#I mean I feel you- I will never forget him sitting there trim and slight and completely looking the same as he always does to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

johnwickb1tsch · 7 months ago

Text

break me, softly

When your ex Jack Traven pays you a late night visit after a tough case, you can’t turn him away. Jack Traven x Fem!Reader ficlet

warnings: smut. angst. brief mention of hostage situation/death. slight inebriation. fluff. ❤❤❤

For @treedaddymcpuffpuff who whispered in my ear "hey you should watch Speed" and sent me down this rabbit hole (i luv u girl, you're our Keanuverse Guide & Tastemaker!) 😘😘😘 and @scarlettspectra who requested some fluff fic 😘😘😘.

It’s late at night, when you hear the soft knock on your apartment door. Usually, you wouldn’t dream of answering such a thing–a woman living alone, in this city? You’re not looking to get murdered. But something, some feeling from deep in your gut, pulls you out of bed. You walk on bare feet in just your nightie and look through the peephole. Nothing.

You know it’s probably a bad idea, but that uneasiness nags at you still. Not that you’re in danger. That someone needs you. You have a sense about that, after so many years as a nurse. Or maybe, you just always have.

You undo the deadbolts and stick your head out, to see the tall figure of a man retreating down the hall.

You would know that backside anywhere. Those broad shoulders, that trim waist, those long legs…and by the way he’s walking, you can tell he’s a little drunk.

“Jack?”

He freezes in his tracks, clearly debating with himself. Probably wondering what the fuck he’s doing here, and if you’ll tell him to go to hell, after the way he pushed you away three months ago after dating for two whole years.

He turns to face you slowly. You can say a lot of things about Officer Jack Traven–but never that he’s a coward.

“Hey, y/n.”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him, since the day he shattered your world when he broke things off with you. It feels about precisely like being punched in the gut. He’s still so handsome it hurts; those soulful dark eyes, cheekbones to make a fashion model weep, a manly-man’s jawline softened by such a full, sweet mouth. Immediately, upon looking at that face you still love so well, you know something is wrong.

“Are you ok?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it. Takes a deep breath, tries again. Nothing. It’s as good as a five page report, to you. To you, who knows his every gesture, his every tell. For all it’s worth, now.

You already knew, in the back of your mind, that you were still in love with this man. It was like a fine buzzing in your heart you’d managed to push into the background of your day to day. But seeing him again makes it all surge up with a vengeance. You know that being near him again will be like feeding your heart through a paper shredder–slowly. You also know that something terrible must have happened at his work, for him to show up here like this, and so you open the door wider, laying your heart on the sacrificial altar, the way you always do.

“Come on,” you say gently, waving him in. “I’ll take care of you.”

He gives so much of himself, always trying to help everyone else in this big, mean, city. You know he forgets to leave a little fuel in the tank for himself. It’s maybe something the two of you have in common.

You watch as he fights a war within himself, teetering on the balls of his feet, undecided between staying or leaving. In the end, he takes a step towards you, then another. You try not to read too much into that. He’s just here because he’s drunk and feeling vulnerable. It doesn’t really have anything to do with you.

You’re not really sure how this will go. Probably he’ll just come sit on your couch with a beer–you still have his favorite in the fridge–and talk a little. Not about what’s actually bothering him. No, heaven forbid. But circular small talk, to get his mind off the bad thing. It’s something you’ve done a thousand times before.

And yet, when you are standing toe to toe, and he has to crane his neck to look down at you–there’s a dark fire in his eyes, and with a little thrill you feel the urge to flee before his big hands engulf the sides of your face, and his mouth is on yours.

Oh. That’s what you’re doing.

You can’t say you forgot what it’s like to kiss Jack Traven–but maybe the intensity of the memory had faded a little, if for anything out of pure self defense. How could a woman keep her sanity, if she remembered how good he was, if she knew she’d never taste him again? You stand on tiptoe to throw your arms around his neck as he devours you, and he easily picks you up with an arm around your waist, walking the two of you back into your apartment and slamming the door shut with his booted heel.

This. This had never been a problem for the two of you. Passion. It was everything else that got in the way. Most of all, his dangerous job, which though it wore on you, you had never complained about. But he’d seen the way you worried about him, the way it absolutely chewed on your nerves when there was a situation on the news and you didn’t know if he would be coming home that night. You’d been willing to weather that storm for him, but the guilt of demanding that of you ate at his conscience.

He’d broken things off with you, in your own hospital, after he’d taken a bullet in the chest and you didn’t leave his side or really even sleep until he came to. I can’t ask you to keep doing this for me. You deserve better.

You’d protested, of course, but he’d made up his mind.

Until now, apparently, where he is walking you backwards towards your bedroom, half carrying you in the ardor of his embrace. You recognize this need for life-affirming intimacy. You’d gotten to know it well, over the years, and you surrender to the storm, letting him take what he needs. Letting him fist the fabric of your cotton nightie in his big hands, drawing it up over your head before falling on you again, pushing your panties down the curves of your bottom and your thighs.

You always marveled that despite his strength and the things he knows how to do with those hands, he never ever hurt you, not even when he was like this, desperate for your softness, frantic to lose himself inside the momentary bliss your body could bring. He barely has the patience to let you pull off his white t-shirt, or to enjoy the swathes of toned flesh beneath. His belt is flung forgotten to the floor from the moment you pull it from its loops and he picks you up by your thighs, walking you the rest of the way to the bed. Boots are kicked away as his mouth is attached to yours, pants and boxers shed with a sharp push.

You might have been embarrassed, by how ready you are for him, how sopping fucking wet you were for him from the moment you saw him, if you could have formed a coherent thought as his thick tip kisses your entrance, before he absolutely plunges himself inside you. The delicious shock of it steals the breath from you, your soul escaping with a moan, only to be reclaimed with his mouth on yours. He takes you like the ocean, relentless and rolling, filling you with every thrust. It’s gratifying, the animalistic sounds of abandon he makes as he fucks you. If you didn’t know any better–you might have swore you were making love, despite his hedonistic frenzy.

The same way you knew something was wrong in the first second of seeing him in the hallway, you know he’s close to finishing already, his breathing frantic in the bend of your neck, his grip just this side of bruising. He seems to remember that he’s done very little to see to your pleasure, amidst the haze of chasing his own gratification. He sits up on trembling elbows, making to reach between you. “Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. You feel so good.” Maybe it’s ridiculous, that it brings tears to your eyes to hear the endearment. You find you don’t even want to cum, as much as you just want to make this haunted man feel better.

“It’s ok,” you pant in answer, catching his hand to place it on your breast. “Cum for me, Jack. I know you need it.”

He buries his face in the bend of your neck; you’re not sure if the sound he makes is a moan or a sob, as he thrusts as deep as he can inside you, bathing your cervix with the hot flood of his seed. He continues to hold on to you as though you are the last sane thing on this earth, and you let him, your legs still wrapped around his narrow hips, your hands smoothing across the muscles of his broad shoulders.

Only much, much later, does it seem to dawn on him what he’s done–and maybe just who he did it with. He draws back to look at you with concern written in those big brown puppy eyes, smoothing your hair away from your face. You can’t help but close your own lids; jesus, how you missed his touch. You feel utterly breakable in that moment, but he’s the one who needs healing right now, so you get your shit together, gather it all back up tight and shove it down in your lockbox of a heart.

Before he can apologize or say something stupid, you pull him down to rest on your breast, the way you’ve done a hundred times before. Surely the muscle memory of it is as comforting for him as the act in the moment itself. “It’s ok, Jack. Just rest. I’ve got you.”

He sags against you, curling that powerful body around yours–and falls asleep.

You were right, of course. Your heart feels exactly like it’s been fed through a grinder, as you hold this beautiful manchild in your arms, your thighs deliciously sticky with his cum. A part of you hopes that he’ll just sneak out in the morning without waking you. It would almost hurt less, than any excuse he’ll have to offer you, when the sun comes streaming through your window.

***

But when next you wake, it’s not to the sun, or the shift of weight on the mattress while a large man tries to slip out without a sound. It’s to wet kisses upon your neck, and an agonizingly gentle touch sliding down your torso, tracing the ladder of your ribcage and the swell of your belly, before making his way up again.

“You know,” he says softly against your cheek, “you really shouldn’t open the door to anyone in the middle of the night.”

You wonder if he can see you rolling your eyes in the dark. But then his lips touch yours, and the urge to argue with him for argument’s sake dissipates into thin air. Instead you opt for honesty, the spell of intimacy not yet broken in the shadows of what must be early early morning.

“I think…I knew it was you.”

He lets out a shuddering sigh, kissing your jaw, then lower.

“Baby…” It feels so good, to hear him say it like that against your skin. You can almost forget it isn’t true anymore. You’re not his baby. You’re not his anything, even though he’s here in your bed, and his big hand is sliding down your belly again, his fingers combing through your curls. “Let me touch you?”

You really should say no.

“You don’t have to.”

He ducks to suck the soft skin of your breast lightly, then kisses it to soothe the burn. That luscious mouth…god it curls your toes. “I want to. I promise you.”

There’s so much you want to ask him. Things like why? And I thought you didn’t love me anymore? You’ve since reasoned that it’s the only way he could truly bear to break things off, the way he did. You certainly hadn’t had the strength to give him up, no matter what the stress of his occupation wreaked on you.

You don’t have the strength to say no. You do manage not to beg, like the needy little thing you are, with his big body curled over yours. You’ve always felt like nothing could touch you, with him by your side. As it turned out the only thing that could hurt you all along, was him.

You nod your assent before catching his mouth, sliding your tongue against his as his thick fingers explore your puffy slit, still wet from both of your juices. He makes a sound in the back of his throat that lifts every hair on your body, a delicious shudder running through your spine. His strong fingers circle your aching clit, just the way he knows drives you wild. Not too hard, not too soft. Fuck, this man has your number still.

You haven’t been with anyone, since the last time you were with him, despite your well-meaning girlfriends dragging you out to bars and trying to get you to forget this man who left your heart shredded like bomb shrapnel. Because deep down, you knew, you just knew this man ruined you, utterly fucking ruined you for anyone else. Who the fuck could compare? Not some asshole hoping for a one night stand down at TJ’s, that was for sure.

You realize you have tears running down your cheeks, you don’t know how it’s possible for it to be so good and hurt so much all at the same time.

Unfortunately when he moves to kiss your cheek, he notices. “Hey, hey,” he says, his hand stilling between your legs, making your hips writhe with frustration. “You ok?”

“No,” you answer honestly, reaching for him. He has you cradled in those big arms, and you can feel his manhood so firm and silky smooth against your hip. You are not ok, without him inside you right now. “Will you make love to me again?”

He pays you a ghost of that usual blinding smile, a thing a woman would sell her soul for, and it just breaks your heart all over again.

He never really answers you with words. The two of you move with pure magnetism, your leg hooking over his hip, pulling him close, inviting him inside. Without a condom, again, you think as he settles between your thighs, sinking inside you so smoothly. Maybe not smart, even though you're on birth control, but it’s the way you’re meant to be together, raw and no barriers between you. As usual, he fucks you and makes love to you all at the same time, looking into your soul while he does it, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever known. This time you cum together, and maybe it’s a little pathetic, the way you cling to each other in the darkness of your bedroom, like you really can stave off the misery of the outside world with this bit of human intimacy, your bodies inextricably entwined.

You fall asleep together, this time with your head on his chest, and as you drift you decide you’ll wake up and make him breakfast, and you won’t ask him any painful questions about what this means or if he wants you back, or if this is just a comfort fuck and you won’t see him again until the weight of the world gets too much–or maybe never, because this man is bound to find someone to settle down with. Someone he can’t bring himself to let go, the way he did you.

So you are so surprised, when you wake up, and you smell eggs and bacon and something sweet cooking. You stumble into the kitchen to find him in his blue plaid boxers, flipping a pancake, singing under his breath to R.E.M. on the radio playing low. He’s so beautiful it hurts, and it’s like your heart is gripped in an unforgiving fist.

He turns to see you in the doorway and offers you a smile. It’s still not quite the usual 100 watt Jack Traven special–he’s not feeling well enough for that. This man hides nothing, he’s so true, he wears it all on his sleeve for you. You love that so much about him, and it hurts like a knife between the ribs.

“Hey.”

“Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

You shouldn’t feel so shy about walking into your own kitchen.

But you aren’t sure where you stand. Do you kiss him, hug him, the way you want to, the way you used to? Or are you operating under one-night-stand-protocol? Play it cool, act like you barely even like the guy? It’s so fucked up, and you never wanted to be in this position again.

Sensing your hesitance, he crosses the floor to you, engulfing the side of your face in his big hand as he kisses you good morning, like nothing ever changed. “Hey,” he says again, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Jack.”

“Yeah, baby.”

You told yourself you weren’t going to ask painful questions. Remember? Remember that? So you just sigh, and close your eyes, and absorb this moment for what it is. “Do you feel better?” you ask. Another important question.

“Yes and no.”

You sigh again through your nose. The corners of his mouth twitch, because he knows you so well, and that one little gesture conveys a novel to him too.

“Thank you,” he says, for last night, and whatever else, you don’t really know.

“Any time.” You mean it, when you say it.

“Yeah?” There is a hint of his usual sparkle in his eyes as he asks this. And a part of you wants to pick a fight, to say I’m not the one who left. But maybe you have grown up a little, because you bite your tongue for now.

“Yeah.” You reach up to touch his hair, the soft spikes of his buzzcut like velvet beneath your fingers. You know he would have beautiful hair if he grew it out. You’d seen his high-school pictures. He had the potential for hair to make a grown woman weep.

Later, with your mouth full of pancake, you ask gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He flexes his jaw, looking out the window. He always bottled things up, before. He didn’t want to burden you with the hard things he saw at work. You didn’t want him to carry it alone. Usually you had to pry it out of him, because of course he refused to see the shrink at work.

You realize you are gobsmack surprised when he actually volunteers, “We had a hostage situation. A woman…died. The bank robber shot her. It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. It was the criminal’s fault. He brought a gun to a bank with the intention to steal money by any means necessary. You did your best.”

Once upon a time, he would have argued with you on that too. His jaw clenches as he thinks about it, argues with you in his mind, at least.

But this time in the end, he closes his eyes, nods. Reaches for your hand across the table. You take it, holding on to him. Those warm, strong fingers wrapped around yours feel like home, and you try not to start crying because you’ve missed him so much.

“Y/n…?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. For pushing you away.”

Once upon a time, you would have said something inane, like that’s ok. You’ve grown as a person too, and this time, you nod, because he does owe you an apology. “Thanks for that.”

“I know…I don’t deserve it. But maybe…if you’d let me…I could make it up to you?”

You close your eyes at hearing that, light headed. You might have fallen out of your chair, if not for his hand anchoring you.

“I would like that,” you admit, giving yourself points for not sounding too pathetic, and crawling across the table through the breakfast dishes to sit in his lap.

Then, he does flash you the 1000 watt Jack Traven smile, and the circuits in your brain melt.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you big idiot.” You’re really not sure if he pulls you, or if you get up and walk, but you find yourself in his lap with your lips on his, his strong arms wrapped around you and his lips on yours. He rocks you like a child, smiling against your mouth between stealing kisses.

“I love you.”

You feel as though the desert of your heart has suddenly undergone a superbloom, the ferocity of your love making you lightheaded.

“Jack…”

“Yeah?” He really is smiling now, in between kissing you, cute little snatches of sweetness all over your face. With hands on his cheeks you catch his lips, smiling against his mouth after a long smooch.

“I love you too. But if you ever break up with me for any reason other than you don’t love me anymore, I might maim you.”

This wins you that radiant smile that curls your toes again. “So much for the Florence Nightingale oath.”

“Leave her out of it, this is between you and me.” He chuckles, and squeezes you again in his big arms.

“Alright. Consider me warned.”

“Good.”

His big hand runs up your thigh, that dark sparkle in his eyes that never fails to take your breath away. “I feel like I should start that making up I have to do here.” Suddenly you find yourself seated on your kitchen table, Jack smiling up at you from between your legs. He reaches for the syrup, and you can’t help but throw your head back with laughter, certain he’s teasing you. “You are going to make such a mess!”

“Honey, you’re the one going to be making the mess.” He has the nerve to smirk up at you before stealing your panties, and smearing syrup up your thighs.

#jack traven #jack traven x you #jack traven x y/n #jack traven x reader #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #speed #keanuverse #speed 1994

158 notes · View notes

plutopitou · 2 years ago

Text

◇ The price to pay

takami keigo | hawks x female reader

genre: dark content, angsty

You continue to fight and back talk Keigo. Even though he stole you away, couldn’t you see it was all useless? It’s the bed that you made and now you have to lie in it. | MDNI 18+

word count: 1.9k

warnings: yandere!hawks, he’s mean in this one :( , lowkey misogynistic themes but its hot cuz its him, degradation, smut, slight manipulation, dumbification, dub/con, rough sex, language not for the lighthearted

I did this so quickly in my standards and I’m kinda in love with it. Ok luv u guys bye bye

Keigo wondered why you loved to poke the sleeping bear.

Or better yet, why you continued to throw rocks at the big, scary predatory bird. It was the third time this week you did this.

You anxiously pick at your cuticles feigning a face of disinterest. You didn’t have to raise your head to see Keigo’s hard, amber stone eyes lock onto your sitting figure, trying to penetrate the fort you built.

It’ll all crumble down eventually, he thought.

You always mentally complimented how much you loved that glass white rice bowl, peppered with small colorful flowers and blue trims. Its fragments are scattered on the wood floor with steaming white grains , shattered into a puzzle you don’t think you can put back together.

“Clean it up.”

Your stomach jolts from his stern voice, anticipating possibly the worst any second. If you knew anything about the hero, it was his unpredictable nature. Yet still, you seemed to toy around knowing that.

He comes back with a bowl in his right hand, pushing to you a glass of water. The table rattles with him settling his rice bowl in front of his chair with a perfectly centered yellow egg yolk.

“And if I don’t?” You sip on the water, watching him sit and begin to eat without you. He knew if you won’t eat, you’ll drink something instead.

Keigo isn’t fazed as this game as been played out. It wasn’t the first time you’ve acted out before. There’s been tipped over expensive dishes, slit furniture coughing up stuffing, pulled knives, and hair cut in spite.

You always thought back to when your parents sit you down and had the the talk of what to do if you’re in a bad situation. It was to run. The answer was to always run away, but what help could that ever do when the chaser was right above you.

“Why do you always insist on fighting me, hm?” He asks. “Haven’t all my furniture suffered enough?” He chuckles pushing a slab of rice into his mouth.

With each slice on the fabric you screamed with it, pondering why couldn’t it be him instead. He held no fear to you like you did him, you are still a little kitten trying to bear its claws.

“You can pretend to be some picture perfect hero all you want, climbing the ranks to gain the trust of the public..” You slam down the glass. “But you know you’ll never be number one. And when the day comes that everyone finds out how much of a goddamn fake you are, I’ll be laughing with the rest of them..”

“you’re a fucking psychotic fraud.”

You were scared. Keigo knew that.

From the day he wisped you away, it was a challenge to pry a moment where you weren’t always so angry. Yet you were still so easy to steal away from everyone. That Thursday morning he first met you, he could count on one hand how many days it took until you gagged underneath him, a drooling, mumbling mess. So beautiful, sweet and kind; always saying sorry even if it wasn’t your fault, you were just that type of gentle person.

You were just so.. easy.

Surface level, there was still a phantom feeling of that Keigo walking past you in the morning making breakfast, performing a stellar act as a normal being. That deep rooted desire locked away behind your heart, it was so obvious you kept that vision of him in front of you trying to forget the sour identity. But you wished he would stop lying. You poke and prod until he clenches his jaw and just wants to hit you.

He can forgive his baby for being a little upset they don’t have full control over themselves anymore. He forgave you for slashing his furnishings, breaking his fine china and pulling weapons out on him in wrath. But there was something special in the way you set your foul agenda on the goal he just can’t seem to grasp.

You knew that.

“Clean that up and go. You’re done for tonight.” Was all he uttered. You quietly finished half of the water before cleaning up your mess. From Keigo’s sudden quietness you choose to end it right there, the last thing you wanted to do was feel bad for the words you said.

You anticipated some sort of reaction from the red-winged hero, however he won’t spoil when you’re gonna get it- and you will.

Walking into the room was nothing less than a haze, wondering if the events from earlier even happened, feeling like some sort of obscure dream. Why couldn’t you remember walking into the room? Or passing out on your shared bed you’re forced to lay in.

There was a time in your childhood you were always so dizzy. You get up too fast, you fall right back down where you came from. The lights flashed in front of your eyes and you’d wake back up wondering if it was the next day.

In another life maybe the circumstances would’ve been different, but this is the life you’re living now.

Your eyes peel open, a proding sensation deep in your mouth.

You’re forced to breathe thrrough your nose, immediately gripping onto the strong wrist maneuvering the fingers in your throat. Your eyes advert to Keigo looking down at you, predatory gaze locked and unmoving.

The situations settles in your stomach, feeling you body laid over his lap, head cushioned on the bed while Keigo continues to fuck your mouth. Tears bubble on your lashes, spitting out as he teases the warm cavern.

“You up now, baby?” He whispers. “Are you ready to apologize now, hm?” He pulls out, you choke and gasp trying to fill up on as much air before he takes it from you again.

The spite he emits during his violations is the type to make you plead and cry. Were you perfectly confident in the idea that he wouldn’t kill you one of these days? That he certainly had enough and would let you cum one last time before you pass out and ponder if you’ll wake up again? Would he try and fuck your passed out body until he came inside in an attempt to awaken you in your slumber? Was he that unhinged?

You moaned a cry, your hips scrambling to get up, his strong hold on your face keeps you still.

“You know I try really hard, sweetheart.” He pushes his hand back inside. “Everytime you act out, it’s because I let you- fuck, yes gag for me.” You trash on him. “But you just keep trying to shove me until I don’t wanna place nice anymore.. is that what you want, hm?” He asks mockingly. His sharp handsome face getting closer as he coos at your cute little whimpers and sharp inhales through your nose, tempting him to close it shut so you can really feel how much power you have. “Would you rather I chain you up, keep you in a dark room until I come and fuck you full of my cock and leave? Do you like this shit or something?” He asks exasperated.

Keigo pulls his hand out of your hot mouth, strings of spit chaining you to him. Heaving, you shoot out whatever you can to defend yourself. “No, Keigo, please-“

He quickly clasps on your soft, slender neck, gripping to shut you up, he didn’t care for your excuses. “Nu-uh, you’ve talked enough today, baby.” Keigo slides his free hand over the cloth of your panties, teasingly dipping in from the sides, loving the warm sensation of your slick already soaking through. “That’s all you do is talk, and talk, and talk. You’re much better off shutting up and taking what I give you.” He looms over you, “Mhm, just shut the fuck up and take it pretty baby, here.”

You cry as Keigo pushes three fingers inside your slick cunt, taking it eagerly like he’s never spoiled you before. He gasps at the throbbing sensation of your wet tunnel, his lips ghosting over yours, sucking up your cries and soul with it.

You never seem to fucking understand, don’t you? Each vile word and insult- you had this coming, you couldn’t be so stupid to not see it? Was the taste of the spiked water not obvious enough or were the nerves of anticipating something else in that moment so distracting you couldn’t feel the fatigue stir in your body? He wanted to laugh.

You’re a bumbling mess, not even a coherent being anymore with your sentences jumbling together not making any sense; completely focused on thrusting up your waist attempting to feel him go deeper.

His fingers curl against the side of your soft flesh, causing you to flinch .

“Fuck, I love it when you cry, it’s alright- cry more.” He whispers, watching your tears fall attentively. “Your sweet, drooling face, baby, you look so pathetic and I love it.” He rambles, voice low against your cheek, the grip on your neck is almost bruising and you revel in the fear. He knows you do in the way you clumsily wither in his grip, not to get away but a silent plead to give what you truly want.

The clench of your pussy was enough of a clue to say you’re ready to cum if he’ll let you. You whine on his side, Keigo’s small laughs at your desperation left you feeling so restless.

“You wished it was my cock instead, right, baby? But you don’t deserve that, no, not after this shit you keep pulling.” Your voice gets caught up in your throat as he squeezes harder. He jackrabbits your little cunt with his hand, gasping at your expression and the lewd aura of your crying pussy. “I’m so obsessed with you, sweet girl, fucking cum on me baby, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Keigo rambles holding your body closer to his heat, mumbling such obscene and vulgar language for you, how much he loves your slutty body, how he can spit in your mouth and slap you and somehow you’d still end up on your knees asking for forgiveness.

The room echos with your choked gasps and squelch from his hands, giving any porn video a run for their money. You roll your eyes feeling warm liquid squirt from your cunt on its own accord, completely soaking Keigo’s wrist. He didn’t mind, instead continued to pump your sore pussy searching for more until there was no more left, teasing your wet folds till you flinched just because he can.

Your figure is slumped against the bed, Keigo looking over you fucked-out body in approval. He holds you close to his sitting figure as you doze off again. There were only so many times he would willingly let you pretend to have an upper hand on the unstable relationship he forced upon you.

Keigo would never deny the role he plays when it comes to you. Was he any different than the Gods at these shrines people pray to? All forgiveness of apologies was his decision to accept and they were only accepted with crude prices.

And if you continue to sin, it’s in your best interest to get on your knees in front of him and start praying.

Haha I got writers block writing Dabi’s story and might rewrite parts of it, but here’s this treat in the mean time <3

Also life got a little tough but I’m happy to have an outlet. Hope to upload Dabi’s next ★彡

Please like, reblog and follow ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

229 notes · View notes

pleasantanathema · 4 years ago

Text

Santa Daddy | Jean Kirstein x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Daddy kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, mutual pining, friends to lovers (or, rather, idiots to lovers), lots of holiday fluff

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift to @whats-her-quirk 🎄💕 June, thank you so much for being a wonderful friend; I was truly lucky and privileged to get you as my Elf for Secret Santa! I hope this fluffy (and dirty) little fic with our best boi Jean brings you some holiday cheer!

There were only a few things in the world that made you happier than watching Jean Kirstein smile. Like most of your friends, you’d met him through work, but there was always something so special, almost magical, about seeing his darling smile and hearing his boisterous laugh. And you rarely passed up on a chance to see delight spread across his handsome face, which is why you couldn’t say no when he asked you to join him on a get-a-away with your friends for the holidays.

The inquiry came after you mentioned how you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays due to a winter storm blowing in. It would be the second season in a row that the weather kept you from visiting home.

You could still hear his voice in your head, “alone? For Christmas?”

He’d then insisted you join him and his friends at Sasha’s family cabin. It was tradition for them, a gathering of misfits finding communion together out in the wilderness for a few days before the new year. You had taken trips with your friends before to amusement parks, festivals, even to the beach at Armin’s request, but something about being invited to an intimate setting to celebrate holiday traditions had you anxious.

So, there you were, swaddled in blankets, listening to Eren bicker with Mikasa while Sasha and Connie bustled in the kitchen to make eggnog and treats. Armin had declined to join, citing that he’d seen too many horror movies about young adults alone in cabins to feel comfortable making the trip.

And, true to form, Jean was running late. He was always late, his mind constantly moving a mile a minute unless he consigned himself to much needed rest and relaxation. Though, this time, you felt a little lonely while waiting for him on the couch, like there was a small part of you missing as you watched the snow fall outside.

“So, none of you guys go home for the holidays?” You looked over toward the modest, plastic tree that Sasha had thrown down from her attic to bring a little holiday cheer to the living room, a few poorly wrapped presents and bags nestled under the branches.

“Well,” Eren cleared his throat, “we are orphans.” He pulled at Mikasa’s scarf for emphasis.

“Oh fuck, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry about, he just always brings it up to get sympathy gifts.” Mikasa sighed, jerking the red cloth from his hands and scowling. Eren only laughed, brushing a stray hair from his face that had come loose from the bun at his nape.

You sunk a little deeper into the cushions, eyes glancing out the window in hopes you’d see headlights flash in the driveway.

“Do you think Jean’s okay? He should’ve been here a while ago and the storm is getting closer.”

“Jean, Jean, Jean,” Sasha trotted into the room, balancing a mountain of sweet-smelling cookies on a plate, “you’re always worried about him.”

