#I mean i know i was ahead of the curve but my peers barely knew color names | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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go the distance

(will you) go the distance

— You’re perfectly content in life except for the fact that you are not dating Deku. When his best friend won’t help you out, you turn to the dark side to get what you want.

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pairing: pro hero!midoriya izuku x bad villain!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, manga spoilers, pro hero!au, villain!reader, ofa usage for sex lol, size difference, manhandling, public sex, slight degradation and praise, deku eats his cum outta ya pussy, big dick deku, corruption but make it opposite, deku is a pervert change my mind

word count: 12,715

a/n: well, yall already knew I wanted to make this fic a reality, so here it is for bnharems villain collab!! check out all the already amazing stories if you haven’t already. thank you to kara, sky, and jo for reading this for me because lmao im ass rn. I’m gonna go to bed because I partied a bit too hard last night.

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your quirk: distortion – can make afflicted persons vision shift 6 cm to the left or right at the cost of having their own vision shift the same way

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“Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcasted rumors of a villain running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures, and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning.

“Road maintenance endeavors to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

“Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

“Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved, but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city, please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.”

The female reporter closes her eyes, despite still being on the air, her eyebrows furrowed as she exasperatedly sighs.

“Was that good enough, Mirage?”

You look at her with a pout, your eyes then clenching shut as your lips move with unsaid words as you motion for the cameras to stop rolling. You tilt your head right and left, muttering a bit.

“Did that seem better to you this time? I don’t know, I don’t think it was scary enough...”

You open your eyes to see the exasperated reporter looking at you as if she personally sought to end you right where you were sitting.

“You are the worst villain I’ve ever encountered,” she deadpans, and you laugh in agreement.

You weren’t really a villain.

If you must put a label on what you were, you would say that you were the best PR head any hero agency could ask for. You were, after all, the top student graduate from UA’s Business Course and had been ushered into a condensed agency the moment you were finished taking your graduation pictures.

And well, if you are actually curious about the… villainy, you would like to uphold and continue to stress that you weren’t a villain! You were just a public nuisance – like those stupid YouTubers – with the ability to garner Pro Heroes’ attention! People had no reason to scoff at what you did on the daily.

You took both of these jobs very seriously!

It was like being straight out of a comic for you!

A simple – hopefully should the heroes you’re in charge of not be stupid – nine to five job by day, and a badass, crime-committing, sexy as shit villain by night! How could anyone ever hate you for your lifestyle! How could anyone ever hate you?!

But we are all noisy people, and everyone wondered just why you became a villain because you had a beautifully stable job with an impressive salary! Why would such an amazing woman such as yourself dabble in the evilness of humanity?

Well, you did have an answer for the public.

“Why do you engage in evil, villainous schemes?” the reporter deadpans, absolutely and utterly not being paid enough to humor you in this forced interview.

The public loved drama, pizazz, a little showmanship even from what they deemed humanities worst! So, you told the world why you chose to be evil instead of good:

“Because I want to be!” you grin, flashing a pose as you make your away from the interviewer you had very much illegally forced to interview you. “And because a hero killed my cat!’

Of course, that was a lie! Why would you ever hand over the real reason as to why you decided to become a villain! You’d be laughed right out of Japan, possibly be murdered by a horde of fangirls!

For you see, there was one reason and one reason alone as to why you decided to take your place within the villainy hall of fame. Why you chose to do more in your day outside of your already demanding job.

And that one reason was: Pro Hero Deku, civilian name Midoriya Izuku.

Now, trying not to come off as some creepy, weirdo, stalker fangirl, you could fully admit that you were in love with the stupidly large hunk of a man that debuted as an official pro a year before you graduated from high school.

You remember how the world was finally recovering from the year-long nightmare that had ensued. To be honest, you were stupidly surprised you had even managed to graduate, given that most of schooling had become somewhat of a joke.

