you for ever thinking of bearing your neck to another.

You can hear them pause for a moment as you feel their eyes on you again. You have been made.

You don’t know what comes over you, you don’t know where you suddenly find the strength, but before you even know what you are doing you are leaping towards the women, your hands ready to claw out their eyes if need be.

You know they are stronger, faster, and smarter than you could ever wish to be, but this is a survival instinct, nothing makes sense, nothing matters. And as you collide into a warm body and start ripping into it, to the best of your ability, you realize, you have no idea what you are doing.

Natasha knew what you were about to do, possibly before you, and as you crashed into her and started scratching and ripping at anything you could get your hands on, she realized that maybe you still have a chance at this life. For the first time during their little visit, she can feel something in you, it’s small, scared, abused, but there is a will there, a will to live, a will to fight. That is more than most in this bleak city.

She holds you gently as you rip apart her coat, tear at her skin, and bite her hands. She hears Wanda take an uncertain step toward the both of you, unsure of what to do. But Natasha waves her hands nonchalantly and asks Wanda with a calm voice to stay back.

Natasha understands that to her wife you must look positively rabid. You were in the kitten class, but you were fighting Natasha as if you were a fighter dog. All teeth and claws. However, compared to Natasha, you might as well have been a mite.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t pierce her skin, can’t topple her balance, you can’t win.

Your fingers dig into the soft skin, your nails gripping and tearing, but nothing happens. There is no skin underneath your nails, no blood, no sight of damage against pale skin. You bite the hands that hold you, and you can hear your jaw creek as you strain your weak body, but the skin doesn't break, the only blood you taste is your own.

You are scared, you don’t know what to do, there is no sunflower field to hide behind, no sea to drown in, you feel powerless, even more so than she makes you feel.

You don’t know what they want, you don’t want to die like this.

Even after all your effort goes to waste you can’t give up, you have to keep trying, you have to-

“Stop.”

Wanda looks at you with an unreadable expression, you look up in terror as you realize you can’t move your body. One simple word, in one simple tone, has made you paralyzed.

#dark!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader

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itstheghostofmypast · 3 months ago

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21.19

University AU Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: He knows when you are sleeping. He knows when you're awake - at this point, she was borderline afraid of him and his correct judgement.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Word Count: 838

Est.Read Time: 4 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: wow two in one day? Damn, I must be desperate.

“Am I drooling?” Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she pushed her glasses up her face, resting them on top of her head, using them to keep the hair off her face, glaring at the man on the screen. Of course, he'd do this every time she'd decide to stay in and revise - moron.

The day had begun like any other gruelling day, weekend, or not, Friday was merely just the same as Monday for her. Considering she didn't have classes tomorrow, there was only one thing she was going to do, revise, something she'd encourage him to do as well, until he'd hit her with the “I study five days a week, I can relax over the weekend.”

Sure, that's easy to say when you're Choi San, boy wonder, the golden boy, lady luck would just follow him around - not that she was any better. Point is, sometimes it came naturally to him, he may not be the smartest but he was always the most confident and well liked and on any other day she would've been giggling and giddy at the thought of him having eyes only for her, not today though.

With a scoff she swiped to the next picture, and the next, until her breath hitched at the last one, something about the closeup picture had every ounce of feminism leave her body, her eyes flickered to the caption, her face flushing at the cookie emoji, her words ringing in her ears, “You're so hot Sannie, I could bake cookies on you!”

In her defense, she was severely drunk that night, and severely tired of her pent up feelings for the man who she had been mutually pinning on for two whole semesters but was too afraid to make a move, and he was too afraid of pushing her away- until of course Choi Jongho took them out for a couple of drinks. Turns out her tolerance was worse than San's, two shots in and she was wasted, leaning against the man’s side, mumbling about how bad her day was, and then somehow ended up saying that.

She shivered at the stupid flashback, visibly cringing at the memory, to think she had just opened her account to sift through stupid reels, to relax for ten minutes, and now for the past forty minutes she had just been staring at the three pictures, as if she had not been more intimate with the man- perhaps it was true, he was hotter with clothes on, or perhaps she just needed to wash her mind with some bleach.

Scoffing at the thought, she took a shameless screenshot of each picture - no, she was not going to ask him to send these pictures to her? What to prove him right? To boost his ego? No, thank you, one should never inflate the balloon of ego man carries around with him.

She had placed the phone down and picked up a pen, but the loud ringer had her squeak like a mouse, fumbling with the pen before she picked up her phone blindly,

“H-hello!?”

“...You saw, but you didn’t like…are you playing hard to get?”

She scoffed at the audacity of this bastard, leaning against her seat, “Didn’t see anything special.”

��Darling, if I come home and find screenshots-”

“Why are you shamelessly thirst-trapping your girlfriend anyway?” She cut him off instantly, making a mental note to delete the pictures later.

“Because she won't pay attention to me!” He whined, she could ‘hear’ his pout, especially when added in his pouty complaint, “We could be devouring this platter together- and-and then we could have had the mint-choco couple's special!”

With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose, “And then spend the entire weekend at the gym like a dog?”

“Woof! Woof! Sounds like a date,” he snorted, pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he struggled with the keys, letting out a hearty laugh at her joke.

“Careful don't let Mingi hear you barking like that!”

“I'll make sure of that, now if I were you, I'd put away those horrid notes,” he mumbled closing the door behind him as he walked towards their room, ignoring her whining and complaining, one he could now hear live as well before he stood at the door frame and cleared his throat, catching her all curled up against the desk, in her swivel chair.

She turned to look at him, almost dying at the thought of an intruder then visibly relaxing at the sight of her lover, neither of the two hanging up.

“Ice-cream? And then we can cram together?” He spoke into the phone, raising the plastic bag to show her a tub of mint chocolate ice cream.

Rubbing her chin she pretended to think about his offer, only to giggle when he came stomping closer threatening to place the wet bag on her notes, earning a squeal from her, before she hugged him by the waist pulling him closer, looking up at him, with a smile, one that matched his, both staring at each other like love-sick puppies “That's not a bad offer, Mr.Choi.”

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

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frvnkcastles · 4 months ago

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LIKE HEAVEN ABOVE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: After Frank saves your life, you’re there for him through thick and thin.

Warnings: Violence, language, feminine nicknames, implied smut, mentions of death, reader is a teacher, reader wears glasses

Word count: 5.6k (wow)

Author’s note: Omggg y’all, I dug this up from my Pages app, it’s literally almost 3 years old and that’s why I’m a little nervous to post it but I thought it might actually be some of my best writing, so here we go :) It takes place through Daredevil season 2 all the way to the end of The Punisher Season 1, and I have to admit, I honestly feel like Frank was NOT ready for any kind of love interest during Daredevil but I took some creative liberties, anyway. So this is a little out of character on that front. I’m rambling, I hope you enjoy!! I’m gonna get back to your requests soon <3

Frank felt like somehow days passed by in a flurry yet every second dragged on like the worst torture he had endured — which was saying a lot considering the literal war he had gone through, and the fact he was currently lying in a hospital bed; broken, bruised and with a drilling hole in his foot. And yet waiting to see you was the one thing that got his confidence to falter, his brain to shortcircuit.

For a man so stubborn and determined to do things on his own, he had crumbled so fast when presented with the opportunity to see you again. He hadn’t even realized he had ended up caring about you so deeply, not until the blonde journalist had stepped into his room and the words just poured out of him.

”Would ya do me a favour?” Frank asked as the woman was leaving the room, his gruff voice so uncharacteristically meek and vulnerable, and therefore capable of turning her head immediately. ”Please”, he added weakly, ”my girl… I—there’s someone I need to see. Just once. Please.”

Maybe she was curious about meeting the one person who seemed to mean anything to The Punisher anymore; maybe she felt surprisingly bad for him or maybe it was both, but Karen found herself doing as he asked and tracked you down. She reached out and a few days later… you were walking down the hallways of the hospital, uncomfortably shifting the weight of your leather jacket from one arm to the other, your stomach churning in nervous anticipation.

The sight of several armed guards standing outside the room you were being walked to made you gulp, but you weren’t scared of the man inside. You were scared to see the kind of condition he was in, to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, scared of the moment you’d have to walk out in the uncertainty if you’d ever see him again. But not him. Never him.

Something in Frank came to life when you appeared at the doorway; something he thought to be long dead and buried only for you to always revive him. He lifted his head from the worn pillows and sighed in some kind of relief, only for guilt to lodge into his heart when he saw you scanning his body.

He looked awful, no way around it. Littered in bruises so severe you could barely see his face, you struggled not to cry while looking at the multiple machines connected to him and the abundance of bandages on his tired limbs. What really got to you, though, was the handcuffs on his wrists and the straps across his chest and stomach to make sure there was no room for him to move any more than necessary to sit up and lie back down.

”Jesus…”, you sighed breathlessly, your hands beginning to shake as you walked over to him with a frown so deep it hurt his heart. He knew he might have been a selfish asshole for dragging you here, for making you see what he had tried to protect you from this whole time, for letting you get attached right before it would all go to shit, anyway. But he wasn’t strong enough to push you away. He was capable of enduring much, but he was weak when it came to you. He had tried it, at first, keeping you at arm’s length but you got under his skin in a way that was irreversible and it hurt more to resist than it did to give in. For him, anyway.

”Looks worse than it is, sweetheart”, he rasped, and with a scoff, you finally met his eyes only for the depth of them to catch you off-guard and make you choke on your own tongue. He looked just as attentive and kind as the day you had met him — you swore you’d never forget the way he had hid you behind the counter of the diner, looked right into your eyes and promised he’d make sure you’d make it to class tomorrow; what would the kids do without their teacher, after all?

”They said your foot was… that there was a…”, you stammered, hoping to counter his words with an argument that failed as soon as you tried to get it out. He had never judged you for your tendency to stutter, though, and he didn’t do it now, either. Simply nodded and let you process.

”Yeah. Yeah, there was”, he admitted quietly, licking his split lips as he watched you move to the chair next to his bed and slowly sink down. Even with all the pain in your eyes, you looked so beautiful in one of your worn band shirts and the skirt you had promptly tucked it into, your glasses heavy on your nose and the shimmer of your lipbalm like a red thread for Frank to hang onto like his life depended on it. Amidst all the chaos and ache of his recent weeks, he could just close his eyes and think back to you, and somehow he felt at peace. At least for a second.

”I wish I could… make it all better”, you whispered sadly, a lone tear rolling down your cheek as you looked at his bruised cheekbones.

Frank’s hand reached for yours only for the handcuffs to stop him, the noise of the movement alerting the guard outside the door and pulling a swear from Frank. When he settled his hand back by his side, the guard seemed to relax a little, making both of you sigh — the man wasn’t even allowed to hold your hand.

”Oh, sweetheart”, Frank whispered, ”that’s exactly what you do. You make all this shit better.” He managed a small smile as he tilted his head at you. ”I may just make it worse, but you? Christ, you…”, he struggled to put his thoughts into words, keeping you on your toes as he finally decided against it, ”I’preciate you comin’. I just, uh, I guess I wanted to see you before I get dragged into a courtroom and… yeah. Yeah, there’s no happy ending for me. But for a moment there, you helped me believe there might be”, he went on, only breaking your heart with each word.

You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly. ”You don’t give yourself enough credit, Frankie. You’ve really made things better for me, too. And you deserve a happy ending, however that might look for you”, you swore, casting your eyes at your trembling hands. ”I know it might be weird to say, but I’m grateful I met you. Life-threatening danger and all. You and everyone else may not see it the same way, but you are a good guy. You are”, you continued before sniffling and getting up from your chair enough to press a kiss on his forehead.

You were careful and gentle, unwilling to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt. Yet when you moved to pull away, Frank grunted and reached for your wrist, stopping you from leaving. For a moment, you were forehead to forehead, your lips inches away and his breath mixing with yours.

”Sit with me for a bit? Yeah?” Frank pleaded, and when you nodded, he swallowed and smiled weakly. ”That’s my girl.”

He didn’t see you again until the trial. He spotted you right there in the benches, dressed in your finest red shirt that had his thoughts running a million miles while being walked to the stand. He was dressed in a suit, too, and he almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculous thought of a date swirling in his head. Maybe, in another lifetime, that could have been reality — not him being on trial for murder with you trying to tune out the hate speech spewed at him from the other half of the courtroom.

Most of his bruises had healed by then. You found small comfort in that.

You didn’t get to tell him he looked good, though. You didn’t get to say a single thing when he was announcing his guilt with a booming roar, and the next thing you knew, he was being walked out of the courtroom with a prison sentence looming over his head. You didn’t blame him for doing what he did, and you certainly didn’t expect him to choose you over his morals. But nevertheless, you couldn’t help but cry as he was taken out of sight and you were left with the realization you may never see him again.

You were sitting outside on the steps of the courthouse when a strange hand extended a tissue for you. Just as you looked up, nearly blinded by the sunshine, you were glad you hadn’t said your thought out loud when you saw Frank’s lawyer poke his cane at the steps until he figured where to sit. He lowered himself next to you just as you took the tissue and thanked him for his kindness.

”You’re the woman”, he stated matter-of-factly, and when you turned to him in confusion, he chuckled quietly. ”I recognize your perfume. It… stuck to him”, he explained — even if his explanation remained vague — but you had no time to present any further questions when he continued. ”Frank Castle is not a talkative man. But I’ve noticed whenever he does speak, his words carry meaning. He doesn’t do small talk or state the obvious, he… he only shares what he considers important. And if that is the case, then… you are extremely important to him”, he elaborated before drawing in a deep breath and sending a small smile your way.

Your heart both broke and leaped at his words. You hadn’t exactly doubted it, but it meant a great deal to know Frank cherished you as much as you cherished him.

”And he is to me”, you returned quietly, pulling a slow nod from the man — Matt — who then turned his head at you curiously.

”If you don’t mind me asking… how does a teacher find herself with The Punisher?” he wondered, and considering it your turn to chuckle, you turned to your hands and recalled the night that had turned your life upside down.

”He saved my life. I know that’s how all the cliché fairytales go, but he did. I was at my favorite diner to get some grilled cheese after a long day of work. I was so close to making it, too, when these, uh, thugs came in. Looking for him, unsurprisingly. There was only one other person besides us and they managed to escape before the shooting began, so… Frank hid me behind the counter. He told me he’d keep me safe, that I’d get to see the kids I teach again the next day— he’d heard me talking to the cashier. He’d make sure of it. And he did. He took care of those guys and afterwards he walked me home. I—I owed him my life so I figured the least I could do was ice his knuckles. He must have been barely ten minutes in my apartment but it meant everything. We just… couldn’t get rid of each other after that”, you explained, the sunlight suddenly feeling warmer on your skin and the smile on your lips so free of worry. For a second, anyway.

Matt listened intently — not only to what you were saying, but you. And it didn’t take him long to come to a conclusion. ”You love him”, he declared, and with your head snapping towards him, you frowned.

”We haven’t—there’s nothing—”, you began, your stutter seeping through again, and Matt smiled.

”Whether or not you’ve acted on it, I can hear it. You’ve fallen in love with him”, he emphasized before humming, ”and I think, somewhere deep down underneath all that trauma and guilt and unwillingness to face the facts… he feels the same way.”

You stared at him, disbelief all over your face as you thought about Frank and all your brief touches, all your sweet words and reassuring looks.

”Could you tell him I’ll be right here? Please? Just… let him know that even if I can’t be by his side, he’s not alone”, you whispered, and although he seemed to consider it for a second, Matt ended up nodding.

”I’m sure he’s gonna need that.”

And he wasn’t wrong. Prison was no easy feat, not even for The Punisher.

He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to you. One moment he was sitting in court, listening to his vigilante of a lawyer speak on his behalf, and the next he was being dragged out in chains with your worried face amongst the angry civilians being the last thing he saw. And the big bad Punisher had gone so far as to beg Karen to let him see you for the second time; let you see him, but before she could even consider making it happen, he had been shoved into a white onesie and sent on his way to prison with his jagged memories trying hard to recall the last words you had spoken to him.