“Someone should be, guy’s an idiot.” Eren chimed in, green eyes shining from the low flames rolling in the fireplace. He and Mikasa were sitting in the floor, a game of checkers spread out before them, with more stolen pieces resting near the cunning Ackerman’s side of the board.

Eren wasn’t wrong, but over the years you’d known your group of friends, you’d noticed just how much the man in question had grown. In his early twenties, Jean had been quite the bumbling fool, having literally met you by bumping into your shoulder while leaving work, only to look at you and mumble “god you’re beautiful,” before issuing a quick apology as he rubbed at his neck sheepishly. You’d never mentioned the moment again, though your stomach still churned with a slight thrill every time you thought about it.

But over the years he’d managed to turn that puerility into something much more charming. He was more refined, almost infuriatingly suave, easily gaining attention from anyone and everyone. And though you sometimes hated to admit it, he’d captured your thoughts as well.

You kept your budding crush on Jean Kirstein close to your chest, not admitting it to any of your close friends. You always figured he was out of your league, seeing that he had a new, more beautiful girlfriend just about every other month. But, despite your simmering feelings, you still allowed yourself to get closer and closer to him over the years—some might say he’s your best friend, but you might call him your most treasured vexation.

Another hour or so went by, your time spent nibbling at cookies and reminiscing with everyone about another year passed.

Then the door finally opened, cold air gusting into the small living room as Jean stomped his damp boots on the entry mat.

“Have you guys opened presents yet?”

You glanced over the back of the couch, heart tugging in your chest as you noticed snow dusted in his long hair and a sizeable red and white polka dot package in his hands.

“No because Christmas is tomorrow, or did you forget that too?” Connie said it with crumbs in his mouth, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

Jean laughed, running a hand through his hair before wrapping the gift in his arms like it was something valuable.

“I know, I know, and sorry I’m late, had something important to go get.” He smiled, bright and cheery, hazel eyes bouncing between his friends and the carefully guarded box, “I ask because…uh, this needs to be opened kind of soon.”

“Is it perishable?” Sasha perked up, already ready to go make room in the fridge if something delectable was waiting as a gift.

“I mean…you could say that? It may or may not be alive.” He was laughing, that kind of infectious laughter that had everyone in the room grinning whether they wanted to or not.

Jean didn’t set the present down to even take off his shoes, instead tracking snow in with him and plopping onto the couch with flurries still on shoulders. He nudged your knee with his, pushing the present toward you. You pressed your lips together, hands getting sweaty as you pieced the puzzle together.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” his grin was pulling at his cheeks, eyes so sincere and happy and it almost startled you, “it’s for you.”

The top of the box moved, the green bow popping on top of the polka dots.

You moved the gift into your lap, pulling off the top to find perky ears and green eyes peering up at you—a kitten, grey and striped, with long, white whiskers and a pink bow around its neck greeted you with muted curiosity. You just stared at it for a moment, and it stared back, like you were both wondering just how it got into your lap.

“I just,” Jean was getting nervous, carding his fingers through his hair again as he waited for your reaction, “I wanted to make sure you’d never spend another holiday alone, you know?”

You carefully picked up the little cat, watching how it stretched and yawned as you pulled it from the carefully lain blanket inside its temporary home.

You smiled, pulling the warm little bundle to your chest.

“Um, Jean, this cat has six toes on her paws,” you said, pressing your thumb gently against one of the extra appendages in question.

“Six toes?!” Sasha was jumping up from her seat, bounding over to kneel in front of you and pluck one of the kitten’s paws into her fingers. The cat quickly pulled its paw back, little black toe beans curling to its chest.

“Yeah, it’s what drew me to her. She’s extra special…” you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, a little musing of “just like you,” but any hushed murmur was overshadowed by the ohs and ahs of your friends gathering around to look at the adorable little creature.

The kitten had been lulled to sleep by the car ride from the shelter to the cabin, content to just curl up in your arms as inquisitive fingers prodded at her little kitten mittens and the silky, white tufts in her ears. Even Mikasa was enraptured by the tiny animal, taking the time to retie the little pink ribbon around her neck to make a bigger, prettier bow.

You noticed how your friends were whispering, cheeky grins pressed against eager ears as they looked between you, the precious kitten, and Jean on the couch. You were starting to feel like you were missing something, or maybe that you were at the end of a joke you hadn’t caught on to yet.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Jean after the fuss died down, everyone returning to their seats and back to their previous fixations.

You’d mentioned perhaps wanting a cat a few weeks ago; it was just a silly, off-hand comment you made over coffee about how you’d once read that people with cats live longer because they pick up on the nine-lives of their feline partner. You didn’t believe it to be true, but you’d mused about the idea of having a cute kitten of your own to snuggle up with on lonely nights.

“I know it’s sudden and a lot of responsibility, so if you don’t want her—”

“No,” you cut Jean off, bundling the kitten a little closer in your arms, your heart singing as you felt her start to purr, “no, I want her, she’s perfect.”

Jean finally started to get settled himself, standing up and shrugging off his jacket. He was in a tight turtleneck, coal black threads stretched to their limit across his broad chest and shoulders, hugging his trim waist. You were careful not to stare for too long as he stretched his arms above his head to shake off the weariness of his drive through the snow.

He always looked like he stepped out of a fashion catalogue, fresh and so put together that sometimes you were tempted to snap his photo when he wasn’t looking; he just looked that good all the time. He loved to wear designer clothes and keep up with the latest menswear trends, and tonight was no different, that beautiful black turtleneck (that was covered in grey fur) undoubtedly belonging to a designer whose name you probably couldn’t pronounce.

“What are you gonna name her?”

He sat a little closer this time on the couch, a brawny arm outstretched behind you as he leaned over to scratch at the kitten’s chin.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, gazing down at the serene, sleepy face in your arms, “I’ll have to get to know her first.”

“Well, I’ve been calling her Frankie.”

“Frankie?” You smiled through your confusion, the name sounding oddly right.

“She was pretty wild in the car and kept meowing when Frank Sinatra was on the radio.”

“I see,” you laid the kitten down into your lap, sweeping your fingers through her fur and watching as she curled up into a tighter little circle, “well, I’ll consider it.”

You felt warm, heavy fingers brush against the back of your neck, Jean absentmindedly painting figure eights into your prickling skin. Heat flushed to your face as you realized just how close your bodies had become—his thigh was pressed against your own, dark jeans tight and hot, the scruff of his cheeks brushing against your own as he toyed with the sleeping cat’s tail.

There were voices all around you, the muffled sounds of your friends relaxing together falling almost on deaf ears. Your whole world felt like it just revolved around this couch, like nothing else mattered beyond the simple touches to your skin and the drowsy kitten beneath your hands. He never wanted you to spend another holiday alone, you replayed his words, the sweet sentiment finally settling into your spirit.

_______________

You could tell everyone was starting to get a bit sleepy, a few hours spent drinking spiked eggnog and chasing the new kitten around with a feather toy having left you especially exhausted. Your head was a little swimmy as you bid everyone goodnight, the grey tabby cat following closely on your heels to your bedroom where Jean had already brought in a litter box and a bed for her to sleep in. Jean, underneath all the designer bravado and smiles, was perhaps the most thoughtful person you knew.

But despite the heaviness in your head, you couldn’t seem to sleep. You tossed and turned in the bed, occasionally picking up your phone to scroll through it or just watch the time tick by. You had a lot of thoughts mulling around in your mind, most of them revolving around the man sleeping just right across the hall.

Never in a million years did you expect Jean to walk in with a beautiful, perfect kitten as a gift. The little thing was back to sleeping again, this time curled around one of your feet, each exhale a little purr against your toes.

You’d carried the weight of this crush around for too many years. You rubbed your palms against your eyes, sighing as you came to terms with your feelings for Jean for what felt like the thousandth time. Your pining was starting to take its toll, too, what with the sleeping giant so close yet so far away.

And you still felt like you were missing something.

Throughout the night, your friends had seemingly been playing coy, teasing Jean about getting you such a big, sentimental gift. Maybe they had all caught wind of your suppressed feelings and were poking at Jean for even daring to indulge you. Now you were just getting frustrated with your thoughts, sighing as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to sleep.

But then you heard a little sound, the soft buzz of your phone against the wood of the night stand.

Jean: You awake?

Your heart skipped a little in your chest as you saw his name flash upon your screen. You texted him nearly every day, yet he never failed to send a little jolt of adrenaline down your spine.

You: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

Jean: Me either. Cabin is too fucking cold.

You: I have a kitty asleep on my feet, definitely helps beat the chill.

Jean: A warm kitty sounds nice right now.

Only a few seconds passed before the next message appeared.

Jean: Wanna come keep me company?

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment, your mind not even thinking about the words in front of you. Instead, you were picturing Jean in his bed, hair tussled with his own phone in his hand as he texted you, light spilling over his bare chest in the dark. You wondered what he was thinking—maybe he just wanted you to bring the cat over to see him for a bit, or maybe his mind was wandering in the same place yours was, which was picturing him naked beneath his sheets.

You set the phone down, momentarily starting to panic.

You hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Jean might be asking you to come get in his fucking bed with him. Thank god you took a leisurely shower earlier—and you still smelled good, you checked.

You stood up from the bed, watching the kitten stretch and quickly fall back asleep on top of the blankets. You bent down to slip on your pajama pants, but then found yourself debating if you should just leave the flimsy material behind.

If this was what you were hoping it was, walking in without pants would send the “I got the hint, I’m here to fuck,” message loud and clear.

But if this was just “hey pal come keep me company, I’m bored,” walking into his room in nothing but a shirt and panties could be quite awkward.

You decided to hedge your bets, stuffing your pajama bottoms back into your bag as that lingering liquid courage from the eggnog set in. If worse came to worse, you could always say you forgot to pack them.

You carefully closed the door behind you, making sure the cat didn’t follow.

Then, it was literally just a few steps to Jean’s room. Conveniently, his door was cracked. Did he get up and leave it open for you? Did he always sleep with his door cracked? Or had he planned all along to ask you to come over?

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. Those inessential thoughts needed to be quieted.

The door creaked as you slid past it, the old hinges signaling your arrival and making Jean’s attention whip towards you. His phone was still in his hand, like was watching your messages and too-eagerly anticipating your reply.

“Hey,” you whispered into the darkness, wincing as the door kept groaning as you pushed it shut behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, too nervous to just waltz up to his bed and fall in. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to break the silence.

“Aren’t you cold?” He whispered back, shifting in the bed.

His figure was illuminated by the pale, grey light from window, the snow clouds still keeping the moon suppressed in the sky. Like you’d imagined, he was shirtless, all those hard-earned muscles on display from where he was propped up on his elbows, sheets low against his waist.

“I thought you were cold, Mr. No Shirt.”

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“I’m not wearing pants,” you parroted back.

You watched the smile spread across his face, that darling, infuriatingly pretty smile that made you a little too happy in this moment.

He pulled his sheets back in invitation, revealing that he, too, was not wearing pants, only clad in blue boxer briefs that were sinfully tight around his upper thighs, etchings of Calvin Klein pressed against his lower stomach.

His hands were on you before you even settled onto the mattress, warm and greedy and pulling you flush against his body. All those worried thoughts you had before vanished under his touch, the message you had been missing suddenly loud and clear: you weren’t the only one hiding your feelings. All those veiled emotions came alive beneath wandering hands, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as his found the flesh of your thighs.

“Was this what you were thinking about when you invited me here?”

You breathed in the smell of his warm skin as you settled against him, notes of his cologne still lingering against his body.

“This is what I think about all the time,” he confessed, nudging his thigh between your legs.

You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your mouth as the muscles of his thigh pressed against your aching core.

“Me too,” you were pulling his face down to yours, thumbs against his cheeks as you pressed your lips to his.

A satisfied sound rang from both of your throats, lips melding and slanting against one another hungrily.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” His words were lost within the kiss, being swallowed down as you kept drinking him in.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You echoed back, gasping as his hands slid underneath your shirt and began to wander across your belly, reaching up toward your ribcage.

You both knew the answer to that: you were idiots, too scared to admit feelings even though they were clearly on display for everyone around you. But now the question didn’t matter, all the answers you wanted about to be shared between your anxious bodies with starved kisses and touches.

You shamelessly pressed yourself a little harder against his thigh, sighing as your pussy found relief against his leg. He groaned at your action, moving his thigh back and forth a little bit to see how you would react. When you whimpered, your own thighs squeezing around his, he smirked, repeating the motion of sweeping his thick, sturdy thigh back and forth between your legs.

“You like that?” His head was tilting down, teeth nipping at your jaw and down your neck as your head fell back against the pillow.

“Y-yes, feels so good.”

His hands were still traveling, wandering across your heated skin like he wanted to map your curves into his memory. He groaned against your throat when he discovered you’d also forgotten to wear anything under your t-shirt, his thumbs lazily brushing the undersides of your breasts.

You felt like you were burning beneath his sheets, like he was painting fire against your skin with every touch. His large hands engulfed your breasts, carefully kneading and rolling your soft flesh in his palms. He was eager to kiss you again, to slip his tongue past your parted lips and get addicted to your taste.

Jean pinched and pulled at your hardening nipples, greedily taking your little mewls into his mouth. He touched you like he already knew you, pulling at your body like you were the perfect little sex doll on strings for him to play with; rocking you on his thigh, tugging at your nipples, tongue dancing in your mouth, his hair tickling your cheeks, his cock hard and hot against his stomach.

Your panties were getting more and more wet by the second, the soaked material sinking into your folds as you rubbed yourself against the downy hairs and rounded, solid muscle of his upper thigh. His boxer briefs were bunching closer to his hips, pre-cum already staining against the fabric where his cock was imprinted into the threads. You slipped your hand down his impressive chest, fingers dipping into the elastic of his briefs.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned against your lips, pulling back to suck in a breath as your fingertips brushed against the head of his cock, “fuck you’re so hot riding my thigh like that, so fucking wet.”

“You did say you wanted a warm kitty.”

Your words had him pinching harder at your nipples, making you gasp as he chuckled.

“Mhm I can’t wait to play with your kitty, make you mine,” he punctuated his sentence by bouncing his leg up, sending electric pulses of pleasure racing over your nerves.

You responded by pulling his cock from its confines, wrapping your fingers around it and tugging at the silken skin. God he was thick, barely fitting in your palm as you moved your wrist up and down. You suddenly felt so small against him, realizing that he was dwarfing you just by lying next to you in the bed. His long, thick fingers could spread across the entirety of your chest, the thigh sliding against your pussy was enormous, but it felt like it belonged there; you could get used to riding him like this.

You both fell into a frenzied, delirious rhythm, your bodies bucking and panting as you found bliss against each other.

His hands slid down your body, leaving your tender breasts and searching for a new home. He found your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked you back and forth against his thigh himself, using the strength in his forearms to have your pussy pressed down against him in the most perfect way to have you seeing stars and whining his name.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum just from riding me?”

“Fuck, yeah, yes, please, make me cum like this.”

Your hand had gone slack against his cock, your mind almost unable to concentrate under the waves of pleasure building and coiling inside you.

It felt too good to have his rapacious hands on your hips, grip mean and tight as he basically fucked you against his thigh. You wanted to scream, your other hand clawing at the back of his neck for stability.

“Baby,” he breathed, peppering a few kisses along your cheek, “could…could you call me daddy when you cum?”

There was a hesitancy in his voice, like he was ashamed to ask such a thing.

Your lower belly clenched, heat racing across all your nerve endings like he’d just poured sin straight out of his mouth.

You nodded your head for him, uncontrollable moans and gasps getting in the way of your own words. The thought of calling him daddy, that sent something wicked down to your pussy, had your fingers squeezing and tugging at his cock again and your eyes falling shut.

It felt like your sanity was breaking, like reality was splintering and this wasn’t real—you were dreaming again, weren’t you? But then you felt his cock twitch in your hand, felt your swollen clit brush against your panties and his thigh, and you were thrusted back into the actuality of your situation. You were with Jean, he was groaning in your ear, and you were about to cum all over him.

“D—da…,” you were choking, so overwhelmed with a final cresting of bliss that you almost felt like sobbing.

But he just clutched you more tightly, pressed you harder against him, whispering your name in encouragement to let yourself go for him.

Then, you lost all of your sensibilities, euphoria washing over your body as you snapped and came undone with a little whine of, “daddy,” against his lips. You slowed the rocking of your hips, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy pulsing and clenching as you rode out the last remnants of your orgasm.

“Holy fucking shit that’s so hot, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, one of his hands smoothing against your cheek.

“Wha—,” you smiled, shaking your head as you caught your breath, “what are you doing with a daddy kink, Jean?”

He mimicked your smile, hands moving to slide your ruined panties down your legs and removed the rest of your clothing as he repositioned your bodies. You let him move you around like a ragdoll, so delirious in your afterglow that you barely even registered how he was hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

“Do you not like calling me daddy?” There was a seriousness laced into his tone that told you he’d drop it if it made you uncomfortable.

“I like it,” you fisted one of your hands in his hair, bringing his lips to yours for a slow, messy kiss, “just didn’t expect it.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.”

You felt the head of his cock nudge between your wet folds, his hands back on your hips where they belonged. Your head fell back against the pillow as he started to push inside of you, stretching your walls and making your toes go almost numb from the pleasure. You felt like you were splitting apart, like a fissure was forming down the middle of your body, stemming from where he was spearing into you.

With your legs on his broad shoulders, he was pushing you into the mattress, his hands urging your hips to relax and let him sink into your warm heat.

“Ohhhh fuckkkk daddy,” you couldn’t help but to whine, all your senses suddenly overwhelmed again. You were drowning in him, falling deeper and deeper into the throes of heaven with every inch of his fat cock slipping inside of you.

“God you’re so tight,” he presses his forehead to yours, keen eyes watching how your lips were falling apart and your eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, “that’s right, daddy’s going to take such good care of you.”

It felt like all your history with him was being wiped away, like this moment wasn’t about two friends fulfilling all their years of mutual pining, but instead about a new relationship blooming between two bodies full of lust and desire. This was about Jean fucking you senseless, about him taking control and finally having what’s belonged to him for longer than he probably even realized. You wanted to lose yourself to him, lose yourself to his appetite and just let him devour you.

All the air left your lungs when bottomed out inside of you, your walls clenching and sucking him in. He stayed still for a moment, nearly lost himself at the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, dragging his cock out of you slowly before pressing in again, your cunt greedily sucking him back in.

“I always have been,” you teased, one hand lost in his hair while the other slid down the expanse of his back. You bucked your hips in his hands, coaxing him to keep moving.

“Oh fuck. Good girl.”

His praise made you feel drunk, liquid heat rushing to your ears and between your legs.

He began to snap his hips, repeatedly burying his cock into your depths, the angle of your body making him hit that fleshy patch inside of you. You cried out at the feeling of being so stuffed, your walls burning from the intrusion but that coil inside your belly tightening again, hotter and more intense than before.

“Mhmmm, such a good girl, I promise,” you pressed your lips to his in reassurance, letting your breathy moans fall into his mouth as he started to get a little rougher. His pace was steady, solid, a hard motion of his cock thrusting in and out of you, each push and pull full of purpose and passion. Every plunge was making your lower stomach spasm, making pleasure burst across your body so forcefully that you felt that urge to cry again.

“Wanted to fuck you for so long,” his face was tucked underneath your chin, mouth trailing across your throat between his words. A particularly hard suck against your neck had your back arching, breasts flattening against his chest and your nails clinging to him.

Jean sat back on his knees, big hands smoothing down your thighs as he looked to where your bodies were conjoined, watching how your pussy enveloped his cock with every thrust of his hips, sweet skin encasing all of his length. He looked enraptured by the sight, groaning and hissing every time he pressed inside of you.

Then his eyes were flashing up to your face, softening as he took note of your blissed-out state, your face flushed and your lip between your teeth.

“So pretty,” he mused, a palm ghosting up to your chest to toy with one of your tits as he found a new rhythm.

You were ensnared by the scene before you as well, eyes wide with delight as you admired the man before you. Jean felt unhinged, electric between your legs, like he’d finally let go and was pouring all his clandestine secrets into your willing body. His chestnut hair was swept over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and across his body rolling, rounded and thick like he was marble come to life. And his face was smooth, pretty, concentrated, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body.

Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

“Daddy,” you called out to him, having to bite back a grin as you observed how quickly you earned his attention, “you feel s-so good,” your hand was traveling down your chest, trailing over his fingers on your breast before snaking down to your clit, “p-please let me cum again.”

You had an inkling that he would take over for you.

His thick, long fingers hovered over your own, carefully aiding in swirling over your aching clit. You hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly.

Jean’s other hand slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, legs tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted. His thumb was almost impatient on your clit, now circling so quickly that your body was shaking, lower stomach clenching and unclenching repeatedly like you were lost in a reckless tide.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last with you squeezing me like that, baby.”

Your mouth watered at the thought of him finding that ultimate pleasure inside of you. Your ears became tuned to the chorus of resonances between your legs, the sweet, wet sounds of skin against skin, of slick at the base of a fat cock, of Jean grunting your name like a lost prayer.

The final chord of your sanity was threatening to snap, you could feel it again, like he was pulling the strings of your body too tightly and you were going to splinter and break with just the right swipe of his thumb.

“I-inside,” you mewled, unable to keep your eyes open any longer as your thighs began to quake, “daddy—oh fuck, fuck—cum inside me, please,”

God you were so fucking close to falling off the edge, and he could feel it, using his grip to bring you even harder and faster down onto your cock to get you careening and falling again.

Your push into oblivion came when you heard him pleading, almost whining, above you, sweat dripping down his skin as his syllables flowed together, “please, please, please, fuck, cum for daddy, cum for me, please.”

You could both feel it, how you creamed around his cock, pussy sucking him in so deliciously tight that it caused him to lose all control. His fingers dug a little too deep, his cock throbbing and pumping deep inside of you with his release. It was like the world went quiet, like a blanket of snow fell onto your bodies and hushed your sounds and cooled your skin. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, like he was meant to be there. Your body relaxed, feeling like you were sinking into the mattress and he was the only thing keeping you from being lost.

When he finally pulled his spent cock from inside you, he wasn’t gone long. His hands were back on you again, pulling you in for simple, affectionate kisses and rubbing tenderly at the places he’d perhaps explored too roughly.

“Jean…” you cut yourself off with a yawn, fatigued limbs winding into his own.

His thigh found its home between your legs again, both of you groaning with a mixture of lust and disgust as you felt his cum drip into a mess between your thighs.

“Whatever it is can wait until morning, we need to sleep.”

“Oh fuck, it’s Christmas.”

He nuzzled your cheek, lips searching for yours.

“Mhmm, Merry Christmas, baby.”

You laughed, laying your head against his chest.

_______________

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it felt like you spent a small eternity in Jean’s bed before your eyes opened again. When you awoke, he was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with the kitten in his arms. She was ready to play, striped tail swishing as he dangled a toy mouse just out of her reach.

“What time is it?” You stretched, suddenly all too aware that you were still very naked beneath the sheets.

“It’s only eight, everyone else is still asleep aside from Mikasa who actually went for a run in the fucking snow.”

Jean smiled, hair tucked behind his ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized just how madly in love with him you were. You always aimed to make him smile, to hear him laugh, but to see him gazing at you in the morning sun with pure adoration shining in his hazel eyes had you practically melting into the bed.

“I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said, turning the kitten loose to run across the bed.

“You said a lot of things last night, daddy,” you teased, watching his cheeks turn a pretty pink at the mention of that name.

“I meant about you never spending another holiday alone. Because, you know, I’d like to…” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was genuinely nervous.

You sat up, running a hand down his arm before kissing at his shoulder, momentarily getting lost in the smell and feel of him.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

No one was surprised that the two of you, and the kitten, spent every single holiday together thereafter, mostly naked, and always smiling.

#jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #aot jean #aot jean kirstein #snk jean #snk jean kirstein #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #snk #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot #jean aot #jean kirstein fanfic

1K notes · View notes

nanagoswife · 3 years ago

Text

Noticing You, Noticing Me

Chapter Eight

Summary: More soft moments between reader and Obi-Wan as they enjoy being back together

W/C: 3.5k

Warnings: Not smut, but there is some intimacy? Not really though? Idk😅

- - -

Apparently, everyone knew about Obi-Wan’s arrival except for you. Anakin and Padmé were just the ones who participated.

As you walked through the halls, basically clinging to his arm, he laid his free hand on top of one of yours as he told you.

“I had also been talking with Anakin these last months, albeit, not as often as I was with you.” He paused to smile at you, gently squeezing your hand. “When I found out of my plans to come here, I wanted to find a way to surprise you. Then, Anakin came to mind.”

“Let me guess. You asked Anakin, then Anakin asked Padmé, and then Anakin told you what she had said.”

Obi-Wan smirked. “Sometimes I forget how well you know your brother.”

A small sense of pride filled you with that.

“But yes, that’s what happened. Of course I had first written to your parents about a few things. They were more than happy to hear that I could make my way over after so long. I think it was something about how their daughter was quite taken with me.”

He looked down at you with that cheeky smile once again. You shook your head and giggled as you lightly pushed him, only sending him slightly off balance.

His laugh filled the halls as he regained his steady pace.

“I do believe that she is quite taken with the prince of Coruscant. The princess couldn’t be happier.”

Obi-Wan’s crystal blue eyes stared into yours while he smiled. Slowly, he brought the two of you to a stop in front of one of the windows. The light of the sun reflected perfectly in his eyes.

When he turned to face you, both of your hands ended up in his one. Although you loved the feeling, you took one hand away to bring it to his cheek. A small giggle bubbled its way out of you at the feel of his beard as he leaned into your touch. The well trimmed hairs were scratchy but in the most delightful way.

Your eyes couldn’t leave his even if you wanted to. The sight of him like this held all of your attention as you slowly dragged your hand down to rest on his chest.

The fact that both of you were leaning in went hardly noticed. It felt so natural that you paid no mind to it. It was only as you were that few centimeters away from the other’s lips that you realized, but you didn’t pull away. No, this was something the two of you had come so close to once before, yet it now had a different meaning. This was more deserved than before.

You were so close until footsteps could be heard from the other end of the hall. Obi-Wan huffed out a sigh of annoyance but didn’t make any movement to pull away from your proximity.

“We really need to find a more private place,” he whispered, causing you to chuckle,

“If I remember correctly, not even that worked, Obi.”

All he did was groan and roll his eyes as his shoulders slumped. “You unfortunately make a good point, my dear.”

You chuckled before the person arrived in your area. When you turned to greet them, it was Varlo. Maybe it was your eyes just playing tricks on you, but he seemed absolutely miserable. More than he had been in the last two months, anyways. Apparently not having the popularity that he used to have was weighing on him more than you had thought.

“Good afternoon, Varlo,” Obi-Wan greeted with a bow from just behind you. As he did, you saw that a small piece of his hair fell out of place. He did nothing to put it back, though, as he stood up.

“Prince Kenobi,” he greeted briskly with a stiff bow.

He seemed rigid in his greeting. Had something gone wrong in a dispute? You weren’t super into the politics of your kingdom as he was, so you didn’t know what possibly could make him like this.

Varlo’s jaw seemed tense, like he was clenching it.

“Is everything alright?” you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. You could feel Obi-Wan shift uncomfortably behind you. Whatever was going on with Varlo was unsettling him just like it was for you.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I apologize. Just something occupying my mind. Anyways, I really came here to find you to tell you that our parents are putting together a small feast in honour of your arrival, Prince Kenobi.”

“Please, call me Obi-Wan. And thank you. I’ll be sure to thank them later although it’s highly unnecessary.”

“Oh but it is,” you cut in, flashing him a smile.

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Alright, alright. If you say so.”

“I’ll leave you two be. But, Y/N, I should mention that mom is putting this together. So, be prepared,” Varlo said with a playful smile.

You knew exactly what he meant. Whenever your mother would go into planning mode, she always made it the best. If it weren’t for the fact that Obi-Wan had told them before arriving, you would’ve assumed they only had a day's notice. In that case, it would be more toned down. Knowing that she had known well in advance, well, it would be extravagant.

Both you and Obi-Wan said your goodbyes to your brother before he turned away.

“Well, what shall we do until dinner?” Obi-Wan asked when your brother was far enough down the hall. Before you answered, you brushed those few strands of hair back into place.

“Have you unpacked yet?” You turned to look at him, seeing him shake his head no. “Why don’t we do that, then.”