FIVE YEARS AGO, MARCH, 2XXX:

It had been in the evening, the clear blue sky becoming ruby red and blood orange as you made your way out of campus. The air somehow smelled of sweet hay and gasoline, but you didn’t mind. There was hardly anyone out at this time, most students had made their way home already, and the only sounds were the moving cars of businessmen just trying to get back home.

There really wasn’t any reason to suspect anything to go wrong, this was a simple daily walk back home after school that wasn’t like any other. But then there had been a loud pop, an ever louder screech, and finally, you managed to whip your head in time to see a car tumbling through the air straight at you.

There was hardly any time to think, even less to react, and the only thing you knew was that you were not going to survive.

You braced yourself, eyes clenching and body curling, your mind screaming because this was not going to be the way things ended. But before it could happen, before the car could come down upon you and squish you like a bug under a shoe, something picked you up and you were weightless.

Waiting for an impact that never came, the tears that were endlessly streaming down your face were suddenly stopped by rough, warm fingers smoothly wiping them away.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re safe now!” a voice says softly to you, endearingly warm and comforting. “I’m here, don’t worry.”

“Am I… did I die?” you whisper, unsure if you even want the answer, your eyes remaining closed because you refused to open them up to some angel that could confirm your death. “God, what an embarrassing way to die!”

“Oh – um, no! You’re not dead! I promise!” the voice laughs brightly, just softly enough that you believe him and not be entirely horrified by the amused reaction. Your eyes crack open slowly, just barely peering back into the world, still half praying you weren’t dead. But all you saw was green.

Green eyes, green hair, green clothes.

You blink, once, twice, realizing only then you were staring into the eyes of a boy about your age.

He had curly hair, freckles littering his face, and eyes that easily pierced through your very soul.

Without meaning to, your breath stopped, frozen in your lungs as you were captivated by a handsome man with a curving, beautiful smile.

“See, I told you it was okay!” he teased you, head cocking to the side as he grinned largely.

The action itself seemed to strangle the strangest noise out of your mouth as you realized suddenly and immediately that your face was burning and all you could think was:

A cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, acuteherorescuedme!

“Sorry about that scare! I would’ve caught that car sooner, but I wasn’t paying attention to who was around!” the green boy apologized, bowing deeply in front of you in his apology. “There’s a commotion just up ahead, so I recommend you take the next road over.”

You nod numbly, unable to conjure even the slightest hint of your voice again as he stood up to his full length. He was average in height it seemed, taller than you, but still not towering. The hero looked behind his shoulder, those big green eyes focusing onto the distance, onto something you couldn’t even begin to imagine – or see, really. He blinked and turned back to you, smile gone but the gentle aura to him remained, but now his face, his mouth, was underlined with a sense of urgency and engagement to whatever sent a vehicle tumbling your way.

“Which train do you take home?” he asked, eyebrows relaxing from his stern position, as his smile picked up again. “I’ll take you closer to your station!”

“B train,” you manage to wheeze out – unable to be the reason why he was held up but also confused as to just what he could do to get you closer to the station that was at least a mile away from here.

“Perfect! I know where that is!” he laughs for just a moment, and before you could even ask if this was going to be some escorted thing – because you definitely did not need it – his arms were fastly secured around you, and suddenly you were weightless.

A cold wind rushed against your face, nipping at your nose, cheeks, and ears, sending your hair flying around – into your mouth! Oh, you were screaming! You were soaring through the skyline, being held by some hero you couldn’t name, and you were screeching at the top of your lungs.

Making the mistake of looking down, your arms were suddenly around his shoulders, your voice growing even sharper and louder as you squeezed against his body and refused to let go. His hands, despite the gloves, were warm on your back, and his soft chuckle warming you from nose to toes as he secured his grip on you.

“I got you,” he spoke, “I won’t let you go, I promise.”