It had been something kind — that much he had decided on while sitting in his cell. You were always so fucking kind, and so understanding, even when he doubted he deserved it. You were a good person; a troubled one but you had weathered every storm and stuck to your morals, and he admired that to no end. You didn’t have a judgmental bone, not a single ounce of hatred for anyone who didn’t deserve it, sometimes not even those who did. He thought that maybe he was unworthy of your friendship and sympathy sometimes, but you gave it to him anyway, without question and without expectation. You liked him for who he was, not who he had been, and you didn’t try to change his mind and steer his path.

At least he had the message Red had passed onto him to keep him going.

It was those unexplainably good-hearted intentions of yours and the unconditional support he hadn’t realized he missed so much, that made him fall in love with you. He struggled with it for a while, wondering if he was ready; if he should have felt guilty, but eventually the desire to keep you safe and the longing to hold you close became too evident to ignore.

And he truly knew when one of the assholes he had put down had taunted him about his lady, only for his mind to go to you instead of Maria.

He had been writing a letter to you when his heart-pouring onto paper was interrupted by a taunting laugh outside his cell. ”Writing a love letter to your lady?” one of the gang members in his block teased, and with a grit in his teeth, Frank forced himself to not pick a fight — a successful attempt until the burly man went on. ”Would be a shame if anyone got their hands on your girl now that you ain’t out there to protect—”, he continued, his words cut off with a wheeze when Frank clamored out of his seat and promptly stabbed the pen into his neck. It was a good thing he had already signed the letter.

Realistically, he knew it may have been an empty threat. Nonetheless, as soon as he was out of prison, the letter tucked in the pocket of his jacket, he made his way to you. Making you were safe was priority number one — and if he’d get the chance to hand over the envelope and open his heart to you… Well, that would just be the cherry on top. He had promised to get out and tell you how he felt, to stop being a coward and admit that he wanted to be there for you, that he loved you, and that was exactly what he planned on doing.

Although, things never went exactly as planned.

He had so much determination and courage in his heart when he knocked on your door, but as soon as you opened it and your short figure appeared right in front of him, it all drained from his system. All he was left with was bare amazement and the reserved hope that you’d still welcome him into your home — he knew he had burned more than enough bridges with his little stunt in court, and he had spent many sleepless nights wondering if he had scared you off, too. That worry only now flared into a genuine fear as he watched astonishment wipe across your face, his own expression meek and his large body trying to shrink on itself to seem less intimidating.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he managed, his voice raspy as ever, his dark eyes scanning your face and trying to make sense of the speechless trance you had been stunned into.

It was justified, of course. Who would expect a convicted criminal on their doorstep?

That wasn’t exactly what was on your mind, though. You had never doubted that Frank would get back up somehow; he couldn’t be kept down — but you couldn’t believe he had come to you. A man like him surely had places to be, people to kill, things to do and somehow… he was right there in front of you in all his glory, not bleeding out and in need of stitches, either. Just… there.

You didn’t realize how emotional the sight of him had gotten you until you opened your mouth and the words escaped you with a choke. ”Is it okay if I hug you?” you cracked, and with a deep, even relieved sigh, Frank let his tense shoulders drop and his head bob in a nod as he opened his arms.

He welcomed you gladly, his big arms winding around your smaller body to encompass you against his entirely. He realized then that you were wrapped up in one of the hoodies he had left behind, his confidence boosting but his heart breaking just a little at the thought of you sitting at home alone in his clothes, comforted by his scent and wondering if he’d ever come back to you. And right there and then, he knew he had made the right choice in doing so.

”I missed you”, you whispered into his chest, your heart doing somersaults at the firmness of it, your eyes fallen shut as you breathed him in and basked in his warmth and all his rough edges that only confirmed he was real and not a figment of your imagination, not a daydream, even if he had occupied nearly all of them for the past months.

”Missed ya too, girl”, he muttered into your hair, and as he held you there, grateful to have you again, the doubt began creeping in and the letter in his pocket started to seem like a bad idea. What if it would simply push you away, just when he got you in his arms?

Swallowing, he then decided maybe it was better not to bring it up.

”Hey, I, uh…”, he cleared his throat when you stepped back to welcome him into your apartment. He treaded carefully, like any second now you’d change your mind and turn him away — and he wouldn’t blame you, either. Trouble followed him wherever he went, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from coming to you every time. ”Look, there’s… a lot going on, y’know? Some shit might go down and I just…”, he continued, uncertain of his own words as his gaze fell to the nervously fiddling hands in front of him, ”I don’t want ya to look at the news and rethink the kinda guy I am, y’know?”

Chuckling, you shook your head at him. ”The news couldn’t change my mind about you, Frankie”, you reassured in a way that had his chest tightening. ”You’re my friend and—and a good guy, even if with… unique methods. But you are. Just because you have blood on your hands, doesn’t make you a bad man”, you went on, but he could tell you were nervous, too. He just couldn’t see past himself enough to understand it wasn’t fear making you tremble.

”I think you are loyal and sweet and protective and… capable of making people feel safe and appreciated. When I’m with you, I feel respected and understood. Never judged or unsafe”, you added, and with an amazed twinkle in his dark eyes, Frank looked up at you. Jesus, that was exactly how he felt around you. His lungs and throat were screaming at him to just tell you, but instead, he gave you a doubtful tilt of his head.

”You’re not scared?” he confirmed quietly, and with a small smile, you gave him a look.

”I’m not scared of you, Frank. I’m…”, you breathed in, hesitating before widening your smile and shaking your head, ”I’m not scared.” What you really wanted to tell was that you were nervous because you liked him — loved him. But you never felt threatened by him.

”Good”, he swallowed, defiance suddenly ablaze in his eyes as he seemed to relax. ”’Cause I’d never hurt ya. Shit, you make me wanna…”, he laughed, unsure where he was going with that thought. ”I just wanna keep you safe, sweetheart. Look after you”, he finished with a sigh, the kind that knew he was officially in too deep. You got him good.

”Then I’ll look after you, too”, you promised, gesturing at his hands, ”starting with those knuckles of yours.”

He was almost amused, but when you seriously dug a small tube of hand cream from your bag and began rubbing the lotion onto his bruised hands, all he could do was stare at you, completely enamored by your kindness and the feeling of your gentle hands tending to his damaged ones.

It was almost ironic, really — you were gentle, he was damaged. In your mind, it was the other way around, and maybe that was why it worked. You were different in so many ways but the bare essentials were still there, making you an undeniable match even if neither of you were brave enough to say it out loud right now. But him being in your apartment and you lotioning his calloused hands spoke in volumes, reassuring you both that it was safe like this.

He hadn’t been wrong, though. Shit hit the fan fast and in a matter of days, Frank Castle was a dead man as far as the world was concerned.

Before that, though, he was coaxed further into the realization of just how important you were to him. He was used to nightmares, in fact, he anticipated them each night. And yet, that night, his hands still smelling like your vanilla lotion, he found himself dreaming of you, your big smile, your sweet laugh and your soft lips.

Jesus Christ, he wanted you so bad. All of you.

It was a little harder to go about his mission then. You occupied his mind constantly now, and he began to resent himself for being such a coward and not giving you the letter, after all.

And when he jumped off an exploding ship, he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to tell you. Once he made it out in one piece, he decided he couldn’t risk losing the opportunity again.

You had just seen the news on the TV, and as badly as you wanted to believe no body meant no death, your stomach was twisting and turning. The idea of Frank being gone, just like that, was one that began chipping at your sanity. Thankfully, you didn’t get to sit with it for very long when there was a knock on your door, and you practically ran to open it, never more relieved to see the hunk of a man.

You tugged him into your apartment and sealed the door behind him before hugging him tight, on the verge of tears as you felt his firm body against yours and consoled yourself. He was there. He was alive. Well? Debatable.

”I’m okay, sweetheart, ’m okay. Can’t get rid of me that easy”, he chuckled darkly, his heart skipping a beat when you pulled away and looked right into his eyes. You looked so beautiful yet so vulnerable, and he couldn’t put his feelings into words when he realized he had gotten you so worked up. He hated to cause you any pain, but to know you cared that much?

”Shit…”, he breathed, licking his lips as he gently placed a hand on your jaw and groaned. ”C’mere”, he whispered before leaning down to kiss you, both your eyes closing as he placed his lips on yours, deep and tentative. You melted closer to him, your hands resting on his vest while he cupped your face and kissed you hard, breathing you in and reveling in the taste and feeling of you.

It was better than he had imagined, all anger and hatred leaving his system for the fleeting moment when he got to have just you, nothing else.

He wanted to take his sweet time with you but the yearning was too great to contain. In no time, you were lying on your back on your mattress with Frank on top of you, trying to hold back some of his weight as he kissed your neck and unzipped your skirt. He muttered words of praise and flattery against your soft skin, eyes blown wide with genuine admiration when he kissed his way down to your thighs and made you repeat his name in desperate begs and pleas.

A part of him was sure he was dreaming again, your head rested upon his bare chest, his fingers carding through your hair as you listened to his heartbeat and basked in the afterglow of the hours spent together. It was the middle of the night by now, the sounds of city never fully gone but toned down, your bed feeling like a safe haven amidst all the chaos around you both.

But Frank knew there was no permanent escape from what he had reshaped his life into. The thing was, you didn’t want to be an escape — you wanted to be part of it.

Nevertheless, he spoke up gruffly. ”Y’know I can’t stay, right?” he was quiet, his words a weak whisper, like a shameful confession he didn’t want the world to know. ”I mean, I’mma be with you tonight if you’ll let me, but I… I can’t leave things unfinished. The world thinks ’m dead, y’know, that’s just… It’s an advantage and I just—”, he went on, but you interjected with a nod and your hand smoothing up and down his chest soothingly.

”I know. I understand”, you promised before kissing his collarbone softly, ”I know, Frank. You don’t need to explain any more than you want to.”

He swallowed then, trying to muster up the courage to say what had been on his mind for so long. ”I, uh, I can’t ask you to hold out hope for me, but uh… I just want you to know…”, he tried to find the right words, licking his lips nervously before sighing and burying his face in your hair with a somber kiss. ”You don’t owe me shit. But you’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Look, I gotta do my thing, but I don’t want you to think it’s easy to walk away from you because, fuck… I don’t wanna lose ya, sweetheart”, he explained further, making you smile against his scarred skin.

”I will always hold out hope for you, Frank. My door will always be open for you”, you replied simply, and even though you didn’t elaborate further, it was all he needed to hear. Just knowing you weren’t ready to give up on him.

And that was why he wasn’t going to do it, either.

He kept in touch in whatever small, Frank-esque ways he could. A note on your door, a novelty mug on your windowsill, a comforting message from an unknown number. Sometimes all you had was the remains of his aftershave enveloped in the sweaters he had left behind, or the slander of his name on the news even when he was presumed dead — it was small but it reminded you that he was, in fact, alive, and as long as he was that, then you had faith that one day he’d be back on your doorstep.

Sometimes he felt like an irredeemable asshole for making you wait for him. If only you had the chance, you would have told him to get his head out of his ass — you had fallen for him, and whether he wanted you to be there or not, you would have thought about him, worried over him, longed for him. He could have tried to distance himself from you if he wanted to, but he was so deeply entwined into your life by now that all the roots simply couldn’t be plucked out anymore.

And he may have been stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Knowing how he felt about you, how being away from you made him ache, he suspected you shared the yearning and he knew that trying to push you away wouldn’t have healed either of you from it. So he kept in contact however he could, but not too close to keep his enemies off your trail.

You checked the news every day. And when you saw Billy Russo’s face plastered across your screen, his arrest making the headlines, you knew it was a good day.

Accordingly, there was promptly a knock on your door, and you felt your heart soar as you peeked through the peephole and saw the only man worth waiting for on the other side. You swung the door open, and in an instant, a smile stretched across his bruised face as he help up a bouquet of daffodils, making you grin, too.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he murmured, pulling you into a hug that shut off your senses from everything but him — all you smelled, felt and heard was him, your systems threatening to fail as you clung onto him like your life depended on it and felt his lips leave soft kisses on your forehead and hair. ”There ya are. As goddamn beautiful as I remembered”, he whispered, relieved to be holding you again, even a little proud of himself for making it here.

It wasn’t like he needed the extra motivation on all those long nights away — avenging his family was all the fuel he craved, but knowing that at the end of it all, he had someone to fall back on, encouraged him even more.

”I could say the same about you”, you chuckled while pulling away enough to place a gentle hand on his face and observe all the purple and yellow markings left there. It was obvious he had taken a beating, but if the news was to be trusted, Billy had suffered a fate much worse. And despite all the slowly healing scars on Frank’s sharp features, he was alive, and he was right there for you to admire and tend to.

”This ugly mug?” he snorted while kicking the door shut and pushing his hood off of his head, his hair grown out again and begging for your fingers to run through. Regardless of the mangled appearance, though, he seemed almost hopeful, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you with a twinkle in his dark eyes. He seemed exhausted physically, but mentally, a little less tired. And that made you indescribably happy for him.

”I’m proud of you”, you breathed out, a smile crawling to your own face, ”you did what you needed to do, right? You… you did good. You deserve to rest now.”

Frank looked a little taken aback by your words. Not in a bad way, but it was obvious no one had told him before nor had he expected anyone to. But the quiet chuckle that rose from his throat was genuinely flattered, as was the squint of his eyes as he leaned forward and gave you a tiny nod.

”Thank you, sweetheart. Really”, he rasped before taking in a deep breath, ”any chance I’d, uh, get to rest here? With you?” The look in his eyes was almost boyish, almost nervous, and it made your heart soar the same way his gaze had the first night you had met.

”Always, Frankie”, you promised before placing a hand on his chest and beaming up at him, ”I was hoping you’d say that.”

He licked his lips and looked down at you, hand coming to your neck tenderly with his thumb brushing across your chin. ”I feel like shit for the way I left you back then. I, uh, I hope you didn’t feel like I was just… tryna get in your bed, y’know? It was more than that to me. You are more than that to me. It’s, I dunno, hard for me to put it into words but I care about ya. More than I have about anyone in a long time, I guess”, he explained awkwardly, but you didn’t doubt his sincerity for a single second.

You leaned up to briefly kiss him, and the way he leaned forward to get more made your stomach churn. Nevertheless, you pulled apart to speak your turn, your smaller hand still resting on his bruised cheek.

”I know. I never doubted it. And I don’t expect you to be anyone else but you. I want you as you, Frank”, you reassured, and with a heavy sigh, he dropped his forehead to yours.

”Girl… I want you”, he urged, and you smiled as he briefly touched your lips with the tip of his finger.

”I’m all yours, Frankie.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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arch3ontumbl · 8 months ago

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World Bearer Part 1

Bearing his child as he was fighting in Shibuya

It wasn't intended neither it was accident, the child you caress in your womb, it was the result of love. A couple of days earlier barely even recalling the dates, news came unto you as Shoko informed you of Gojo captured, impossible..

He promised

He always promises y/n, you thought to yourself having filled with worry and doubt this time the result would be different, this time he wouldn't be able to be by your side, the last smile he gave you, the last kiss, it floods all to your every bit of sanity left.

You wept unsure of what to do, this is bad for your child. It's stressing you out knowing you can't do anything and you can't ask anyone about it. It pains you that you cannot be beside him nor come to his rescue, you carry the world inside you and you can't risk to lose any of which.

Your whole relationship with him was hidden deeper than 6 feet graves could even speak, only Shoko were informed and were supposed to be the only person besides him to assist you on giving birth.

'missed a call from Shoko'

You missed her first call as you were to focused on picking up some shards of glass, you dropped the mug you and Gojo share for every morning coffee.