His smile grew even more before offering you his elbow. “Sounds like a plan.”

At first, Obi-Wan felt a slight bit awkward. The last time he had a girl in his room, that wasn’t his mother, was Satine. Nothing had happened between them other than simple conversations.

With you, he was a little nervous. He wanted a life with you. Unlike with Satine, he felt like he could see himself with you for the rest of his life. Every part of him was drawn to you in a way that he had never felt in his life.

As the time went on though with you helping him where you could, it felt just as natural as everything else. Obi-Wan could feel himself relax more and more as the time passed.

By the time he had finished, you were sitting at the foot of the bed. Despite his insistence, you refused to make yourself more comfortable further up the bed. Instead you stayed where you were, intently listening to his ramblings. Some were stories from your time apart, others were just simply him muttering his thoughts.

Nothing changed though. You sat and listened, occasionally chiming in at certain details.

Once Obi-Wan was done, he sat beside you. It didn’t take long to find your hand so that he could intertwine his fingers with yours.

“So,” he started, “did that take all the time we had or is there still time?”

You giggled as you leaned against his shoulder. “I’m sure we have some time. Besides, who says we can’t be fashionably late?”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in curiosity. “Is there something your brilliant mind is working up?”

He watched as your cheeks flushed as you smiled coyly.

“Not really. But I did have an idea for after dinner.”

“And what might that be?”

You looked up at him, your cheeks burning an even darker shade than before. You opened your mouth to talk, but closed it before looking away again. It confused him.

“Darling?”

“Never mind,” you said quietly.

“If you think I would say no to whatever your plan is, I’m sure you’re wrong,” he said encouragingly. His free hand came up and turned your face towards him with his index. “What is it?”

When you stumbled over your words, he let his fingers trail along your jawline before cupping your cheek. It was a gesture to comfort you in your doubt, and it seemed to work. He could feel as the tension in your shoulders eased. Even the grip you had on his hand relaxed.

“I- I was thinking maybe… we could come back here after. Together,” you said. Quickly, you continue before he could react, “Not to do anything like, you know. Just to… sleep. And I was wondering if we could read that poetry book that we never finished that night because it was so beautiful and-”

Obi-Wan gently hushed you with a soft call of your name before you’d go into an endless ramble. “Yes,” he said in a breath. “Yes to all of it. Whatever you wish.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He felt you relax further against him. Almost on instinct, he wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Now, shall we head down to the feast your mother has put together?”

Chuckling, you lightly pushed off of Obi-Wan to sit up. “Are you sure you’re ready? She never goes halfway with these sorts of things.”

“Always.”

“Ok, so I may have underestimated what Queen Breha had planned,” Obi-Wan said with a sheepish chuckle.

What your mother had planned had even surprised you. All of the servants had been dressed in their best. The dining table was set to feed three times the amount of your group. The seven of you hardly made a dent in it all.

When it came to decorations, you would’ve thought that you would’ve been serving every king and queen there was. Yes, you were a part of a royal family, but you had never dined in such a fancy setup. You had thought your normal setup was over the top, but you were dead wrong.

Even Obi-Wan had seemed overwhelmed by it all. The enthusiastic call from your brother had distracted both you and Obi-Wan from your surroundings.

Apparently, despite actually arriving in time, the two of you were the last to arrive. Everyone else greeted you enthusiastically when you sat down after Obi-Wan pulled out your chair.

Varlo didn’t though. Like he was earlier, he had seemed preoccupied. That kept up during the whole meal. You didn’t pay much mind to it as your parents, Anakin, and Padmé all started a conversation lasting the whole meal.

Once you were all stuffed to the brim, Varlo had left. He said that he had something to attend to, yet he wouldn’t say what.

For the rest of you, the conversations continued as the servants all cleared the table without incident. Even if there were, it wouldn’t be a huge deal. Most of them you knew quite well, and so did your mother. They were all good people who strove to do their best in their role. You always smiled whenever you heard how happy they really were.

“Even I underestimated what she would do,” you replied, squeezing his hand gently as you walked down the hall to the sitting room that contained the poetry book.

Normally, your arm would be linked with his, but you didn’t feel like being that formal. You guessed he felt that same as he reciprocated the action without any protest. If he had said anything about it, you were sure that it would only be about how his thoughts were going down the same path as yours.

When you had gotten to the room you needed, you told Obi-Wan to wait as you quickly ran in to grab the poetry book. After you did, you resumed your hand holding all the way to your room first to change and grab some things.

You had disappeared behind your changing screen as he observed your room. There wasn’t much in your room. A few books on the shelf beside your desk, the satchel which held all of his letters that sat on the floor still next to your desk, your bed, and your changing screen.

Everything was going well until you were unable to undo the back of your dress. No matter how hard you tried, each attempt was met by failure.

There was no other choice other than to ask Obi-Wan to help.

Stepping out from behind the screen, you saw him looking out of your window. He had one arm across his chest while his other elbow rested against it as he stroked his beard. It looked as if he was lost in thought only to briefly smile to himself.

“Obi,” you called out. You hated to break his train of thought, but the longer this took, the longer it would be until you could get on with the night’s plan.

He turned towards you, looking slightly confused when you were still in the same lavender dress as before.

“I can’t get it undone, and I… I was wondering if you could help,” you said as you looked at the floor. It felt strange asking this of him. At the same time, it thrilled you. Nervousness took over in the end.

Obi-Wan walked over to you, taking your hands in his. He gently squeezed them in a silent question asking you to look at him. “Only if you want me to.”

You nodded. With a comforting smile, he led you back behind your screen. Turning around for him, his hands worked on the ties at your back. Each lace up your back slowly loosened as he made his way up, letting his fingers graze against your back.

As he made his way up, you couldn’t stop the shiver that went through you as his hand ghosted the bare part of your back. When he was done, he placed his hands on your shoulders, finger slightly under the material of the dress.

The sensation was one you had never felt before as his hands began trailing outwards, bringing the fabric with it. A part of you wanted him to continue, but you knew it was better when he had paused his gentle caresses.

“I’m sorry. I- I’ll let you get changed.”

“It’s alright, Obi,” you said as you turned to face him. “And thank you.”

With a shy smile, he went back to the main area of your room. A part of you wished you could’ve continued, but now wasn’t the time for that. Hell, you hadn’t even kissed yet.

Either way, you pushed it aside as you finished getting ready. Your sleep gown was much more comfortable than your dress. You wondered what Obi-Wan would think of the light blue gown that flowed more and was far less constricting.

When you walked out after changing, Obi-Wan’s breath hitched for what felt like the hundredth time today. He knew night gowns were nothing special, but you just looked so… beautiful.

The simpleness of it caught his eye immediately. Yes, you looked amazing in all of your day gowns, but this was just a new level he didn’t know was possible.

He must’ve muttered something about it because your cheeks turned flushed as you took on a demure stance.

Finally gaining some sense, he cleared his throat before speaking, “Shall we continue the evening?”

You nodded, walking over to him before taking his hand to make your way to his room. Although it was no secret that the two of you were together, you had to make sure you weren’t seen. People would most likely assume that something other than what you truly were doing would be happening.

The only people that were told were Anakin and Padmé. They had told you that they would make sure that no one saw either of you. Specifically in the morning. The plan was that Anakin would make sure the hall was clear as Padmé would come get you and escort you to your room. Of everyone, they knew that Obi-Wan wouldn’t take advantage of you. Plus, with your friend knowing of the night you and Obi-Wan had first read this book, she was quick to believe your true plans.

Thankfully, the hall was clear all the way to his room.

Obi-Wan had removed his jacket rather quickly, exposing his white tunic that lay underneath. There was a small area where his chest was slightly exposed, revealing hairs there that matched the colour of his beard.

A small part of you wanted to have the kind of courage that he did and unlace the top of his tunic for him, to feel some of the skin on his chest. That courage wasn’t there. Not a single part of you could muster up the ability to ask, but you didn’t need to. Obi-Wan had caught the way you were looking at him.

Taking a few steps to close the distance between you, he took your hands in his.

“It’s alright,” he said, placing one of your hands on his chest near the ties. “You can if you want. You don’t have to.”

His voice was quiet and soothing. That courage you thought you would never have? It was there now, slowly crawling out as he encouraged you.

Along with his comforting words, you moved your fingers to where the lace laid. With a shakiness, you brought your other hand up to help undo the knot. Before you could start untying it, he placed his hand on top of yours, squeezing gently for comfort.

“Relax,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this. Stop whenever you like.”

As he took his hand off of the two of yours, the final bit of courage filled you. Slowly, you untied the lace, loosening it until even more of his chest was exposed.

For a moment, you let your fingers graze over the exposed skin and hair. The golden curls on his chest made you smile as you briefly rubbed his chest.

This time, you gained even more confidence as you then let your hands glide down to his torso. Something in you wanted to see more, to feel more, but you weren’t sure if it was the best decision.

When your hands reached his waist, you stopped. Looking back into his eyes, nothing but warmth and sureness radiated from them.

“Go ahead. Like I said earlier, anything for you.”

You let out a shaky breath, gaining even more reassurance from Obi-Wan as you looked in his eyes. So, you let your hands clench the material of his shirt, pulling it up until he lifted his arms, letting the shirt fall to the ground.

You let your eyes explore the surface of his skin, noting every scar until you reached out to trace them all. He told you how many were from training, others from a battle years ago when a random group who wanted to dethrone his father attacked.

He worked hard to keep his breathing controlled as your hands explored the surface of his skin. Despite this, Obi-Wan knew that if you felt over his heart that you would be able to feel it racing.

As you traced over his scars, he couldn’t help but let his eyes fall closed. The thoughts that began to run through his mind were becoming intrusive. He didn’t want to rush into anything with you, though. What he didn’t want to do was scare you off and that meant having to keep this all under control.

Plus, he didn’t want to wreck your reputation. Something like this could ruin you, and that’s not what he wanted. You were doing so much good for your people. If they thought any less of you than they do now, he wouldn’t know how he would live with himself.

Instead, he closed his eyes so that he could quell the feeling of desire he felt for you. It was working too, until you reached his shoulders, trailing towards his collar bone.

Nothing could keep his breathing from picking up. The closer you came to his collarbone, the more he felt his want for you. But he wouldn’t let it happen. Not unless you wanted to, and you already had said that you wanted this to be purely just an innocent night. Just reading and sleeping.

So, he shifted slightly, taking a sharp intake of breath as your hand traced his collarbone.

This exploration lasted a few minutes as you looked over his freckles that were scattered across his shoulders. Obi-Wan took a deep breath as you traced his collar bone, shifting slightly.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, pausing your exploration. “Did I go too far?”

“What? No, of course not,” he said quickly to reassure you. “No, it’s just… maybe we should read now.”

Nodding, you went over to the bed. Obi-Wan joined you not long after.

After getting settled under the sheets, the two of you went into a familiar position like the night in front of the fireplace. Only this time, you didn’t stay awake long, falling asleep against Obi-Wan’s bare chest.

Everything, his warmth, the sound of his voice, the comfort of the bed, it all made you drowsy. Obi-Wan noticed and encouraged you, “Go to sleep, my dear. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

- - -

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @mackycat11 @generousrunawaydonut @imabeautifulbutterfly @animalgirl05 @blondekel77 @thereluctantherosrose @cosmicsierra @badbatch-simp24

82 notes · View notes

lovelyghostlyharmony · 3 years ago

Text

Yandere! Taehyung x reader

Taehyung liked you. Taehyung really liked you. That was why he had chosen you, wasn’t it? Because you were easy on the eyes and you had a head on your shoulders. Your heart was pure — at least, pure enough for him — and the sex between the two of you was great. The synergy was there. Personal chemistry was present. The only thing was that you were the first woman he had ever really liked this much.

This was his first real, committed relationship. He didn’t feel constrained or held down by your demand for exclusivity. On the contrary, it scared him how okay he was with it. To give up his freedom like that for an average girl like you? He would have laughed in anyone else’s face and told them to take a hike. Not you, though. And that fucking scared him.

Three months. It had taken you three months to burrow your way into his heart. You were some sort of witch. Perhaps you were a seductress. Yeah, that had to be it. There couldn’t be any other reason for his sudden, obsessive thoughts and overprotective behavior.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Tae, that’s my brother.”

“Didn’t like how he looked at you.”

“…did you miss the part where I said he’s my brother?!”

Who gave a fuck if a man was related to you? That wouldn’t stop him from making a move if he wanted to. There were some sick fucks in this world. Didn’t you understand that? Didn’t you understand that he was just trying to keep you safe and his?

But no, you couldn’t simply listen to him. You were independent. He had once liked that about you. Now, however, it pissed him off. It got in the way of you being the submissive woman he needed you to be. It needed to be squished.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a darkness lurking within your boyfriend. Sure, he could be mean, and sure, he pulled some tricks that bordered on abusive, but those things were child’s play compared to what truly lied below the surface. He could be far, far worse than he was. All it took was your love and attention to sow the seeds of darkness. You had made him comfortable enough to expose his genuine traits. If he was being honest with himself, this was your fault. If you hadn’t told him you would love him regardless of how much he changed during his work, then maybe he would have been able to help himself.

You stupid fucking girl. You should have never tempted a man like him with vows as impure as that. Had you thought him to be so noble that he would overlook your words and do the socially acceptable thing? No — you had to know that saying such a thing would serve to tempt a monster like him.

The game started with little quips here and there; nothing major. During a small argument, he had called you an ugly bitch beneath his breath. Of course, he had apologized after you had caught it and started crying. Although, that’s when he had first realized how insecure you were. Your appearance, your intelligence, the way you spoke, your personality traits — they were all free game. You didn’t like yourself as much as you let on. He would expose this gradually, and by the time you finally realized what he was doing, you wouldn’t be able to leave. You would think you were worthless. You would think you were nothing. You would be stuck with him, the sole one who could ever love a pathetic sack of crap like you.

Taehyung knew how much you would suffer through this process, but how else was he supposed to secure you at his side? You were beautiful and capable and bright and and and— God, you were his everything. In such a short amount of time, you were his everything. That was why he couldn’t risk you leaving.

He made it a goal to make you feel like utter garbage at every twist and turn. One day, he would no longer need to do this, but until that day came, he would just have to suck it up and be the villain.

The next technique he tested out was backhanded remarks beyond an argument setting. He would never forget how fast your head had snapped around to stare at him, eyes hurt and facial expression confused. You had been perplexed as to what had warranted him to say a thing like that. He had maintained his composure, however, and merely raised a brow. He had treated the circumstance like your reaction had been the odd thing about it all — not what he had said.

“I said your fuckin’ hair was nice!” He had snapped, rolling his eyes at your audacity.

You had whispered meekly, “you said it would be nice… if I bothered to get it trimmed every once in a while.”

To which he had shrugged callously. “Want me to make you an appointment somewhere? I know a guy that can work with anythin’.”

Much to his shock, you had asked him for the number of his stylist a few days following this event. You had even admitted that he had been right to say that your hair didn’t look the best. And that’s when Taehyung knew that you responded best to emotional conditioning in this horrendous art form.

So, when you tried to exit the house a few weeks later, he amped it up a bit. You were getting weaker by the day. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even want to look at yourself in the mirror. He’d had the pleasure of witnessing the grimaces you made when you were brushing your teeth in the morning; you didn’t even think you were sub-par anymore.

Why? Because in his eyes, you could always be better.

Much better.

You came into the kitchen with a slight bounce in your step. Taehyung didn’t even have to look up from his paperwork to know that you had done yourself up nice tonight because you thought you were going to an office party. Keyword: thought. The only thing that was going anywhere tonight was the rest of your self-esteem. Once that was gone, he could focus on your singularity. He couldn’t have you thinking you could exist without him, just as much as he couldn’t have you thinking you were anything without him.

“Okay, hun, I think I’m gonna head out,” you said softly, your voice low and your eyes cast to the ground.

You were acting exactly as he had taught you. Those who were lesser than him didn’t get the privilege of viewing him, in all his glory. He hadn’t assumed that this behavior would extend beyond the bedroom, but fuck, was he glad it had.

“What’s with all that dumbass makeup?” He grunted with a frown. “Look like a fuckin’ clown.”

Your face shrunk. Sheepishly, you turned to look at yourself in the nearby wall mirror. You didn’t think it was too much at the time you had applied it. It was a bit of eyeliner and mascara. You had covered a few of your blemishes and bruises with foundation, too, but he couldn’t have known that. Taehyung didn’t take an interest in your makeup. It was because of this that you valued his opinion so much. If he could see a flaw in what you had applied, it was probably more accurate than what you saw.

You were biased; he had helped you realize this.

“Do I?” You questioned absently.

He finally afforded you with a cold glare when you turned around to face him. The disappointed expression on your face revealed it all; you were doubting yourself yet again. You were waiting for him to give you the validation you needed but didn’t quite deserve. Self-esteem wasn’t free, though; you had to earn that shit. Hadn’t he taught you anything?

“C'mere,” he demanded, eyes twinkling with excitement he didn’t even bother trying to mask. “Sit on my lap, stupid woman.”

You trudged over to where he was situated at the kitchen table, pouting gently. You plopped down atop his lap. You didn’t like how he flinched upon impact.

“Fuck, you gainin’ weight or some shit?” He hissed, flexing his thighs beneath your ass. “Almost made my damn legs buckle.”

It was false, of course. You had gained no more weight than when you had first met him. Nonetheless, you didn’t need to know that. You only needed to feel insecure. You only needed to listen to what he said.

“Oh no,” you whispered, voice akin to the soft squeaking of a field mouse. “I haven’t weighed myself in a while.”

“No fuckin’ shit,” your boyfriend murmured.

Tears were welling up in your depressed orbs, and Taehyung thought you were gorgeous. He embraced you, holding you firmly to his chest. Time to swoop in with that validation before the sobbing began. He hated it when you cried like a little bitch. He couldn’t deny the rush of power it gave him, though.

“Hey, you know that crap doesn’t matter to me,” he muttered, brushing away your watery streams with rough fingers. “Love your ass no matter what.” But he had to top it off with an insult, of course. “Would be nice if your tits were bigger though. Remember my ex? She had some fucking knockers.”

Couldn’t have you getting a big head when he had you where he wanted you.

Masterlist

Yandere masterlist

@mwitsmejk

#yandere bts x reader #yandere taehyung #yandere taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #tw abuse #tw yandere themes

130 notes · View notes

xmint-conditionx · 4 years ago

Text

《the emperor’s dagger》 ch1 | myg

❦ pairing: emperor!yoongi x concubine!reader ❦ w/c: 4.5k ❦ summary: you recall the first night that you began to love your emperor more than your job required. you find yourself in a dangerous situation that surely means death if mistakes are made. being careful is your first priority, but it’s easy to forget where and who you are when you lock eyes with him. ❦ tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, the tiniest bit of fluff you ever saw, brief blood/gore descriptions, derogatory names but not in the way you think, fingering, slight begging, slight nibbling, “be quiet or people could hear” trope, a little adorable aftercare yoongi is here uwu ❦ a/n: guys get fuckin PUMPED okay. i am so so so excited to bring you this crazy story. as far as i have planned, there are 15 chapters. this has (kind of obviously) been in the works since daechwita dropped, so i’m sure you won’t have any trouble picturing our lovely king. this is a complete fantasy setting, so please do know that i am not trying to emulate any particular culture or time period.

also, please note that this is a repost of my work from a previous blog, so if it looks familiar to you, that’s probably why lmao

anyway, thanks luv, enjoy!

- minty

Blood stains your blade, glistening bright crimson in the hot sun. You’re surrounded by anguish, pain, the sounds of final breaths and final cries. The dead soldier that lies on the dirty brick in front of you, who had been alive and trying to claim your life only moments before is staring lifelessly into the middle distance. You fight the urge to close his eyes; you two could have been friends, after all. You probably have even crossed paths before. A shudder runs through you at the thought. How many of these men that will meet their end at your sword will you have known? How many of your people will have to die? Are they still even your people? You don’t want to know the answer to these questions.

What had he called you? What had he said before his sword clashed with yours?

That’s right.

“Whore.”

You never anticipated being in this situation. You had never wanted to have to fight; you only had wanted to look as beautiful as he had wielding a sword. Fighting was always something that was necessary for your people, but it was never something you would have to be doing yourself. You’d heard palace guards talking about some distant battle and thought it might be a fun adventure-- going off to war. You were wrong. You were naive. About a lot of things, it turns out.

That was a different time, when your only adventure came in the form of a secret romance. When the riskiest thing you did was love an emperor. Your emperor. Your Yoongi.

Where is he?

You look back to where you had last seen him on the battlefield. His long blonde hair shines like gold in the midday sun, only rivaling the sheen of his trusted blade. He cuts down his opponent with a decisive swing, the sick squelching sound of innards falling onto the hot stone as the man cries out. You watch as he expertly scans his surroundings, looking for anyone else that would dare challenge his skill in the chaos. He’s missing an earring, you realize. Both of you are heaving under the stress of battle. This is more than you’d ever prepared for. You don’t know if you’ll make it.

Your hesitant eyes meet his assured ones, and for an instant, sword in hand, it’s like the first night you’d snuck up to meet him in his chambers.

The dark wooden floorboards of the upper palace creaks, and you scold yourself for not being more quiet. Being caught will at the least result in a very long and extensive round of questioning by the royal guard. Trouble is the last thing you want to stir up.

Emperor Min had specifically requested you come to his private room in secret tonight, and that is a little strange to you. He has the power to have any of his women whenever he wishes, and he has asked for you to come to him under the cloak of night. Why must this time be a secret? He has had you many times before, so why must this time be hidden?

In his handwritten note that he had slipped to you earlier in the day, he instructs for you to wait until all the other concubines are asleep before you leave your wing. If you are careful, you can take a shortcut through the North Wing Tearoom and pass the guards who only patrol the center hallway. So that’s what you do.

You see that they’re far enough down the corridor that they won’t be able to detect your movements, and so you silently slip through the large ornate wooden doors. You’ve been in this room many times before, but it feels like your first time here. Everything looks so different without the familiar warm glow of lantern light. The moon’s shadows are cold and sharply cast, and a chill runs up your spine. You don’t have to even look to feel his presence. To feel his eyes on you.

He’s waiting for you, sitting at the bottom edge of his large, low bed, chin perched delicately on his folded hands. The cool metal of his many rings shine in the moonlight, and past those adorned hands, he is staring right at you. His stare is one that is unreadable to most. Nobody is ever really able to know what is going on in his head. Nobody could ever know what emotion lies behind the stare. You wonder how much time he spends in thought.

“Come,” he says, motioning in his direction.

You obey your king, stepping forward a few paces. Something on his bed catches and glints in the moonlight. A sword? You stop, only halfway to him. You could already be in trouble. If he had heard your conversation with another concubine a few days ago, heavy questioning by the easily fooled palace guards will be the least of your worries. They won’t ask questions before they kill you.

“Your Majesty,” you say to the ground, too demure to look him in the eye as you speak, fearing what he might say and do, “why have you invited me here like this?”

Emperor Min stands and almost silently completes the distance over to where you stand. His calloused palm gently grazes your jaw, thumb on your cheekbone as his fingers wind through your hair. His touch calms your racing heart, and fills your belly with strength and boldness. You finally find the courage to look up.

“I have a surprise for you, my dove,” the emperor says, and you think you see a hint of excitement in his dark brown eyes.

He quickly spins around and guides you over to where he had been sitting moments before. He picks up the hilt of the sword that was laying next to him and places it delicately into your palm, enclosing his hand around yours. You had expected him to pick up the sword, but to put it in your hands? Impossible.

“I heard you say you wanted to learn to sword fight,” he says, smiling gently down at you.

Your mouth drops; your worst fear has been realized. He had heard your hushed conversation. Surely, you were about to die. Maybe if you groveled and flattered him enough, he would spare you.

“Your Grace, it was only a passing comment. I was only in awe of how skillfully you were practicing out in the gardens. I did not mean for anyone to hear; I was simply awe-struck by your deftness. I do not truly wish to learn. It was a foolish slip of the tongue. Please, forgive me.”

Please, don’t kill me.

“My dear, are you worried about your life?” he asks.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I am,” you say, looking to the floor again. Hoping to pull out any sympathy he may have.

“I do not want you to lose your life. I want you to learn how to properly wield a sword,” he says so quietly it’s almost silent-- as if he’s afraid to even say it himself, “if that is what you want. And I would like to be the one to teach you.”

Women aren’t supposed to learn anything related to warfare, especially not something as dangerous as sword fighting. A single mistake could mean the loss of a limb, but being discovered in practice could mean the loss of a life. Even teaching was punishable by death, although you’re sure the Emperor himself would be able to keep his life intact if discovered. If anyone else had heard your words to another concubine, even if you were able to convince them it was an innocent mistake, you would likely be thrown out of the palace immediately.

Concubines don’t snitch on the little things, but if any of them had reported you sneaking out tonight, your head would surely be on the chopping block first thing in the morning. You’re all allowed so much. You live in luxury, you’re able to roam most of the palace grounds as you please, you’re dressed in some of the finest fabrics, given plenty to eat, gifted spending money, and on top of it all, you get to lay with the king. Anyone fortunate enough to be chosen for this position doesn’t do anything to risk it.

The emperor must sense your unease, because he puts his hand on your shoulder and gives it a light squeeze.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he says quietly.

What has to be hours later, you flop down on his bed; your labored breaths are the only thing that can be heard in the broad expanse of his room. You haven’t even crossed blades with him, and you’re exhausted. He only taught you how to hold it properly, how to angle a strike, and how to move, but your body pounds with soreness. Your arms and your legs are heavy with fatigue, and the cool plush comforter is a welcome sensation to your aching body. As you lay, you look up to the ornate ceiling trimmed with gold and you begin to settle your breathing. You lay the sword down between you and the side of the bed; at the beginning of your lesson it felt light as a feather, but as you were instructed to keep it up, it now feels as if it were made of lead.

He delicately sits down by your side, barely disturbing the fabric; you lock eyes with him and have to hold back a laugh. For some reason, you feel silly. You have never truly imagined that you would be in this place or situation. A woman? Sword fighting? Not just a woman, but a concubine? And with the king himself? If you had been told as a young girl that this would happen, you’d laugh so hard that you’d wet yourself. It was simply impossible! Or so you had thought.

You and many other concubines had watched Emperor Min practice his sword fighting out in the royal gardens countless times, and all of you were consumed with the grace and proficiency he could demonstrate. You were the only one, however, who ever wanted to be down there with him, taking part in the mysterious dance he was so fond of. You were the only one who had dared to speak your hidden desires, and it seems that you lucked out. You certainly served a gracious emperor.

His eyes turn into crescent moons as he beams down at you, showing off his gummy smile. You wonder why he rarely displays it; he’s always so serious when he’s in the public eye. The only other time you’ve seen as much as a smirk is when he bests his opponents in practice, his pretty lips curling into a snarl as he holds them at the point of his blade. You’ve only seen him smile when doing what he loves.

The way you look lying on his sheets, your heaving chest covered in little more than your underclothing and moonlight. Your hair spilling out in shining pools around your delicate face, which is flushed from exertion. The way you look up at him with pure bliss in your eyes. Perhaps he smiles because he likes what he sees, He licks his lips as he lets his hand wander across your decollete, which has collected a thin layer of sweat.

“I hope you haven’t tired yourself out completely,” he says, leaning in closer to you, so close that you can smell his naturally musky scent, “You’re a quick learner. You are quite good with your hands, my dear.” You flush further at his words, deep with insinuation. You would be lying if you weren’t thinking of other activities you could be doing with him, too.

“I am good at a lot of things, My King,” you return, tone laced with venom as you look up at him through heavy lashes. The chemistry between you both had always been electric. What one would put down, the other would pick up. Flirty banter was as easy for you two as breathing. Innate. Inherent. Natural. As if you were born to do it.

His hand travels down your chest and curls around your waist, giving your lax form a gentle tug upwards, so that your lips can meet his. He had only begun to kiss you recently, and as far as you can tell from the stories from the other concubines, you were the only one. You aren’t sure exactly what that means, but you also aren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or question why you’re the only one who gets to kiss the Emperor. The way he kisses you is nearly indescribable. He always starts off delicately, as if to test the waters, or as if to tease you. You haven’t decided which one it is yet, so you relish in how his lips play with yours. But you want more.