Those words don’t exactly ease you, but there’s a comfort to the genuinity to his words. You nod nonetheless, your face buried deep into his neck. The cold wind continues to whip around you, the only thing sounding in your ears is the cruel whipping wind and quiet city below.

“I’m landing now,” he informed you, body shifting in the wind, and reflexively, you clung even tighter to him, expecting the similar stomach dropping motion of a roller coaster going straight down. “You’re – ack – c-choking me!”

The knowledge of that, hearing the strain and entirely unhidden sound of him choking against the current chokehold you had on him, you released him entirely with a shriek of your own. Was it a smart move? No, definitely not because you were how many hundreds – if not thousands – of feet in the air with a quirk that could not, and would not save you.

“It’s okay! I’m fine!” he quickly said, his arms shifting around your waist as you felt your body weight drop just the smallest bit. To which your focus landed to the concrete floor so far down, and you began screaming again. He panicked just a bit too. “Y-You’re okay too! We’re landing! We’re landing!”

Soon, but not soon enough, the concrete floor came underneath your feet, and you practically felt your knees buckle underneath you. The train station behind you was practically invisible, and you felt the floor come in contact with your knees, and you collapsed onto your hands and knees. You could feel the tears streaming down your face as you wheezed and panted, unable to move from your position.

“Hey, look, we made it!” he laughed gently, probably being said in hopes that you would feel better. (It did make you feel slightly better, his laugh was light and pretty to listen to.) You could feel him approaching you, iron covered red shoes appearing before your vision. Looking up, you saw that the young hero was crouching, his face holding a wobbly smile that was earnest, worried, and full of unspoken hope. “I do need to get back, but before I do, are you good enough to be left alone?”

You blinked your soaked eyelashes at him, still largely unable to say anything at the cute hero in front of you who had a few scratches on his cheek, right below his freckles.

“Y-Yeah, um,” you say, your tongue cotten and lead in your dry mouth. “I-I’ll be fine, I think.”

The green eyed hero nods, offering you a hand and assisting you to your trembling legs, “That’s good to hear!” he chirped, his wobbly smile becoming a grand, bright grin. “You were really brave! I was impressed!”

Now, you were an idiot at times, but even you could spot a stupid lie. Still, hearing it said with such honesty, as if this hero who was no taller than five foot eight truly believed it, made something bubble in your chest, and soon you found yourself laughing.

“No need to lie to me, h-hero,” you manage to speak between stammering breaths, “thank you for saving me, though. I appreciate it.”

You grin crookedly at him, and to your utter delight, he reciprocates it.

“It’s the least I can do. I’d offer to take you home but… I’m not quite finished yet,” he says, and you can only nod, the conversation obviously reaching its last strides. You watch as he floats up, his eyes looking at you, but somehow focused how many miles away from where he had brought you from. “Stay safe?”

“I’ll try my best,” you agree to his question, hands clasping before your lap. “Finish the job quick, hero?”

He grins, “I’ll try my best.”

You feel a breathless sort of laugh escape you as you watch him beginning to shoot back up, but a sort of horror shoots through you as you rush forward, running right after him, hands cupping around your mouth as you scream:

“What’s your name?!”

The blur of green in the air freezes, and you stop running as you see green eyes and freckles focusing back onto you.

“Deku! My hero name is Deku!”

You stop at the curb of the street, eyes focused on the sky as the green eyed hero named Deku grins one last time before shooting off at a speed probably much faster than when he held onto you. The wind blows around you, and you can only feel the heat sitting on your cheeks and the way you’re smiling as you stare after his figure that's long, long gone.

“Deku...” you whisper to yourself, ignorant to the world of commuters beginning to appear at the station. “Thank you.”

And thus came the very apparent and obvious day in which you fell head over heels for Pro Hero Deku.

Now some people called you a stupid fangirl, obsessive stalker, and sometimes, yeah, you were obsessive and weird about your slight infatuation with a stranger. It was strange, you knew that! But you also knew that you had practically no chances of ever being able to woe the man behind the image of Deku because Midoriya Izuku practically existed as Deku 24/7.