Broken. You struggle to bend down as your belly bump is clearly on the way, you stood up and checked your phone to your surprise

Is it finally good news

You called back as she picked up in a hurry, she seemed to hesitate to tell, she hesitated to cause anymore stress than to bear the very weight of the next possibly most powerful sorcerer to mankind in the next generation. Even the weight of the child causes a wave of imbalance in the world between curses and the burden of being expected to be the sword and shield for the most dangerous circumstances awaits your child if his birth were to be exposed and known to the world.

It's what Gojo went through afterall

"y/n listen, Gojo is out now and currently facing curses and possibly Sakuna. I am called for support for the sorcerers in Shibuya—" she paused for what seemed eternity, fueling my anxiety and worry.

"y/n I just wanted to tell you to worry a bit less, he told me to relay you his message: I'd win, I'd be there when our son is born. I'm the strongest afterall" Shoko whispered to the phone as I let out a little chuckle still with a hint of nervous yet comfort. Atleast feel a little ease for the child you bear, for the child you birth with Gojo beside you.

"Thank you Shoko" I whispered back, your voice crack and break devours the silence of the room.

2 hours pass, and shit you feel building up contractions, painfully telling you your world is about to arrive. You rush to get some lukewarm water, a damp towel, quickly sterilize some scissors and a warm blanket

Yet he is not here, he's in battle, fighting

Unable to contact anyone else you try to reach for Shoko again. Afraid, you're just straight up afraid. Your timing your contractions yourself as you lay down your soft bed sheets, slowly painting it with blood. Gojo is in his battlefield and so are you, you combat the pain as you try to push harder and harder not trying to pass out on the way.

One

Two

Three

You push, again

One

Two

You push, you can't stop here. Your child needs to get out now

You gave another hard push screaming your lungs out, cursing, fist balled in the sheets as the other scratched the bed board.

Finally, a cry

Don't faint, don't faint

You pick yourself up, positioning yourself to sit back at the bed frame for support. Picking up your child and expertly cutting his umbilical cord before you could finally fix your eyes on your child you made sure to hear his heart beat, your scared you did a step wrong.

But his heart beat as loud as he cried, you admire your child clearly reassembling your husband. His hair and the same goes for his eye lashes, white as snow, his eyes with a hint of you a hue of purple and mainly the blue skies, high and mighty, adding the captivating and deep capture of the ocean you admire from Gojo.

You cried, as your child slept in your arms. A call notifies your phone enough for you to immediately answer before it wakes up your son.

"He's here" you said as Shoko could picture your smile from the phone call before she could even speak a word, her seconds of silence sends you a break of her heart like she's about to break another bad news for you.

#anime #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jujutsu gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk satoru #gojo

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clubdionysus · 6 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #31] The Photo Booth

warnings: THE photoboth chapter!!!! a legend amongst bd readers!!!! we meet jaykays mum (shes the best) and his dad (legend), byeol gets her own back for the 'daddy' debacle, teasing, shameless flirting, a lil dirty talk, jaykay is desperate and whiney (just how we like him!!), precum...swapping?? as much as it can be swapped lmao, jaykay does her glitter ::(((((, a date! between friends!! some would argue!!, photobooths, kissing !!!!, oh god I love them so much, very cute, mmmmmm the way he says goodnight!! or alternatively, the way he doesn't say goodnight!!, our babies are v confused <3 cos they are stewpid <33

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Mum? Dad?" Jeongguk calls into the entryway of his family home, pushing the door further open with his shoulder.

Your bag is hooked over his broad back, along with his own, Jeongguk not even considering it a favour. Just helps you out in little ways whenever he can, just because he can. You do what you can to make his life easier, and so it's reciprocated without a second thought.

Carrying a bunch of fresh flowers that had hastily been picked up from the shop across the street, you're a little nervous. There was no way you could show up empty-handed, but had been so scatterbrained when you left your place, it had completely slipped your mind. They're pretty pink posies and are something - which is always better than nothing, even if they aren't all that impressive.

"Oh, you're here!" A sweet voice calls from the back of the house. The sound of indoor slippers scuff against the wooden floors, as his mother scurries to greet you both. "I thought you'd call when you were on your way!"

"Sorry," he apologises and leans down to let the bags softly tumble to the floor, before outstretching his arm for a hug. "Left in a bit of a rush."

Squeezing his mother gently, his back eclipses her from your view. Hands patting his back, you think you can tell a lot about a person from their hands - and she's no exception.

Well-manicured, his mum clearly looks after herself. She wears just two rings - her wedding band and engagement ring. Gold. The only remaining elements of her wedding jewellery that had survived the '98 gold drive.

"Spent my whole life in that house," Jeongguk had said of his family home on the journey to Busan. He'd been opening up. Telling you tales that you'd have never heard if you had declined his offer. Is clueing you in on the life that formed him. Wants you to know. "They held onto it throughout everything. The financial crisis, turn of the century, everything. I'm lucky. We were never well-off, but they never let me know when we were struggling."

It explains a lot about who Jeongguk is, you think. Never wants others to shoulder his burdens. Keeps things bottled up until the glass shatters - but you can see through glass. You always know.

A modest three-bed, there's something nostalgic about the four walls he calls home. Though you've never been here, it somehow feels familiar - but that's perhaps more so to do with the scent of laundry drying, and the fact that Jeongguk uses the same fabric conditioner as his mother always has done.

Swanning Jeongguk out of the way, his mother greets you with a smile that could stoke warmth in even the coldest of hearts - and suddenly, you understand exactly where Jeongguk gets it from.

Dark, round eyes, and a smile as radiant as a spring day, she's got the kind of delicate nature bestowed upon Disney princesses. If you were to learn she'd been a model in her youth, you wouldn't be surprised.

Introducing yourself, you hold out the flowers for her to take.

"For you," you offer, a little shy and reserved, in a way that Jeongguk doesn't see too often. Your glitter - toned down today, for some reason - sparkles in the late afternoon sun that pours through the windows. "Thank you so much for offering to host me. I really hope it hasn't put you out too much-"

"Oh, don't be silly," she tuts, flipping her hand away as if to emphasise that it really is no big deal. "It's always lovely to have Jeongguk's friends staying with us."

She glances over to Jeongguk. Leans in a little closer. Whispers just loud enough for him to hear. "Plus I'm sure you'll be a far better house guest than Jimin ever is!"

"Mum!" Jeongguk goes to defend his housemate - but he knows his mother adores Jimin. Treats him like a third son. Knows she's creating an alliance with you, given the little lie Jeongguk told about you previously dating Jimin.

"What?!" She plays innocent, and it's suddenly so easy to see why Jeongguk is the way that he is. A product of the people around him, he soaks up their best qualities like a sponge in search of water. His playfulness must come from her. Taking the bunch of flowers, she smiles. "Let's go put these in a vase. You must be hungry."

"Ravenous," Jeongguk confirms, as if he didn't eat half an hour ago. "What's for dinner? And where's dad?"

"At the driving range," she tuts, encouraging you both further into the house.

Large and open plan, the sitting room is adjacent to the kitchen; a space designed for socialisation, it's clear that Jeongguk's parents enjoy hosting. It's no surprise that they agreed to let you stay without hesitation, and is also why Jeongguk had no qualms about asking.

"Minhyuk got a new driver that he wanted to show off, apparently," she continues. "A Titlelist. Got it in some dodgy back alley sale. Your father reckons he's been scammed, but Minhyuk reckons it's the real deal, so I'll guess we'll see."

"Minhyuk lives down the road," Jeongguk explains to you as his mum rummages around in a cupboard to find her favourite vase. He's smiling, amused by it all. "Bit of a busybody. Likes being in people's business, so Dad likes to return the favour. Petty middle-aged man shit."

"Watch your language," his mother scolds. He apologises immediately.

It's sweet, seeing Jeongguk like this. He's always been respectful, even if he does swear like a sailor and has a sense of humour that would send a prude to an early grave.

"As for dinner, I told your father to meet us at the samgyeopsal place you like down by the beach-"

"Ugh," Jeongguk smiles, beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you."

"Don't know why you're thanking me," she hums sweetly as she arranges the flowers in the vase. A little lacklustre while they were still wrapped up, she manages to preen them to look far more beautiful. "You're paying."

"I'm- what?!" He whines, now, taking on the role of youngest son perfectly.

She's just joking, and you all know it - but you also know Jeongguk will likely try and cover the bill regardless. Glancing over to you with a cheeky grin, his mum playfully shrugs her shoulders. You return the smile, and giggle a little harder when Jeongguk continues to whine.

"Oh hush your moaning," she simply says. "Go take your bags through to your rooms. We'll head out in half an hour."

Jeongguk doesn't protest. Drags you along with him back to the entry hall to retrieve the bags.

"See," he says quietly, finding your shyness all rather curious. You're never normally like this. Never so quiet. "Told you there was nothing to worry about. Mum always likes my friends."

Picking up your bag to hoist it over your shoulder, you simply say, "Nerves are natural."

Jeongguk doesn't entirely disagree, but really thinks there's no need for you to feel this way.

"Yeah, if you're meeting, like, a girlfriend's parents," he says. "My parents are nothing to be scared of. Idiot."

"Doesn't matter if I'm not your girlfriend, Gguk. I still want them to like me," you remind him. "And let's be realistic here, parents aren't one for subtleties. You've brought a girl home and have hickies on your neck - I need to touch up the foundation, by the way. If they notice, they're gonna add two and two and get five."

"Well actually," he interjects. "They'll add two and two and get four. You are the girl who gave me them."

You laugh. He's got a point. "But I'm not your girlfriend ."

Yep , he thinks. Thanks for the reminder.

It's not like he even wants that. He knows that things are good as they are. Knows that any indication of things getting serious will likely make you run for the hills.

Things feel easy, now. He doesn't wanna do anything that will complicate it. Won't tell you how he's feeling, 'cause he knows the second it does, things will change.

He doesn't know if it would be for better or for worse, but he knows you. Knows his own lived experiences.

The mistakes made with Hayun have contorted his ability to go with his heart, because he knows the pain it can cause. Will take the nail-biting uncertainty of his feelings for you over the soul-crushing certainty of rejection any day of the week.

You're equally as shaped by your own experiences.

Once had a man who would declare his love for you on a Monday morning before his monthly business trip, only for him to spend the entire week in bed with a girl from the accounting department. You've no trust in words. No trust in anything, really, when it comes to matters of the heart. All you can trust is how you feel - but even that's a little more confusing than usual, these days.

"And thank God for that," Jeongguk teases, which seems to settle the woes within you. He tilts his head to the side and guides you up the hallway. "C'mon. I'll show you to your room."

He deliberately doesn't show you his own room. Will show you later, once he's had the chance to hide away most of the embarrassing stuff he hasn't touched since he was a teenager.

Instead, he leads you straight into his brother's old room, and winces.

"It's worse than I remembered."

Jeongmin's bedroom walls are coated in the Lotte Giants; like an oil slick on the surface of a road, or ice cream dripping down the side of a cone. Unsubtle, garish and impossible to ignore, the man is an interior decor menace.

Flags, shirts, commemorative posters, you name it; Jeongmin has it. You think he must have personally spent enough money to fund an entire season of the KBO.

It's a pretty inoffensive colour scheme - white, blue, red - but it's still an eyesore. The rest of the house is well-decorated. Tasteful. Roses do come with thorns, you consider. Maybe Jeongmin and Jeongguk's rooms qualify for that position.

"So your brother likes football?" You deadpan - although you're sure if there was a Lotte Giants branded football, you'd be able to find one in this room.

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Doesn't even dignify it with a proper response.

"It's a miracle he even managed to get girlfriends during high school. This shit is... I didn't recall there being so much."

Signed baseballs, bobbleheads, foam fingers. God. It's endless. Trading card binders, house slippers, even a rubber duck. It's overwhelming.

"What about now?" You ask of Jeongmin's passion. "Still obsessed?"

"Less so," Jeongguk shrugs. "Did call his dog Seagull, though."

The prospect of a dog being called Seagull has you bursting into laughter. You half think Jeongguk is joking - but quickly realise he isn't. For some reason, that only makes it even funnier.

"Will he be at dinner? Your brother?" You ask, setting your bag down on the freshly made bed. The scent of laundry detergent wafts up, and it reminds you of being back at Jeongguk's place in the city. You've never felt more at home in a stranger's bedroom.

"Why?" Jeongguk asks, narrowing his eyes, remembering what you had said earlier. "You're not allowe-"

"Oh give over," you laugh. "You know I won't."

You've never seen his brother, but already know Jeongguk must be the brother. The one that the girls go crazy over.

Then again, Jeongguk did say that his brother is a fuck boy. Perhaps he's just as handsome.

Impossible .

Thing is, Jeongguk doesn't know you won't go for his brother. You made threats earlier. Knows he ignited a fire in you the second he pulled the 'Daddy' stunt. Knows you're competitive. Regrets it a little bit now. Only has himself to blame.

"Anyway, piss off," you playfully tell him. "I wanna get changed."

Jeongguk doesn't care. Takes a seat by his brother's desk, instead. Smirks. Raises his brows in that promiscuous, boyish way that always disrupts the butterflies who peacefully rest in your diaphragm. "Okay. Get changed."

"Gguk," you deadpan. He's pushing his luck, and he knows it. Glances over to the door. It's ajar, but pushed shut enough to obscure any unwanted eyes. Just means he needs to keep his deep voice quiet.

"What?" He flirts. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Your mum is down the hallway!" You whisper-shriek. Sometimes you forget how much of a boy Jeongguk is, and then he pulls shit like this.

The worst part?

You love it when he's like this; all cheeky and brazen, audacious in his quest to get what he wants.

And when it's you that he wants? Oh, it gets you all hot under the collar. He has that effect on people, you think. It can't just be you.

"So?" He licks his lips. Rakes his eyes down your body. Looks fucking hungry - and to him, you look like a 5-course meal he'd gladly get on his knees and beg for. "She's not gonna come in."

His lips press down against one another, tightly. His lip ring does the thing. You whine.

"Gguk."

"Byeol." He teases. "It's not like you're getting naked. Not like we'd be doing anything. Seen you in your underwear so many times."

He'd like to know that he still can. Wants to know he hasn't fucked it all up by getting you a little vulnerable earlier.

"Maybe I am getting naked," you whisper back, feeling challenged now.

"Are you?"

"Should I?" You tease. He sits up a little straighter. Tries to be subtle as his hand drops between his legs, the heel of his palm pressing against himself. Fails. You know he's adjusting himself. Know that it means he's getting a little excited.

"Think if you need to, then you should," he simply replies. "Just a little revision of a bird, no? Nakedness ? It'd be good."

You don't need to get fully undressed. Not in the slightest - and you're not gonna.

In fact, Jeongguk isn't gonna see anything - but you're still gonna fuck with him a little first. He deserves it after this morning.

You turn away from him. Shrug the jacket off your shoulders. Toss it onto the bed. Open up your bag, and have a little dig around.

"I'm not sure what to wear," you hum, sounding a little defeated. It's intentional. Want him to think you're being genuine.

Turning to face him, you hold lingerie in either hand. Packed deliberately just to fuck with him. Had figured you'd wear it discreetly, letting him know as and when he deserved to know. Would use it to wind him up - and not to give him any satisfaction. He's right in thinking he's ignited a little competition in you.

Didn't realise you'd take him to war, instead.

He's not seen you in either of these. Has never really seen you in your 'nice' stuff. All of your underwear is nice to a certain extent, because you're intentional with your purchases. Like feeling good beneath even a pair of sweats.

However, Jeongguk has only ever been treated to matching sets.

After all, you've never tried to seduce him. He's your friend. You fuck each other, sure, but it's cause it's comfortable. Safe.

The lace in your hand is far too exciting for your established arrangement.