You push yourself upwards and deepen the kiss, and he responds in kind, sucking in your bottom lip to coax you into opening up for him. He has never been pushy; he has never pressured you - or any other that you knew of - into doing something you didn’t want. He has always been respectful of you and the others, which is the last thing you had expected. After all, you are just a glorified whore. And he is a king.

You part your lips and allow his tongue to dance with yours, each silently fighting for dominance. You let him win, and he takes the opportunity to climb over your frame. Noticing the sword by your side, he tosses it onto the floor. It hits the rug with a soft thud, as it has done many times that night when you had dropped it. He continues to deepen the kiss, and you can feel yourself beginning to get damp. Feeling that familiar tingling sensation run up your spine, you feel the need to reach under his silk robe and run your hands up his chest, which sends him moaning into you. He involuntarily pushes his hips against you, and you can feel how hard he is behind his night robe. It’s not like him to take his time, like this. Usually, he would have already put you in his desired position and… well, gotten on with it already. He might need some inspiration. You break the kiss by tilting your head up, and he begins kissing down your exposed neck, and fuck does that feel good.

“Your Majesty,” you whine, fist full of his soft blonde hair, “How would you like me tonight?”

He speaks in between kisses.

“What… ever could you… mean?” he says warmly against your neck.

“Would you like me on my stomach tonight? I know you’re fond of the view,” you say, playfully wiggling your hips. He pauses for a beat, and pulls back to look at you. He chuckles a little.

“I’m quite fond of this view, too,” he says, showing off his gummy smile again and leaning in to cup your breasts as he trails kisses down into your cleavage. He begins to nibble softly at your flesh as he pulls the fabric down, exposing your nipples to the night. He pinches one roughly, making you pull on his hair a little harder, both of you having to stifle a moan. How dangerous to be doing this at the risk of guards hearing! His hand wanders down your frame and then up into your underskirts, cupping your heat gently as you open your legs for him.

His fingers graze against your clit, and you feel the cool metal of his rings slide against your damp folds as he teases your entrance. You bite your lip and hold back a moan. You wish you could just tell him to hurry.

As if answering a prayer, he slides his finger into your waiting slit, coaxing more of your wetness out of you. He adds another finger, curling them up gently and pushing up against that spongy spot that drives you wild. You buck up your hips in response, and you feel him smirk into your chest. He continues to gently bite around your areolas, never quite reaching your peaks as he sets an agonizingly slow pace with his fingers. The sensations that spark through your body at his ministrations are dizzying, but they’re also incredibly frustrating. He’s keeping you just on the edge of satisfaction. What does he want you to do? Beg? You’ve never felt like you could do such a thing, but this evening has made you bold. And his touch has turned you needy.

“Your Grace, pl-please,” you plead quietly into the night.

He looks up to your face scrunched in desperation. “Oh, are you suggesting your king hurry?” he asks with a smirk, “What if he wishes to take his time?”

“Hi-His Highness may have me any way he wishes, of course,” you reply, biting the inside of your cheek to distract you from the torture, “But are the tales of your generosity false? Are you a merciless ruler, set to torture those who would only want to bring you pleasure?”

His eyes on you darken, and he pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek.

“Hm,” he considers, “I suppose I can afford to be kind tonight. After all, you’ve worked so hard already, haven’t you?”

He wastes no time in pulling his fingers out, and you clench at the loss, another groan almost leaving your lips before you’re able to swallow it. He lines his head up with your aching slit, using your wetness to coat his cock. The delicious friction against your clit makes you whine ever so gently into the space between you both, another small beg for him to fill you. He presses into you, the familiar stretch making you dizzy with lust, and buries himself in your neck once more. He quickly sets a brisk pace knowing that you both are eager, and it’s not long until you can hear how wet he makes you. The obscene wet slaps sound like bombs going off in the quiet, and your cunt drips with your slick. You briefly wonder who is the unfortunate servant who will have to clean these bed linens, because you always leave them completely ruined. The way he fucks into you makes you fall apart every time, fitting together like a lock and key.

The king’s lips find yours again, his kisses hungry and wild. You remove your hands from his hair that’s now cascading around you, falling in golden waves onto your shoulders. He’s more ferocious now, biting your bottom lip and then nibbling up your jaw where he sucks your bejeweled lobe between his lips. His hands grasp tightly around your jaw as you take him, every thrust making you more putty in his hands. His free hand curves around and cups your ass, hoisting you up and changing the angle of your hips. With every thrust, his tip grazes against your sweet spot, causing a loud moan to escape your lips, echoing in the large space. Your moan dies as soon as you register it; you shamefully tighten your mouth so that no more noise may escape, but it’s too late. You’ve already been too loud. He looks back towards his bedroom doors, and then back to you.

Something in his expression changes, and his eyes are churning with something devilish. He swiftly covers your mouth with his palm, making sure it’s firmly fastened there before speaking.

“Scream for me, little dove.”

You try to hold back as best as you can, but a particularly hard thrust breaks your resolve. Once you let out that little yelp, it opens the floodgates. Your voice is muffled by his hand as he fucks into you harder and harder, almost painfully. His tip is pounding against your cervix, and dark spots flash in your vision. You continue to lose yourself in him, eagerly meeting his thrusts with ones of your own. His other hand that was once cupping your ass, now finds your wrist and hoists it above your head, as he continues his unrelenting pace. You scream into his hand, and clench around him to bring you right up to the edge.

He leans down to your freshly-nibbled ear, and in a gravelly voice says, “Come. Come around my cock.”

As soon as his hand lets go of your wrist and makes contact with your sensitive clit, you come undone. You scream completely unhinged into his palm which is placed firmly over your mouth, and he too groans as he finishes inside of you, riding through both orgasms until you’re both exhausted. And you thought you were tired before. His heavy breaths meet yours, and you float back down from your high to find yourself resting on his comforter. He gives your jaw a final nibble, and hoists himself off of you.

You hear his soft footsteps padding on the floor as you look up at the ceiling again. The beautiful gold trim you had noted before is a large dragon, spiraled around an inset in the ceiling. He brings back a damp cloth for you to clean yourself with, and he gathers your night clothes from the floor where you had discarded them some time ago. Sword fighting in a dress is not easy, and besides, you look much better in your undergarments. He starts putting your sleepwear back on you, gingerly helping your arms through the holes. He doesn’t have to be doing this. He has never helped you get dressed before; that was a task left to each woman on their own. They had a separate and luxurious bath suite dedicated to their self-care, so why would he bother?. Sometimes the concubine mother would help if things got… interesting, but you scarcely needed help with this. Tonight was surely a night of firsts.

“Uh, thank you, Your Majesty. You didn’t have to help me dress after you finish,” you say, a little flushed from how delicately he treats you after how thoroughly he had just fucked you.

“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, hoisting you up off the bed and leading you towards his doors, “We can’t have you cleaning yourself in your wing’s washroom. You’d probably be dripping all the way back. We can’t have that now, can we?” he asks as he runs his hand down your arm, smirking lightly and raising his eyebrows, “Especially if you’d like to have another lesson.”

You gasp.

“Another? Your Highness, are you certain? Why do you risk getting caught doing this for me?” you ask, not concerned with your own safety, but of his. Even if his life isn’t at risk, the public humiliation that would surround him would be too great. Especially not now. Not in the middle of a war. The subjects of the kingdom are already on edge as it is. The trust in their Emperor cannot falter. Not now.

“Ah, come now. Don’t worry. As long as you stay light on your feet and I ensure that the worst guards in the command are at my post, we are as safe as my blade is sharp. Plus,” he adds, kissing gently against your fingers, “getting to see your beautiful skin glisten with sweat, and then getting to have you all to myself is reward enough for me. It’s definitely worth the risk.”

“My King, you can always have me all to yourself in whatever way you desire,” you say, “There’s no limit to what I can do for you. You know that.”

“Yes, dove,” he says, “I do know that, but there is one thing your king is not allowed. Something that nobody may know of. Your king is not allowed a favorite.”

You know this already. It is why the concubines exist, why you’re able to be here with him at all. You know that it is dangerous to have a favorite. Emperors in your kingdom are unable to wed, and it has always been that way. Spouses are a vulnerability, something an enemy can easily exploit. The concubines exist, like the guard, to protect the emperor in their own way. By allowing him freedom of sexual expression, he is less likely to feel the need to have a romantic partner. Having a person be treasured by the emperor only makes them a weakness. Especially now.

“Nobody can know that you are important to me. Nobody can know that it is you who holds the king’s favor; that is why we must meet mostly in secret going in forward. You’ll be removed from the palace if the officials get a notion of my fondness for you,” he says, holding both of your hands in his, “and I never want you to be missing from me, my dove.”

You understand. You have to. It’s part of the job. You knew all of this going in and you were okay knowing that you would be one of many. You didn’t come to the palace with only the clothes on your back to find a chance at love. You’re smarter than that. You’d be lying if you said being treasured by the king didn’t light a small fire inside of you, though.

You nod and give his beautiful, calloused hands a squeeze.

“I cannot keep you any longer,” he whispers, “you deserve your beauty sleep, especially after all the… exertion you’ve just done. You think you can keep quiet on your way back?”

“I think I can manage, but,” you say, “if I may be so bold, next time, I don’t want to be able to sneak back to my room. I don’t want to be able to even walk after the next time you’re done with me.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman,” he says, hiding a soft smile, “but even then, I would welcome it if it came from you.”

You think of the risk you’re both taking, and the consequences of being found out.

“Let's hope it doesn’t come to that, yeah?” you delicately ask, eyes asking a question you’re afraid to give voice to.

“My dove,” he says, “as long as I can help it, no harm will ever come to you. Now, get on to bed.”

You didn’t want to leave, but you know you needed to. The emperor opens the door a crack and nods at you, a silent confirmation that the guards were at the other end of the hall. A silent nod that said it was time.

You ease yourself through the small crack in the door and slowly pad toward your Northern Tearoom shortcut. You look back once more, and you see him mouth “goodnight” with a smirk before shutting the door.

Your return trip to your wing of the palace is much quieter than your first trip, and for that you are thankful. You sneak back into your room where the rest of the concubines lie fast asleep in their own beds, some of them quietly snoring. As you curl up into your bedsheets, you drift asleep thinking about how sweet his smile is. He never shows it to anyone, so why are you the one who gets to see it? After all, you’re just a whore. The emperor’s favorite whore.

#yoongi smut #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #yoongi x you #min yoongi #emperor!yoongi #concubine!reader #bts smut #xmint-conditionx #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi series #series #repost from my old blog

391 notes · View notes

whosjunglejim4322 · 4 years ago

Text

Warnings: werewolf!au if u couldn’t tell, size kink, fingering, hints towards switch xuxi, big wolf boy in luv, reader is on the pill theoretically, mentions of yukhei being insecure, yall in love btw it’s sappy, he cums inside you

Werewolf Yukhei never thought that a person, a human of all creatures, could make him feel so delicate. Your hands are indescribably soft as they cup his warm face, your mouth concise and rythmic with each brush of your lips against his.

It's shockingly easy to be this way with you, the two of you lying together on his couch like a pair of tangled roots, his head just slightly lower than yours as he wraps his strong arms around you further.

He's always been too big, in height and stature. His lumbering limbs have always carried him with a sort of saunter, and though his face may be pretty, once people found out he was part wolf their adoration always fizzled into condemnation.

But you, you.

As someone who had coexisted with shapeshifters nearly all of your life, with close family friends ranging from Werewolves- like him - to Vampires, and even some Fae, he shouldn't have been surprised when you treated him as though he was no different than anyone else you'd ever interacted with.

He still remembers the first time he kissed you, in his car after the sun had already decided to rest and give the stars a chance to say hello to the onyx sky. He had wanted to do it all night, the need becoming an overwhelming knot in the pit of his abdomen.

He and his wolf alike were struck with the immediate sensation of buzzing all throughout his veins, and when he pulled away, he could see the reflection of his topaz orbs in your eyes, glowing.

He almost immediately covered his face, head in hands as he began to furiously rub at his sockets, willing the fire to go out behind his irises. He had almost seemed angry at himself, borderline disgusted and then your hands were gripping his wrists with a softness he had never experienced- you said his name as if it were something to be admired.

Something in him had felt defenseless, like he couldn't bear to pull away from you and see the sad pout that would surely form on your pretty lips.

"It's okay, hey," you brought one hand to his sullen face, soft fingers tilting his his chin towards you. "Open your eyes, it's okay Xuxi."

And he believed you, wholeheartedly. He didn't know why but he didn't care to argue, not when you used such a fond nickname without even a second thought, not when he felt so safe to be himself with you.

So he opened his eyes, not having to see them to know they were still illuminated in the darkness of his car. And your expression, fuck, it made his chest ache.

You inclined yourself towards him as if your body had no other choice, like it was second nature to want to be close to him, to be so enraptured. Your thumbs ever so gently had swept the area underneath his eyes, moving to the highpoints of his cheeks as you sat in awe.

"They're so...they're so pretty, like fireflies in the summer. They remind me of home."

He doesn't think he'll ever forget that. The safety he feels in your arms, like right now, it makes it easy for him to pretend like the world doesn't see him as this illusive predator shifter. Like he's just Yukhei.

You kiss him like he's the only person you've ever wanted, which isn't far from the truth considering the way he never ceases to take your breath away. There is a reverence between you two, and you find yourself kissing him with a bit more fervour as you relish in the fact that you get to hold him so close.

He picks up on the slight change in pace as quickly and as naturally as expected, one of his long legs lifting before he drapes it over your waist. He just needs you closer.

His plush mouth falters for a second, as he pulls away just enough to look up into your half lidded eyes. "Too heavy?" He asks, the rough timber of his voice sending more jolts of heat than necessary, through your abdomen.

"N-no." You hope he can sense that your shakiness is due to the flurry of emotions coursing through you, and not because of uncertainty. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards in amusement and fondess, silently answering your question.

Your lips find each other again as your hand grips the meat of his thigh, absentmindedly rubbing the area and reveling in the way his muscles twitch underneath the fabric of his basketball shorts.

This small action has him accidentally groaning into your mouth, long fingers finding the softness of your hips as he pulls you as close as the space will allow.

You don't miss the feel of his stiff erection against your belly, or the way his wet tongue has become more curious as to how your mouth tastes. When your hands wander further up the expanse his lithe body and discover a searing hot patch of skin that has been exposed due to his shirt lifting, your fingers are quick to explore further.

It's not like you did it on purpose, ever so slightly raking the blunt of your nails up his side before exploring the firm, lean surface of his abdomen- it's just as much of a natural urge as it is for him to be rutting against you, like he is now.

You're sure you heard a growl rumble in his throat, and you're elated to see that he's just as worked up as you are- enough to not even notice and have time to scold himself.

For a second, your eyes meet, noses still touching and kiss bitten lips only a few inches apart as you catch your breath.

This time, a ruby set of irises stare back at you, and you know enough about his kind to recognize that this is either due to hunger, lust, or anger. And since you're almost certain he's not angry, and also know that werewolves rarely ever get hungry for prey while they're in human form, the last option is as clear as the obvious lust that is decorating his bronze features.

And so you kiss him again, hard.

He isn't as controlled as he was before, not scared to give in to his hormones or the desires that have him struggling to remain fully here. He's just so captivated by you, the sweet yet ambrosial scent that clings to your skin, the way your body perfectly curls against his.

He can smell your intoxicating arousal as it leaks into your panties, cock jerking in his shorts as you both explore eachothers skin underneath your clothing. He feels the thunderous beat of your heart against his own broad chest, along with the hardening bud of your nipples through your shirt.

"I want you...want you to be mine." He's breathless, which is hard to believe given his supernatural state, but he can't seem to speak in complete sentences. The energy between you two feels as if it's about to burst and ignite a flame. You feel it all over your body.

His raven hair is mussed by this point, skin hotter than a furnace damn near, eyes glossy. Something in you knows that he's not just talking about sex, the way he's looking at you.

His dick is pulsing against you, massive, inviting hands wandering your body as yours are his - but he speaks like he can't bear to let you go.

You quickly wrap your hands around the nape of his neck, soft hair tickling your fingertips as you bring him back in for another passionate kiss, his body shifting as he finds himself crawling on top of you.

The position switch makes it even harder for him, you're so soft, so beautiful as you gaze up at him and paw at his broad shoulders.

Your thighs are open and wrapped around his trim middle, the feeling of his dick against your center all the more tantalizing this way. It doesn't help when he does that thing where he ever so slightly- but purposefully- grinds his hips into yours as if he knows exactly where you need it. You almost forget you're both still clothed.

"You can have me, you know...I want you too." And it's the truth, you've never felt like this, he's so rare, so beautifully unaware and you want him in every way there is to want someone.

His eyes are back to his natural deep shade of chocolate brown, earnest in their surprise and incredulity.

"You really mean it?" You almost laugh in disbelief, wondering how someone like him can be so oblivious to your wide eyes of astonishment everytime you so much as glance at him.

But you know it's not because of his appearance, no, he's aware of how people look at him, how they naturally seem to gawk and wonder how a person can be unnaturally exquisite.

Still, you remind him. "Yes, of course you silly, silly boy."

And you're breathless again, his deft fingers moving down between your bodies to slip underneath the waistband of your leggings, swiftly pulling them off in an inhumanly fast motion.

Your compliance is immediate, a whine slipping past your lips as cool air breezes against your center, your hands clawing at his loose tee shirt in a haphazard attempt to remove it.

He reluctantly pulls his mouth away from yours to sit back on his haunches, lifting his lithe arms behind his back to pull the garment off of his body.

You're not prepared for the way your belly swirls with a new, overwhelming sense of lust at the sight of him so bare. He's warm, and firm yet smooth and inviting- you almost don't register the fact that he's too distracted to notice your reaction.

Not until you feel the warm pad of his thumb rub your swollen clit, both of you realizing, together, that you decided to forgo underwear.

He's got his free hand grasping the inside of your left thigh, holding it open as he practically salivates at the sight of you.

It's too much, for the both of you. There's so many sensations sending your nerves haywire, every inch of your skin tingling with warmth and desire. He can't believe you're so pretty, and his, and the awestruck, hungry expression that's on his face is what prompts you to reach out and grasp his sturdy hips.

"Please fuck me, Yukhei," he's pulled out from a trance into a new one, his eyes catching sight of the agonizing need inside of yours. "want you really bad."

It's unfair, the way he slips two of his long, delicate fingers inside of your aching heat as he leans down to kiss you like a man starved.

You moan properly, and loudly this time, the compelling sound sending him into overdrive as you find yourself suddenly being fucked by his fingers at a near bruising pace.

Even so, he knows what he's doing, and you have to grip onto his daunting shoulders for dear life while he curls the dexterous digits inside of you, touching your cervix and nudging your sweet spot.

He revels in it, the way you look like you're falling apart. His skin blazes to a new temperature and you're leaking onto him like a sweet dessert, soaking his palms. He can't help but to groan.

"Gotta get you ready if you're gonna take my dick."

The words alone leave you clutching after his thick forearm as he pumps into you, slowing his minisrations out of fear that his words might send you over the edge. He doesn't even mean to sound so filthy, at first. Until he realizes how quickly it almost made you lose it.

"Please, please give it to me now."

He sees how badly you need it, can feel it in the form of slick between his knuckles, and if he's honest he's not sure how he's lasted this long either- so he bashfully slips his fingers out of you and pulls his shorts past his knees, not patient enough to get them all the way down.

You see now why he needed to insert his fingers first. He's big. Long, a girth that would be painful if it were any more than what it is. But nonetheless, it's pretty, like the rest of him. The tip is the same, deep muave of his lips, and you reach out for it, needing to touch him as intimately as he has touched you.

He shudders, entire body twitching in pleasure as you wrap your hand around him. Your hand is so much softer than his, and he whines, a sound that has you clenching around nothing. His expression is one that you wish you could photograph just to relive the memory over and over on days when you two aren't together.

"Want me to fuck you now, baby?" You nod fervently, cheeks blazing at the nickname and the softness in which he speaks it. His eyes seem to light up as he leans down to kiss you, allowing himself to absorb every detail of the moment, not wanting to miss even a second.

As soon as his tip passes your entrance, you both know you're fucked. It feels too good, too fast, the stretch is intense but seems to add to the stimulation since your wetness makes the insert easy.

When he bottoms out, he forces himself to stay still for a moment as he holds himself up by his forearms, his face shoved in the crook of your shoulder, lips on your throat.

You feel him pulsing inside of you, and you purposely squeeze your walls around his thick length, whimpering in his ear.

"Please, please move Xuxi."

He doesn't make you wait another minute, sliding himself almost all the way out before pistoning himself back in, jolting you in the process.

He starts his pace, and you're not sure how long you're going to last with the way he's moving, like his hips are speaking to you in some other language all together. He's magnetic, curling his pelvis upwards each time he thrusts back into your sopping entrance.

"Fuuuuck, I'm all the way up there baby." He groans in astonishment, though it's like everytime he speaks your body reacts automatically.

You wrap your arms around his familiar shoulders and hike your thighs up further, prompting him to slip his hands underneath your knees and hold you like this, the position allowing him to fuck you with a new depth.

He refuses to move his mouth away from you still, his messy hair tickling your forehead as your mouths move with fervour.

The sounds in the room are lewd, the collision of your hips and his thick cock slipping in and out of your entrance, along with the smacking of your lips. It's hard to believe that it's all really happening.

"You feel-oh fuck you feel s-so good."

He falters only for a moment as he pants, losing focus as the sound of your voice sends chillbumps to rise across his skin. He hates that he's so close, trying his best to hold on, but you wrap around him so perfectly. He swears you are made for him.

"Gonna cum soon, I can't hold it." His voice trembles this time, and you cling onto him just as desperately as he clings to you, legs locked around his hips. His cock throbs with the need to release, and the sound of your voice as you whimper doesn't help.

"You're so big, Xuxi." The words tumble freely from your mouth, your tongue not able to be held as you look down in between your bodies to see him dissapearing inside of you.

It's like nothing he's ever felt, its all consuming, and even the wolf inside of him is wondering where in the hell you came from, to swoop him up and dazzle him like you did. He's never felt this type of pleasure before, it romances every nerve in his body, turns him into jelly.

It's when he thrusts at a particular angle and your face contorts into an image of pure bliss, tears of ectasy brimming in your glossy eyes, that he feels the coil in his belly finally unravel.

He stills as his lips part, the tip of his dick nudged against your cervix as he fills you to the brim, twitching as he lets out soft, sporatic moans through each sloppy thrust.

"F-fuck- mmm- oh fuck."

His seed is more abundant than the average human male, spilling from you generously and soaking your thighs. The feeling of being so stuffed along with the realization that he's whole and in your arms and you're both connected like this- it has you spiraling down after him.

You feel a warm tear fall down your cheek, the pleasure taking your breath- and your words- away for what seems like the hundredth time in just a short hour. It courses through your entire body and has your hips bucking slightly, skin sensitive to the touch.

He holds you through it, allows you to rock yourself against his half hard cock as you ride your high, his lips suckling any expanse of skin they can find.

He doesn't dare pull out yet, he's too content like this, and you haven't complained about his weight atop of you yet, so he selfishly allows himself to lie his head against your shoulder - button nose nudging your jaw- as your fingers run through his hair.

His arms wrap around your body like a cocoon, and you've never been so comfortable with somebody like this, the contact making you drunk.

"I always knew, you know." His voice is low and sleepy, his lilt genuine. Your breathing begins to syncronize, your fingertips tracing halfhearted patterns against his warm, soft back.

"What's that, hmm?" You reply, curious and with heavy eyes, heart nearly bursting with the adoration you feel fluttering in the pit of your belly.

He kisses your skin once more, gently, almost featherlight.

"That you'd be the one I fall in love with."

428 notes · View notes

leejeongz · 4 years ago

Text

nsfw a-z JAEHYUK (treasure)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he forgets he even exists until you’re back to your usual, smiley, cheerful self. he becomes your slave and he is prepared to do anything for you, from cleaning you up to leaving you alone (which he never wants to do but if you want to be left alone who is he to refuse). he gets a little worried when you appear down or anxious after having sex with him the first few times but you reassure him that it’s pretty normal and that he just needs to be there for you when you need him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he likes his hands. he likes the way they look against your skin when he’s holding your waist and how he can get the perfect grip around your neck. his fingers are long too which makes it very easy for him to reach places 👀🤭

on you he likes your lips. he likes his own lips, sure, lips in general are really nice, yeah, but your lips are something else. feeling them against his own, how soft and gentle they are, he never wants them to leave his. the way you bite down on them when he’s giving you some amazing head too… that how he knows he’s doing something right.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he’s a cumming inside kind of guy but obviously that’s not always possible so the next best thing is a hot facial. he likes when he’s finished all over your face and then you clean it all off the tip of his dick with your mouth too.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he keeps a pair of your panties under his pillow for when he’s horny at night without you. you know about it, but no one else does.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

1 sexual partner. i wouldn’t term him a sex god, but he has a general idea of how to make you feel good, he may need a little direction to go off of the first few times.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

as much as he loves seeing your pretty face, hitting it from the back is his favourite position. he has total control of the situation when you’re on all fours without it seeming overpowering or oppressive. you can also get the deepest strokes from him while in this position. sometimes he gets a little shy about his facial expressions but this way he doesn’t have to be.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

you’re both still young and sex is supposed to be fun and so he makes light out of every situation to make it seem less intense. he likes tickling you and making you giggle, he likes just talking about random things even though it’s not the time or place, just to make you both feel more comfortable.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he will keep it nice and trimmed for the most part but obviously sometimes sex can happen at unpredictable times. in those instances, it’s usually grown out, but he’s not ashamed or insecure about it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

romance is the only thing on his mind. this guy loves whispering things into your ear, or just telling you how good you’re doing, because he wants you to feel loved and appreciated for all that you’re doing. something romantic that he does that ALWAYS catches you off guard is caressing your cheek with the back of his hand/fingers and then gently pinching your chin with his thumb and index finger to make you look at him and kiss him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

it actually takes him a while to cum when he’s on his own, and he usually asks for your help before going anywhere else. i see him as someone who likes to feel himself when he’s doing it, like he’ll use oil and drip it all over his naked body while sitting on his gaming chair.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

sensory deprivation (giving and receiving)- it’s rare that you two don’t have vanilla sex, but blindfolds are something that you incorporate into almost every scene. he loves putting them onto you or wearing them to show a trusting relationship between the two of you. although some intimacy may feel lost because you can’t look into each other’s eyes, it means that every little action feels electric, and that is wayyy better for you two in the moment. you know each other's likes and dislikes and use those to THEIR advantage for sure.

breeding- okay i already said he likes cumming inside so there’s that. but it’s also because he’s so possessive. and he wants to hear you beg for his hot cum inside you too. or for you to ride him and not stop until he releases inside you.

praise (giving and receiving)- as i mentioned above he loves to tell you how good you’re making him feel, how well you’re taking him, how pretty you look. he wants you to feel good in the moment because he feels that way too. he also loves when you tell him how good he’s making you feel.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

so it has to be private first of all, i don’t see him getting freaky anywhere that you two can get caught. i’m guessing his ultimate favourite place is just in bed, but he’s not opposed to some action in the kitchen on the counter when he knows no one will hear or interrupt, or even on the sofa when he doesn’t think you two can make it to the bedroom.

he’s also keen to try out a little something special, maybe in the bath. where you two start having an innocent yet romantic bath, that slowly turns into something more. but he spends too long trying to figure out how it would work and decides it is too much hassle than it’s worth.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

as boring as this sounds… the thing that turns him on the most is kissing you. he pulls away from intense kisses with the biggest, hopeful smile on his face. your lips really have that effect on him.

he likes when you dirty talk and when you attempt to take the lead from the get go. the phrase that gets him the most turned on is “i want you in my mouth”. your enthusiasm is SUCH A HUGE TURN ON.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no hook ups, casual sex or one night stands. he has to be in a relationship with you and you guys have probably been dating for a while before anything happens anyway.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers to receive but is extremely good at eating you out. he’s not shy and will go straight for it after using his fingers just to get you a little wet to begin with. he likes to smile while he’s down there, he knows that you know when he’s doing that and that you like it so of course he’s going to.

when it comes to receiving he enjoys enough to make him want to repay you almost immediately. he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands, whether they should be on your head or his, but he can’t control them anyway because he’s so into your sucking his dick.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

more on the fast and rough end of the scale. he can’t bear being slow, that’s just teasing himself really. but usually after he’s cum, he does a few extremely slow strokes, just to make sure his cum is in and that it’s all in there.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not a fan. at all. doesn’t want to get caught, doesn’t want one person to feel left out of the pleasure bc that’s usually what happens, doesn’t want to rush anything. if he’s feeling horny at an inconvenient time of the day, or if you are, you usually just agree to wait.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

not really. he’s almost always vanilla, with a slight teeny tiny bit of light bdsm thrown in (d/s, handcuffs, blindfolds (occasionally)) and so he doesn’t really like venturing out of his comfort zone. if you share the same wants as him, that’s perfect. if you wanna be a little more adventurous, it’s going to take a lot of convincing and he has to trust you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2 rounds maximum. most of the time only 1 because he’s tired and just wants cuddles after releasing a load lol. can go for 2 but it’s very rare and would take a lot of you turning him on to get him to do it twice.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

no toys when he’s around. he does not like the idea of being replaced by a toy, anything that a toy can do, he can do too, that’s his thoughts on the matter. he doesn’t want to use them on himself either, isn’t even willing to try because he’s told himself that he won’t like it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he slowly reveals to you that he’s a big ol tease. and you’re not getting away with anything just because you want to, he might have let you before, but not now. he likes to be teased too, but just so you know, you’re getting punished for doing it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

okay this boy is LOUD. at first, he tries to be real quiet, then once a small whisper espcapes he’s just like fuck it and it slowly starts building up to a very… audible session.

he’s definitely one to talk during sex, not even just dirty talk, he will literally talk about anything lmao. but he always announces before he finishes, he repeats “i’m cumming” or “i’m going to cum” multiple times before actually doing so. you actually start finding it kind of cute and endearing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

did i mention he’s a big fan of kissing lol. he embraces any and all types of kisses and it’s very gentle and delicate. sometimes (when you’re really taking him there) they become super hungry and he somehow manages to back you into the nearest thing, whether that’s the wall or the bed etc. that’s the first real sign that he’s horny.

honestly, i don’t think he’s that shy about talking about your sex lives with anyone. like he’ll offer advice and share his experiences with anyone willing to listen if you say he can, just because he empathises with those who might be nervous or on edge to try something.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s blessed what can i say? he’s longer than average and thicker than average AND knows how to use it (eventually). every inch of him is perfect and “down there” is no different. of course he’s vvv proud of his dick size and doesn’t hesitate to bring it up, but he actually kind of feels sorry for you having to take it all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

when you first get into a relationship, although it’s quite high, he can control it so much so that it appears to you that it’s low. but soon you learn that he wants pussy every other day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if you let him, he’d be asleep straight away lmao, but only if he could have his arms around you of course. but if you wanna stay up for a bit, he’s down. he hates morning sex because he’s too tired to go a whole day afterwards loool.