After you graduated from high school, you were put into the same agency that was currently holding Deku. Without tooting your own rom-com obsessed horn too much, you fully expected to walk in and be handed Deku’s file as his PR manager and be able to thank him for not only saving you all that time ago, but also eventually sweep him off his feet.

But your reputation preceded you well, probably too well, because the first day you entered the office and was handed your list of three clients to work with, neither one was for Deku. Being a PR manager for heroes was hard, a job that practically held no set hours because, unlike your typical celebrities, heroes had no type of privacy or protection. They were constantly under the spotlight, being viewed by adoring fans and scornful critics. Your job served as the first line of defense for heroes against the public, and there were some heroes that were quite hilariously easy to work for because they were genuinely good.

The older PR managers typically held the quieter, easy tempered, or less combat heavy heroes. These heroes typically never had a bad thing said about them, their job was a glorified PA job but even less because there was no expected demands from the heroes they had to take in. Unless, of course, a hero wanted to do some sort of public event they hadn’t considered.

But there were the louder, quick to temper, or the heavy combat heroes that while made you an insane amount of money, also brought you a near 120 hour work week because there was so much to do, so much to consider, so much to keep your eyes on. There was the constant slander, the people who hated the louder, quick to temper heroes because they didn’t like their attitude, completely disregarding that they had been unsafe and a liability the entire time the hero was dealing with them. The talk shows that took months to convince to allow for an interview because they heard false rumors, and so you have to practically wrestle a boa constrictor to get a measly five minute interview done. And then the combat-heavy heroes… no one would ever shut up about building damages and how this hero broke his nose while he was stealing a store!

Not to mention having to have every single piece of social media on your phone, set to notify you whenever your clients names were brought up so that you could look at it. You’ve seen more than enough lewd drawings of your clients to last you a lifetime, enough fanfiction, and fan edits that left you with blazing cheeks and the need to never look at your client ever again. But mostly you checked each and every update because you were their first and only line of legal defense on these sorts of things.

You’ve taken down leaked nudes, fake news, and qualmed rumors and speculations.

It was hard.

So when you were shown to your desk on your first day and three files were handed to you, you were shocked to see the hero names you would be working with.

Dynamight

Phantom Thief

Shouto

Somehow, without having yet to speak with a single one of your now current clients, you knew that you were going to have your work cut out for you.

“Good luck newbie!” the woman who gave you the initial tour chirped, clapping you on the back. “You got this!”

Good lord.

Without much to do other than reading through the three’s files, you realized that you already knew a bunch about two of three of your clients. DynaMight and Shouto were two heroes that you knew teamed up with and hung out with Deku a lot, both on-field and off-field if any of the out of costume pictures said anything. Because of their connection with Deku, you had at one point learned a bit about them.

You knew that Shouto was a crowd favorite. He was tall and sweet and a complete airhead at the best moments despite him being smart. Controversy still surrounded his character, despite all the good he did, because of the past history that was brought out about his father Endeavor and his brother Dabi. The country couldn’t figure out where they stood in terms of that reveal. Endeavor did a lot before the reveal, and continued to rise up to everything in his path despite the skeletons in his closet being thrown out for the world to see. They neither forgave him, nor hated him, they only watched and waited. Then Dabi, of course, was seen as a could-have-been version of Shouto, and many tried to ask if he was really a hero and not actually siding with the League. After all, why on Earth would he be defensive of his father too?

The public had an unmoving image of Shouto based on anything but who he was as an individual, and you decided immediately that it would be your job to fix that. He was also, after all, a dear friend of Deku, so you’d do anything.

Phantom Thief was your easiest of the three clients. A relatively well mannered man who was kind and a bit weird in a fun way. He had a great sense of self and was a reliable person on the field. He made a great hero, but you could see the way his spirit blazed with an unspoken rivalry between him and the other two of your clients. Well, it seemed like he was the best until his former self appointed rivals came into the picture, but that was hardly ever, and according to Shouto, he was way worse back in their first year.