In your left hand is a lace bodysuit. Mesh panels make up the structure, but it's the ornate, hand-sewn lace that really makes it beautiful. The neckline is fairly high, so sometimes you get away with wearing it at a top on nights out. Been a while since you went that risque.

In your right hand, it's a classic black garter belt. Jeongguk has no idea what the fuck they're called, just knows he likes them.

He swallows. Licks his lips. Doesn't know where to focus his eyes. Barely realises he's gripping himself now. Is so fucking hard.

"Which is your favourite?" You ask, eyes innocent, voice nonchalant.

Jeongguk thinks he'll die if you wear either.

"Both are fine," he manages to say, eventually.

"Fine isn't good," you pout.

"Well what do you want me to say, B?" He whispers, clearly a little frustrated. Not with you. With himself . "That as soon as you put them on, I'll wanna take them off you? They're fuckin' hot. Both of them. Fuck ."

He tilts his head back. Whines a little. Moans. "Why do I do this to myself?"

"Think you might be a masochist," you giggle now, tossing the lingerie back down by your bag. Will save it for later. Poor boy is going through it. "You did this to yourself."

He looks at you with a huff and a frown that is far too sweet for the situation at hand.

"I'm stupid," he pouts. "Pea brain. You're the one with a big brain. You should tell me to stop doing pea brain things."

"You wouldn't listen to me even if I did," you smile fondly as you walk towards him - 'cause even if it looks like he's admitting defeat, you don't trust him yet. His cock is too hard to be making sensible choices.

Coming to a stop between his legs, you don't stop Jeongguk when his large hands stroke up the backs of your thighs. Your own hands are toying with his hair. It's all very amorous; affectionate despite the allure.

"You don't know that," he whispers, still. Cupping his strong jaw, you tilt his head upwards. Your hair is still up from earlier, and he regrets it now. Always loves it when your hair tumbles around his face. Likes being consumed by the entity of you. The scent of your shampoo, the softness of your well-conditioned hair. Heaven.

"You made a bad decision this morning," you remind him. "Would have done it even if I told you it was a bad decision."

Regretfully, Jeongguk thinks this is true. That instant gratification of his ' Daddy' stunt made it worth it.

Worth it at the time, at least.

He's not so sure, now.

Sinking to your knees, your hands stroke up his thighs. Jeongguk looks down at you, tongue wetting his lips. There's a change in his breathing. Anticipation.

"You know," you say quietly, making sure no sound travels at all. You're not looking to get kicked out of Jeongguk's house within an hour of being invited in. Looking directly at his hard crotch as your hands squeeze his thighs, you simper. "I really thought you were gonna take charge this morning. Thought you were gonna get me where you wanted me."

"Yeah?" he husks, pulling on his shirt, releasing it from the belt around his waist. Lifts it a little. Gets his abs out. Is doing shit he knows will make you salivate. One of your hands follows his encouragement and pushes up his chest. Hard beneath your warm hand, his body really is a gift from the gods.

"Yeah," you tease.

"What did you think, huh?" He says, his hand cupping your cheek to raise your gaze to his. It'd embarrass you, if it were anyone else; but for some reason, you don't mind worshipping Jeongguk unabashedly. Are on your knees like his body is your alter. Whisper words of sin like you're in a confessional. Pray that you'll never have to give this up. Religion is wasted on you, and Jeongguk is a false God, but you've never felt more holy than when you're committing cardinal sins with him. "Where was I gonna get you?"

Smiling in that coy way you so often do whenever he gets you a little vocal, your eyes rake back down his body.

"Right here," you shrug. Give him those eyes; the ones that make Jeongguk think he's seeing fucking stars. Smirk, before you say, "thought you were gonna get your cock in my mouth."

"Shit," he curses as you press down over the hard ridge in his pants. He's always so pleased to see you - especially like this. "You want that, huh? Wanna suck on it?"

Nodding, you bite on the lip, sin written in the constellations Jeongguk's gazing at. "Wanna make you feel good, Koo."

If Jeongguk doesn't get his cock in your mouth within the next minute, he's pretty sure he'll die. Has wanted it for weeks. Months . Wants you in any capacity he can get you, granted, but there are few things in life better than a good blow job. Good pussy, is, admittedly one of those things, but he already knows you have that. Thinks your mouth must be just as good.

His hands drop to his belt. Metal clangs as he races to get it undone. You let him. Don't stop. Watch on with sated pleasure as he hurries. Undoes his buttons, and then his zipper is down, too. His Calvins are on display. There's a teeny tiny damp mark showing through; evidence of how badly he wants you. "We don't have long. Be quick, B. Gonna nut so fuckin' fast."

Smirking, there's something so painfully endearing about how needy Jeongguk is as he untucks himself from his boxers. Thick and firm, his cock is just as pretty as it always is whenever he's desperate for you. The little bead of precum pooling at his tip is begging for your tongue, the freckle on his shaft deserving of a pretty little kiss.

And then you pull back. Look at his pretty, needy face and raise a brow. Poor baby .

"Said I wanna make you feel good," you smirk. "Not that I will."

You get to your feet. Walk away. Giggle to yourself as Jeongguk fucking whines as quietly as he can. Needs that door closed. Needs you to know that this balling is gonna kill him off. Head thrown back, cock in his hand, he's gonna fucking die .

"B," he growls a little, faux sobs echoing from his throat.

"What?" You smile. He looks like a fucking state, desire taking hold of the way he's staring you out, chest heaving a little bit. And then, to add insult to injury, you remember to 'address him properly'. "Something wrong, Daddy ?"

His face bunches up. Regret embeds itself into the lines on his face. He whines. "You're so mean, Disco Ball."

He's cute. Really fucking cute.

It makes you feel bad.

And fuck, you want him.

Seeing him like this gets you all sorts of fucked up - but he deserves it.

He watches you cautiously as you walk a little closer.

You crouch between his legs this time, instead of getting down on your knees. Replace his hand with yours. Have missed how it feels to have him in your grip.

Eyes on his, you watch as his chest begins to beat a little fast. His lips are ajar. Eyes forlorn, he's desperate . His cock twitches in your hand, so you tighten your fingers. A hushed moan lets you know he likes this. Likes every fucking thing about it.

Licking your lips, you position yourself a little better. Glance down. Think it's a miracle you haven't given him head yet. Have never wanted to choke on a cock more - cause what are friends for, if not that?

"I'm not mean," you whisper. You drag your wet tongue across the tiny slit that is fucking oozing for you. It takes everything in you not to give into what you want. "I'm so nice to you, Koo."

You've got a point to prove, though. Ease your grip. Stand. Replace the now empty space in your hand with his chin between your thumb and index finger, grasping onto it as you tilt him upwards.

You hold your tongue out, encouraging him to do the same - and without even a second fucking thought, he does it.

Eyes wide, Jeongguk wants this. Want you. Wants your tongue on his.

And what Jeongguk wants?

Well, eventually , he always gets it.

Your tongue swipes against his; traces of his own precum sinking onto his tongue, masking the taste of you.

He wants more.

Wants you to do it again. Wants to taste you. Wants you to sit on his lap, tongue in his mouth. Wants to be too fucking busy with his lips to remember how to breathe.

And, like always, he will get it - just not now.

Eventually, yes.

Immediately, no.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me one day, B," he whines as you walk away from him again.

"Good," you smile, talking at full volume now. Playtime is over.

You do, however, take off your shirt, and let him watch. All he can see is your back, but even that drives him insane. He can't remember the last time he was this worked up without any indication of a release. He's been horny all fucking day.

Pulling a fresh shirt over your head, you're a little sad to see he's tucked himself away when you turn around again.

"Go get ready," you say fondly. "We don't have long."

Jeongguk is pouting. A crease between his brows, he looks hard done by.

" So mean."

His stroppy demeanour makes you laugh. It's so classically him. A Ggukism, if you ever did see one.

"That's what you get for making me call you Daddy," you say quietly. Find it funny how much of a baby he's being - and consider that maybe he's the one that is better suited to the nickname.

He whines again. Louder this time. You glance to the door. Make sure you're still without disturbance.

You want to call him baby.

Just because it works, and it's funny, and - fuck it - maybe it'd be nice.

But it would also be a step too far, you think.

"Shush," you say affectionately, not accenting your command with 'baby' like you really want to. Instead, you walk over to him and cover his mouth with your palm. "What if someone hears you whining, huh? I don't wanna have to tell your mum you've just been tasting your own cum in your brother's bedroom, do you?"

"You're so fucked up," he wails, feeling incredibly hard done by. He needs to learn how to resist you. Never wants to have to endure this again.

"We're so fucked up," you correct. "I wouldn't be so mean to anyone else - but you deserved it."

He can't even argue against it. He knows that this is a product of his own creation.

"Go, get yourself sorted out," you encourage him along. "We don't have long."

He nods. Sighs. Gets to his feet, and does his trousers back up. Is convinced he'll die before your trip to Busan finishes if this is the game you're playing.

Leaving you to get ready (and to let his raging boner die, even if he won't) Jeongguk returns within 15 minutes. He's nonchalant, as if what happened the last time he was in the room was simply a fragment of your own imagination.

You're sitting by the floor-length mirror (which is, of course, adorned in Lotte Giants memorabilia), doing your makeup. Hair claw-clipped now, Jeongguk is a little sad to see your space buns go, but understands why. You seem to be a little more demure than usual.

He nudges his knee against your back, gentle in how he touches you, your body swaying ever so slightly.

"Don't," you smile, pulling the liquid glitter away from your face. "I'll get it in my eye."

There's an innuendo to be made there, but Jeongguk knows better. Just smirks. Plonks himself down next to you; cross-legged, knees up, arms hugging around them. He looks like a condensed version of himself like this, sitting as close to you as he possibly can just so he can see himself in the mirror.

"Little disco ball," he says fondly, watching you dab the glitter onto the inner corners of your eyes. It's not something he often calls you these days, but there's something about hearing the name now that makes you smile.

"Strange, isn't it?" You muse. "This time last year I was just disco-ballin' in your club. Didn't even know your name."

He nods. Smiles. "And now you're in my brother's bedroom turning yourself into a disco ball."

"Funny little lives, we live," you muse fondly. How far you've both come. If it wasn't for the glitter, you don't think you'd recognise yourself.

"Would you have ever predicted it?" he asks. Knows he was intrigued by you from the very moment he first saw you. Has no idea what you thought of him. Wonders if you had 'what if' thoughts about him. Who he was. Who he could be. What you could become. "That you'd end up here?"

"Honestly? Sorta wanted to curl up and die after you found me in your living room."

The memories are a little hazy, but you still remember the look on Jeongguk's sleepy face in the early morning sun that was intruding on his living room at the time.

Jeongguk nods. Smiles. Remembers it far better than you do. "Yeah, wasn't your finest hour."

You turn to look at him, chin resting on your shoulder. There's a glow about you now that Jeongguk can't seem to get enough of. Wants to drink you in like purple starfuckers at 2am in the heat of full-capacity Dionysus nights.

"I mean, I don't know," you say with a small shrug. "How often do you become friends with your punters?"

"Not often," he admits. "How often do you become friends with your bartenders?"

You're coy as you smile. "Not often."

Not ever, actually.

Yeonjun doesn't count - you've never spent any time with him sober, even if you do always enjoy seeing him behind the bar. Even then, it doesn't compare to the way you seem to light up whenever Jeongguk is serving your drinks.

Jeongguk's the first. The only.

Taking the liquid glitter from your hands, Jeongguk scoots a little closer. Gets more product on the wand, and sets the tube down beside him. Pinches your chin between his index finger and thumb.

There's no opposition from you; just a silent acceptance of Jeongguk dictating your movements. Lips parting as he draws a little closer, there's apprehension to the way your eyes flicker between his own pair and his lips.

Jeongguk is pleased, but tries not to let it show. Fights his smile. Battles the inner voices telling him that kissing you would be a good idea.

Breath hitched as his dark eyes survey your face, you're regretful of the way your body responds to him. Friendship tainted by desire; a natural by-product of fucking someone you really care about, you think.

It's no secret that you adore each other, but doesn't everyone feel so fondly about their best friends?

He's slow as he dabs the end of the wand against your cheek, following around the curve of your eye socket. Jeongguk always thinks you look so pretty when you highlight yourself with glitter there. It catches the light so easily that he always notices it. Might have even been the first glitter of yours that he notices in the dreary lights of Dionysus, the hedonistic haze of neon lights and dark shadows creating the disco ball effect he likes so much.

"There," he says quietly as he finishes evening it out. "Pretty little star."

"Careful," you say back just as quietly. "You'll give me an ego."

"Just returning the favour," he jokes, screwing the wand back into the tube, his hands working quickly. "The Daddy thing really did a number on my ego this morning."

Rolling your sparkly eyes, you gently push him away.

"Fuck off, Jeon," you playfully reprimand him for mentioning it again, getting to your feet. Smoothing out your clothes as you check yourself over in the mirror, you're pleased to see that Jeongguk has applied your glitter just the way you like it. Dabbing it out slightly, your heart swells a little with how attentive he is.

Still sitting exactly where he was, Jeongguk strokes up the inside of your leg. It's all very innocent. Just touching you 'cause he likes the comfort that comes with it. You're in sheer tights, there's a softness to them that Jeongguk likes. He tries to forget the garter belt you were holding earlier. Doesn't think you'd wear it out for dinner with his parents.

He's right.

No matter how hot it might be working him up in public, you're not about to go and do it in front of his parents . You have some morals at least, even if Jeongguk does make you momentarily forget about them from time to time.

Reaching down, you scratch his hair a little, just behind his ear. Eyes closed, he leans into your touch like a little puppy dog. So docile and devoted. Cute.

"C'mon," you encourage him, but remain fixed in position. Head versus heart. Wanna stay right where you are in the cocoon of Jeongguk's family home with him, but know you have places to be. "Shouldn't keep your mum waiting."

He nods, head resting against your leg. Sighs. "Yeah. You're right. Let's go."

You offer him a hand up, of which he gladly takes. Checks himself over in the mirror. Is still wearing the outfit he drove in. Considered changing, but he's aware of the way the girls at the service station were ogling him earlier. Knows the outfit probably has something to do with it.

He doesn't mention the change of your outfit; the fact that you're wearing a white shirt too, now. It's tucked into a little black skirt, he's certain you're probably gonna wear those slightly worn out Converse of yours - and he intends on doing the exact same.

"C'mon, kids!" Jeongguk's mum calls up the corridor, echoing your thoughts about needing to leave.

It's nice, you think, to be grouped with Jeongguk in such a way. Makes you feel like this is the way it's always been. Doesn't matter if you're in your twenties, and Jeongguk's mum met you an hour ago. There's an acceptance of you; of your place in her son's life.

He glances over at you, scrunching his nose a little. Is a little awkward. Likes the idea of you being part of his life since childhood. Is sad it'll never be the case.

"You heard her. Let's go."

Ushering you back down the hallway, a hand on top of your shoulder, thumb rubbing the nape of your neck, there's a casual intimacy to the way Jeongguk always finds an excuse to touch you.

It's not scary, nor daunting in the way that you always deem intimacy to be, but it is something . Gets you feeling a little flustered. Has you wriggling out of his grip with a laugh, as if he was tickling you.

"Stop annoying the poor girl," his mother scolds fondly as you come into her line of vision, which just simply earns another protest from Jeongguk.

"She's the annoying one."

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

It's all in good humour, and his mother appreciates this. Likes seeing Jeongguk goof around, especially knowing how stressed he's been lately. Has barely called. Missed his father's birthday to study.

All she wants is for her children to live happy, fulfilled lives, and if there's one thing to be noted about Jeongguk's current demeanour, it's that he's undoubtedly happy.

Whether or not that has anything to do with you, she doesn't know - but she wasn't born yesterday. His desire to visit home is understandable after the pressure of his studies. He needs rest - and somehow, he factors you into that rest.