#smut #treasure smut #treasure imagines #jaehyuk #yoon jaehyuk #jaehyuk smut #yoon jaehyuk smut

225 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter Nine

Summary: Javier struggles in the hospital, but some of the symptoms are more somatic than physiological. He’s released, and the two of you have your first official date.

W/C: 4.2k (it just keeps getting longer... chapter 10 is 6k+)

Warnings: language, mentions of injuries, Javier used to be an asshole but he’s baby now, some innuendo/sexual flirting, brief mentions of food and alcohol

A/N: This chapter was actually hard to write! I had clear visions for 8 and 10 but didn’t have one for nine. Nevertheless, I really liked the way this turned out! I’ll post some sappy shit with chapter 10 but please know I love u all for reading and sticking around- it makes my little heart so happy that u guys love these two like I do <3

previous chapter | next chapter

Sleep is not easy when you have a massive stab wound in your abdomen. Javier hardly slept to begin with, but this makes it even harder. You tried offering sedatives but he harshly refused. You ordered dark and quiet for his room, but his sleep schedule was so helter-skelter before the accident that it was of no use to even try to fix it now. He can’t adapt when he’s not even in his own bed, he argues with you. Too damn bad, you tell him in return.

The only time Javier could sleep, it seems, is with you in the room. Specifically, in his arms.

It’s not that he thinks he’s unsafe. Hell, a hospital is the safest place he can be. It’s not that he fears passing in his sleep; he knows he won’t bleed out at this point. No, he just can’t sleep unless he has the comfort of a warm body wrapped up next to him. Specifically, the woman he loves.

You stand in the doorway with your hands on your hips. “Javier. I’m working.”

“This is specialized therapy for a patient,” he offers, persuasive as ever.

“I can and will get the opiates,” you threaten. “You can’t stay awake forever, and we both know that.”

“Ángel. I just… need the security.” He looks desperate. His eyes are tired. He��s slept very little in the past few days, leaving him agitated and restless. “The only time I’ve slept well in here was when you were with me.”

You pout a little. It’s adorable, you must admit, and most of all, it’s true. You and other nurses have been catering to him around the clock, since he only sleeps an hour here or there.

Sighing, you look at him. Your eyes are tired too. You’ve slept only when he sleeps, which is barely anything. You’re working on the floor or in his room with him. “Let me go talk with Connie, cariño. I’ll see what I can do.”

You walk into the break room with tired eyes. “Listen, ladies.” Both Connie and Lorena are sitting at a table, eating something. “Javier isn’t sleeping. He asked for me to stay in there with him to get some rest. It’s the only way it’s helped so far. Would you two cover my rotation? Just for tonight?”

Lorena’s large eyes sadden, and she nods. “Por supuesto. Anything you need, love.”

Connie’s not as enthused, but she nods. “You’re lucky this floor is dead empty.” It’s all too easy to imagine this was happening to Steve instead of Javi. That’s what makes her cave.

You sigh in relief. You take a quick shower then return to Javier’s room in a pair of clean scrubs. He smiles a little. “Hey.”

“Hi. You hungry?” You ask, walking to his bedside and taking his hand.

He shakes his head. “Just tired.”

You smile softly. “Well, you’re in luck. Connie and Lorena are angels.”

“No, you’re my angel,” he says with a teasing smile on his face.

“Well they’re mine. You’re the devil on my shoulder,” you laugh quietly and sit on the edge of his bed. He chuckles and pulls you into him, and you snuggle in against him, your eyes slipping shut. He murmurs affirmations of his love for you into your hair as he falls asleep.

And that’s how Javier sleeps for the next few nights. Bits and pieces during the day, but only restfully when you’re in his arms.

The rest of Javier’s stay in the hospital is uneventful. He’s a model patient for you and the other women. He apologizes to Lorena for his outburst under the influence too.

“Ángel,” Javier calls as you try to leave the bed and takes your hand.

“Yeah, cariño?” You ask and sit on the edge of his bed, pushing his dark hair from his forehead. The name makes him feel warm and tingly inside. Pet names from women who mean it are all too rare to him.

“I… should tell you about Lorraine.”

“You don’t have to, Javi,” you shake your head and cup his face softly.

“No, I really should,” he protests, and you nod.

“She was my high school sweetheart. We both went to college and came back and fell in love again.” You nod along to the story, watching his facial expressions. He looks far away, like his mind is back in Laredo. “We were engaged. I proposed and everything, did the whole damn thing.”

“What happened?” You ask softly.

His eyes don’t meet yours. “I got cold feet. I… left her at the altar,” he admits. He’s terrified you’ll run out the door now. It’s not an easy decision, to run away from a life you’re about to lead. It’s even worse when you know what that whole church, full of people, will think. But he did it anyway, and he’s scared you’ll never look at him the same way.

You swallow hard. It’s not what you’re expecting him to say, but you have to admit that it does sound in-character for the man. “And how long ago was that, Javi?”

He looks back up at you. “Jesus. 15 years now maybe.”

You nod, giving him a gentle smile. “Time changes people. You know that. I know that. Your past is the past, love.” You press a brief and sweet kiss to his lips. “I love you, Javier. Don’t you ever forget it.”

You stand and leave his room.

Goddamn, Javier thinks. You really are an angel. You must be, to have that response to what he just told you.

Several days after the injury, Javier is discharged from the hospital.

Despite his rage and arguing, the embassy refused to clear Javier for work. He was to be placed on a brief leave to heal and return when he was up to walking on his own again, without some kind of balance or assistance. Steve agreed to bring Javier some things to work on every night after returning from the office. Javier is already a restless man, and neither you nor the Murphys want to find out what happens when he’s bored all day, his best friend and his girlfriend both too busy to be around. Besides, a deep dive into some cases couldn’t hurt, he argues, and Steve relents. You and Connie take on the responsibility of checking up on him at least once a day- usually her more so than you, due to the fact that she lived directly above him- and of running any errands he may need, for things like food or medication.

As you wheel Javier from his hospital room out to the Murphys’ car, you realize you don’t have his phone number, nor does he have yours. You stop the wheelchair in the hallway and grab a pen from a nearby table. “I know it’s kind of unprofessional to give a patient my phone number,” you chuckle and squat to his seated height, “but I really think you’re cute,” you flirt as you write your phone number on his hand with a permanent marker.

You hand him the pen and Javier grins, his neatly-trimmed mustache (courtesy of Steve’s steady hands) moving with his cheeks. “You’re lucky that I think you’re cute too or I’d be telling your supervisors,” he laughs and steals a kiss before writing his phone number down on the back of your skin.

“It’s kind of weird,” you admit as the thick felt tip brushes against your skin, “that I’ve told you I love you and I don’t even know your phone number.”

Javier chuckles and caps the pen. He holds up your hand and raises an eyebrow. “Now you do.”

Three days pass, and Connie gives you updates on his condition whenever she sees you. He’s still in a lot of pain, but he’s lucky he was strong beforehand. You know that for a fact, and it hurts your heart to picture those beautiful abs you caught a glimpse of not too long ago marred by a scar he’ll surely have.

As you get home from a shift, you sigh and plop down on the couch. It’s late, you notice, but you miss Javier. Knowing him, he’s probably awake; you’re sure his sleep schedule is still as terrible as it was before the hospital. You grab the phone from the end table next to your spot, dialing his number and waiting.

Javier picks up on the second ring. Of course he’s awake. “Peña,” a gruff voice answers. It makes you smile. For a second, you want to just continue on without him knowing it’s you, want to observe how he acts when he’s with others. He’s different around you, you know that, and it’s adorable, you have to admit. “Hello?” he asks, annoyed.

“Hi,” you laugh softly through the phone. “It’s me. Sorry, I just got distracted. You sound sexy when your voice is like that,” you tease him.

There’s a smile in his voice when he responds. “Not a problem. How are you, hermosa?” he asks.

“I should be asking you that, Superman,” you laugh softly, leaning back against the couch. His voice instantly puts you at ease.

Javier laughs too. “Superman?”

“Big, strong. My protector.”

“Says the one who literally saved my life.”

“Who’s to say that cold wouldn’t have killed me if you didn’t take me to that diner?”

“Me.”

“I’m the nurse here.”

“And I’m Superman, apparently.” You laugh at that, wanting to reach through the phone line and kiss him then and there. “I’m no Superman, hermosa. I do bad things.”

“We all do, Javi.”

“Not as bad as me.”

“Gotta do bad things to catch bad people. You told me that. Are you trying to be this difficult, or does it just come naturally to you?” You ask sarcastically, smiling into the phone.

“I’m just telling you I’m not actually a good guy,” Javier says, his slight frustration evident.

“I was never under the impression you were. Is this you trying to push me away?” You ask, knowing that’s not the answer but hoping it’ll put some sense into him.

“No, no, cariño, I just-”

“Good, because we’re having our first official date tomorrow night. Okay?”

Javier chuckles a little at that. “I’m homebound. I appreciate the offer, but-”

“Oh no, Superman. I’m coming to you,” you tell him, curling up into a ball and grinning. “I’m getting takeout and wine- or whiskey, if you’d prefer- and we’re having a date night at your place. What do you want for dinner? You’ve got to be craving something.”

This takes Javier aback. This certainly wasn’t something he expected you to say when you picked up. “Uh… no. Nothing comes to mind. And I’m more of a whiskey guy, but wine sounds more romantic, I suppose.”

“Then I’ll pick up something that goes well with wine,” you say with a nod, beaming. “And I’m going to be tired after my shift, so you better be in the mood to cuddle.”

A laugh rings through the phone. “Of course you want to cuddle.”

“Says the one who asked me to snuggle him to sleep.”

“Hey, I almost bled out.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the one who asked.”

You’re both quiet for a moment. “Javi?”

“Yes, hermosa?”

Your voice is quiet and shy when you finally speak again. “Are you my boyfriend now?”

He grins, even though you can’t see it. “I don’t see why not.”

“Well, I like that, but we haven’t even had our first date.”

You can feel Javier rolls his eyes through the phone, but he’s clearly smiling when he speaks again. “Wouldn’t you consider that morning at the diner our first date?” He asks you, his face lighting up at the memory of it.

“No,” you shake your head. “I think we need to say it’s officially a date before it happens, then it can be a date.”

“I’m not going to be a very interesting date. I do have a large stab wound in my abs right now.”

“Don’t question my taste in men, Peña.”

“Trust me, I’m not. Do you want to dress up nice?” he asks. “A pretend night out?”

You grin at that. “That sounds wonderful,” you nod and rest your head on the pillows behind you, looking dreamily up at the ceiling.

“Better yet, I’ll cook for you.”

“Why do I have a feeling your cooking features microwave cuisine?”

“First of all, that’s not fully true,” he laughs. “And second of all, at least let me pay for dinner.”

“Giving up that easily? Superman may have to have his title revoked.”

“No, you were just right. I’m not a great cook; takeout would be the best bet.”

“I’ll pay and you can pay me back by looking cute for me.”

“Is this how women feel when men are demeaning?” He teases.

“You got it,” you groan.

Javier sighs. “Don’t know how you do it. How was your day?” he asks, leaning back on his own couch, slipping a hand in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Long. My back hurts,” you admit, hugging the pillow to your chest. “The hospital is much more boring when I don’t get to sneak kisses from a hot patient.”

“I would assume so.”

“Got anything interesting in those case files?”

“I think Steve pulled out a box from ‘79 and handed it over just to appease me. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“You’re supposed to be on leave. Do leave things.”

“Like what? You’re gone all day, so is Steve. There are my two options.”

“Javi,” you coo softly. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No, you are! You don’t even know what to do with your life. When was your last day off that you didn’t spend nursing a hangover?” There’s a beat of silence. “Exactly. Watch some telenovelas, read a book, pick up a hobby.”

“I have hobbies,” he pouts.

“Besides drinking, smoking, and fucking. I know your reputation,” you tease.

He’s silent and shy when his voice returns. “Did you-“

“I’ve known that the whole time, Superman. You think Connie didn’t spill everything the first time I asked her about you?” You chuckle softly. “No, I know about you. I don’t mind at all. It’s kinda hot,” you tease.

“Hey now, don’t start what you can’t finish. I’m not gonna be in shape for anything for a while.”

You bite your lip, deciding between flirting back harder or leaving it alone. You decide to leave it. “I’m not,” you chuckle. “I just think everything about you is attractive.”

“Even my giant stab wound?”

“Especially. If that’s what it took for you to admit you love me,” you laugh softly, and you hear him laughing on the other end.

“You should get some sleep, cariño,” Javi says in a softening voice. “It’s late, and you said your back hurts.”

“I will. I just… couldn’t sleep without knowing how you’re doing. I’m glad it’s good.” You smile softly at the way his voice sounds through the phone. “I’ll be looking forward to tomorrow night all day at work.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it here.”

“Goodnight Javi,” you tell him. “I love you.”

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he tells you in return. “I love you too.” He hangs up quickly after saying that, before he can change his mind and stay on the phone with you for hours more.

As you leave the hospital the next day, your best friend’s voice rings out after you. “Use a condom!” Lorena shouts before falling into a fit of giggles.

“You’re the worst.”

“No, an unplanned pregnancy would be the worst,” she teases and nudges your side. “Be safe!”

“Fuck you,” you mutter to her in English, but there’s a smile on your face as you leave the hospital.

“No, fuck Javi instead!”

“Goddamnit, Lori!”

The walk home is uneventful, as normal, but the sun is just about to start setting over Bogotá. It’s beautiful, you think to yourself, and you admire the skyline as you walk back to your apartment.

Once you get inside, you head to your bathroom and sigh as you look in the mirror. You’re tired, it’s evident, but your eyes hold your excitement. Turning on a cassette player in your living room, you dance and sing along to it in the bathroom as you do your makeup and style your hair. Both are simply done, but make you feel a little more confident, a little more elegant for your night in with Javier.

You dance along to the music and make your way into your bedroom. You change out of your scrubs and into the outfit you chose last night, in a rush of excitement after talking with Javier on the phone. It’s your favorite dress you wear when you’re going out, not that it’s often, one that makes you feel fantastic about yourself. You look in the mirror and have to admit, you look damn good.

After you twirl in the mirror a little, you pick up the phone and dial Javier.

The familiar greeting fills your ears. “Peña.”

“Hey, Javi,” you practically sing. “I’m leaving my place now, I’ll pick up the food and be over. Leave the door unlocked, that way you don’t have to get up and let me in, okay?”

Javier chuckles. “Yes ma’am. I’ll see you then.”

He hangs up and you grab your purse and a jacket, wrapping it tight around yourself as you leave your apartment building and head out to a nearby restaurant.

After the food is ready, you carry it in one hand, smiling to yourself as you walk the rest of the way to Javier’s. It’s closer than you ever knew, and it makes you smile even wider knowing that there’s only ever a short distance between you and him. The sun is now setting, casting everything in a warm glow.

Once you reach his apartment, you get hit by a wave of nerves. Impulsively, you climb the extra stairs and knock on the Murphys’ front door.

No response comes, surprisingly. Rather than continuing to knock, you get your courage up and go back downstairs, knocking on Javier’s door and letting yourself in.

Javier is at his kitchen table already, which is nicely set and even has a candle burning on top of it. He looks up when he hears you and smiles, and you immediately smile back. He’s wearing a long-sleeved, nice shirt and a tie, the shirt cuffed to his elbows. His hair, which has been messy nearly every time you’ve seen him, is neatly styled too. He looks professional, and it makes you giggle a little.

He takes a second to take in the sight of you too, his eyes raking all the way up your body until his eyes meet yours. “You look great, cariño,” he tells you with a little smirk, and you walk closer and set the food down on the table.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You look very formal.”

“This is what I wear to work,” he admits and tilts his head to the side.

“Then I’m going to have to come visit you at the embassy some time,” you tell him and kiss him on the lips, for the first real time since the hospital. There’s silence between the two of you and you can hear a rhythmic knocking noise coming from somewhere-

You break away and your eyes widen, giggling. There’s a loud creaking sound that accompanied the pounding. “Oh shit.”

“What is it?” Javi asks, but then the noise reaches his ears.

You have to cover your mouth to hold back a laugh. “I have to admit, I went upstairs to ask Connie for advice before I came down here… I guess I know why no one answered,” you snort before you hear a uniquely feminine groan, and both you and Javier start laughing uncontrollably, falling into each other.

You bury your face in his shoulder laughing, then quickly remove it, forgetting you were wearing makeup. “Oh god, do you have a radio or something we can turn on to cover that up?” You as him, still giggling.

“Yeah, come on,” he says and leans on you for balance as the two of you walk to his kitchen. There’s a radio on top of his fridge, and he turns it onto the American station in town. You smile at the memory of first meeting him while this was playing. Some slow jam from a few years ago is on, and Javier cranks the dial to adjust the volume until you can no longer hear the Murphys and their activity upstairs.

The sun shines its last rays into the kitchen, casting an orange glow over both you and Javi. He looks down at you and swears he can see exactly what he’s feeling reflected in your eyes. Your eyes hold such kindness and depth and unconditional regard for him, and it makes him want to gather you in his arms and never let you go again, never let either of you ever leave this apartment and this moment. Javier has never been one for words, choosing mainly to express his feelings through the patterns of his hips against a woman’s, but he tries in this moment, just for you. “You… have gorgeous eyes,” he tells you softly, and you giggle and shyly look away. “Really,” he says, catching your chin in his hand and bringing your face back to look at him. “So beautiful. All of you, especially tonight.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, gazing up into those big brown eyes and kissing him quickly. “Care to dance?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Javi chuckles a little and puts his arms around your waist in return. “Why not?” He asks, sneaking another gentle kiss before swaying the two of you around his kitchen. You rest your head in the curve of his neck and he smiles at the feeling, pressing a kiss to your head. He’s not a great singer, he knows that, but he mumble-sings the lyrics to you. You can feel his chest vibrate from his voice, and you sigh, pressing a kiss into his skin before resting your head on his shoulder again.

The song ends a few moments later and there’s a bit of dead air on the radio. No sound comes from upstairs and you lift your head, laughing a little. “Well, now that that’s all done… shall we eat?” You ask, and Javier nods, sneaking one last kiss from your lips.

The night ends with you and Javier cuddled on the couch. It’s late, and you’re watching his VHS tapes of old American movies. You’re snuggled into his side when he nudges your face with his neck. “Aren’t you uncomfortable in your dress?” He asks.

“What, are you trying to get me naked?” You tease quietly.

“No. Just want you comfy,” he murmurs, half asleep. You have to admit you’re tired too. “I have a proposal.”

“Yes I’ll marry you,” you laugh jokingly.

“Not like that,” he rolls his eyes. “Help me to my bed. You can wear some of my clothes. Sleep here tonight.”

You smile a little. “Is this your way of saying you can’t sleep without me anymore?”

“Sleeping alone is shitty once I got a taste of you,” he says with a charming smile.

“Alright Romeo,” you tease and kiss his lips gently. “I like that idea though. Let’s do it.” You stand from his arms, offering him a hand. He takes it and stands with a groan.

You help Javier to his bedroom, holding him up as a crutch and a balance. Javier’s tie was long discarded, after the two of you ate dinner. He strips the dress shirt and pants from his body, leaving him in just his boxers and a plain white shirt. He heads to his dresser and pulls out a large t-shirt for you.

You take it from him and kiss his cheek. He closes his eyes as you unzip your dress. “You’re allowed to look,” you murmur teasingly next to his ear. His eyes fly open and watch you hungrily, the way you’re exposed in just a bra and panties.

“Mi ángel,” he mumbles, his hands on your sides. He looks down at your body before finding your eyes again and smiling softly. He kisses you gently. “I know I have a bad reputation. You know I love you for more than your body, right?”

You nod, your arms around his neck. “Of course I do, Javi. We haven’t even fucked yet.”

He nods. “Just… checking.” This is all so new for him, and you can tell. You kiss him tenderly for a moment before pulling on the big t-shirt and flopping on his bed.

“Now get in here and cuddle me, Superman.”

“Of course, cariño,” he laughs, sliding under the covers and kissing the side of your face.

translations:

por supuesto- of course

hey taglist, come get y’all juice

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @diogodxlot @wonderlandgabby @yooforia @sara-alonso @dodgerandevans @pedrosmustache @fruit-of-my-hoechloins @tanyaherondale @marydjarin @obsessivelysearching @sleep-tight1 @drinkingwhileblogging

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña x reader #javi peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #blood sweat and tears #pascalpanic

131 notes · View notes

magnoliabloomfield · 3 years ago

Text

Afterlife part 1

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes. Things had flashed before Gally’s eyes as he lay on the cold floor with hot poison in his veins and a spear in his chest, but he couldn’t tell exactly what they were. Was it just the three years worth of life that he could remember, parts of his life before they had wiped his memory, or just some things he wished he’d gotten to experience?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t comforting so he wasn’t disappointed that it ended up being very short indeed. The pain, anger, and confusion slipped away into the blackness along with his sadness, curiosity, and hope. His struggle was over, but he never found peace.

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

“Why me?!” Madison asked with a yelp as she tried to hold the boy down. “You know I’m not strong enough to help with cranks.”

“He’s not a crank,” Fontain replied as he struggled to administer more sedatives. “He’s immune.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she grunted as she wrestled with the boys thick arm, finally throwing all her body weight on it like an alligator tamer.

“Because no one else would help me with him, they said he was a lost cause and a waste of time and supplies,” Fontain replied.

When the girl was silent for a moment too long he flicked his dark eyes up to her for a moment.

“Do you also agree I shouldn’t help him?”

“I’m just not sure if this is actually helping him… or drawing out something painful and inevitable,” she responded quietly with an apologetic wince, as the boy bucked beneath her.

“He survived whatever trial Wicked put him through, survived them pumping more of the flare into his system, and a spear to the chest- and I found him,” Fontain, the doctor, was becoming more impassioned as he spoke and his spectacles fogged up briefly. “I think this boy has something very important to live for and I’m going to do my best to help him.”

She eyed him for a moment but didn’t argue. She had first hand knowledge of the wonders this man could work on lost causes, and the relief of being a lost cause reclaimed.

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

Death kept getting interrupted. After stretches of warm, dark nothingness there would be bright, blurry, flashes of light and sound and pain.

There was the feeling of drowning even though he was parched and dry. There was the burning in his chest even as he had chills. There was the involuntary tightening and twitching of exhausted muscles that just wanted to rest. The feeling of his limbs being held down and restrained.

But there were moments when things were dark and he was at rest, but a voice still drifted through his head. It was like a melody he’d never heard before, a song with out words, just the music. He couldn’t hold onto anything but it felt alright to just let it wash over him.

He had no idea if the things he saw were real, or at least which one was the reality. Sometimes he would see a cold, clean building with well dressed people, computers, and windows to a world that looked alright. Other times he saw a dark and dingy room, closed off from everything, two grungy looking people hovering over him. In both worlds he was getting poked with needles and being restrained, but only one world seemed to offer comfort and it wasn’t the one he was expecting.

There would be a hand on his arm, not holding him down, just holding on, and sometimes he’d hear something he could make out.

“Keeping fighting and you’ll be ok. We’re here to help you,” he heard.

Sometimes it sounded like a man and sometimes like a girl.

When he started hearing words he started getting more control of his mind. The visions would still flash out of nowhere but he could replay them, think about them, think at all. Remember.

What he remembered was everything he wanted to forget. The return of his mind was the return of his pain.

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

“Are you sure he’s doing ok?” Madison asked, her voice laced with concern as she used her sleeve to mop up another tear slipping from the boy’s closed eyes.

He lay there, finally still after days of thrashing, the bruises he and Madison wore from it could finally start healing. He had really scared her a few times with a scream, a sudden jerk of his arm catching her in the face, the strength he would grip her arms with sometimes making some of her bruises look just like his hands.

But he had surprised her too, surviving not only his injuries but the procedures doctor Fontain had done on him. He had three bandages on his abdomen now and she was in charge of changing them and staving off infection.

“He seems sad,” she added.

“Can you blame him?” Fontain asked, not unkindly.

“I just wonder what he went through,” she sighed as her eyes roamed over his face even though she’d become thoroughly familiar with it by then. “If it was worse than me.”

“Try not to think of it in terms of worse or better,” he suggested, flipping the page in his book from the other side of the boys cot. “It’s just different.”

Another tear and a whimper escaped the boy and without a thought she grasped his hand and dried that tear as well, the sleeve of her shirt having a sizable patch of damp on it.

Fontain looked up at her, peering from over the top of his book. He saw her brows knotted with concern as she fussed over their patient and he smiled to himself.

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

Gally felt the dryness of his throat first. For the first time his eyes opened of his own free will. They stayed open and he was able to see what reality he was in.

He was slightly elevated in a bed so he saw a concrete wall in front of him and a flickering fluorescent light on the ceiling giving off a sickly, pitiful glow. He was in the dingy reality and almost felt relieved. He looked to his right and hated the feeling of moving immediately.

There was a man sitting in a chair beside his bed. He had dark grayish hair in near corkscrew curls and a trim beard to match. He wore large glasses and was reading a book as he slumped to one side in his seat, his left ankle resting on his right knee. He must have noticed Gally’s movement because his eyes flicked over to him, then back to his book for half a second before he registered what he’d seen. He shut his book with a thump and sat up properly as he smiled at him.

“Ah, you’re awake,” the man said and his voice was unexpectedly kind. “How do you feel?”

“Water,” Gally croaked through chapped lips.

“Yes of course,” the man said in a rush as he darted for something on a bedside table. “Careful, go slow or it won’t be pleasant.”

Gally felt the straw on his lips and took a greedy drink of cool water before the straw was taken away.