The greatest scandal he’s had so far in your three years of working at their agency was the one time he was lied to about a quirk and accidentally copied a woman's quirk that gave her the ability to change her cup size. Safe to say that Phantom Thief accidentally broke a few buttons on his shirt and was unable to stop civilians from snapping pictures.

But of course, the one that had you practically crying yourself to sleep nightly for more than one reason was Dynamight.

You’d known about him the moment you looked up Deku on your phone.

They were practically a hero duo in everything but name. They were always seen doing the same things together, whether that be on patrol together or maybe getting dinner, most of their top recorded fights were done with each other by their sides. You had also learned that they were childhood friends, and you practically vibrated at the thought that even though Deku was not your client, the chances of meeting him were still astronomically high.

There was no way you wouldn’t not meet Deku!

But you were wrong, so very, very wrong.

Turns out the hero duo in everything but name meant that Dynamight refused to let Deku be anywhere near him in the agency – the very small amount of time they spent in here. The few times they were in the same room, Dynamight absolutely refused to be interrupted because that was their paperwork hour. You had only ever been blessed with seeing green curls turning the corner as Dynamight gripped your forearm, refusing to let you follow.

“Like hell I’ll let you distract the shitnerd,” he stated simply, his red eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at you. You opened your mouth, ready to defend your not so innocent intentions. “I’m not stupid, so don’t pretend like you won’t try anything.”

Your jaw snapped shut.

Safe to say that you couldn’t do anything about Deku so long as Dynamight was around.

But Dynamight as a client was exhausting to put it kindly.

There were so many opinions and thoughts and issues and praises coming from everywhere. Hell, even the fucking Americans and westerners had caught wind of the Wonder Duo at one point and while you were well knowledgable on their opinions on Deku, the ones on Dynamight were the ones that you had to focus on now.

People still called him a villain, so many unhappy with the fact that he still screamed and cursed and threatened. There were many conspiracy theories that he was working with the long dead League of Villains. They turned their nose up at the fact that he was childhood friends with Deku, claiming that no way an asshole like him could have ever been friends with him. And of course the bullying revelation that had come out shortly after your debut.

That had been a trip, one that had you even shocked as Dynamight approached the table in front of the media, his body calm and composed. You had watched as he simply said he owed nothing to the media, that he had already done all that he could to deserve his atonement and deserve Deku’s forgiveness. He had spoken clearly, concisely that it wasn’t any of their damn business as to what he did, and if he apologized to them, the unaffected, the ones that had nothing to do with his early years of bullying Deku, of his previous weakness and insecurity, it would be a waste of his breath.

It isn’t to them he should ever be apologizing to anyways.

You had watched as he stood up, face calm, and hands shoved into his pockets as he stood and walked away despite the screaming reporters. You had wanted to stay longer, have your own hand in damage control, but a swoop of green came in and Deku was at the microphone eyebrows furrowed as he pointed a finger at them all and said that his past with Kacchan was between him and Kacchan only, and his decision to forgive Kacchan were his and only his.

You didn’t hear the rest, didn’t even get the option to hear the way the hero you loved defended the hero you worked for – his childhood friend.

No.

Dynamight had grabbed your elbow and dragged you out of the room with him, the metal doors clanging closed the moment fierce green eyes met yours.

You watched in the company car as Dynamight looked outside the window, one elbow on the doorframe holding his chin; his gaze focused sharply on nothing but the passing sidewalk. Had it not been for the way the hand on top of his lap trembled, you would have thought he was perfectly okay.

Neither one of you talked about that again.