Of her two children, Jeongguk's always been the more introverted one. He needs his time to recharge. Would be the life and soul of the party at school, then come home and remain silent until dinner time.

For a few years, it bothered her. Thought that maybe Jeongguk was unhappy at home - but it was quite the opposite. It's his safe space.

And now he's bringing you into it.

"Is the room okay?" she asks you, knowing that the sheer amount of baseball memorabilia in Jeongmin's room is... a lot to take in. "Interior decoration was always more of Jeongguk's speciality. Had Jimin to give him pointers. Jeongmin... Well, he had an acquired taste... As you've probably already gathered."

Laughing a little, you nod. "It's grand. Thank you for letting me stay. I really appreciate it - and I grew up with a Lions-loving Dad. I'm used to it."

"Ohh," his mother winces, then addresses Jeongguk. "Keep this one away from Jeongmin."

You also turn behind you now, raising a brow. He's just rolling his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

"Samsung Lions - and their fans - are the scum of the earth in Jeongmin's eyes," he explains, then looks over to his mum. "Is he coming to dinner? Do we need to sit them at opposite ends of the table?"

Shaking her head, she laughs. "No, he's got plans, apparently. I did tell him you were visiting, but you know what he's like."

Jeongguk just sort of accepts this answer. Nods. Shrugs his shoulders, as if it's to be expected. An air of disappointment clouds around Jeongguk, lips pursed, eyes stern.

He and his brother are cut from the same cloth, but have been sewn together with different stitches. For all their similarities, they have stark differences, too. This one has always been the most challenging for Jeongguk; how little his brother seems to care about maintaining a good relationship.

Jeongmin seems to think their status as brothers is enough to keep the bond strong. Doesn't seem to care about fostering an actual friendship with him.

It's part of the reason why Jeongguk is so reluctant to let go of friendships that no longer serve him. They're filling a void. He never wants to be the one who gives up. Doesn't wanna be the reason things fall apart.

"Alright," Jeongguk's mother smiles at you both. "Ready to go?"

It surprises you that she's the one driving to dinner instead of Jeongguk - but it makes sense, given the fact you and Jeongguk will stay in the area afterwards.

She insists that you sit up front, even if all forms of hierarchy would dictate that Jeongguk should be there instead. He doesn't complain. Sort of likes how you and his mum are ganging up on him like a little team.

When you arrive at the samgyeopsal place, his father is already waiting.

He's everything you expect him to be: funny, a little dramatic, and the spitting image of Jeongguk, just with a few more grey hairs and even deeper creases beneath his eyes. Introduces himself with as much gusto as a cartoon character; full of life and pleased to have another person to relay all of Minhyuk's misdemeanours to.

You learn more about the Busan Driving Range circuit than you ever could have predicted - specifically about Minhyuk, the legitimacy of his 'bargain' driver, and how Jeongguk's father is convinced he's been tampering with his balls.

Jeongguk chokes on his drink when his dad mentions that last point. Earns himself a talking to for thinking with such a dirty mind - but after a few drinks, his parents are giggling about it, too.

There's something incredibly easy about being around Jeongguk's parents. It's no wonder he's grown into the person he is.

You feel a little shy. Don't understand the in-jokes at first - but someone always explains them to you. Normally Jeongguk, but sometimes his mother. Never his father, 'cause he'll go on a twenty minute long tangent explaining the lore and the back story. They've learnt this the hard way.

Still, he's a dab hand when it comes to grilling the meat. Takes charge of it all. Plates his wife up first, always. You second, Jeongguk third, and then himself. Head of the house, he takes his place in the hierarchy seriously, but not at the expense of the ones he loves. Will make sure they're provided for first.

Jeongguk is much the same. In charge of refilling the soju and beer, he'll pour for his father first, then mother, then you. Puts the bottle down before he fills his own, which is when you step up and fill his glass. He'll nudge with you his knee beneath the table to make you wobble, but never enough to make you spill it.

Subscribing to drinking norms is something that you never really do with Jeongguk. He's a bartender, after all. Things are always a little unconventional. He's normally the one making you drinks and sorting himself out, too.

Something about this feels incredibly domesticated. Natural. Pleasant.

By the time dinner is done, Jeongguk's parents have to order a taxi. Had a little too much to drink- but you're bloody glad for it. Made it a lot easier for you.

"Your parents are fun," you beam, walking down the promenade of Gwangalli with Jeongguk. It's your favourite of all the busy beaches in the city, but you rarely ever get the chance to see it after dark. There'll be a drone show, soon. You've definitely never seen that. Can't wait for it.

"They sure are something," he laughs, a little embarrassed. They have big personalities, which he's glad of, but he knows they can be a bit much sometimes. "Dad drinks well, so we probably had a bit more than we should have done. Sorry."

Shaking your head, you don't mind in the slightest. Are at that giddy stage of drinking, where everything seems marvellous, and bad decisions cosplay as good choices.

"Are you forgetting how we met? I don't mind having one too many, Gguk."

"True," he agrees, checking the time on his phone. Still a good half an hour before the small show. It's just a free thing that the city council puts on every night, not a huge deal to him anymore, but he understands why people romanticise it. Knows that you have to see it.

Tugging on your hand, Jeongguk checks the road before he crosses, dragging you along with him.

"Hm?" You squeak, taken by surprise. A little tipsy, your reflexes aren't as fast as usual, just like tipsy Jeongguk isn't as good at voicing his thought processes as sober Jeongguk usually is.

"Photos," he simply states, leading you into a small retail unit that houses only photo booths.

It's the standard set-up: wall partitions between self-timer camera units, and curtains instead of doors to the small spaces. Each booth has a different colour background, adding to their own individual charms. The walls of the entryway are lined in discarded pictures; friendship groups, couples, first dates, anniversaries, birthdays. Life events, big and small. Moments of time captured to last forever.

Accessories and props are abundant in the entry area - hats, glasses, wigs, signs. Your favourites are always the headbands. Kitty ears, normally, though sometimes you branch out into bunny ears if you're feeling fancy.

There are five booths in total along the back wall, but one in particular grabs your attention: the one advertising Sanrio-themed frames instead of the standard solid colour outline.

"Oh my god," you gasp, and then it's Jeongguk's turn to squeak with confusion. You point to it. Specifically, to the My Melody and Kuromi figures by the bottom of the ad. "It's us."

He smiles. Doesn't really understand your hyper fixation. Agrees nonetheless. "It is us."

The pair of you goof around, picking props. Jeongguk learns that you find him in any sort of animal ears absolutely hilarious, but the second he puts on a yacht captain's hat?

"Take that off right this second," you tell him, voice stern, eyes wide.

He's bemused. Snorts a little. Teeth on show, he's dangerously pretty. So handsome and yet such a little shit. "Why? Like it?"

You turn your nose up. "Hate it."

"I know you're lying," he laughs. Tilts it down. "Is this getting you all hot, B?"

"I'm leaving," you say, because it's so much easier than saying yes.

Something about him in a white shirt, with that hat? White with a navy peak, gold embroidery on the sides? God, you see why the old money girlies like boatmen so much. Decide that you're never getting on a boat with Jeongguk if you want to retain your sanity.

He takes it off. You don't even realise it, but you pout.

"You're so confusing, Byeol," he says as he playfully puts it on your head - and then he's feeling all fucked up too.

Something about a captain's hat. Just really does the trick.

You've both had too much to drink. There's no reason for you both to be getting flustered because of a stupid hat and yet -

"I don't think we should ever touch hats again," Jeongguk says very quickly.

But then you put a pair of kitty ears on and he starts questioning whether or not furries are actually kinda onto something.

He furrows his brows. Picks up a pair of ears. Bunny ones. Black. They're satin and a little too sexy, he thinks, but he's gotta see himself in them.

And when he does?

He kinda gets why girls dress up like cute animals for fancy dress parties. Doesn't wanna blow his own trumpet - but shit. He does look cute.

"Oh my god, YES," you exclaim when you clock his new attire, and quite literally drag him to the booth. He gets no say in the matter, and honestly doesn't care. Is having too much fun with you to take any of this seriously.

You pick the Sanrio framed booth, because of course you do. Jeongguk pops his card in the slot, and lets you click through on the options that you want - 4cut, vertical frame. The classic style. Your favourite.

Turning to Jeongguk, you tweak his glasses a little. Can't decide if they look better hiked up, or further down his perfectly sloped nose.

All Jeongguk can think about is your nose, and much he wants to nudge his up against yours.

And so he does just that.

Doesn't give a fuck.

The camera flashes.

You're caught, forevermore, in your state of Jeongguk-induced hypnosis. The pictures will survive beyond you. Will be stored in boxes to be looked at once, maybe twice by future generations.

One day, no one will know the name of you nor the boy you're with. They won't know how the scent of his aftershave lingers, nor the way your soft exhale of air sounds as you smile. Your present will be lost to history, this photograph? Your legacy.

Nothing will be known of you, and yet this picture alone will tell them everything they need to know.

"We're gonna waste shots," you whisper. The booth takes six photos, but you'll only be allowed to choose four for the printed picture at the end.

The more to choose from, the better.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. Holds your neck just beneath your jaw. Strokes across your cheek with his thumb. Looks at you with sparkly eyes and a boyish smile that is just begging to be kissed. "Don't you wanna see what it looks like when we kiss?"

"It's intimate," you remind him.

"Maybe - but it's also fun," he reminds you.

The camera flashes again. That's two shots wasted, now.

If you let this carry on, it'll be three, and then one of them will have to be used in the final print.

And yet as Jeongguk nudges against your nose a little deeper, you let him.

When his lips ghost yours, you let him.

When his lips press down, you let him.

You'll let the third photo be taken, because you'll be too busy kissing him back to pay attention.

The fourth, too.

Lips on yours, Jeongguk kisses you in a way that he hasn't done before. It's delicate, and gentle, but his lips are strong. Intentional. There's no intrusion of tongue, no fervent need to get you moaning, even though it feels like you will regardless.

Your brain screams at you. Something about rules, and breaking them.

You ignore it.

'Cause all you can think about is the way this feels.

You don't think you've ever had a kiss like it.

And it's terrifying.

It's not until the fifth shot flashes that you both pull away; smiles smitten, eyes glossy. Both of you felt that. Ain't no way he couldn't have.

You think that maybe that's even more terrifying.

And so for the sixth shot?

Both of you pretend to throw up, disgust plaguing your giggly smiles and blushed cheeks.

There's distance between you, but as soon as the camera flashes, Jeongguk is pulling you back to his side again. It's just so that you're both ready to look through the pictures that are about to pop up on the little touchscreen. He's being helpful. Glances down at you, and has to stop himself from pressing a kiss into your hair.

Things are just so easy with you.

As soon as the pictures load, you're laughing. "We have to retake these."

"No, no, no," he swats your hand away, then taps on one of the photos, adding it to the preview frame. "My jaw looks really good in this one."

It's shot number four. Mid kiss. His hands on your cheeks, yours out of frame because they were on his waist. His jaw really does look fantastic - but it's sort of devastating when you realise just how happy he looks. He's smiling into the kiss. The most devastating thing of all?

So are you.

"How is that even us," you giggle. Seems so bizarre to see yourself like this.

"Gross isn't it," he smiles, adding more of the pictures to the frame, but you're the one correcting him now, tapping his hand to move him out of your way.

"We need them in order," you say. "A chain of events."

Eventually, the order is settled: the nudging of noses, the innocence of a kiss with the sin of Jeongguk's sharp jaw, the slightly startled look in both of your eyes as you'd pulled away, and then, of course, both of you pretending to vomit.

As they print, you pick out props for the next set of photos - Jeongguk in a pair of purple heart-shaped glasses and a Kuromi headband, you in that damn sailor's hat - and discuss which poses to actually do. This time round, it's all peace signs and finger hearts; goofy angles too close to the camera and a little laughter to set the tone.

"C'mon," Jeongguk says softly as you finish sliding the pictures into the thin plastic sleeves next to the booths. He normally doesn't bother with them. Likes that you seem to care about preserving the integrity of your memories. Hand outstretched, he encourages you to take it.

"Your bird," he says. "Said we'd do it in Busan."

The look you give him is coy, eyes a little sultry, lips a little pouty.

When you're silent, Jeongguk laughs. "Hold my hand, B."

"Getting a little date-like, don't you think?" You say of the night, but Jeongguk just shrugs.

"So? We'll just call it practise."

"Mhhm," he nods, shaking his hand a little because you still haven't held it. He's impatient. It's only as you take his hand that he begins talking again. "You don't wanna go back into the dating world unprepared. What if Mr Mechanical Engineer tries to hold your hand without you being ready for it?" He squeezes your hand, leading you out the door. "Let's get you used to it."

The mention of Seojoon makes you feel guilty. About him? About Jeongguk? You're not sure. It's something you need to figure out. Something you need to figure out fast .

And yet as Jeongguk holds both yours and his shoes in one hand, your hand firmly secured in the other, you choose not to think about it.

Just think of the sand, and how it will be a bitch to get out of your tights. It's sort of like your glitter, in a way.

But just like Jeongguk wouldn't trade your glitter for anything, you wouldn't trade this moment for anything either.

Neither of you say much. Just listen to the waves rolling in. Listen to other people's conversations. Listen to the whir of the drones as they start up and get into position. The show begins. Won't last longer than ten minutes. The silence is comfortable.

He holds your hand, and you move them to your lap in a bid to keep them warm.

Jeongguk isn't really feeling the cold. His heart is simply burning too brightly.

"I'm really glad you're here," he says as the show draws to a close.

"Me too," you whisper back fondly. "It must be nice to be home."

"Well, you know they say," he muses. "Home is where the heart is, and all that."

Been at home for months, B.

You breathe through your nose, exhaling a sincere smile. Could say a million things. Could say nothing at all. Could ask what he means, but you're taking it at face value. Genuinely think he's just happy to be home.

"We should visit more often," you suggest.

"I'd like that," he nods as he squeezes your hand. "You wanna go explore the night markets?"

Grinning, you get to your feet immediately. "Thought you'd never ask."

Jeongguk leads the way. Shows you his old haunts. Gets you hotteok from his favourite stand down by the promenade. Shows you the arcade machine he once spunked away 50,000 won on and didn't even win a prize. Shows you the initials he and Jimin caved into a pavement curb fourteen years ago. Took them hours. Both got blisters. Worth it though. They're embedded in the city, forevermore.

He takes you down memory lane, and you find it's your favourite street to visit with Jeongguk. You love his history; learning what shaped him. Who shaped him. Where.

Not once does Jeongguk let go of your hand.

Not down the markets, not along the beach, not in the taxi home, even when he doses off for a moment, head resting on your shoulder.

Not once. Not until you're both home, and he's saying goodnight outside of his brother's bedroom door. He's still toying with your fingers. Isn't even gonna suggest the idea of doing things you know you shouldn't.

Doesn't wanna taint the night.

In the morning, he'll blame all of his bad decisions on the alcohol. Will say he was tipsy, even though you stopped drinking hours ago.

He hugs you goodnight. Lingers a little too long. Too close. Nudges his nose against yours. Brushes his thumb against your cheek.

"This..." he whispers. "This is what it should be like."

His jaw tenses. He holds himself back from pressing his lips against yours like he so desperately wants to. Knows he's already said too much. Pulls himself away from you, to press a kiss against your forehead.

His lip ring is so hard, and his lips so soft, that it makes you feel all sorts of fucked up.

The most fucked up thing of all?

How badly you want his lips on yours.

But then he fucking walks away .

Closes his door. Shuts you out.

The evening had been so simple. So straightforward. Casual. Nothing confusing in the slightest. You were happy. So was he.

And yet as you lie in bed, all that rattles around in your head for hours on end is the question: what the fuck is happening to us?