“What did I tell you?” The man said with just enough of a smile to say he wasn’t mad.

Gally looked at him as the water ran down his parched throat before hitting his stomach almost unpleasantly.

“I’m sure you must be tired and confused,” the man said as he brought the straw to Gally’s lips again. “So I’ll go first. My name is Fontain. I found you and brought you somewhere safe. You’re with The Right Arm now, though I doubt that means anything to you. The important part is that you’re safe.”

The man paused to look at Gally as if to gauge how much he comprehended.

“I won’t pepper you with questions just yet, but can you tell me your name?”

“Gally,” he said, his voice stronger than before.

The man’s face split in such a genuine and large smile that it was almost startling.

“Gally,” he repeated. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you. You’ve been here a little over a week, but we didn’t know your name obviously. Madison was trying out all sorts of names on you, I’ll be happy to tell her she wasn’t even close-“

“She?” Gally couldn’t help but question.

“Yes, she,” Fontain’s smile flickered just a little in confusion. “Why do you ask?” He leaned in a little bit, curiosity written in the slight creases of his middle aged face.

“In three years I only ever saw one,” Gally answered, feeling his eyelids get heavier and his words slurring slightly.

“And before that?”

“I have no shucking idea,” Gally admitted before his body relaxed, his heavy eyes closed once more and the darkness returned.

@frequentlychangingfandoms @quackquackbi @poulterjonas @crazysheeplyca @pre-google @gladerscake @neilox @thesuitkovian @carp3d1em @cottoncandy-dreamxd @emilyhadenbaker

I couldn't copy and paste my tagged people on mobile so here some of you are getting this late lol I hope you get notified and that you enjoy it.

#will poulter protection squad #gally #maze runner #the maze runner #will poulter #tmr #tmr gally #fanfic #gally imagine

20 notes · View notes

hyucks-archive · 5 years ago

Text

blooming.

word count: 6,721

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, and a dash of badboy!jaehyun

member(s): jaehyun, featuring johnny

warning(s): fictional depiction of achromatopsia

author’s note: i just really wanted to write a flower shop au, but somehow it turned into this

Blue.

The deliveryman checks through the delivery invoice once more, ensuring that all that is on the list has been successfully handed over to you. “All good,” he says, handing you the delivery acknowledgement slip. You sign in the designated area, passed the slip back to him, and gave a slight bow, “Thanks, Mr Kang,” you say, wrapping your fingers loosely around the last bunch of flowers. Daffodils, to be exact.

“Don’t forget, those are yellow,” he says, pointing at the daffodils in your hands.

You smile, “Thank you. See you next week!”

Slowly, and carefully, you place the daffodils into the one remaining empty vase that sat beside the purple delphiniums. Taking a step back, you smile in satisfaction, imagining and loving how the bright yellow daffodils probably perfectly complemented the deep purple delphiniums. You dust off your gloved hands, making your way back to the counter, where there were some stray craft and wrapping paper laying around, which you needed to clean up. Just as you slid the scissors back into the stationery holder, the wind chimes sound, indicating a new customer.

“Welcome,” you greet, plastering on your best smile. The male bows, “Hi there,” he says, waving.

“May I know what you’re looking for?”

He purses his lips, eyes browsing through the very many flowers that decorated the place. He hums in thought, “Different flowers have different meanings, right?” he asks, eyeing the vases of fresh roses that were neatly displayed in a row.

“Yes, they do. May I know who you’re getting the flowers for? Or if there is any specific message you’d like to deliver through the flowers?”

As he ponders, the wind chimes sound again, your attention averting to the second customer. To no surprise, it was Jung Jaehyun, with a baseball cap atop his head, his face barely visible. He looks at you, so you flash him a smile and a slight nod of the head, as a sign of acknowledgement. You inform the male in front of you, “I’ll be a minute,” before walking over to Jaehyun.

“Do you mind waiting?” you ask. He shakes his head. You gesture for him to follow as you lead the way to the mini waiting area located in the corner of the store. He takes a seat while you turn to grab a fine china tea cup and saucer, the prettiest florals decorating its surfaces. Lifting the teapot, the fragrance of its contents immediately diffuses into the atmosphere, your lips forming a pleased smile.

“Here,” you say, placing the cup of tea on the table, in front of Jaehyun. “Fresh chamomile tea.” He leans forward and breathes in the fragrance of the tea, dimples appearing on the lower right half of his face, the only area that was visible. “Thank you,” his voice deep and rich. Jaehyun watches as you return to the customer, whom was finally able to make a decision.

“What flowers should I get if I want to profess my love? You know, something that isn’t as cliché as a rose?” he says. You nod your head in acknowledgement of his sentiments, clarifying, “Is she a long-term partner of yours?”

“Actually, no. Not yet, at least. I was going to confess to her tonight, with some flowers.”

Jaehyun notices how your smile changes into one of confidence as you gesture the customer’s attention towards the vase of purple lilacs. “I’d suggest gifting her a bouquet of purple lilacs. Purple lilacs are associated with the beginning of new love, symbolising the first emotions of love,” you share, pulling out a purple lilac for the customer to get a closer look. He nods in understanding, taking a good look at the lilac, “It’s really pretty,” he commends. “Can you wrap it up for me?”

“Would you like to write her a message as well?” you asked as you lead the way to the counter.

“Yes, please. That would be nice.”

“You can pick a card from here,” you say, gesturing towards the variety of cards. While the customer looks through the different designs, you walk over to the waiting area. Jaehyun isn’t bothered, he simply continues to give you his full attention. Meanwhile, you retrieve another set of fine china, pouring a second cup of chamomile tea. Placing it on the table, opposite from where Jaehyun is seated, you called over to the customer, “Here’s a cup of chamomile tea. You may sit here while you craft the message.”

Jaehyun continues to watch as you begin to wrap the purple lilacs.

Pulling out the wrapping paper drawer, you scanned through the labels, taking out a piece from the ‘light purple’ pile. Grabbing a pair of scissors, you bunched the stems of the flower together, delicately trimming them to ensure that they are the same length. Jaehyun continues to stare, noticing how serious your expression is when you are focusing on doing the best possible job you could with producing the perfect confession bouquet.

Completing the finishing touches with a shiny purple ribbon, you held the bouquet of purple lilacs up, admiring and imagining how pretty it looks. Satisfied with your work, you looked towards the waiting area, where the customer was still seated, intently writing out what you assumed to be a heartfelt message for his soon-to-be significant other. You couldn’t help the smile that naturally forms at the thought of how a simple flower holds so much meaning, that it could bring two people together. Meanwhile, Jaehyun wonders the meaning behind your expression.

“Done,” the customer says, placing the card into the translucent lilac-coloured envelope. He finishes the chamomile tea, gets up, and heads towards the counter, handing you the card while he reaches into his pocket for his credit card.

“I hope your wish comes true,” you say, completing the transaction. He doesn’t forget to express his gratitude, “Thank you. I hope your business flourishes,” before taking his leave.

Jaehyun gets up from his seat, walking over to you. You were busy clearing the remains of the scrap pieces of ribbon and the stems which you cut off earlier. He leans his body against the counter, persistent in making it known that he is, and has been, watching you. You weren’t in the least bit fazed by this. Something about Jaehyun’s presence was calming to you.

Whenever you were with him, you are tranquil. Blue – represents peace and tranquillity. Maybe Jaehyun is your blue.

“Why? Don’t act as if you’ve never seen me wrap bouquets before.”

Jung Jaehyun – that’s literally all you knew about him. Other than his face, of course. You knew nothing of his background, nothing of how he even came to know about your shop, not even his hair colour. All you knew was that he’d stop by once every week. There isn’t even a day of expectance. He just comes when he wants to, and goes when he feels like it. You’ve never questioned him before, and you didn’t intend to, not anywhere in the near future.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen someone come in without a flower in mind,” he says, tilting his head to the side so that he could see you better. You didn’t even bother to look up at him; you already knew the smirk he had on his face, for no good reason whatsoever. “I didn’t know you knew the meaning behind flowers,” he continues. “Or were you just lucky you know about purple lilacs?”

With your back turned towards him, you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m a florist, Jaehyun. Of course I know the meaning behind each flower.”

Jaehyun doesn’t reply. A moment of silence later, you turned around, only to meet eyes with Jaehyun, who hadn’t moved an inch from his position. He was still slouched over the counter, staring at you. That’s when you noticed the cut on his cheek, the dressing on the wound on his forehead, and what you assumed to be a slight bruise by the side of his lip. You were stunned for a moment, but you were quick to recollect yourself, maintaining your calm and relaxed demeanour.

“No wonder you’re in a cap today,” you comment, looking away. You focused your attention to recording the sale in your sales log book, “I assume you’ve already applied ointment?”

“I came here so you could do it for me,” he replies.

“I can see the bandage on your forehead, Jaehyun.”

“Johnny took care of it for me yesterday. It needs to be changed,” he says. “Can’t you see the scar right here is already all dried up?” He points at the cut on his cheek, purposefully brushing his finger against it, feigning a dramatic ‘ouch’ as he slouches further, eyes glancing towards you for some form of a reaction.

You chuckled, reaching for the first aid kit that was kept in the cabinet below the printer. You gesture for Jaehyun to take a seat as you placed the kit on the table. “You’re always staring at me. What exactly are you looking for?” you asked, picking out the ointment, saline water, bandage, and cotton buds. “Nothing. I just like people watching, and you’re the only person here that I can watch,” he states, eyes still fixed on you.

Gently, you peeled the bandage off of Jaehyun’s forehead. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

With your vision focused on his wound as you cleansed it with saline water, you reply, “Is there a need for me to?”

“I thought you’d be curious.”

You contemplated for a moment. Were you?

“I guess I thought wrong,” Jaehyun says, interrupting your thought process. He looks away for the first time, looking past the variety of flowers you had on display. He shifts his head to the right a little, trying to get a better look at the flowers, but is forced to reposition his head with the gentle yet rough push on the cheek from you. “Stay still.”

Jaehyun’s eyes finds its way to your face once more, “Are there flowers with negative meanings too?”

You placed the bandage over his forehead wound, reaching for another capsule of saline water, “What kind of negative meanings?”

“Maybe a flower that represents your hatred towards someone?”

“Aconite represents hatred. Orange lilies represent hatred and disdain,” you say, finally finished with applying ointment on the cut on his cheek. “All done,” you say, throwing the used cotton buds and bandage wrappers into the bin. You placed the medicine back into the box, reorganising it a little, before closing the first aid kit and putting it back in its place.

“Maybe one day I should send bouquets of hatred to my enemies,” Jaehyun says, suddenly all smiley.

“Finally, you’re going to buy something other than a red rose?” you gasp, feigning astonishment. Another thing about Jaehyun’s weekly visits; he always finishes the night off by purchasing a single red rose. He never talked about who they were for, but you’ve never questioned him about it either. You were simply happy to be able to have a guaranteed sale even in the slower months.

“Who said I’d buy them from you? Can’t get your hands dirty by asking you to prepare all those nasty bouquets for me.” Jaehyun lets out a chuckle when he sees the smile that forms on your face along with the subtle shaking of your head upon hearing that. He watches as you pull out a drawer, his eyes darting down in curiosity. He notices how the entire drawer was so organised; everything had a specific spot, each of which, were labelled clearly. Although he has been here many times, it was his first time getting a look at what was in the drawers behind the counter.

“Wow, why did you label everything so specifically?” he questions, pointing to the label that read ‘light blue ribbons’, “Even down to the exact colours?”

“Huh? Oh, I just like to be specific,” you reply, quickly closing the drawer. Jaehyun picked up on the slight awkwardness in your voice, and he definitely took note of how quickly you averted the topic, “Shall I get you the red rose now?”

Jaehyun nods his head, so you walk to where the roses were placed. Counting from the left, the third vase housed the red roses. You pick one out, heading back to the counter to wrap it up with some silver plastic. You hand it over to Jaehyun once you were done, and he takes it from you with a smile. As usual, he places the cash on the table. As you collect the cash, Jaehyun takes the opportunity to take a good look at the henna on the underside of your wrist. Chrysanthemums, he notes.

“I guess I’ll see you next week?”

He meets eyes with you, nodding his head, “Thanks.” He waves the rose in the air, turns, and takes his leave. Pulling out his phone, he searches for the meaning behind chrysanthemums.

“Red chrysanthemums symbolise love, white chrysanthemums symbolise loyalty and honesty, violet chrysanthemums symbolise a wish to get well,” Jaehyun pauses, looking up at the mostly empty street. “Yellow chrysanthemums symbolise neglected love or sorrow,” he finishes. The image of the copper-orange chrysanthemum henna on the underside of your wrist flashes in his mind once more. The problem is, henna comes in only one colour.

“Which one is it?” Jaehyun murmurs.

Yellow.

Today was a slow business day. Initially, you were debating whether or not to just close the shop early, since it was already past four in the afternoon, a timing where it is extremely safe to say that no one will be purchasing flowers for the rest of the day. Instead, you find yourself seated opposite Jung Jaehyun at six in the afternoon, a pot of Osmanthus tea between the two of you.

“Don’t you like slow days like this?” he asks, watching people briskly walk by. You had your eyes on his cheek, half-focused on analysing how perfectly placed his dimple is, half-focused on whatever conversation you were having.

“Sometimes. Other times, I just really want to find an owner for all the pretty flowers here,” you reply, shifting your eyes to look around the shop. You can only imagine how beautiful the scene before you must be, but that’s all there is to it. Your imagination. You couldn’t help but lower your head, shifting your eyes to focus on your shoes.

“It’s boring, though,” he says, with a hint of what may have, or may not have been, a pout. You chuckle in response, “It’s because of slow days that you managed to learn and recognise all the different flowers here.”

“Maybe next time we should do something fun together. You know, something other than just sitting here, talking the night away?” Jaehyun turns to look at you, his smile soft and genuine. You often ponder upon the fact that Jaehyun is, what they term a ‘mafia’, yet there was the clear possibility that Jaehyun is a representation of what they term as ‘pleasant’. The two are obvious juxtapositions.

Whichever it is, Jaehyun’s smile had an effect on you. It makes you warm; almost hopeful. Yellow – signifies optimism and idealism. Is Jaehyun your yellow?

Jaehyun tilts his head to the side, waving a hand to get your attention. You looked at him, nodding your head, “Sure, why not?” You’ve never stepped out of your apartment, the florist’s, and the supermarket since forever anyway. Maybe this would be good for you. Maybe this is an actual opportunity for you. After all, the smile plastered on Jaehyun’s face as he stares at you, eyes gleaming with excitement at the sound of your reply, makes you feel yellow.

“Great,” he says, getting up. “I’ll take one red rose, please.”

Jaehyun takes note of the hyacinths on the underside of your wrist as you hold out the red rose, neatly wrapped. He looks up, flashes a smile, nods his head in acknowledgement, before turning to leave. “I’m looking forward to next week,” he says, waving as he leaves.

Once out, he pulls out his phone, searching up ‘hyacinths’.

“Yellow hyacinths symbolise jealousy, white hyacinths symbolise loveliness or prayers for someone, red hyacinths symbolise recreation, purple hyacinths symbolise asking for forgiveness, or deep regret,” Jaehyun reads aloud, brows knitting together. Again, it was inked with henna. There was no telling what colour you intended for the hyacinths to be.

Jaehyun knows well that you weren’t the type of person to simply choose a flower that you think is pretty. All of your actions and words always have a meaning behind them. There was just no possible way for Jaehyun to decipher these meanings without some form of a clue. It was beginning to frustrate him a little. He was beginning to doubt, if he really even knows you well enough.

He thinks about the hyacinths you had drawn on the underside of your wrist once more; why was there a compulsion to believe that they are meant to be purple?

Purple.

You’ve been anticipating. Every time the wind chimes would sound, you’d snap to attention, with only one person that you’d very much like to see walk through the glass doors of the florist’s. As each day dwindled by, you began to wonder if everything was just an empty promise. Now that it was Sunday, the last day of the week, you can only be affirmed that it was indeed, nothing but an empty promise.

Jaehyun hasn’t showed up. There is only thirteen minutes left before you’d close up.

And at that moment, the wind chimes whistles as the sudden rush of air tickles them. You whip your head in the direction of the chimes, the last 1 percent of hopefulness your motivating factor, only for the overwhelming rush of disappointment to wash over you. Nevertheless, he smiles sweetly, making his way towards you.

“I know that look,” Johnny says, facial expression filled with tease, “Are you disheartened that it’s me?”

“A little,” you admit. Johnny lets out a low chuckle, “Honest as always. It’s no wonder Jaehyun loves frequenting here so much.”

“Nah, he just comes for his red rose. I sell the freshest ones in this neighbourhood, you see.”

Johnny’s eyes widens, before he breaks out into a hearty chuckle. He shakes his head, “Honest, but lacking in terms of wit,” he comments. You glare at him, replying with, “Rude.” You knew what Johnny was referring to. You weren’t dumb. You just acted oblivious. No harm in that, right?

“Hey, as Jaehyun always says, and I quote, “Lost time is never found again.” You really never know what’s going to happen,” Johnny says, resting his hands on the counter. He leans forward a little, in a half-whispering voice, he adds on, “I know something’s going on here.”

You looked down, fixating on the counter surface. Johnny’s right. Something is going on here.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that a guy doesn’t just frequent a shop weekly for no good reason. A guy doesn’t just sit and stare at you all the time for no reason. A guy doesn’t ask you so many expository questions for no reason. A guy doesn’t show interest in the things you do, and the things you like, for no reason. Still, Jaehyun’s thoughts, Jaehyun’s feelings, they are all pretty much a mystery to you. You’ve never felt like you had the right to question him, to know about him. You didn’t want to fall.

There’s something about you that nobody’s going to accept at all. Not even Jaehyun.

“Um, hello? I’m still here?” Johnny says, catching your attention. You had drifted off into so much thought you hadn’t noticed that Johnny had made a round around the shop. He steps back into the spot before the counter, in front of you. Only now, he had a single flower in each hand. They were both irises.

He holds them out, showing them to you. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were slightly stunned. You could feel the nerves building up inside of you, almost towards a mode of panic. What were you going to do? What is Johnny trying to do? What’s he going to say? How are you going to answer him?

And then it hits you; Jaehyun’s voice plays in your head, “You don’t have to control your thoughts. You just have to stop letting them control you.” You allow his words to replay in your head, again and again, like a recorder playing on repeat. Somehow, it was effective. You could feel the tension release a little, your heartbeat regulating once more. You couldn’t help the small smile that forms on your lips.

Purple – represents wisdom and spirituality. For who he is, and what he does, there were genuine pockets of time where Jaehyun didn’t seem like someone from the underworld. He seemed to always know what to say, no matter the situation. Maybe that is his magic touch? Maybe, he didn’t only teach you wisdom, he also taught you purple.

“Excuse me?” Johnny calls out. Once again, your eyes snap up to meet his. His features were slightly scrunched together, his lips forming a frown. An expression of slight… disgust? He raises a brow, “You need to stop zoning out on me like that.”

You shrug, apologising. Johnny quickly gets back on track with his queries, re-spotlighting the irises he held in either hand. “So, Jaehyun told me you know all the meanings behind every flower. Tell me about these two. They’re the same flower, but the colours make a difference, right?” He looks at you expectantly. You gulp, biting the inside of your lips on reflex. Do you take a chance? Gosh, heck it.

“Well, white irises are a symbolism of purity,” you begin, cautiously. As you spoke every word, you tried to gauge how on track or off track you were based on Johnny’s expression. He raises both brows; a bad sign.

“I meant these two irises,” he says. “Oh,” you reply, “I thought you wanted to know all of them,” you lie. But that’s good. One colour down, only three to go. You have a two-third chance of getting it right. Take the leap.

“Yellow irises symbolise passion.” Johnny nods in understanding. It’s fifty-fifty now. “And blue irises symbolise faith and hope.” Johnny deadpans. Shoot.

“I thought we understood I was asking about the meaning behind these two colours,” he says, turning to return the irises to their respective vases. “Right, purple irises symbolise royalty and wisdom,” you finish off. Luckily, it didn’t seem like Johnny had picked up on anything. He seemed to be riding on the idea that you were just overtly passionate in sharing your knowledge.

“Anyway, I’m here to get Jaehyun’s red rose,” he says, coming back to the counter. “And to let you know he hasn’t broken his promise, he just couldn’t make it today.” At that, you smiled, a burst of yellow. Is it possible? To go from disappointment to anticipation, in the span of the time it took for Johnny to say that one sentence?

Johnny is patient as you wrap the red rose. When you are done, he hands you the cash.

“Can’t wait to see you again,” he says, remembering to add, “Concealment makes the soul a swamp!” before rushing out the door, ridding you of the opportunity to say anything. Was that a jab at the avoidance of feelings, or something more? You let the curiosity go to rest, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to get any answers.

Johnny arrives back at the hideout. Jaehyun was already there, expecting his return. He greets his comrade with a smile and a shoulder bump, retrieving the red rose from Johnny’s hand.

“Did you get it?” Jaehyun questions, holding out his hand. Johnny smirks, “You’re lucky I am experienced with this kind of thing.” He pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and clicks into his gallery. He enlarges the latest photo he had taken, handing the phone over to Jaehyun. Jaehyun takes a good look at it – “Silver brunia balls,” Jaehyun identifies.

“What the heck is that?” Johnny questions, while Jaehyun had already keyed in his search.

“It’s a grey flower. It means chivalry.” Jaehyun couldn’t understand. Why chivalry, out of nowhere? Could it be that there was an encounter with someone chivalrous?

“Hey, but, do you know something?” Johnny says, tapping Jaehyun on the shoulder. The younger boy looks at him questioningly, to which Johnny continues, “As a distraction, I was just talking to y/n. Then I picked up two random flowers that were the same flower, just different colours. Held it out, and asked for the meaning behind the two flowers. I don’t know what it was, but y/n gave me the meaning of a colour of the flower that wasn’t even in my hand.”

Jaehyun raises a brow, “Maybe y/n thought you were asking for the meanings of all the colours.”

“Well, yeah, that’s what y/n said. Then I clarified myself, and y/n made the same mistake again. Like, is y/n just messing with me? That’s so weird.” Johnny dismisses the conversation, now that he was done with whatever he had to say. “Anyway, I’m going to shower.”

Jaehyun sits back down, staring at the red rose he was still holding in his hand. The more aware he became, the faster the inkling he had begins to realise.

Grey.

Jaehyun pops his head through the glass doors, the sunlight shining from behind him giving him the most ethereal look possible, but you could barely see him. When he shifts away from the light, you aren’t able to pinpoint it accurately, but you could tell he has on much lighter colours than he usually wore. His smile was bright, almost excited, his skin fully healed back to its flawless state.

“Are you ready?” he asks. You looked at him, expression blank. “There’s still two hours until closing time.”

Jaehyun enters the florist, speaking as he walks, “Come on. The sun is supposed to set early today.” He arrives next to you, tilting his body forward, his head aligned in your direct vision. His smile grows wider, eyes twinkling in cooperation, “Let’s go, hm?”

Within an hour, through your very dark, tinted sunglasses, you find yourself in awe of the gorgeous view Jaehyun has made known to you. The soothing sound produced by the gentle waves make you feel calm and at peace; blue. This is one of the rare moments where you can feel nature, where you can connect to it, where you can draw your own picture of it, imprinting it in the deep depths of your imagination. You smile, looking far out. You kind of love this feeling.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Jaehyun says, eyeing your expression.

“Very.” Your simple yet straightforward reply causes a spark to light in Jaehyun’s heart. Granted, you always have a smile on your face. But for the first time, you smiled because of him.

“Let’s go sit over there.” Jaehyun gestures towards a picnic mat that was all set up and ready. “You prepared that?” You take a step forward, towards the mat. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a piece of cloth. I don’t want to get my butt dirty.”

You roll your eyes, removing your sneakers, setting them neatly by the side. You take a seat, hugging your knees to your chest. You really enjoy the feeling of the ocean breeze tickling at your skin. Jaehyun sits himself beside you, internally amused at how amazed you seem to be at everything. “Have you never been to the beach?” he asks, attention on you.

You contemplate for a moment. Did you want to be honest? Jaehyun probably deserves a little honesty, right?

“Yeah,” you admit. Jaehyun listens intently, as you continue, “I’ve read about it in books though. The glistening waters, usually in a light, beautiful hue of blue, the golden sand, the white rays of sunlight, the sunkissed skin of those who frequent the beach,” you look towards Jaehyun, “I’ve read all about it,” you finished, flashing a proud smile. Jaehyun doesn’t return the smile. He could only guess the reason why you’ve never been to a beach.

But you knew the reason best yourself. You’ve never felt that you had the right, nor the ability to be able to be in the presence of sights that are so beautiful, that can only be appreciated in its full, blooming form. You’ve never had the confidence to come to face a scenery that you would never be able to take in as it is. All your life, everything was pure imagination. But Jaehyun… he gave you the confidence, the minute hope that you were capable of painting the perfect picture.

Ridding the many reasons he’d listed in his head, Jaehyun reaches into his pocket, pulling out the bracelet he had gotten custom-made, as what he would like to believe as a gift for you. But a part of him knew, that it wasn’t a mere gift. It doubled as a test, a test which would dawn on him all the answers he’s been looking for. He takes in a breath, bracing himself.

“Give me your wrist,” Jaehyun says, holding a hand out. You look at him, raising both brows. “Why?”

“Just give it to me,” he says, gesturing for you to hurry up. You place your wrist in his hand, waiting patiently as he brings out his other hand from behind his back. Gently, he hooks the silver bracelet around your wrist, the fit just right, with enough room for breathability. Your mouth parts slightly, truly surprised. You weren’t expecting anything.

Holding one of the precious charms between your fingers, you looked closely, “Are these alstroemerias?”

Jaehyun smiles, nodding his head, “It’s so well done, right?”

You nod your head, inspecting all six alstroemerias that dangled from the bracelet. Alstroemerias comes in six colours – pink, red, orange, yellow, white, and blue. Did Jaehyun select six different coloured alstroemerias? Or were they all of a single colour?

Jaehyun anticipates, pursing his lips as he watches you look at every single alstroemeria charm. Your next sentence is probably going to give him the answer he needs. He waits, he sees you in thought, and he couldn’t help but feel that the answer was already clear. Which is why he isn’t even surprised when you say, “Why alstroemerias?”

You are a florist. Jaehyun knows that. Jaehyun also knows that because you are a florist, you’d know exactly what his gift meant, without having to ask any questions.

“Pink and red alstroemerias represents warmth and affection towards a friend, right?” Jaehyun spells it out for you. He doesn’t want to put you under any form of pressure of having to guess what colours the six charms were. He sees you nod your head, your grin widening, “That’s really sweet of you. Thanks.”

Jaehyun recalls all of the moments that had happened before, where the red herring was dangling in his face, yet he wasn’t sensitive enough to pick up on them.

Jaehyun remembers standing across the street, watching as you mapped out the exact placement of every type and colour of flower. Initially, he had thought you were simply overtly obsessed with writing everything down. Now, he realises you were memorising the placements. Jaehyun remembers the time he had visited in the morning, which coincided with the time the delivery truck would come. He recalls overhearing how the deliveryman repeated three or four times, that the last box of flowers, were white carnations. He had thought the deliveryman just didn’t want you to forget that you had one more type of flower that you’ve yet to put away. Now, he realises you needed someone to tell you, to know which vase the flower goes into.

Even the extremely detailed labels in the drawers; you didn’t put them there for organisation. You needed them there. And the incident with Johnny, the forever dimly-lit florist’s, the tinted sunglasses, they were all screaming at him. Even right at this moment, it is already night time. But, could you tell? Why hadn’t he realised it sooner? He’s so good at being observant, at predicting the moves of the other gangs, yet he was so bad at paying attention to the one person that means something to him.

Jaehyun sighs, running a hand through his hair, as though frustrated. You rest a hand on his shoulder, voice soft, “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” he says, forcing a tired smile. Touching your chin with his thumb and pointer, he turns your head in the direction of the ocean, “Enjoy the view.” You don’t think much of it. As you continue to get lost in the comfort of the atmosphere, Jaehyun calls, “Hey.” Without turning to look, you hum in response.

“I’ll take care of you,” Jaehyun says, his eyes taking in the entirety of your side profile. No matter the angle, he couldn’t help but love the way your skin illuminated under the moonlight, the way your eyes twinkled from the reflection of the lights, the way the side of your lips were almost always tugged upwards. He watches as your lips formed the words, “Is that a promise?”