But just because you didn’t talk about it again, didn’t mean the world was the same. People claimed he brainwashed Deku, others demanded that Deku beat the shit out of Dynamight. You knew that Dynamight would want nothing to do with this, but you would stay in the office (an almost useless, empty office as most PR managers did their business at home) for hours long after you were supposed to be gone, practically arguing with someone who only existed behind a screen and didn’t even care that much – but you couldn’t stop.

Seeing Dynamight’s shaking hand had really done a number on you.

“The hell are you still doing here, eyelashes,” Dynamite asked from the dark entrance of the floor. “Go home already, don’t waste your time.”

You had startled at the initial intrusion, but you immediately relaxed seeing the smudged paint around red eyes and blond hair. You barely kept your gaze on him before turning back to your computer and continuing your argument.

“I’m not wasting my time, I’m doing my job,” you remark, eyes squinting at your keyboard because your vision is definitely blurry. “I’ll be heading out soon anyways.”

“God you’re fucking annoying and stubborn!” Dynamight barked, the heel of his hand slamming into his forehead. “This is exactly why I won’t introduce you to the fucking nerd!”

“What?!” you shriek, suddenly looking at your client as if he had personally attacked you – and in a way he did. “What do you mean you won’t introduce me to Deku because of that?! I’ve already met Red Riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane, and Pinky through you!”

“Yeah, because they’re not stubborn idiots too!” Dynamight accuses, jamming a gloved finger at you as he begins stomping your way. You startle, your chair shooting backward as the explosion hero makes his way towards you at alarming speed.

“What are you—?!” you shriek, hands flailing about as he grabs you by the collar of your distressed shirt.

Dynamight lifts you up to your feet as if you were a sack of flour and you grasp onto his forearm.

“I might tell you that you’re the most annoying and stubborn bitch in the world, but you’re not worse than fucking Deku,” Dynamight sneers, his red eyes narrowed and stern. “I’m not going to let you meet him until you learn how to give or you’ll hurt him, and I’m not going to be part of any reason as to why he gets hurt again.”

Your jaw dropped, clearly offended, but you closed it just as fast; the weight of his words made you a bit sad, even for just a bit.

“You’re kinda cute when you care for Deku, you sure I’m his biggest fan?” you tease, grinning at the hero to which he rolls his eyes.

“Shut the hell up and go home already; it’s annoying seeing you fight a losing battle that’s none of your damn business,” Dynamight simply said, putting you back onto your feet and blocking out your desk.

“I’ll go home on the condition that for my birthday you at least consider introducing us!” you say, unwilling to move from your spot. “I’ve been working for you for three years! You’ve kept me away for three years!”

Dynamight’s stare didn’t even shift the slightest millimeter, his red eyes unamused as you groaned in grief and annoyance.

“I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself?!” you grumble snatching your jacket and purse from the hook on your cubicle and shoving them on. “My names God of Explosion Murder: Dynamight and I am Stubborn™ but will never admit it.”

You continued mocking your long time client and most definitely friend if you dared to say so, and dragged the heel of your foot all the way to the elevator to which you were joined by Dynamight. The trip down the elevator is silent, and you keep your gaze locked on the closed doors, unwilling to even look at the hero next to you.

Soon enough, the elevator reached the ground floor, and you got ready to walk out.

“I’ll consider it,” Dynamight said as the elevator doors opened. “Also, fucking stop calling me Dynamight, Bakugou’s fine.”

He walked off the elevator with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.

“Thank you, Bakugou!” you shriek, your lungs failing you at the thought of finally being introduced to Deku! You hadn’t moved from your spot from the elevator, your chest hammering with the thought of getting to meet Deku.

“Don’t get your hopes up, you’re still irritatingly stubborn,” Bakugou merely calls over his shoulder before lifting his hand in a halfhearted wave before stepping out of the glass door.

That brought you back to reality just a bit and you scowled, knowing you would have to go beyond and above to prove that.