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#bd #bad decisions

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eashmo · 1 year ago

Text

"It wasn't the books that kept me in the library" 18+

Bully billy x nerd y/n, "enemies" to lovers, short story

Warnings: SMUT, some fluff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n is such a fucking tease, it doesn't help she has the most delicious looking lips. They look Soft. I bet They Would feel great wrapped around my cock. She would look so good kneeling in front of me looking up with her big E/C eyes behind those thick nerd glasses, her soft H/C hair all messed up because I would be pulling on the strands. She is innocent and I want to destroy that.

Her too short schoolgirl skirt under a tight white low-cut blouse that hugs her boobs just right. made me want to moan out loud. Every time she drops something at her locker, it's like she knew I was watching. Each time I see her lacey panties, I have to control my primal urge to take her right in the hallway. Her ass would look good with my hands griped into each cheek as i fucked her, She's so sexy. And she doesn't even know it.

Her nimble fingers grazed the spines of the library books as she was trying to find what she was looking for. Her fingers would look so small against my cock.

If I'm honest, she was the only thing that kept me going to the school library.

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. It was like I was becoming obsessed with her. She was struggling to get a book from the top shelf when she heard me chuckle. She thought I was laughing at her. That's when she turned to look at me. fuck, those delicous lips, were directed at me. Those beautiful lips were making sounds, beautiful sounds that sounds like moans she would give me if i fucked her.

“Hargrove, instead of making fun of me like you always do, help for once would be nice.” she whispered

“Hargrove!” she whispered louder.

“Hmm, yes, darlin?” I snapped out of my daze.

“don,t call me darlin and help me" she whined, oh fuck me that noise was heavenly. "Why the fuck are you just staring at me for?” she snapped.

Coughs “I'm not staring at you. Why would I stare at someone like you?” I quickly said as I came up behind her to grab the book for her.

"Here nerd, don't expect me to be nice to you now," as she turned to face me. She scoffs, "I'm surprised you help right now, to be honest." She grabs the book from my book from my hand.

I stare at her cleavage through the opening of her thin blouse as she picks up her bookbag and puts the book inside. “You're staring again” The lunch bell rang. everybody was now gone.

“What, do you want Billy?” Hearing my first name fall from those lips made my knees weak.

“You princess” I breathed.

”What?” she laughed.

“I want you”

She scoffs, “I think i'll pass hargrove, i don't know where you have been.” her eyes flicked to my crotch back to my eyes.

“Oh come on, princess, i'm not that much of a playboy as you may think”

“I don't want to be just another girl, Billy. i've seen how you hurt girls, never wanting to commit” I tried to listen to her, but she was just too sexy. I was looking at her lips this whole time, but I did try to listen. her lips are just super distracting.

“Billy, are you even listening?”

“Yeah yeah princess.”

“You're unbelievable.” she scoffs, she starts to walk away from me. I caught up to her, spun her around, and backed her into a bookshelf.

“Where do you think you're going?” I whispered into her ear, I heard her gasping from my warm breath hitting her ear.

“billy…” she started to push me back, but I stood my ground.

“God I want you so bad. You drive me crazy without even realizing it, babygirl. I'm obsessed with you.” I moved closer to her.

Her big doe eyes widened, and she stopped pushing “Yeah?” she asked, her body was now pressed against mine, Her breasts were squashed against my hard chest. I swallowed hard.

“I never knew you could get so flustered.” she teased. I suddenly leaned forward and pushed my head into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. I gave a solid lick across the sweet spot on her neck. Earning me a surprised moan. I put my hands on her thick ass causing her skirt to ride up a little. I feel how soft her skin is. It's driving me crazy. I could do this all day.

"Billy…" she said as she tried to hide her moans. Which caused me to growl and bite down on her neck, causing her to moan loudly. Perfect. It's sounded absolutely perfect.

She whimpered as I traveled my lips up her neck to taste those lips that I've been dying to Devour ever since I first saw her in this hell hole of a town. I pulled her closer. If it was even possible, I wanted to melt into her. I lifted her up, her legs wrapped around my waist, she grinded her hips into mine. She moaned loudly at the friction of my jeans on her soaked panty covered pussy. Pressing her deeper against the bookcase.

“You know,” I whispered into her ear, “if I didn’t know any better I’d say you wanted to be caught.”

she let out a low groan in response, i chuckled and pecked her cheek before i let her down from my waist, she pressed her forehead against mine, looking deep into her eyes as i dipped a hand into her panties.

“Fuck you are so wet babygirl” i groaned out.

“B-billy please…”

“Please what princess?”

“T-touch me” one finger then another entered into her dripping pussy, smirking as her e/c eyes rolled back in her head and she let out a long low moan which was muffled by my lips on hers. pushing my tongue into her mouth, feeling her groan into the kiss as i continued to finger fuck her.

With my free hand i unbuttoned her white blouse quickly and pulled her bra down under her tits exposing breasts capped with light pink, rock hard nipples which i began to squeeze and roll it between my fingers, grinning as she moans and groans which turned into pants of desperation and pleading whines.

I slowed my finger’s slightly. “I’m going to need you to keep quiet. Can you do that, princess?” I whispered. She nodded in response, clamping her mouth shut with a hand.

“Good girl” i chuckled

she rode my finger to chase her own high, i added in a third, which sent her to her first orgasim her muffled moans made me weak. She soon relaxed as she slowly came back to earth. I stared at her blissed out state mentally capturing that image of her forever as I undid my fly and took out my cock. I slowly pulled my fingers out of her, which made her whimper. Lifting her back up her legs found themselves back where they belonged.

“I can always feel your stare, you know…. Throughout the day…. It always made me feel seen and worth it for once” she breathed heavily.

“I’ve always seen you, baby girl, and you're definitely worth it,”

“Then why bully me?”

“It was the only way to get you to talk to me, you didn't seem fazed when I moved here like the other girls and it drove me nuts, I had to have you even more.” I admit as I rub the tip of my cock teased her clothed entrance.

“Billy please be gentle. It's my first time”

“As you wish princess” I groaned at the thought of taking her virginity. She is so pure and innocent. I pushed the lacey fabric to the side. I tried to push my head in but her pussy can only take the tip.

“Relax princess” I try again to push the tip in and out slowly, watching her turning into a moaning mess.

Before long I could fit most of my cock in. her ridged inside squeezed my cock so deliciously. Feeling every squeeze every time I went in. I bottomed out inside of her. I felt her hymen break when I did, she hissed in pain. I stood there waiting for permission.

“B-Billy m-move” she gritted her teeth through the pain. I slowly thrusted in her, getting used to the feeling. She didn't take long to wanting more.

“Harder billy” she moaned in my neck as she held on to me for dear life. As I railed her on the bookshelf.

I didn't let up, pounding her so hard while rubbing her clit. Only after a minute or two, she came on my cock with a tantalizing scream that echoed through the empty library. Her legs squeezed my waist tightly, now I imagine that if that was my head being squeezed by her delicious thick thighs as ate her out . The thought that made me instantly come to her, coating every inch of her insides. After I came, I realized I hadn't worn a condom.

“shit“

“What?” she asked with a worried look, expecting me to regret my actions.

“I forgot to wear a condom….”

“It's fine, I'm on the pill anyways, I can’t believe we just did that.” She giggled.

I chuckled. “How about I take you on a date to the fair tonight?”

“You don't do dates, Hargrove”

“I told you…. You're worth it.”

She blushed as she nodded yes. I stepped back slightly, admiring her, her tits and midriff exposed, pussy still dripping and skirt hiked up.

“You look extra beautiful like this”

“Shut up.” she laughed, rearranging her clothes into some semblance of decency before looking at her watch.

“We should probably go.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I agreed. We walked out the empty library hand in hand, parting ways at the library door. I gave her a quick kiss.

“I'll see you tonight, baby girl”

Masterlist

2023

#billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things billy #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #dacre montgomery #stranger things

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eluxcastar · 1 year ago

Note

May I request Arlecchino finding her lover collapsed on the floor in tears from a fever they are suffering from and then taking care of them?

Arlecchino and her poor sick s/o

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: a terrible fever leaves you effectively bedridden for days

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, mentions reader vomiting but does not happen within it, the reader is a massive simp, oh and also they're married because I said so

୨୧﹑words :: 2.6k

I haven't abandoned you honeys I'm just working on a time-consuming Arlecchino request that's like 8k words long ❤️ so here's a little something to tide you over for a bit in light of the newest teaser from mihoyo

You have spent three days curled up in your bed with a temperature so bad Arlecchino almost considered taking you to Dottore to sort it out, but you were more than happy to wait it out instead.

Those three days had been spent swiftly losing any food you tried to eat and barely keeping down the water you forced yourself to drink so that you wouldn't get dehydrated with how much the heat made you sweat.

Now that days have passed, your throat hurts, and you curse your gag reflex. You don't even want to drink water, and the dizziness that prevents you from getting up has hardly subsided. You've slept through most of it, yet you can't bear to spend another minute glued to your bed, tossing and turning amidst your covers. They're thoroughly a mess, no thanks to hours of indecision as you become hot under them and cold without them for too long.

It's a frustrating thing to be confronted with your weakness.

There is truly nothing worse. This time last week, you would've been by your lovely Arlecchino's side, helping her with her work as she managed the less enjoyable affairs for the House of Hearth. It's always nice to have someone with you to curb your boredom when you have to do menial work.

But since you woke up in the middle of the night overwhelmed by dizziness so horrible you couldn't figure out which way was left, you have been stuck here where you cannot reach her for much of the day. She insisted she should remain with you, but you weren't eager to take up more of her precious time for no reason other than your conscience. You know she would be happy to. You just don't want to trouble her.

While she's gone, you should remember to do the things she made you promise to do: get lots of rest, drink water, don't push yourself.

By what is basically the force of fate, you have been good at resting and not pushing yourself. It's the water you're struggling with. You tried to force yourself to half something earlier, using whatever surface was available to support yourself, but you found yourself with an upset stomach and an awful lingering feeling in your throat.

Your second trip to the kitchen for a glass of water is equally unsuccessful.

She asked only three things of you, and even that is out of your depth? You must be pathetic. Soon, Arlecchino will return home, and she will see the glaring problem that you're dehydrated and be disappointed that you couldn't even listen to her requests.

The floor is the most comfortable spot to sit or kneel awkwardly on your hands and knees after quickly lowering yourself to the floor when you are hit with a dizzy spell to avoid hitting it at a high speed once you inevitably fall over.

Is sickness making you a wreck? Were you always this quick to give up? You never feel this uneasy. Your fever must be messing with your head and making you overemotional, but you feel so useless, whatever the reason. Suddenly you understand those people forced to retire from their work only to become restless and idle all day from an overwhelming absence in their life, if only for a few days.

It hurts, mentally mostly, but the physical pain of it all is hardly helping. Something about fevers is so draining to your body.

Water. You'd just like to drink some water. Is that too much to ask? Surely not.

Water…on the floor underneath you. It's only a drop, but you never even made it to the fridge. Where could it have come from? You place your finger on it, confirming it is most definitely not a product of your fever-driven imagination as it feels very real. Another drop lands on the back of your hand, then on the floor in quick succession, too quick for anything like a hole in the ceiling. Holes in the ceiling can't pass water through your head, either.

Tears? You're not crying-- you reach up to feel your cheek. Oh, you are. You are crying.

When did that happen? You never cry, not in good health anyway. It's completely unlike you. Though not in good health, maybe it's not so unthinkable. Maybe you are weak like this, even mentally. You didn't think a little sickness could bring you down very much; evidently, you were wrong.

You first settle back on your kneels, wiping your eyes clean of the tears that started and won't stop coming, especially now that you realise it. Like a wound that doesn't hurt until you look at it and realise how bad it looks, it hits you all at once that you really are quite miserable in this state. Water is too hard for you to get. Really? Is that how far you've fallen?

This powerless feeling is horrible, like a weakness eating at your bones every moment you spend sick. Conclusively, you really hate being sick.

You must not have noticed the sound of the door opening, possibly because you were distracted by your condition and its inhibition of your simple desire to drink a glass of water so that you could tell Arlecchino that you did it. Maybe that was supposed to prove to her you were getting better or something. You obviously weren't, but it feels nice to lie to yourself sometimes and try to convince yourself that you won't be bearing with this sickness for very long.

On the other hand, you certainly do notice the footsteps encroaching on you and your pathetic state. It doesn't matter who's there. You don't want anyone to see you this way. Not Arlecchino and not any fatuu she may have sent to check on you. Not that you're on the floor, and most definitely not that the reason you're down there is because you're crying. It would be too shameful to handle ever publicly showing your face again. You scramble to try and get back on your feet and wipe your tears, but it only proves your weakness to you as you get up so fast you make yourself dizzy again and stumble to find something to hold onto before you fall again.

The only reason you don't end up flat on your ass is because Arlecchino grabs you by your shoulders and holds you close, so close you feel her poor jacket soak up your tears. You want to pull away so you don't wet her clothes, but you can't. She is your only anchor right now. If you do that, she'll really know you're crying. Of course, she is already aware that you are, but if you at least stay with your face buried in the fur of her overcoat, you don't have to acknowledge that she knows.

Evidently, bed is the best place for you right now, and you are promptly returned there so that you can lay back and rest.

"I didn't even realise I was crying, swear!" Your attempts to save yourself are pointless, as she never cared whether you were crying or not in the first place. It's natural to cry, even if she doesn't want to see you upset.

"It's alright. Covers on or off?" There is a certain gentleness in her voice that makes you look away in embarrassment, though it is undeniably attractive that a hot woman would take care of you while you're sick. The 'in health' part is really sexy too, but the sickness part stirs butterflies in your stomach...

"Off," you respond.

It’s even hotter you get to be married to that woman.

She places a kiss on your forehead, as gentle as the rest of her actions, a degree of care present that she does not usually impart. She is not heartless and cold toward you, but this side of her is a rare one reserved for the moments when you feel especially precious. Sickness, injury...

It is a rarity that you treasure because it means a lot to you.

"I just got overwhelmed I guess." You can't think of a way to explain it to her that actually makes some degree of sense. Any explanation you think of sounds stupid to your brain and probably hers. "I'm fine, I promise."

"I know, I know. Glass of water, and something to eat small enough it won't upset your stomach." Her thumb brushing over your forehead is enough to settle those rampant emotions of yours, though still teary-eyed and moody.

"Just give me a second and I can do it." Again with your insistence to not be helped, you're just spouting off lies at this point, fooling yourself but not her.

She laughs at your stubbornness. "No you can't." She says that so matter-of-factly you can't even be bothered to fight as the words die in your throat at how amused she seems. It's one of your endearing traits, you like to think. The slight smile she walks off with would certainly support that delusion.

You're probably fooling yourself about that part too, but something about her collectedness while your brain is all scrambled up and chaotic calms you, and you fish around the bed for the coat she had discarded and laid out at your feet before she left. It's nice and heavy but not too warm when laid across you so haphazardly that it overheats you. The fur around the collar is uncomfortably wet in one spot.

However could that have happened? Sure hope someone didn't get their tears all over it.

What's best is that it smells like her, covered in her scent from top to bottom, and now you are too. It's like getting a warm hug from your wife in the absence of a hug or your wife

Ok maybe it's impossible to marry you and not know that you're really stubborn when you want to be.

"I'll stay with you like this for the entire week if that's what you want. I don't mind if I catch whatever you managed to get." Her words are so sweet that you get those butterflies again. Could you really handle a week with her like this? Probably not. You might just drop dead, but if nothing else, you'd be dying happy.

"I would definitely mind that." You laugh back, trying to match her responses and diffuse the idea you might want her gone.

"What? Don't want to take care of me?" She's just teasing, but her expression doesn't give that away at a glance.

"Didn't say that!"

You can't help feeling happy. You like this as your medicine a lot, and it has nothing to do with your face being this close to her chest and everything to do with her warmth and her words like everything is normal, and you're both just messing around. If that were the truth, it might be really nice too, but it makes being sick a hell of a lot more enjoyable.