“No. It’s a fact.”

Your body stiffens. You could tell from his tone. Jaehyun meant what he said, it is sincere, it is genuine.

Grey – security and reliability. The blanket of security Jaehyun had just cast; it was grey. Your eyes shift to focus on Jaehyun, who was looking straight at you. His expression was comforting. His presence was assuring. And even though you have always and will always only be able to see him in greyscale, his entire being has never felt greyer than it does right now. He makes you feel secure, his presence reliable.

You return the smile.

On his way home, Jaehyun searches up the meaning behind tulips, the flower that you had on the underside of your wrist this time round.

“Pink tulips symbolise happiness and confidence, purple tulips symbolise royalty, yellow tulips symbolise cheerful thoughts, white tulips symbolise forgiveness, red tulips symbolise true, everlasting love,” Jaehyun reads aloud. He locks his phone, sliding it back into his pocket.

“At least they’re all positive meanings this time,” he says with a small smile.

He couldn’t help but wish for the tulips to be red.

Red.

Henna was a part of your every Sunday routine. This week, however, you had allowed the tulips to fade, and you hadn’t replaced the henna with any other flower. The pink and red alstroemerias that hung off the silver chain on your wrist is decorative enough.

“Warmth and affection towards a friend,” you recite with a soft smile.

Your attention is attracted to the entrance of the florist, Jaehyun making an entrance with his usual sweet, comforting smile. Jaehyun had a bag slung over his shoulder today. He sets it down on the countertop, greeting, “Hello.” He pulls a stool over, taking a seat opposite you.

“I’m here to prove a fact,” he says.

“What fact?”

Jaehyun holds a finger up, a sign to wait. You nod your head, patient as he reaches into his bag, pulling out a device. It was a rectangular device. There were two buttons on the side. Jaehyun pulls the top quarter off, revealing a right-angled triangle jutting out of the device. On its body, there is also a circular pop up with lines, seemingly to be where sound would come out from.

“Judging by your facial expression, I’m assuming you have no idea what this is?” he says, holding it up. You shake your head, “What is it?”

A glint of excitement twinkles in Jaehyun’s eyes. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a rectangular strip of paper. You could see that the paper was divided into six equal boxes. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“Do you know what colour this is?” Jaehyun asks, referring to the strip in hand. You blinked a few times, about to answer, but Jaehyun doesn’t let you. “Watch this,” he says, almost giggling from all the excitement. He presses the ‘on’ button on the device. You watch as he places the slant of the triangular top of the device directly against a box on the paper.

“Very light blue,” the device reads. Jaehyun giggles, amused by your shocked expression. Jaehyun moves the device downwards, onto the next box. ‘Dark purple,” the device reads. You couldn’t contain the shock and interest the device has piqued. You’ve never seen nor heard of such a device your whole entire life. But, more importantly, if Jaehyun brought such a device for you, then…

“It’s so cool, isn’t it? Now you try.” Jaehyun places the device in your hand, “It’s black, by the way.”

You look at Jaehyun. From your gaze, he knew what you were thinking.

“I figured it out on my own,” he says. You nod your head, shifting your vision towards the device in your hand. “Go on, try it out,” he urges.

You place the detector against the counter top. “White,” it reads. You smile.

“It’s a talking colour detector,” Jaehyun explains, “Now you don’t have to always memorise everything. You can just use it to know what colour something is.”

“So this is why you suddenly said you’d protect me,” you say, resting the device back down on the counter.

“Of course not,” Jaehyun says, looking at you with a serious expression. “Just because you have achromatopsia doesn’t make you any less able than me. You’re still an independent human being.”

It was as though time had stopped for a few seconds. The eye contact you shared with Jaehyun. For the first time, red – the feeling of love.

Abruptly, you press the colour detector against Jaehyun’s left cheek. “Light pink,” it reads. Jaehyun pushes your hand away, scrambling up onto his feet, taking a few steps away from you. You laugh, thoroughly enjoying how flustered Jaehyun is.

“Pink symbolises love and romance,” you tease.

“Really? That must explain why you’re always pink in the cheeks around me,” he says, almost nonchalantly. He watches for your reaction. You scrunch your nose, hitting Jaehyun in the arm. He laughs, genuinely loving the reactions he’s able to elicit from you.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Jaehyun starts, refocusing. “I’m here to prove that fact.” He reaches into his bag once more, this time, pulling out an entire bouquet of roses. You scoff, brows knitting together in absolute confusion. Jaehyun holds it out in front of you, “This is for you.”

You scoff again, rolling your eyes. You weren’t sure if you should be laughing or offended.

“Jaehyun, more than half of these roses are dead,” you say, looking at the bouquet made up of three-quarters of dead roses, a handful of dying roses, and two relatively fresh roses. “Is this supposed to be romantic?” you question, in slight disbelief. Jaehyun seems unaffected, simply gesturing towards the talking colour detector, “Go on, find out what colour they are.”

You picked up the detector, pressing it against the petal of one of the fresh roses. “Red,” it reads. You immediately looked at Jaehyun. He had a shy, adorable smile on his face.

“Red roses are the traditional symbol for love and romance. Most of all,” he pauses, taking a step towards you. He isn’t extremely close, but he is definitely closer than he’s ever been before. Swiftly, he pulls you in by the waist, your bodies pressing against each other. You leaned your head back as much as possible, almost straining your neck, staring up at him with the widest eyes, and possibly, the pinkest face.

“The red rose will always be the best way to say ‘I love you’,” he finishes.

You are almost 100 percent sure he could feel your rapid heartbeat.

You didn’t know what to say. At least, you’ve uncovered the mystery receiver behind the single red rose Jaehyun would purchase every visit over the months. And you are definitely 100 percent sure that Jung Jaehyun isn’t aware that he is the only colour you needed in your world.

“Rose too,” you reply.

#nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #nct imagines #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct jaehyun #fic #fic: blooming

1K notes · View notes

trashytummiez · 4 years ago

Text

Even Demons Love Burgers

“Yuki, you’re so sweet, I could just eat you up!” Beel said eagerly. The table that Yuki had prepared in Beel’s dorm had been loaded with Gigadeath Burgers, Beel’s favorite.

He hugged his petite girlfriend lovingly into his broad, muscular torso. Yuki blushed but smiled and hugged the musclebound young demon affectionately.

“Anything for the embodiment of gluttony,” she said. Good timing too. It felt like the ground itself was rumbling, when in fact, it was just Beel’s stomach rumbling loudly. Yuki giggled but blushed some more. She slipped her hand under Beel’s black shirt and rubbed his rock hard abs. “Good timing too. Sounds like you’re overdue for a proper meal.” Yuki started tickling the center of Beel’s abs, making the orange haired demon laugh and squirm.

“Hahahaha! No fair! You know I’m ticklish!” Beel exclaimed.

“Yes I do,” Yuki again teased then leaned in to kiss the demon on the cheek. He blushed a little but smiled all the same. “Now, are you gonna gush all day or are you gonna eat?”

She got her question answered pretty quickly when Beel parked himself directly before the Gigadeath burgers and proceeded to chow down. These burgers weren’t small. They were actually quite generously sized and still, Beel tore through the burgers in seconds. Nothing was too large for the embodiment of gluttony, which is probably why this lunch costed so much.

But for Yuki, it was worth every penny to see Beel's face light up like the sun when he ate.

It was even brighter than Yuki’s cheeks were getting, seeing her boyfriend pig out with such fervor. Her eyes were fixated on Beel’s fangs tearing through each large burger, and watching his throat bulge out with every gulp he took. There was something about the sights and sounds that just turned her on. But nothing more so than Beel’s stomach or the impact such an immensely large banquet of burgers would have on it.

Yuki could never get enough of Beel’s abs. Whenever the two were alone, be it sitting on the couch or cuddling in bed together, she would always lift Beel’s shirt up, if he had one on, and rub his belly. And Beel would become like a docile puppy every single time. And that was generally when it was either empty or slightly full.

Beel never went without food in his stomach for more than an hour. Just because he was more jacked than any demon Yuki had seen in school didn’t change the fact that the demon was still the embodiment of gluttony. Meaning often times, when Yuki had her hands on him, Beel’s stomach wasn’t usually as rock hard or trim.

Case in point, Beel’s stomach was already getting rounder from his meal. He’d devoured so many Gigadeath burgers so quickly that his stomach had grown bloated under his tighter shirt. So bloated in fact that his shirt started to ride up his stomach a little. But Beel just kept on pigging out, downing burger upon burger without any signals of fullness. Beel just kept on eating enough to feed every one of his older siblings enough to knock each one out ten times over.

And the fuller Beel’s stomach became, the more Yuki squirmed and blushed at the sight of it. She was already biting her lip with anticipation. It only continued to expand with each burger Beel consumed. A few bites and the whole thing was swallowed down his throat and filling his belly up. It gurgled even louder than when it was empty, since Beel’s digestive system worked faster the fuller it was. But because he ate so much so fast it still took a while, even in overdrive.

Beel’s shirt just continued riding up and revealing more and more of his rounded belly to an increasingly attracted Yuki. By the time Beel was finally finished, he had to unbutton his pants. And in doing so, his bloated belly quickly filled the space, sticking out even more and unzipping enough of his pants that his boxers would be revealed if he weren’t so bloated. Yuki was weak in the knees at the sight of her boyfriend so unbelievably stuffed.

Satisfied with his meal, Beel gave his belly a pat and let out a huge burp. None of the demons could belch the way Beel could. Yuki would swear to the devil below that Beel’s burps were so strong that she could always feel a slight rattle in the ground anytime he let one out. Being the demonic personification of gluttony probably had that effect, even if that personification was the most attractive young man Yuki had ever laid eyes on.

Beel sighed contently and rubbed his bloated stomach with satisfaction. “Man, I’m stuffed,” Beel said then tilted his head curiously. “Think we got any fried scorpion tails left?”

Yuki giggled and shook her head. “You ate all of them in the morning before class.”

“Oh yeah.”

She rolled her eyes but quickly felt her heart skip a beat when Beel stood up and stretched his back, making his rounded stomach stick out, practically in her face. As Beel stretched, he burped deeply. Then immediately placed his hand against his belly and ushered another massive belch that was displaced from his movements. If any more blood rushed to Yuki’s face from that, it would be shooting out of her nose at this rate. Beel knew what he was doing. He winked at his girlfriend and pointed his head towards the couch.

There, the two sat, with Beel on the edge of the couch and Yuki right up against Beel. The side of her face was rested squarely against his rounded belly, which she rubbed all over. Her hands traveled up and down the warm, tight and bloated flesh. They roamed up to the higher crest of Beel’s stomach, even caressing his broad, toned chest. Then they drifted down to Beel’s underbelly, sensually stroking it while Beel leaned back and hummed happily with his eyes closed.

“Mmmm, feels nice,” he all but purred.

Yuki nodded in agreement, nuzzling her head against Beel’s bloated belly like a cat would to their owner. His stomach was taut as a drum. Even for as bloated as it was, his sheer muscular body retained its tightness even in overstuffed fullness. Yuki knew she wouldn’t get to enjoy Beel’s ballooned belly for long since it would be maybe an hour at most before his stomachs hyperactive digestive tract did its thing. But until that hour had passed, she was determined to enjoy his belly for all it was worth.

Yuki ran her hands all over Beel’s round stomach. Up and down, side to side, she couldn’t keep her hands away. Beel was loving every second of it. So was his stomach, judging by the bubbling it made. It turned into a more intense gurgling, but Beel remedied that by thumping his broad chest and expelling another deep burp. With Yuki practically hugging his belly, it made every part of her body rattle with him.

“Tch, weak,” Beel expressed his dissatisfaction. He gave his belly a few pats, making Yuki swoon with the audible thump each pat made. Then eventually, he burped again, louder this time. But still, even after that, Beel looked dismayed. “C’mon,” he whined.

Getting an idea, Yuki stood up from the couch and knelt down before Beel, placing both of her hands square into the middle of Beel’s rounded stomach. Catching on, Beel grinned then started gulping down some air. Yuki could hear an audible gurgle from his throat with each gulp of oxygen he took in. She could also feel his belly swell a little from the circulation of air now filling Beel up. He gulped and gulped until he looked a little uncomfortable.

But when his belly bubbled aggressively from the surplus of air, Yuki grinned and leaned all her bodyweight into pressing down against Beel’s stomach. In an instant, all that air got pushed back up Beel’s throat along with the gas pocket that was stuck in Beel’s belly. Beel threw his head back and expelled a colossal, bone-rattling belch so loud and so powerful that not only would Yuki bet her life everyone in the dorm heard it, she’d swear they probably mistook it for an earthquake.

Beel slumped back in the couch again, relieved. Yuki leaned down and gave Beel’s belly a few pats then swooned at the thump those pats made. “Good one,” she said in an embarrassingly flustered voice.

But Beel just smacked his lips and hugged his girlfriend right up against his belly. “Yeah it was. Think I made room for dessert with that one.” He looked down at Yuki and licked his lips. “And I did say you were sweet enough to eat.”

Yuki’s heart pounded in her chest at Beel’s words. She was far more excited than she cared to let on.

Which Beel was counting on, because that sultry look in his eyes was replaced with an amused glimmer when he laughed childishly. “Just kidding! Jeez, ya should’a seen your face, Yuki!” But fortunately for her, he placed his finger under her chin and brought it up to plant his lips onto hers. After kissing her passionately, he pulled away and smiled softly. “You are sweet though, babe.”

“You do remind me every six seconds,” Yuki said, making her boyfriend laugh some more.

“That’s just me reminding myself that someone so sweet actually likes me,” Beel admitted earnestly.

Yuki smiled back and this time it was her turn to kiss him. “Good, don’t you ever forget it.” And before long, she was right back to rubbing Beel’s belly. The young demon smiled a new kind of gentler satisfaction and leaned back, resting his arm lovingly against Yuki’s back while she massaged his rounded stomach.

Their love was weird, but it was as real as it got.

#kink fic #belly kink #belly rub #obey me #beel #beelzebub #beel x mc #yuki #mc #burping #burp kink #stuffing #vore kink

114 notes · View notes

ficsnroses · 4 years ago

Text

To Be His - John Wick x Reader

summary : you’ve noticed your boyfriend John doesn’t treat himself, forgets to care for himself, and often wears solely muted colours. You want to change that; so you pick out a few special pieces of clothing for him.

warnings : mega fluff, slight angst. john being incredibly wholesome:)

words : 2.6k.

notes : this was requested by a lovely anon. i’m so sorry I just released it now, 2 months later. I got busy with those prompt fics, I apologize. regardless, I really hope you like it, I really adore how this turned out! as always, please do leave a comment, anon or not, it means a lot. >flashback indicated in italics<

“John, honey?” You call out, peeking out the sliding glass backdoor of your shared home. Between crisp white walls and fresh fragrant flowers revitalized to the kitchen table, John had recently been working on cleaning up your back yard; trimming large green bushes and getting to work plowing a home garden for you.

A few evenings prior, as John and you laid in bed together during a nightly snuggle session, you’d expressed your fondness for gardening and planting flowers; the beauty of them, the simplicity, the colour. Of course, being the most wonderful boyfriend, John had been certain, headstrong that he’d build you one as soon as he could.

“John, baby, it’s alright.” You’d giggled, feeling his full, abrasive beard brush a nuzzle into the satin dip of your neck. Velvet and suave, his voice rings a deep buzz to your skin, bulky arms drawing your body closer into his warm chest. “No, I’ll make you a space in the garden, one of those raised bed ones you like.” He beams, warm, contagious.

John’s smile was your favourite delight in the entire world; his sincerity, his dark mahogany gaze and the way it’d earl into your soul, as if searching for nothing but you, always.

There’s something special in him; a soft water that runs through his veins. Even behind the raging forest fire of his past,

your John,

is as smooth,

as soft, fresh running water.

He mimics a rose, surrounded by speckled, bristly thorns of what he’d been forced into former to meeting you; prior to falling hopelessly in love with you. Although John still hurts, still bleeds dark wounds of gauging memories; he has you. He now has you, to hold his hand, to be there.

And though you understand certain scares never heal, you will always,

hold his hand.

And although you love flowers, the simplicity, the beauty, the colours; you love him more. And flowers, he deserves.

Colours, he deserves.

“I’m gonna make you a garden, sweetheart.” He whispers, soothing small, mild kisses to your fingers. “Hell, I’ll build you a castle to go with it.” Chuckling, his stockier fingers lace with yours, a delicate kiss daubed to your palm, afore it rests to his chest. “Because you, sweetheart, deserve it. You deserve to see colour every morning out our window.” He’d finished, holding you close.

“Hi baby,” John waves a glove draped hand your way, genuine smile full on his rosy lips. To his left, Dog sits, matted gray head rested to his tiny opaque paws in a drowsy snooze. Dog loves John immense, he’d always find his way to be near his favourite friend. With a thin coat of afternoon blaze sweat stippled to his forehead, John’s white Henley shirt hosts selective patches of brown smeared dirt, and you roll your eyes to a stippled grin coating your cheeks.

Of all the shirt he could’ve worn, John had opted for his one white shirt to fix yard work in.

Trudging along the evergreen grass, he peels a dirty glove off his left hand; chocolate eyes a beautiful dew in the afternoon sun. The clouds behind him paint in gorgeous cotton pillows, flowed along the ocean blue sky with a calm, nirvanic breeze.

In moments as these, you remember how simple happiness really is;

being with your dream, on a dreamy day. “How was shopping?” He wonders, finding your lips in a sweet kiss, climbing the porch steps to where you’re stood. Discarded to the floor below, his gloves fall with a gentle pat on the porch, John’s heavy palms proximately finding the refuge of your waist. “Did you find anything you like?” Pondered, his question finds a smile crippled to your lips, your own orbs glossing over the soft dips of his brazen features. With your arms finding shelter loomed to his neck, you twirl the lonesome ends of his dark brunette locks in your petite fingers, smiling, leaning closer into him, as much as space would allow.

“I did.” You chortle, crimples of his white shirt grazed to your index as you point a lone finger to his chest. “You’ve ruined this shirt.” You frown, leaving a soft kiss dotted to his chest, just above his broad pec. John waivers off, covering the silky skin of your hand on his chest, with his own relaxed over it. “That’s alright, I have more.” Assuring, his lips dot a small kiss to your forehead. “What did you get for yourself?”

“Actually…” Your smile twists into something a little more playful, pink stained lips rouged to a simper when his brows knit in quiet, warm confusion. “I want you to come with me.” Cupped to his cheek, you smile tenderly. “I want to show you something.” The highlights of your cheekbones glow in the daylight, and John’s heartstrings sing to the sight; seeing you happy, was all he’d ever wanted.

“Lead the way.” John chuckles, allowing your frame to go first when you take his hand, guiding his larger, towering figure inside the transparent sliding glass door, Dog trotting not far along behind on his dainty paws, with a goofy smile plastered to his lovable mutt face.

“Alright…” You voice, a stray piece of hair tucked behind the curve of your ear. “I actually didn’t get much for myself…” Shuffling around a plethora of bags, you grin when the one in question finds your eye. Steady, you place the bag to the edge your shared bed, sincerely gazing John’s way as your hands clasp affront you. “Baby before I start, I just want to say that this isn’t me trying to say anything other than I love you, okay?”

With his toned armed crossed and features twisting to a ponder, John’s eyebrows raise ever so slight, a spec of his mocha strands dwindling just near his eye in an attentive mien. Pausing quick for a gather of thoughts, slow, your hands move, gestures explanatory to his wonder. “John, I’ve known you for a while now. And I know that you, are the greatest man I know.” You explain, confidence thick on your honey tone. “Baby, you’re a miracle, to be what you are, coming from where you did.” Eyes locked to his, you stand sure he perceives just how genuine; sincere you’re truly being. Not a word off your lips falls false, not a syllable falls untrue.

“Which is why it hurts me when you treat yourself less than.” Frowned, your lips turn crisp to a soft gloom, moving forward to take his hand, tugging him down to a seat on the silk duvet. “Baby, you paint me red everyday. You make me believe the world is yellow, and the sky is pink.” You babble, awestruck in love drunk blush to the way John makes every day feel as if a wonder; paints each day as a mural on a crisp new canvas, solely for your eyes to drink.

Finally, taking hold of his heavier hand in yours, you lock eyes with him, sighing in content gratification. “When I look into our wardrobe, I see your side covered in simple greys, blacks and whites. You have your everyday shirts, like this Henley.” Giggling, you scratch gently to his bicep, offering a kiss to his broad shoulder. “And you have your suits, which are all just black and white, and plain. Plain blue jeans, and a leather jacket or two.” You explain, sure not to come off as if you don’t like his style, or the way he dresses.

You adore the way John presents himself. You only wish he’d open up a little more, treat himself once in a while.

“John, you’ve never treated yourself. You never ask for more, or splurge. And I just….” You bite your lip, sighing. “To me, you deserve it. You deserve so much, baby. I want to see you have colour, I want you to have nice things and allow yourself to enjoy new, good things.” You enlighten, reaching into the bag to pull out the first piece.

“I saw some stuff today and I thought maybe you’d like it. Just a couple of pieces, because you deserve it, John.” Cupping his cheek, your spare hand squeezes a softer firm to his. “You treat me like I’m the only girl in the world. And I want you to feel the same.”

John’s expression stills unreadable, lips taut in a thin line as he watches you pull out the first piece of navy blue fabric. To the material, small, tiny white polka dots speckle the fine fabric in a subtle, yet fashionable splendour. A white dress shirt, with tiny black dots pairs with it as well.

“These are the first two,” You begin, displaying. “I’ve noticed your dress shirts are always plain white. I thought these would look really cute on you.” You smile, fingers brushed over the fabric as you perceive his expression. John’s features still prove illegible; stoic. Squeezing his palm with a heaviness to your chest, you swallow tight before asking aloud. “John? Honey? If you don’t like them, it’s alright. I love you in your plain white dress shirts, I really do.” You offer, thumb softly stroking the skin of his upper hand. “I won’t be upset if you don’t want to wear them, okay love? I just thought-” Sudden, John’s shallow baritone interjects your reason, tone soft, heavy.

“You…you got things, for me?” He asks, eyes locked to the chic textile below.

“Yeah.” You smile, head nodding to a gentle move, gaze love drunk to his gentleness. “Are these alright?” You wonder, cautious. Still for a moment, John ultimately nods, swallowing a thick lump fixed inside his gravelly throat. His heart warms; his heart yelps.

In decades of life, no one, not a single entity, had ever got him something.

No one had ever brought him anything remotely resembling good; remotely resembling anything other than ghastly, dreadful sin. Sin forced off his reluctant hands.

Before you, no one had shown him care, admiration, love; no one had shown him

colour.

Voice thick with warmth, John offers a gentle smile your way. “I love them. Thank you.” He appreciates, gaze downcast as he sulks the moment in. Without much practice in saying thank you, John feels a wave of awkwardness cast to his sore limbs.

Before you, he’d never been given the opportunity to say thank you.

“I have two more things!” You chuckle, biting your lip as you set aside the previous drapery. Carefully, your hands draw out a dusty pink blazer; a piece full of colour, yet beautifully masculine. “Alright, this one’s a bit risky,” You giggle, holding the material out in front for both your eyes to see. “But I think you’d look incredibly handsome in it. What do you think?”

“Very cool.” John chuckles, hand brushing to the sleeve. “Looks perfect for a brunch.” He smiles, heartfelt your way. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He allows off his lips again, getting used to the way it sounded off his tongue. John’s nerves tingle with gratitude, so much so, he has trouble expressing it. Not a soul had touched him this way before; no one had ever shown John they care.

You introduced something to John that he feared he’d never receive.

human connection,

someone to truly care. A lifetime spent looking out for himself alone, a lonesome John sinks in the feeling of true, complete, warmth. The warmth of having someone to look out for him. Someone who wants to look out for him.

As he gazes you, beside him, ecstatic to the brim to offer him something good; he wonders. He muses, he reminisces.

~That perhaps, your heart, and his, are old friends. Long lost soul searchers; that perhaps in a lifetime before, some part of him loved you, and you him.

It couldn’t be sweeter than this,

It wouldn’t get sweeter than you.

Here he is, living, despite it all. Happy, despite it all. You make him

happy.

So happy, he falls in love with you each day. Over and over, remembering the semblance of hope he’d received; the woman who makes the stars fall to their knees each night, warms him in her love everyday. And he looks at her with the same love, his heart whispers to hers; there is no home like you.

To a smooth daisy tone, flowers fall from your lips, love laces each word. “Alright, the last piece is this.” You giggle, hands fishing a floral tie from the bag, hopeful orbs wishful he’d like it. “It’s a bit bold, but you know I love flowers.” You smile, holding the fabric to your lover’s chest. He stares into your eyes, his own grown softer; two smooth pools of delicate honey. And he smiles, and smiles, and smiles some more. To the mere sight of his entire world, so smitten. To the thought of someone so beautiful, so pure, existing in the same time as him, someone so precious, being given to him.

And he thinks back to a time younger, when the ghost of him longed for something more; longed to be liberated. He wishes he may tell the shell of a man back then, that it would turn out alright in the end.

that rain, will make the flowers grow.

“I think it’s beautiful.” John replies, deep voice gentle, laced with care. “You love it, so I do too.” Tie placed to the side, you sigh in relief, chuckling with a phew to your forehead. John’s eyes droop, fallen cast to the space between your bodies below. His muscles tense, before a relax of ease washes over his wordless features, mind thick with words fallen short of the honey you’d made, dripping from his soul. When words fall short, he hopes, he prays you’ll understand, just what you mean to him.

How much you mean to him.

“Y/N,” He whispers, calm to a quiet low, the silken skin of your hand taken in his rougher, callous ones. He holds tight, he holds tender. His fingers lace, and his heart pours. His heart embeds, embroiders a beautiful haze to channel to his love. “Thank you, so much.” Sincerely, he voices. “It might not seem like much to you, but to me, it’s more than I’ve ever had.” Out the window, he shakes his head, smiling. “It was always you, everything I went through,” John seldom opens up about his past, rarely references the grey that paints his former. “It was all meant to lead me to you.”

Cupping his cheek with your spare hand, you smile. You offer him a sincere, adoring gaze. “I love you, Y/N. I love you a lot.” He speaks, bundling your smaller hands, softer in his. You grip tighter, feel harder. You feel the pain coursing in his veins when you hold him, you feel the hope that runs in his blood.

“I love you too, Jonathan. And I’ll never forget.

And…” Your tone lingers, a suggestive, nervous bite to your rosy stained lip bitten tense. “I bought another thing for you, actually…” You whisper, trialing, gaze locked to his lips. With one hand looming around his neck, your other draws into the bag below, pulling out a glimpse of a beautifully lace embroidered piece, of sultry, expensive lingerie; a black, skimpy luxery you knew John would adore to see on you. His eyes gaze to the lace, and he grins a cheeky smile, knowing whiskey orbs drunk to the thought of seeing you in something so beautiful, soon.

“How about, I show it to you later tonight?” You whisper against his lips, to the feel of his hands smoothing over your hips. “I’d like that,” John replies, a delicate kiss pecked to your neck. “I’d like that a lot.”

Time moves slower when you’re this close to him, love envelopes.

You could do anything,

be anything in the world; yet all you dream; all you want;

is to be his.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

The things you picked out for Johnny boy:)

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

Taglist posted separately, ask to be added or removed!

#john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick x you #john wick imagine

334 notes · View notes

thewildomega · 4 years ago

Text

Second Chance Ch.12

Looking up at the giant ship with the blue whale as the figure head you tilted your own head. Ed had told you that his own main ship had been sunken during the war so you guessed this was one of his other ones. Seeing how big this one was made you wonder how large the actual Moby Dick had been. It seemed to be made up of mid-colored wood with the white and navy blue trim. The many sails were up since it was docked but the Whitebeard flag flew proudly at the top of the mast. Seeing all the ropes and stuff you could only imagine how many people it took to run a ship like this even more so with the paddlewheels on the back. Swinging your feet you looked back down to the drawing you had made of the ship. Humming along to the music as you added in details and such.