But you see, there were many reasons to cry about having Bakugou as your client. Besides the stinkhole of his previous bullying, people just were not understanding his typically prickly exterior. You had to go head to head with reputation tarnished, had to slap fangirls away who demanded that Bakugou degrade them where they stood. It was hard to not be stubborn as not only his PR manager but his friend, and in less than a month, still plenty of time before your birthday, you had already grown irritated of the meeting-Deku-card he waved over your head.

“Mei, if I have to go any longer than this, I will die and hope I am reborn as Deku’s new guardian angel,” you pouted, chin pressed against a cold metal tabletop. Your hands being used as glove models for one of your best friends Hatsume Mei. “It’s first of all impossible getting anywhere near him with his guard dog Bakugou literally stopping me whenever I’m within a ten foot radius! And then I’m not even sure what will happen when we do meet again! Would I even be able to talk to him?!”

“Why wouldn’t you? You talk to all my babies with me! There’s practically nothing you can’t do,” Mei laughs, smacking you against your back before returning her intense gaze back to the gloves. “Deku’s uh… I actually can’t remember him but I’m sure he’s a great conversationalist! I think he helped me with the Sports Festival my first year.”

“That was Iida,” you laugh, wiggling your fingers as Mei demanded. “You’re so bad with names and faces, I’m impressed you know mine.”

“You saved my baby, of course I remember you,” Mei turned her grin towards you, “but come on, why can’t you get with him besides this Bakugou guy?”

“Well, he’s just like Bakugou! He’s practically married to his job! Their schedules basically match together perfectly! There’s literally only three hours a day while they’re on the job that they’re not together! And that’s when they patrol their own parts of town because there’s hardly any activity they don’t need to be attached by the neck.” You explain and rant, your cheeks puffing as you stand up and allow Mei to run further tests on the glove.

“Sounds like you gotta become a villain to woo this hero guy, huh,” Mei spoke, eyes focused on the glove as you pointed a finger at the far wall and watched as a beam exploded from the fingertip and pierced through the steel wall like butter. “Too bad you’re a goody two-shoes or else I could make you some serious villain gear and make you a fearsome villain to then prove that Hatusme Mei’s babies and creations are untouchable and the best in the world! Muah-ha-ha-ha!”

You know her words are more joking than serious, but that doesn’t stop your eyes from widening. Your body shifts over to where she was standing and you screech pointing at her and just narrowly missing setting off the laser again.

“THAT'S IT!”

“What’s it?” she asked, completely confused.

“You have to make me a villain!” you exclaim, rushing over to Mei, who is eagerly waiting for her babies returnal especially since it ran perfectly. “You have to make me near-invisible gear that can keep me going toe to toe with Deku until I can seduce him!”

“You want to turn evil?” Mei questions, finger pressing quizzically to her chin. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“I am definitely not villainous to pull that off, but like I pretend to be a villain so that he talks to me and we can like get to know each other!” you exclaim, you’re unable to keep from hopping up and down on your feet, your grin unfathomably bright. “It's practically a romcom in the making!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Mei laughs, altering the band of fabric around your waist. “You do know heroes and villains hardly speak? It’s more like… ‘I’m more powerful,’ ‘No me!,’ ‘No, ME!’”

“Um, I’m pretty sure that’s not true, but whatever! I’ll figure out a way!” you continue on unaffected because this plan was genius! Especially if you had Mei in your corner?! Her recent development of not using such… steampunk designs made her creations elusive and dangerous to own. Hence why she was an extremely sought out manufacturer, by villains and heroes alike. “And if I can go toe to toe with Deku of all people, you’ll know that you and your babies are the undeniable best!”

“Hm, that is promising,” Mei agrees with a nod as she forces you around. “Is this Deku guy all that good?”

“He’s the one you made the iron soles for!” you chirp and watch as the recognition and challenge spark immediately in Mei’s yellow eyes.

“Oh,” Mei chuckles, turning away from you and looking at her pile of made babies. “This would be good.”

“So we have an agreement?” you grin excitedly.