It can't be more than a minute or two before she returns with a glass of water and some dry biscuits. The only two things that you can keep down seem like heaven in her hands despite how bland both of them are. It feels nice to finally be hydrated, and it feels great to have something in your stomach aside from an empty feeling.

Arlecchino takes the time as an opportunity to settle into bed beside you.

As you set the glass of water down on the floor beside your bed, you turn back over to squirm your way into her waiting arms, now receiving a warm hug from your wife in the presence of both a hug and your wife.

You are comfortable with a bit of pillow shifting, some wriggling into place and a slight repositioning of your head. You are not smothered by her and can breathe while remaining in her arms. Your head is not in a position where your neck hurts, and your legs are comfortably intertwined with hers. Dreams do come true, and on that note, you won't be moving from this position for the next few hours if you can help it.

"You can keep the coat if you want. I'll wash it once you're better." Her voice is low, trying not to be too loud when you are so close but audible.

You would shake your head but don't dare, only mumbling back to her. "You need it for work tomorrow."

"I'll take a day off." She says it so off-handedly it sounds suspiciously normal for a moment before the shock of it hits you.

Your eyes open, and you tilt your head up just enough to see her face, completely serious. "Are you sure? You'll have a lot to do--"

She makes a face like she is thinking, though it is an act to emphasise what she says next. "I'll use it to manage files from the House of Hearth if it would make you feel better about getting to steal all my attention at home."

"Accepted." Evidently, you are far too easy to bargain with.

She laughs to herself nonetheless, hand stroking your back. "I don't want to leave for work only to come home to you crying again."

You go dead silent and look away again. "...Sorry."

"I didn't mean it in that way." She tries to reassure you with those words, and it works a little but doesn't take away from your embarrassment. Are you going to remember that for the next five years wondering if she's judging you for it knowing damn well she's not and probably doesn't remember it? Hopefully not. "It worried me, that's all. I want to be here if you need me."

Ok maybe that's really hot too.

"Well, if you're sure, then I'm not going to tell you no." You wouldn't stop her anyway because, secretly, you would really like for her to stay with you. You wanted that from the start and just couldn't swallow your pride to admit it.

The small chuckle she lets out hearing that tells you that she is very aware of that fact. Maybe it's hard to marry you and not know that.

Ok maybe it's impossible to marry you and not know that you're really stubborn when you want to be.

"I would definitely mind that." You laugh back, trying to match her responses and diffuse the idea you might want her gone.

"What? Don't want to take care of me?" She's just teasing, but her expression doesn't give that away at a glance.

"Didn't say that!"

#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — fluff.#♡ — anon visit.#arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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tzuyubit · 1 year ago

Text

#03

an: me if writing and publishing smut written at 3am thats kinda proofread was illegal

but fr i literally dfk if this is bad cause im lowk half asleep so if its ass… so sorry. but i hope i did okay?? and that it makes sense?? i feel like im better at writing oral rather than fingering LMFAO

warnings: 18+, top!tzuyu, fingering, grammar mistakes probably sorry

non idol college au btw

staring at you from the comfort of your bed, it wasn’t difficult for tzuyu to tell that you were struggling with your studies. quiet sighs left your mouth every few minutes or so, and the frown painted on your face only made her want to help you more – though how could she? she knew nothing about biochemistry, but you were just so stressed, she needed to find a way to ease your mind.

the eraser from your pencil repeatedly tapped the bottom of your lip and you seemed to have no control over the up and down movement of your leg.

flipping the paper over, you adjusted your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

cute, tzuyu thought to herself before throwing her legs over the edge of the bed. she pushed off with her hands and made her way over to you.

she stood tall above you, but that was nothing new. her arms wrapped their way around your neck while her lips met the side of your cheek.

you closed your eyes, immediately relaxing into her touch. another kiss was placed, this time on your neck. then another, and another and another.

tzuyu was pleased with her effect on you.

“come on baby, you need to take a break.” she pushed, spinning you around so you were met with her face.

the first thing you notice is her lips, wet from the lick of her tongue and smeared lightly of blush colored lipstick. her eyes, however, were tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

tzuyu cupped your chin gently, catching your attention once more. “break.”

you hummed with uncertainty. “my exams are a few days away.”

“you’ll do well, you always do baby.”

“but i still have so many units to go over, so many definitions to memorize, so much material i need to know like the back of my hand within the next three days.” you rushed out.

your girlfriend rolled her eyes, “you always forget to take care of yourself when you study this hard.”

“probably because its not that important.” you mumbled, though you regretted the words as soon as you finished speaking.

tzuyu was quick to react, dragging you to your own bed by a harsh tug of your wrist. she was the least bit pleased with your statement.

“fine. let me take care of you then since you won’t do it yourself.” she grumbled, pushing you flat on your back.

your shirt was quickly thrown on the floor and your pants were roughly tugged down your legs. you were left bare while tzuyu remained covered in silk panties and a see-through lace bra. it was unfair in your opinion, but you were still happy to be able to feel her skin against yours.

her tanned legs straddled the sides of your waist, hips grinding against the base of your abdomen. she bit her lip, leaning down to place her hands on your chest, giving your boobs a gentle squeeze.

“pretty girl.” tzuyu whispered, continuing her massage, occasionally tugging at your nipples.

and despite the damp spot forming between her legs, she halted her movements to smother you in kisses.

tzuyu was sweet like that.

she smiled down at you and took your hand, trapping it within the silk fabric she wore.

“you’ve made me a mess.” you wanted to feel her completely, but tzuyu had your arm angled just right so you couldn’t curl your fingers inside of her.

“tzuyu…”

she shook her head, “have you already forgotten what i said? i know you want to help me, but i’m the one taking care of you.”

climbing off of you, her body rest to your right side. there was a smirk on her lips. you felt small the way tzuyu was staring at you.

“spread,” she demanded. “wider. there you go, so wet already.”

tzuyu slowly began circling your clit and you whined already wanting more.

she quickened her movements upon hearing the sound of your breathing pick up, only to slow down when she could see you attempting to buck your hips.

“don’t tease tzuyu… please.” your voice cracked.

why should she listen to you?

“just getting your body relaxed.” she shrugged, speeding up the circular motion of her fingers.

your body reacted like a magnet — eyes screwing shut, fists grasping at sheets, hips attempting to lift themselves up.

she repeated this process a total of three times. both of you knew she could’ve gone much longer, but tzuyu wasn’t mean, not now anyway.

when you started to crumble, she knew it was only fair for her to comply with her original statement.

“i’ll take care of you now, don’t worry baby.” she cooed.

slender fingers began teasing your hole and you almost cried out in frustration thinking tzuyu lied. she only proved you wrong when she began pumping them in and out of your pussy.

you could no longer be quiet for her. the repeated force of her curled fingers and the kissing and sucking on your neck was finally enough to bring you where you needed to be.

your legs clamped shut around her hand, but that didn’t stop tzuyu from continuing to finger you. however , this time she let you rock against her hand, this time she let you hold on to her, fingernails tearing at her skin, this time she let you cum.

“fuck, tzuyu!” your body trembled vehemently.

she slowed the pace of her fingers helping you ride out your orgasm.

when you finally met her eyes there was nothing but admiration found. this wasn’t unusual though, you often caught tzuyu staring at you with different forms of love in her eyes. she’d never admit that to anyone else though.

you snuggled into her side, eventually succumbing to a much needed nap, one that tzuyu would be happy with.

#xi writes #tzuyu #twice x reader #twice smut #tzuyu smut #tzuyu x reader #kpop smut

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jisungchan · 2 months ago

Text

orange juice | psh

you turn oranges to orange juice

⚔︎ warnings: ed comfort! extensive descriptions and mentions and scenes of restrictive eating, purging, and the thoughts/feelings behind an eating disorder. sunghoon helps the reader through her physical purging, her thoughts, and helps guide her toward a path of recovery. female collegiate volleyball athlete reader. triggering toward those who have experienced eating disorders.

a/n: this is very self-indulgent, as i have been personally struggling more with my ed lately. recovery is possible, even if it does not seem so. i hope the best for all of you, and my dms are open if you need to talk <3

it’s the same routine everyday, you can’t help it. something about the taste of food in your mouth and the feeling of the chewed remnants in your guts make it churn. you try to stomach it, you really do, but without fail you always run to the bathroom, dying to get it out of your system. you don’t know exactly when it started. growing up in a society that pushed for women to be coke skinny, lurking on tumblr and coming across thin women bragging about their thigh gaps, and even magazines at the grocery store bullying women for being anything over 100 pounds probably did it. you often picked up those magazines as a young girl, flipping through the pages to find the ‘hidden secrets’ they claimed would make you lose weight quickly. but when did it evolve into this? into barely being able to keep food down? you’re not too sure when it happened.

another day, same routine.

your volleyball team is having a pasta night for the big tournament this weekend. it was tradition, you guys either cater huge pans of pasta or decide to go out. this time, you all decided to go to a local authentic italian restaurant, the best in town. and you are determined this time, you know how good the pasta is and you want to be able to enjoy a plate with your teammates.

you take your fork and twirl the long pasta noodles to form a cocoon. you opted for a simple red sauce pasta, hoping the small amounts of dairy and pure vegetables will help you stomach the food. you chat with your teammates as you keep twirling; you look like a kid picking and playing with their food. eventually, you pick the fork up, long thin noodles covered with the marinara sauce, and a little piece of tomato even gets caught up in all your twirling. you bring it to your mouth, holding your breath in to barricade the scents around you. now, it’s in your mouth and you chew slowly to get your tastebuds accustomed to the textures and flavours. it tastes good, you can admit that, and a small smile adorns your face as you successfully swallow it down without too much trouble.

after more talking, and chugging many glasses of water, you are able to finish your entire plate, something which you have not been able to do in a long time.

however, the contentedness and ease don’t last very long.

as you get into your car to drive back to your apartment, you feel your stomach churn. that all too familiar feeling of nausea starts to creep up, but fast. you press on the pedal a bit heavier as you feel the noodles slithering their way back up your esophagus, threatening to travel further up to the base of your throat. finally, you make it home. you are so caught up with running to your bathroom, you don’t even notice the extra pair of shoes at your front door as you make a beeline to the toilet.

bliss, that’s what it feels like. well, in the moment it feels like hell. the contents of your lively team dinner make it’s way past your dry, parted lips as you retch and retch and retch into the poor toilet bowl. you feel bad, all the days and nights you’ve acquainted yourself with it makes it feel like a second bed though. the countless times you have had your arm thrown over the side of the seat, your head resting on it as you breathe deeply to regain any sense of composure.

but once you even your breathing and brush your teeth, a little too aggressively, it feels like you are on cloud nine. the quietness of your home stirs and you can lay in your bed, having the horrid feeling out of your system.

however, you didn’t quite make it to those parts.

living alone, you developed the habit of not closing doors. why would you? it’s not like anyone would walk in and catch you on the toilet or changing in your room. so, when you feel someone’s smooth palm rubbing your back, and the other gathering your hair out of the way, you lurch. ever aware of your current state, you jolt further into the toilet, getting the rest out of your system before you spray your agony on them, even if they are an intruder.

once you are confident you have gotten it all out, you finally turn to look at what kind robber is soothing you at your most vulnerable. you can only imagine your face as you eyes widen with shock and horror at the concerned look on your boyfriend’s face as he takes a damp cloth to wipe your face.

wordlessly, he reaches over to draw a warm bath for you. there are no words exchanged as he helps you strip out of your clothing and brush your teeth for you, ever so gently, while the bath water pours into the tub. he takes some of your soap and pours it under the running water, a faint smell of eucalyptus and lavender filling your senses and overpowering your earlier activity. he helps you to carefully get in, every touch of his reposeful as he treats you like fine china that might break. and as soon as he dips your washcloth to cleanse you, salty tears drain from your eyes to join the water surrounding you.

he drops the washcloth and kisses your forehead, a tender yet all knowing moment of you both understanding what’s happening. sunghoon went through the exact things you are, but as a renowned figure skater. he knows both the physical and mental turmoil sports take on your body, especially the harder and more competitive you compete. and while he knew this was a problem, especially one that you struggled with, he didn’t know it was quite to this extent.

you watch him as he stares at your face, and you can tell he’s putting the pieces together. how when you eat you only eat small portions, claiming you eat more, smaller meals a day. the way that you often go to the bathroom after eating. he knew you always brushed your teeth after eating anything, but he innocently assumed it was because you were diligent with your oral care, not that the taste of food in your mouth alone could cause you to gag and convulse.

you see as a few tears slip past his long, dark eyelashes. he doesn’t even take the time to wipe them off as he cradles your face in his hands, looking into your eyes this time. and he whispers,

“i’m so sorry.”

you shake your head, he has nothing to be sorry for. this is your problem and your problem alone. you feel horrible that you’ve brought him into it. you feel horrible as he was probably just trying to surprise you after dinner with cuddles and watching the dozens of media on your list. but you know your boyfriend, and he knows you inside and out, so it doesn’t surprise you when he reads your mind.

“i’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable sharing this with me. but i promise i will help you through this. we’re in this together, yeah?”

you nod your head, he always knows just the right things to say to ease your overly anxious mind. eventually, he finishes cleaning you as he praises you for how strong you are, giving you affirmations of how he is so proud of you.

he dries you off and changes you into some pajamas, which he picks out to be one of his many tshirts and comfy shorts. you both crawl into bed as he pulls you into him, playing with your hair softly as he presses many sweet kisses all over your face.

it doesn’t matter to him that he just say you pouring your guts out 30 minutes ago, he thinks you look beautiful as always right now, snuggled next to him.

the serene silence doesn’t last very long, not that you expected it to. you knew that you both couldn’t just carry on pretending like he isn’t now overly aware of your mental struggles.

“you know, people always say that ‘you are so much more than your body,’ but i don’t think that’s fair.”

you look up at him questioningly, where is this going?

“i think your body deserves more credit.” he holds your hand in his, intertwining your fingers against his.

“your body has been with you your entire life, it has gotten you to where you are today. it has gotten you through all the hardships you’ve unfairly gone through. it has helped you laugh at my terrible jokes.” he pauses as you both chuckle at the remark. and you are happy he’s still being his usual, dry humoured self.

“it has gotten you through all the workouts, conditioning, and training to earn you a starting position at one of the top volleyball schools in the nation. and, more importantly, it has allowed me to meet you. it has allowed me to see and understand and love you.”

you feel your eyes prick up with tears, and you notice his eyes mimicking your watery state.

“it has gotten you to each and every date i planned. it has helped your brain love me and make me feel like i am the luckiest guy ever to be graced with you by my side.”

he presses you closer to him, and you feel his steady heartbeat as it soothes you into a calmer peace of mind.

“i think we should both treat it a little nicer. we can start slow, i can make you your safe, comfort foods. we can start with little bites to get you accustomed with keeping it down. and if you ever feel the need to run to the bathroom, i’ll take your hand and lead you there.”

“i don’t want you to think i’m judging you, so if it takes some more time of you feeling like this and not getting better, i won’t ever leave your side.” he finally takes his other hand and wipes some of your tears away, then does the same to his own.

“of course i want you to get better, but you also have to want to get better, for yourself.”

you sigh, almost defeatedly. but you know this is for the better, you are hyperaware that you cannot keep living like this. in your logical mind, it seems so trivial. but you can’t help the feeling that grows on you when you think of eating.