"Of course, why would she sit where it was safe..." he grumbled to himself as he finally caught sight of the woman who held his heart. Looking out to where she sat on he sighed. Somehow or another she had managed to get herself out onto one of the larger rocks in the sea that was the closest to the whaleship. She was just sitting there, her feet swinging idly and doing something that he couldn't really make out. "Y/n!" he called but she wouldn't look his way. Trying twice more she still didn't hear him. He wondered if the waves crashing against the rocks were the cause of it. Sighing out he started to jump across the rocks towards her. Finally getting to the one she was on he moved to stand right behind her, looking down to see she had her headphones in. 'Well that explained her not hearing him.' Seeing something in her lap he leaned forward some and peeked over her shoulder.

A sudden shadow coming over you made you knit your brows and look up to the sky, was it clouding up? Seeing a face you let out a yelp and lost hold of your book. Panicking when you thought it would fall into the water you saw a large hand come out to grab it just in time and sighed. Snatching your headphones from your ears you turned around to give him a small glare. "Stop sneaking up on me." you scowlded, smacking one of his large legs that was beside you.

Huffing out in amusement he smirked and looked down at her, noticing that when she was sitting she only came up to his knee. "You're the one that makes it so easy darling." When she stuck her tongue out at him in reply he chuckled and lifted her notebook. "What were you doing out here anyway?

Seeing him go to look through your notebook you quickly stood and moved to take it from him. "Just doodling and stuff."

Holding it out of her reach when he saw the slight blush on her cheeks he grinned. "Doodling what lass?"

"Just little things, now give it back." you grunted. Wrapping your arms around his large biceps you attempted to haul yourself up or pull his arm down but neither happened as he just held you in the air like you weighed nothing more than a bag of flour.

"I want to see what some of the other dreams are on your list." he smiled.

"No." Jumping up to try and grab it he only held it above his head, even further out of your reach.

Humming he rose one of his brows, "Why not?"

"B..because there mostly stupid things... most of them are places back in my world I wanted to see."

"A person's dreams are never stupid. Most may be places but not all so I'm still curious." Seeing her go to try and grab it again he moved out of the way and jumped to the next rock then the next and back towards shore.

"Edward Newgate! You give me back my notebook right now or so help me I will kick your old ass!" you yelled as you picked up your phone and headphones, jumping after him at a slower pace than he was going. Hearing his loud laugh you narrowed your eyes and growled. By the time you got back to shore he was gone and you were trying to figure out which way he went. "So much for acting your age." you grumbled. Feeling a pull in your chest you decided to follow it and ran as fast as you could.

He had been running for a short time before he slowed down into a walk, moving towards the small patch of trees and shrubs to hide behind. Sitting down in the grass he opened the small notebook up to the first page to see a quote,

A ship in port is safe, but that is not what ships are built for. Sail out to sea and do new things. ~Grace Hopper

Smiling at that he flipped through the first couple dozen pages to see small things written out, lists of things she needed to do with some things crossed off, recipes, dates to remember, a list of books. Opening the book to the next page he felt this one heavier than the other and opened it to see a small picture taped sideways to the page. Turning the book so he could see it better he saw it was a picture of a man and woman with five small children sitting all around them. Knitting his brows he looked to the couple and noticed they looked a lot like y/n. The picture looked a little old and he noticed it had a few blotches here and there. Looking back to the family he frowned, were they her parents? She said she didn't know where they were, that she hadn't ever met them, had she lied to him? Feeling the next page heavy as well he turned it and saw a pressed daffodil, written at the bottom was 'Ed'. She had wanted to remember the flowers he had given her. A few more little things went on for a while again until he came to a sketch. A sketch of the whaleship. She had done a pretty good job of drawing the ship out, she had even drew his flag beneath it. Still hung up on the fact that she may had lied to him he only felt his lip lift up a little. Going to the next section in the back of the book he found what he had been looking for.

Bucket List

Meet my parents. (Almost illegible)

Climb a mountain.

Fly in a plane.

Ride on a ship.

Canno the Smith River.

Make a friend.

See a shooting star.

Visit the Grand Canyon.

See the Niagara falls.

See the ocean.

Jump off a waterfall.

Take an art class.

Read The Great Gatsby.

Watch Dances with Wolves without falling asleep.

Go on a date.

Find a four leaf clover.

Touch a cloud.

See a shark/dolphin.

Get my first kiss.

WHAT?! She has never been kissed?! They had almost... last week. Wait, if she has never even been kissed has she never... Swallowing hard he rubbed his face. He would have to come back to that.

Mean something to someone.

That made him frown, his brows furrowing down and his heart ache.

Be apart of a family.

Sighing he dropped his head. He knew what that felt like, knew what it was like to have no one. Going to lift his head up to read again he was knocked to the ground suddenly, letting out a small 'ooff' on the way.

"Ha! Got you!" you hummed. Grabbing hold of your notebook you went to pull it from his hand, "I'll take that thank you..." When he still didn't let go you groaned but didn't get time to protest anymore before a large arm wrapped around you and pulled you to the ground beside him. "Eddddd." you whined. Trying to wiggle out of his hold to no avail you looked to see his face serious.

Laying beside her he held her still as he flipped to the page with the picture on it. He had to know, had to know if she had lied to him. "Who is this?" He asked in a firm voice. Seeing her face fall and her eyes quickly look away from the picture he frowned. "Are they your parents?"

"Yes." you whispered.

"You told me you had never met them." he said confused. He didn't want to seem angry at her but he also didn't like the idea of that she had lied to him either.

Hearing how deep his voice was you knit your brows, "I.. I haven't."

"Then how did you get their picture?" Seeing her frame curl inward some he took a deep breath, he would get nothing out of her if he didn't calm down. "I don't mean to sound angry lass I just... I don't understand."

Glancing back to the picture you felt a lump in your throat grow but quickly swallowed it down. "I looked them up..." when he knit his brows you licked your lips. "Remember that thing I was using, my laptop. I told you about the internet and how it had all this information on it." Seeing him nod you looked to him, "Well a few years ago I got up the courage to look up my parents. I didn't know anything but their names but after a while I managed to track them down. I don't know where they are exactly, just a general location. Anyways I saw that picture there and I got so happy, they were still together and I had brothers and sisters. I sent them a message telling them who I was and how I wanted to meet them, I told them how long I had been hoping to find them." Stopping to get ahold of your emotions you looked away from him, "It took a few days and I remember losing hope but then when I got home one night I had a message from them, my mother." taking a deep breath you looked down to his blond hair that was laying across his arm and onto yours some. "She told me that she was sorry but they had moved on from that time in their lives. They had started a new life with their children and they didn't want me to intrude on that. They apparently hadn't told any of my siblings about me and never wanted them to know. She said that if I really cared about them I would be happy for them and respect their wishes, that I would never try to contact them or anyone else in that family again." Feeling your lip try to tremble you bit down on it. "I printed out their picture because... well I don't really know why..." you huffed sadly. "I guess because even if they could forget me, that that didn't mean I could forget them."

He felt like such an asshole. She hadn't lied to him, she had never lied to him. She just didn't want to be reminded of more pain. His own parents had died, he hadn't been orphaned by choice, she had. He couldn't imagine ever doing that to a child. To make them feel what his lass felt, unwanted, even by her parents. The thought alone angered him and he wished he was back in her world just so he could hunt down all of the people that had ever hurt his darling.

Sniffling you took a deep breath and grabbed the book from him, closing it. Looking up into his warm yellow eyes you slowly felt your pain go away and a sense of ease come over you. Wanting to break this sad moment you grinned a little and stood, feeling his arm loosen to allow it this time. Stepping over him you looked down his wide, toned back and hummed, swinging your foot you turned it and kicked him square in his no doubt muscled ass.

Feeling her kick him, not hard enough to actually hurt but hard enough that he could feel it he felt his eyes go wide and snapped his eyes up to her. "Wha.."

"I told you I was going to kick your old ass." you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You sure you want to challenge Whitebeard darling?"

"Won't be much of a challenge with you loosing and all..." When the great Capitan only narrowed his eyes, a playful but dangerous look coming over his face you smiled and quickly ran for it. Only getting a few meters away before a light tremor shook the ground and put you off balance. Going to fall you were swept up and tossed over the massive man's shoulder like a bag of rice.

"What was that about me loosing?" He asked with a smirk.

"I was talking about swimming." you giggled but only heard him hum before laughing.

.........................

"What are you looking at hun?" Zella asked her husband who was looking down towards the valley with a soft smile on his face.

Chuckling lightly the phoenix smiled, "Nothing." Turning away from the playing man and woman by the trees, giving his pops some privacy.

............................................

Waking up suddenly he snapped his eyes open and stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. Something felt off, knowing that usually that feeling meant something involving his soulmate he got up from bed and quietly walked from the room. Seeing the bathroom door open he knew she wasn't in there. Making his way across the living room he looked down to the couch and found it empty. Quickly looking to the kitchen and dining room he saw them both empty as well and felt his brows lower. Snapping his eyes to the door he saw it unlocked, she had left the house. With a deep breath he made his way out to find her, letting his heart guide him to her.

Having woke up covered in a cold sweat and panting for air you shakingly stood from where you were sleeping and hurried outside. You didn't exactly know where you were going you just knew you had to walk, had to get away to clear your mind. Before long you had made your way down to the beach and sank down to sit in the cool sand. Pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging them you rested your chin on them and closed your eyes. Taking a deep breath you let it out in a long sigh. Thinking back to your dream you swallowed hard.

Sitting on the cold wooden floor in the middle of the dark room you breathed heavily and looked around, "Hello? Is anyone there?" No one answered at first and you licked your lips. Looking down you saw you wearing old threadbare clothes like the ones you wore when you were living on the streets for those two years. Moving to push yourself up to stand you were suddenly struck across the left cheek and fell back to the floor, your hand flying up to your burning face.

"Despicable girl."

Snapping your eyes up to the familiar female voice you saw your grandmother standing there in her usual red dress, a deep scowl on her wrinkled face. Shaking your head a little you turned to move away from her when you were stuck again, this time the hand a little larger, rougher.

"Worthless."

Your grandfather, a look of distaste in his eyes as he looked down his nose at you.

"You should have never been born." your grandmother snapped.

"No one wants her, she's so ugly."

Seeing your great aunt had joined them you swallowed hard.

"What a waste of life." Your cousin spoke.

"Stupid."

"Loser."

"...going to grow up to be a common harlot, just like her mother."

"Unsightly."

"Useless."

One by one more people crowded around you, striking you and calling out insults. Everytime you tried to get up you were hit back down to the floor until soon you could do nothing but curl up into a ball, your hands over your ears and your eyes shut tight as you tried to drown out what they were saying. When their voices got louder you felt tears fill your eyes and you started to scream.

"They're right you know."

Gasping you heard all of the other voices stop and opened your eyes to see them all gone. Turning your head you looked around the dark room until you saw him. Watching as he crouched down in front of you you stared up into those yellow eyes. Something wasn't right, why did they look so cold? Swallowing hard you parted your lips to speak, "E..ed..."

"They're right."

Furrowing your brows you licked your dry, cracked lips and started to shake your head. Before you could speak he started laughing.

"Did you really think I would ever want you?"

That wasn't his normal laugh, wasn't the one you had heard so many times before, the one that made your heartbeat a little harder in your chest. Feeling tears well up in your eyes you blinked and felt them roll down your burning cheeks.

"You're so pathetic. No one wants you, you don't mean anything to anyone, especially me." he huffed.

Feeling the lump in your throat burn you let out a little sob.

"Why would I want someone as ugly as you by my side?"

"P..plea..sssse ssstop..." you cried. Feeling him curl his finger under your chin and lift your eyes to his you looked up at him through your tears.

"I will never love you."

It felt like someone had stuck a knife straight through your heart. Feeling his finger slip from you, you dropped your head to the wooden floor and curled up as tight as possible as sobs wracked your body. You heard his deep chuckle and then the sound of his boots walking away before you were left alone in the cold darkness.

Feeling something wet land on your cheek you opened your heavy eyes and stared out at the sea, the moon reflecting off of the dark surface. Curling up tighter if possible you sniffled, another tear rolling down. It felt so real, all of it. The clenching in your heart as well. As much as you hated it you couldn't help but wonder if this was a warning of some kind. There was no doubt in your mind that you were falling for Edward, never in your life had you felt this connection with anyone, this longing, this happiness. But what if it was all too good to be true? What if he didn't feel the same? Would he grow tired of you soon as well? Would he throw you away like everyone else had? Then you would be alone again. You didn't want to be alone anymore. You didn't want to hurt anymore.

Looking out to the moonlit shore he saw her and started walking forward. What the hell was she doing out here? It was the middle of the night and she was in nothing but his damn shirt. Getting closer he went to call out for her but stopped when he saw the shining tears rolling down her cheeks. He had only seen her cry that once, when he had stopped that man from raping her. Just the sight alone made his heart ache. She looked so fragile to him in that moment with her body curled up as tight as she could, clad only in his button up shirt that was too big on her. Her hair was blowing wildly around her with tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't look hurt to him, not physically but she was hurting that much was clear. Slowly walking over to her he saw her glossy eyes stay on the dark sea before snapping to him once he got close enough.

"E..ed..." your voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. Quickly remembering that you were crying you looked away when you saw him looking down at you with concern clear on his face. Wiping at your cheeks and eyes you mentally started cursing yourself for no doubt looking so incredibly pathetic. Here you were crying on the beach in the middle of the night, STUPID!

Not saying anything at first he crouched down beside her, placing his hand on her back. Hearing her start apologizing for waking him and telling him to go back to his home in a soft, saddened voice he furrowed his brows. When she still refused to look at him he tilted his head. "Lass, look at me."

His voice sounded so deep and low, you knew he wasn't asking. That was the voice of a captain giving an order, just maybe a little softer that he would have been with his crew. Screwing your eyes shut you tried to force away your previous emotions, not wanting to look weak.

"Y/n."

Swallowing hard at the way he said your name you slowly moved your eyes out from where you had hid them in your knees to look up at the giant of a man. You thought he might be angry, that he might be annoyed but that wasn't the case. Those weren't the cold eyes from your dream, those were warm and kind and caring. Just one look made you feel so much, his touch, his smell, his... everything. Never before had you felt so alive than you did when you were with him. How could one man, one person cause so many feelings inside of you? He made you want to smile, want to laugh and cry and... love. You loved him. YOU LOVED HIM! It was like someone had hit you with a ton of bricks and all too soon you were crying again. No, no you couldn't love him because if you loved him there was no going back. If you loved him and he didn't love you then it would break you. If you loved him and he tossed you away then it would kill you. Oh God it hurt, just the thought alone hurt, it hurt so bad.

Seeing her start crying again, her body curling up and her fingers dig into her arm he felt his heart throb. "What's wrong? Y/n, darling tell me what's wrong." he spoke in a deep voice, kneeling down to place both of his hands on her, trying to comfort her.

His touch was like a warm blanket and his voice a light shining at you from the darkness. "I'mmm afffraid." you cried without looking up at him. There were so many emotions hitting you all at once. Shame, embarrassment, fear, uncertainty, sure, delightled, doubtful...love."

Afraid. First thing that popped in his head was him, was she afraid of him? Many people were. He was sure he had never given her reason to be though, he was careful around her. "Of what, afraid of what?" She didn't answer him for sometime and he feared it was him but then she spoke one quiet word that made it all clear.

"Feeling."

He knew her past, knew what she had been through. The past was hard, it was for most and some never recovered from things that happened to them. It could make people bitter, angry and afraid. His lass had been hurt time and time again. She had been tossed aside, given away and never given the chance to develop any real relationships in her life. Everyone she had ever trusted had hurt her and so she had shut herself off. She didn't have any friends, didn't try and make friends because she was scared of being hurt again. Now though he assumed she was feeling the same thing as him and that scared her. Taking a deep breath he gently lifted her up into his arms, feeling her not even fight him. Holding her close he dipped his head down and closed his eyes, "I know you've been hurt before and this scares you but Y/n you have my word that I will never make you feel what they did. I will never leave you. I will never hurt you." he promised her in a low, deep voice.

You wanted to believe him, you really, really did but you were still afraid. Still unsure. People had made you promises before and never kept them, were his just empty words as well. Would he grow tired of you or change his mind?

Feeling her body remain tense he turned his face to her head, touching his lips and chin to her forehead. Letting out a sigh he stroked her thigh with his thumb. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid lass. Just means I'm going to have to work on making those fears go away. I'm going to spend the the rest of my days proving to you how wonderful you truly are."

"Wwwhy? Why would you... why do you c...care?" you asked in a broken cry.

Smiling he breathed in the scent of her hair, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. "Because lass, I love you."

Gasping you opened your eyes, looking at the skin over his hard chest, feeling his heart thumping in your ear. A tear rolled down your cheek at his confession, the words you never thought you would hear anyone say to you. "Yo....uuu...mmmee?"

"Need me to say it again darling? I'll tell you everyday." he grinned. "I love you."

Fresh tears poured form your eyes but these were not from the sadness or loneliness you were so accustomed to crying about, no for the first time in your life, these were tears of pure joy.

He hadn't been expecting her arms to wrap around his neck, nor her face to nuzzle into his neck as she cried but he wouldn't complain. Wrapping his own arms around her he hugged her as tight as he could without crushing her.

Swallowing thickly you felt a burst of courage come over you and smiled, you couldn't exactly leave him hanging."I love you."

Smiling from ear to ear he turned his face to press a kiss to her head. "You really do know how to make this old man feel young again lass." he chuckled and heard her hum softly. When she nuzzled into his neck more, her arms still latched onto him with no signs of letting go he grinned and stood, holding her to him with one arm under her ass and the other over her back. Walking back to his home he carried her inside and locked the door. Passing by the couch he felt her head perk up some and grinned but said nothing as he walked back to his room... their room.

"Ed..."

"No more sleeping on the damn couch." he told her in a firm voice, moving into the dark room and over to the bed. Laying her down on the side closest to the wall he got in beside her and pulled the covers over the both of them. He could tell she was a little apprehensive so he got comfortable on his side, facing her, gently pushing her down to lay beside him. "Go ta sleep darling." he told her in a gentle voice.

With his arm wrapped around you, holding you to his chest you slowly relaxed, letting out a sigh. Closing your eyes you listened to the sound of his beating heart, felt the warmth of his body seep into yours.

Listening as her breathing turned deep, her body going limp against him he grinned softly. Placing a gentle kiss to her temple he felt her face nuzzle into his chest. "Goodnight my darlin'."

#Whitebeard #whitebeard one piece #one piece whitebeard #whitebeard x reader #edward newgate #feedback would be appreciated #edward newgate x reader #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction

50 notes · View notes

cockasinthebird · 4 years ago

Text

Apparently I never shared this here?? Some more Soulmate AU because fuck if it isn’t cute

For a Saturday morning, Steve is awake surprisingly early.

When his alarm rings at 8am, he shoots up and has exactly ten minutes to become clear headed after too little sleep, maybe 4 hours or so; it's so hard to fall asleep when his skin tingles.

Feet stumble over yesterdays outfit, as he rushes into his bathroom to turn on the shower, drowsy movement guided by a groggy head from lack of sleep, but it's worth it all when he catches himself in the mirror.

“What song best represents you?” Steve had written on his bicep, and the response was-

“Rock you like a hurricane ;)” Which... isn't a surprise. “You?”

“Don't you forget about me”

He still feels a slight blush creep up when he sees what Billy's response had been. “I won't.”

“Show me your moles again” Billy had requested, written across his ribs.

And Steve had taken his time with that; circled every single one he could reach from the comforts of his bed. Up and down his arms, his chest, that he shaves for this exact reason, abdomen, shins... thighs... hips... down where he trims his pubic hair, body oddly... excited to reveal certain locations, and his heart races as he re-reads, in impressive cursive-

“Oh ;)” down between his legs.

He catches himself grinning like a fool in the mirror.

Then looks at his left hand, words on his wrist-

“Take my hand”

The circle in the middle of his palm has faded a bit, probably worn off by Billy as he had gone about his day-to-day in Australia, while Steve had slept in America.

And he reaches for the ballpoint pen on the sink – a tactic he was quick to learn, is to always have something to write with in every room of the house, rather than just carry one pen with him everywhere and occasionally lose it – then retraces the circle in his palm, now fresh and clear blue.

It takes less than 10 seconds before he feels pressure in the same form again, as Billy draws on top of the circle in his own palm.

Next there's a gentle and familiar tickling across his naked hip-

“Good morning princess” and a little crown scribbled above the i.

Steve is so, so tempted to draw out a heart, to just make that tiny little shape down there, but the both of them understand what a heart so low means. So he simply signs off with a singular dot, to show “message received.”

And in the shower he does his best to wash away old messages and song lyrics; to clean up the canvas for today's fresh pen strokes. His skin is itching to be touched and used again already, ready to be marked up everywhere the two of them can reach.

When the clock says 08:09am he's out of the shower and drying his hair – never before has he washed up so quickly, but for good reason, because barely does the clock switch to 08:10am, when the phone on his bedside table rings.

“Harrington residence, this is Steve,” he says all courteous and well mannered, but who else would it be other than-

“Hey pretty boy,” Billy drawls out.

A smile grows immediately. Steve leans against the table and smooths his hair back from where it lies limply against his forehead. “Hi.”

“You busy?”

Steve hums in feigned contemplation and looks around his room, only slightly messy. “I guess I can take a break from my busy morning for you.”

The way Billy chuckles deep in the receiver urges forth goosebumps down Steve's bare arms.

“Want me to put on some music?” Steve asks per the usual.

Since he lives alone and hates the silence of such an empty home, he listens to music near constantly, and it eventually became a bit of a thing between them, to always have something running in the background.

“Yeah, play the song you mentioned earlier.”

The song he had said “represented him best”, although having thought more about it, there are several songs that could describe him and his life, Tainted Love, Sweet Dreams are made of this, Don't you want me. Plenty of songs put in to words how utterly lonely and starved for attention he truly is, but Don't you forget about me had been the subtlest choice in a constant struggle to not come off as clingy.

“Ok, hold on!” the tone he had intended was soft, but it jumped right into eager before the words had even left his tongue.

Swiftly with practiced hands, he slips out the vinyl from its sleeve, lifts up the plastic cover for the turntable, and places the stylus in the grooves of the LP. The music is low and Jim Kerr's voice fills the room.

Steve dances; pumps his shoulders to the beat and spins his way back to the bed, then lands with a poomf next to the phone receiver he had thrown onto his covers.

“Is it too loud?” he asks with closed eyes as he listens to the song.

“No it's good,” Billy says with a clear smile to his tone. “And the song isn't that bad.”

Saying that they have vastly different tastes in music would be a severe understatement. Sure, a few of the records that Steve has lying around his house is technically from rock bands- Van Halen, Inxs, even Simple Minds is rock, but not the right type of rock according to Billy. It's pop rock, it doesn't count.

“Sleep well, princess?”

Steve feels his lips twitch further up at that stupid name that started out as a tease years ago when Steve had been crying about not getting his way with his rich parents, but now it was something dear.

“Mmh yeah,” he mumbles out and leans into the phone. “Didn't get much sleep though.”

“Hey you can't blame that on me, I was at work all day,” Billy laughs, “You're the one that started it all... couldn't stop thinking about you after you fell asleep.”

“And now I'm awake and you're going to bed,” Steve whines only a bit.

“Yeah... time zones suck.”

There's a short silence, as the chorus plays-

Don't you, forget about me

Don't, don't, don't, don't

Don't you, forget about me

“Tell me about your day.” He crawls further up the bed till he meets with his pillows, and takes the pen from his bedside table.

“Same shit as every other Saturday really, spent all day at work getting distracted.”

The insinuation in his tone makes Steve laugh.

“My co-workers really tease me about it sometimes, they noticed all the circles on my skin and asked about it.”

“And what did you say?”

“The truth; that my soulmate was marking all her moles...” It's clear in his voice that Billy stopped smiling. “I'm sorry that I haven't told them that you're a-”

“A guy?” Steve interrupts, his own mood slightly sour, but he gets it; he can't blame Billy for the way the world works. “Billy...” he speaks softly, “I don't want you to feel bad about not telling anyone that I'm Steve and not Stacy. I've only told one person here the whole truth.”

“Robin, right?”

“Yeah, from history.” He pops off the cap on the ballpoint pen, and sits up to start drawing little flowers up on his thigh.

“Hmm...” Billy hums as he has probably noticed. “How's it going with her and Heather?”

“Pretty good; Robin's become an oddly proficient swimmer suddenly.” And Steve chuckles, “I'm kinda feeling neglected though. My best friend is spending more time with her girlfriend than me!”

“Well...” Billy's voice suddenly so warm and sweet like honey, as he says, “What can you do when you're in love.”

And Steve's heart beats an extra few times upon hearing Billy say that word. Love. Yeah, what can you do...

“Anyway,” Billy says as there's no response from Steve. “There is this one guy at work, uhh, think his name is Julien? Julian? Julius? Something with a J, it doesn't matter. I think he might be gay, too.”

Steve perks up a brow with a sly smirk. “Oh? And how do you know that?”

“I dunno,” his response a slight mumble, “He just... gives off a vibe?”

And the other brow goes up. “A vibe?”

“Yeah! Like!” frustration apparent at the fact that Steve doesn't just get what he's saying. “You know... all... well groomed?”

Steve chortles loud enough for it to drown out the music through the phone. “Ok, go on.”

“His hair is just always so nice, face clean shaven and skin always so clear...”

“Oh you must have gotten pretty close to notice all of that,” Steve is still bubbling with leftover laughter.

“Steve...” but Billy sounds so worried. “You know I wouldn't-”

“I haven't asked you not to,” Steve interrupts and looks up into the air, as if he could catch Billy's eyes and give him a reassuring look. He can feel that they're all so suddenly on the brink of a rather important discussion that they've already had.

“I know! I know...” Billy sighs. “I just want you to know that I haven't... been with anyone ever since you and I started...”

Getting serious? Are they serious? With an ocean between them, can they be...

“Yeah, me neither...” Steve's heart thumps as his mind starts spewing out ideas of what it would be like... to be with Billy. “But you can. If you want to. You don't need my permission, Billy.”

“Yeah you've said that already, and the same goes to you, too, of course.”

“I know...”

But there's a clear air of assumption between them, despite the thousands of miles. Assumption, expectation, hope that there's a chance...

The song repeats again.

Won't you, come see about me

I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby

Yet the two of them don't say a word. Just listens to the song, together. The type of silence between them that can only be achieved with someone you're so comfortable with. When Steve feels Billy draw in his hand, and looks to see a heart in his palm. A little, shy heart.

And he can't help but smile warmly; feels his cheeks heat up with unspoken feelings- the kind that just came naturally over the last 7 years, and that he wishes to cherish forever.

He draws a heart around Billy's, just slightly bigger, surrounding it, like an embrace.

“Getting tired yet?”

“Yeah,” Billy sighs, sleepy and exhausted. “I always feel so drained during winter. It's so cold and dark... I miss being a lifeguard, but no one wants to go to the beach in this shitty weather. And I use my body in a different way as a mechanic, and I have to deal with customers and co-workers...” he complains about it a lot, but Steve knows that Billy loves getting to spend all day getting dirty and fiddling with cars.

Once talked about opening his own shop somewhere. Says he hasn't quite decided where to do so yet.

Assumption, expectation, hope...

“Should we hang up?”

“Mmmh, no, let me just hear the song a few more times,” is his reasoning, but they both know that that's not why.

They always struggle with hanging up, which is why they don't do this as much as they want to- other than it being expensive of course. Despite their souls being connected and bodies bonded this way, being on either end of the phone line is when they truly exist together. Even in silence, just knowing the other is there too keeps the world away.

“Want me to trace my hand?” Steve whispers softly, his voice a sweet little thing, only for Billy's ears.

“That'd be nice, yeah.”

And oh how he wishes he could see Billy now; eyes closed, a warm and dopey smile, tan body naked under the sheets. There's nothing he wants more in life, than to fall asleep with his muscular arms wrapped around himself, to share body heat, to share their breaths.

But for now, he can settle with drawing the pen along the lines in his palm; creating an endless pattern that Billy describes as feeling like you're running your finger over my skin.

The closest thing to caressing his soulmate that he can get. For now. And the last thing he hears from Billy's end, is him humming with pleasure of the gentle touch.

#Harringrove #My Writing #Soulmate AU #Fluffy fluff fluff #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #working on another part

110 notes · View notes