“i love you so much, and i promise you, we’ll get you through this together. i’ll help you look for a therapist and dietican whenever you’re ready. i want you to get all the support you need.”

you sigh again, but this time at your boyfriend. again, sunghoon has his way with words, especially the ones he speaks to you. he doesn’t shame you or make you feel pathetic for your struggles, and he knows you’re going to need more than his loving support to fully recover without feeling like he’s not enough. he knows just what you need, and he doesn’t bring you there himself, but helps you through your journey of self-discoverance and wellness wherever and whenever you need it.

you find yourself to actually look forward to getting better. the thoughts and dreams have crossed your mind, the idea of being able to go out to eat with sunghoon and fully enjoying whatever meal is in front of you guilt-free. but it all seemed so far away before, so impossible. you felt like that was a life you didn’t deserve to experience and live.

but now, with your new-found confidence spearheaded by the love of your life, it doesn’t feel so hard anymore. of course, there is going to be ups and downs, that’s with any hardship. but, now that you know you have and can get more proper support, your dreams of growing old with sunghoon seem in reach.

“let’s start with getting some rest for your big tournament this weekend. i can’t wait to see how well you do with the body you have worked so hard on to get you there.”

#nephele is normal #park sunghoon #sunghoon #sunghoon comfort #park sunghoon comfort #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen #enha #enhypen comfort

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gh0stsp1d3r · 2 years ago

Note

yk, i was thinking about dating ladybug being tangerine and lemon's sister, both meet on the bullet train and ladybug thought the reader was too pretty and was very hesitant to try to fight her, and when he found out that she was the sister of the other twins he stayed 😦

oh god i have no creativity, i'm sorry for my english...

I LOVE TJIS IDEA.

The triplets

You sighed and rested your head on the back of the seat. Tangerine talked and bickered with lemon as you didn’t pay attention.

Tangerine snapped his fingers in your face.

“Hello? Earth to cherry?”

“Sorry, sorry.” You said, and regained your focus.

“Anyways, as I was saying, find the case and deal with whoever has it. Cherry, you’re coming with me, and lemons fine on his own.”

“Why do I always have to come with you?” You complained as you guys walked side by side.

“Because, you don’t pay attention, like at all.”

“Fair enough.”

🐞🐞🐞🐞🐞

Once you guys finally found black framed glasses, you realized that you had talked to him earlier, when you first got on the train.

Tangerine grabbed his shirt, and ladybug closed the door. Not much you could do about that. Ladybug tried to kick him, but he grabbed his legs and punched them repeatedly.

Ladybug tried to pin him to the wall, but you kicked him and shoved him off.

Ladybug looked at you for a moment, blinked, and then tangerine went back to punching him. They were in the kitchen now.

You just watched, as they punched each other, he seemed to be avoiding fighting you. Ladybug hit him with the cutting board and that’s when you stepped in.

You stopped when he held his hands out.

“Wait, wait, wait, I know who killed the kid.”

“I couldn’t give a rats ass. Where’s my fucking case?” Tangerine pushed the snack cart over to him, but he kicked tangerine instead, knocking him down.

As he was down, you just watched in amusement, before the door opened. You all acted like nothing was happening.

She came in and got some things, Ladybug stared at you, and tangerine stared st him, and then at you.

“What?” You asked.

“You could’ve helped me at least a little bit.” He said in sign language, so that hopefully the lady didn’t understand.

“Stop being such a fucking baby. You’re fine. Plus he said he know who killed the kid, maybe he can help, you’re always so quick to assume. Plus, he’s kinda cute.” You signed back.

“I hope you know I can sign too.” Ladybug signed and you grew embarrassed. He winked at you and you wanted to die in that moment.

Tangerine shook his head.

Then, he asked the lady for sparkling water.

“Bro, I just remembered I have all my money to that guy to wear my hat and glasses. Could you?”

“I don’t got any money.” He lied, and looked at you.

You sighed “Fucking liar.” You sent him a glance, And asked the lady how much, giving her it.

“A thousand yen, that’s ten quid for that bottle of water.” You sighed.

“Thank you.”

She left and he drunk the water.

“You sure you don’t wanna talk this out?”

“I will.” You said.

“Not, particularly no.” You and tangerine spoke at the same time.

You rolled your eyes at him. “This is why lemon is the better brother.”

“If you think the better brother is the one who speaks about kids shows, I feel bad for y-“ ladybug threw the bottle of water at his face while he spoke.

“Karma.” You shrugged, and tangerine got angry and threw him through the glass. The glass shattered and tangerine started to choke him. You Scrolled on your phone while waiting.

“I know who killed the kid.” He said, struggling.

“Yeah, where the fuck is he, then?”

“He’s on this train.”

“Well that narrows it down, then, don’t it?”

Ladybug pushed the red button you shook your head as they both fell out the train. You grabbed Ladybugs hand, helping him back up. Then you grabbed Tangerines.

They both attacked each other, and Tangerine threw him onto the ground. You handed tangerine chopsticks, and he tried to go for his eyes.

Suddenly, your phone rang. Tangerine looked at you, and you looked at him.

You answered it, and put it on speaker.

“The white death says to get off at next stop holding the briefcase or he will kill everyone on that train.” Tangerine immediately got off him, stumbling his way and making his way to you. Ladybug watched.

“Okay, me and tangerine can make it, but lemons, he’s a little tied up right now.”

“The three of you this time. With the case. Or everyone dies.” He hung up.

Tangerine sighed and sat down. You sat down next to him.

“Paranoid bitches.” You groaned.

“Don’t happen the case on ya by any chance?” Tangerine asked him.

“No”

“Yeah, don’t think we’d reach lemon in time anyways. You’d still got his phone. Do you have a gun on ya?”

He shook his head “Don’t like em’.”

“Me neither.” You shook your head and smiled.

He gave you a small smile back.

“Well, if you two are done smiling and pining over each other, I’m gonna go find Lemon.”

“Just curious.”

“Yeah?”

“Do they even know what lemon looks like?”

🐞🐞🐞🐞🐞

You laughed as you guys made your way back on the train.

“You’re stupid, it’s kinda cute.” You laughed breathlessly as he apologized and went on and on.

“Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself.” He said, and Tangerine was pissed off.

“Look, if you guys are gonna flirt, do it away from me.”

#tangerine and lemon #bullet train x reader #ladybug x reader #bullet train #brad pitt x reader #ladybug x you

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a-fluffer-nutter · 10 months ago

Text

What's Going On With You?

A/N - Hey @crazy-as-a-jaybird I was told that Santa may have missed your chimney this year. Well thankfully, I'm one of his elves and I am here to give your fic at long last! Sorry things had fallen through with Santa, but I am here to lighten your day with some Hamilton fluff (and some sads, but shush). As always, thank you @squealing-santa for the event and for @hypahticklish for organizing everything and letting me be the pinch hitter for this gift! I madly appreciate it! Anyways, onto the fic!

Word Count: 1,961

“How’d you fuck up this time?” Hamilton all but purred as Burr walked past his seat, looking as dejected as possible, an older dog that��s been passed over at the shelter for the umpteenth time. Hamilton would never admit that Burr’s face made him feel a tinge of sadness; the poor man had clearly just gone through some shit, but Burr had been actively trying to make Hamilton’s life a living hell for years. Of course, Hamilton was going to have to have a little bit of fun kicking the man while he was down. “Washington isn’t a fan of stupid ideas.”

“Shut up, Hamilton,” Burr snapped, but there was little malice behind his words. He just sounded tired. His eyes were dim, hands in his pockets, as he just walked past his rival.

Hamilton visibly flinched as Burr brushed past him. Clearly something bad must have happened to Burr; the man could never resist the urge to speak his mind.

Hamilton trailed him, walking down the hall full of doors and down the steps. Just as Burr was reaching from the front door, Hamilton grabbed his wrist and dragged him into another room which served as the main chamber for senate meetings. The last meeting had been adjourned hours before, so the room was empty and dark, the only light was the soon to be setting sun radiating from the two windows.

“Hamilton! What is the meaning of this?” Burr growled as he was pushed into one of the long wooden benches, his back laying flat on the hard wood. As he struggled to get up, like a flipped turtle, Hamilton took a seat on his legs, ignoring how uncomfortable the position was for them both.

“What is going on with you?” Hamilton asked, though it sounded more like a statement. He was annoyed, not one to be ignored.

“What is going on with you?” Burr countered, waving his arms to gesture at Hamilton’s position. “And why the hell do you care about how I feel? It’s not like I matter to you. Washington chose you, go be his right hand man. Let me go and be nothing to you, to him.”

Hamilton’s expression lightened; his snarl slipped into a frown.

“What?” His voice was soft, quiet.

Burr turned his head, staring at the back of the bench as he bit his lip.

“It doesn’t matter,” He whispered, the condensation of his breath moistening the polished wood his nose was pressed into. “Please, let me go.”

Without a word, Hamilton obliged. Burr’s joints popped as he got up, trapping a groan in his throat so Hamilton wouldn’t hear. He left the room, closing the door gently, and stood on the other side for a minute, expecting to be followed.

“I’m sorry,” Burr mumbled under his breath as he continued on, leaving the building with his eyes made of glass.

“I’m sorry,” Hamilton mumbled under his breath as he stood alone in the darkening room. For one of the only times in his life, Hamilton did not know what to do.

***

A month had passed without incident. If Burr saw Hamilton anywhere, he would put his head down and keep walking. Thankfully, these encounters were limited. Hamilton became busy with his writings as Burr was busying himself with other endeavors while in the senate, one of which was taking care of Theodosia. It was cathartic, enjoying every second he got to spend with his daughter, but some days he would look at her beautiful face of ten years and have the sudden urge to cry.

One night, after a particularly grueling senate meeting that had him and Samuel Johnston, the senator from North Carolina, in a heated yelling match. Luckily, most had turned out well for Burr, but he was still exhausted. All he wanted to do was rest, but it seemed that God had other plans for him that night.

“Burr?” A voice sounded behind him, freezing him in his tracks. Burr’s hands shook, realizing that as he had been lost in his thoughts, he had somehow managed to walk right passed Hamilton without noticing. Burr stood there in silence, body rigid. “Burr, we need to talk.”

“We do.”

After an awkwardly silent walk, Burr brought Hamilton back to his house. Theodosia greeted her father with a hug and a polite curtsey to the other man.

“Mr. Hamilton, sir,” Theodosia said with a fake, polite smile. She knew this man had upset her father, somehow, but her father hadn’t said much on the matter. And instead of lingering, Theodosia excused herself to her room and left the two men to their own devices.

They were silent for quite some time, eyes locked as Burr stared Hamilton down as he sat in the center of the couch, hands clasped on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Hamilton said first. He always had to be first. “I overstepped. I should have left you alone.”

“No, I was the one that overacted. I was upset so I got defensive,” Burr stared at the floor as he spoke. “I guess, I just didn’t realize you cared.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Hamilton countered; his eyes bore into Burr’s slumped figure. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care.”

“Hmm.”

“I guess I didn’t realize you were a dumbass.”

Burr’s jaw slumped as he gaped at the man across from him, though he was able to spot the mischievous glint in the man’s eyes, and quickly pursed his lips together into the faintest of smiles.

“I care about your feelings, even if you’re the biggest pain in my ass,” Hamilton crossed his arms, smirking as he leaned back into the couch. “Besides, you are absolutely no fun when you’re sad.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course! Who else am I going to pester? Washington can only take so much of my banter.”

Burr let out a soft chuckle, dropping his eyes to the floor in embarrassment.

“Was that a laugh I heard?” Hamilton mused, his pitch rising in excitement.

Burr felt his cheeks heat up. He didn’t know why, but Hamilton’s excitement always had this effect on him. It was contagious how lit up Hamilton could get about most things. He hadn’t the slightest idea what Hamilton was intending, but he bit his lip to hold back a smile.

“You’re not answering me,” Hamilton huffed. “I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

Before Burr could react, Hamilton had leaped from the couch and had his hands all over him.

It had been quite some time since they last did this. Just after the war ended, Hamilton and his rag tag team of misfits would attempt to “cheer up” Burr whenever they saw him. Most of the time, Burr hadn’t been upset. However, he wore a natural frown when he walked, which was enough to incite violence, specifically from Hamilton and Laurens. This activity had slowed to a stop once the band broke up. Lafayette went back to France, Mulligan had gone back into tailoring, and Laurens had unfortunately been killed just before the war was officially ended. The latter had hurt Hamilton the most, thus ended most of his playful interactions with anyone outside his household.

Burr didn’t hold back his laughter at all. He didn’t feel the need. It had been years, and frankly, Burr didn’t mind this. It felt normal. Nostalgic.

“Ah, there it is,” Hamilton beamed, listening to Burr’s rich belly laugh that he would only do when his ribs were being attacked. This was Hamilton’s go to spot when on the attack, getting the best results the quickest. It may not have been Burr’s worst spot, but it yielded in the best response.

“You know, I’ve missed this,” Hamilton mused, both teasing and being sincere. “And, since you’re not fighting back, it seems you have too.”

Burr didn’t protest; he really was having a good time. This had been one of the worst years of his life and he’s been in a shit mood for some time, on top of anxiety around his encounter with Hamilton a month ago. The fingers skittering across his rib cage felt like a temporary release from the monsters in his mind. This he could handle with ease. That is, until Hamilton decided to go for the kill.

“Alex!” Burr nearly screeched, dropping all formalities as Hamilton began lightly squeezing his lower stomach, the small patch of fat being extra sensitive. Burr knew Hamilton was going to finish his attack soon. Hamilton knew that Burr couldn’t handle this spot being teased for too long.

“I don’t think you’ve called me that since the eighties,” Hamilton wore a sly smile, giggling to himself. Hamilton was the sort of person to laugh along with the person he was tickling, especially if their laughter was as contagious as Burr’s. It wasn’t his fault that Burr’s laugh was loud and giggly, a stark contrast to his typical stoic persona.

“Stop, please,” Burr finally let out, holding out for a good five minutes. It was fun, in a way, but it had gotten to be too much.

“Damn, you really let me have some fun there,” Hamilton teased, now standing in front of Burr, hands behind his back as he bounced on his toes. Burr took a minute to respond, having to release the final residual huffs of mirth and uncurl himself into a proper sitting position.

“I guess I did,” Burr replied, smile still wide on his face. “Now, I think it would be fair if you repaid the favor.”

“Oh, I-I,” Hamilton stammered, his face reddening. Burr knew this was a go ahead.

Standing up, Burr practically lifted Hamilton and walked him across the room to the couch. Gently plopping him down onto the sofa, Burr straddled the younger man and began to dance his fingers across the entirety of Hamilton’s torso.

“Burr!” Hamilton squealed in delight, grabbing Burr’s wrists, but didn’t try to push them away.

Burr knew that Hamilton loved this, always had. He had always suspected that Hamilton liked the attention, the touch. His childhood had been rough, so Burr assumed that this quirk had stemmed from this. He, of course, had never wanted to press. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this somewhat charming quirk, so he never questioned.

“Still as ticklish as ever, huh?” Burr let out a low chuckle as he fluttered his fingers on either side of Hamilton’s neck. Burr knew he wouldn’t respond, Hamilton’s neck being a weak point that always sent him into hysterical giggles. “Hm, you’re lucky I’ve never done this in front of the other senators. I’m sure they would have a kick out of this.”

“Asshole,” Hamilton replied, now able to speak as Burr’s fingers danced along his lower ribs. His ability to speak would soon be ripped away from him, as Burr’s response to his crude remark was to crawl his fingers downward along his sides, to knead into his hips.

“Burr!” Hamilton’s voice was as loud as it could possibly be, his laughter booming as Burr attacked his most sensitive spot. This specific laugh always made Burr join in, as the laugh itself was adorably funny to listen to, along with it being very apparent that Hamilton was having a delightful time.

As Burr went to town on Hamilton’s hips, Theodosia quietly laughed to herself, peering out from behind her door, with only a partly obstructed view of the living room. She had been lingering there for a while, having heard her father’s deep laugh, and had to investigate. It had been years since she had heard him really laugh, long before her mother died. Burr looked much younger, relaxed.

“Thank you,” Theodosia whispered under her breath, letting out a sigh as she smiled to herself.

#tickle fic #rose writes #squealing santa 2k23 #hamilton #TIcklish!hamilton #ticklish!burr

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