“Give me a month, and we’ll have your debut!”

Fuck Bakugou for thinking you weren’t good enough!

You hadn’t expected the initial phases of villainy to be quite as hard as it was, if you were being honest. The late nights at Mei’s personal lab made sure to keep your plans a solid secret, but you had to prepare for the wild range of what Deku’s quirk entailed.

There was smoke, something you were already used to working in because of Bakugou and his quirk. You’ve navigated quite a bit in his smog, and as long as you knew where you were, you would be fine.

There was also that danger sense, which allowed him to know when things were coming – something that shouldn’t be too big an issue considering you weren’t actually attempting to extract danger onto him.

Blackwhip was a big issue. How far or how much could you do if he even grabbed a hold of you. With sleuthing and the help of Mei having files on everyone's quirks, you were able to find information that blackwhip was a creation made of energy. Meaning that Mei was now making some type of destructing material to lessen the energy of the quirk, allowing for you to escape should he attempt to capture you this way.

Float was stopped by having most of your fights occur within a confined area, which was needed for you anyways! You didn’t need to be caught by anyone else but him! You didn’t actually need to land in jail – you would prefer to not be handled by anyone but Deku, actually.

Then of course the stupid superstrength and superspeed, both of which you knew you could handle with your quirk. You’ve been head to head with people with quirks similar to that before, and you knew your quirk was tricky enough that you’d manage to slip right past his fingers just fine. After all, you knew full and well that the Deku who took down S class villains was worlds quicker than F class villains – aka you.

You would be fine.

But today was day one, first of how many days it would take to get Pro Hero Deku, aka Midoriya Izuku to fall in love with you.

You were dressed in a black and purple bodysuit that was definitely not inspired by Shego from Kim Possible’s costume. Your hair was dyed purple by a special spray Mei created that would be washed out by the end of the day, but wouldn’t ever give away that it was fake. You wore a mask over your eyes, and grinned seeing that you couldn’t see a fleck of color on your irises.

Perfect.

And with far too much confidence, nauseating excitement, and unjustified attitude, you marched down towards your first spot, ready and adopting the identity of who you were about to become.

Mirage.

It was time to act. Deku and Dynamight were on different patrol routes right now, and you sent your threat, readying for the moment for the man in green to come in with the desire to stop you. With the very real threat of stealing every puppy within the tristate area being broadcasted within the area unless and hero bests you, you waited for your savior to come and stop you.

“I am here to stop your villainous acts, you villain!” a voice shattered the silence just as it shattered your heart. You looked over your shoulder to see some hero you couldn’t name standing at the other stairwell entrance with his fists clenched and ready to fight.

You groaned, shoulders crumbling with your well hidden disappointment.

“I wasn’t looking for you!” you exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the flabbergasted hero who was just trying to figure out what was happening. “Where’s Deku?!”

“He’s – he’s not here yet,” he stammers, eyes wide. “It’s not his day anymore to patrol this area?”

“Aw fuck!” you complain, pouting at the realization that you had messed up. “Okay, I’ll be back later, please don’t come back. Bye!”

With a small wave, you easily stepped through the door to the stairwell next to you and left, your threat empty and the hero victorious despite not actually stopping you. And unfortunately, although you had wished and prayed even, this was not the last time a screw up like this would happen.

At the threat of destroying all the cats in the area, you had another hero show up, not Deku, and you groaned and left before they could even finish their call of stopping you.

You then threatened to poison the watering system, to which you found out that Deku was held up at another major villain threat in a different city. You groaned and stomped off after that.

Then there was the time you swore you would increase the overall temperature of the city per one degree celsius should your demands not be made. Shouto answered that one and you immediately walked away the moment you saw the familiar head of red and white coming your way.

Time and time again you kept being caught by heroes you could not care about, being confronted by no names and nobodies. It was tiring, and Mei was beginning to sigh just the smallest bit whenever you showed up to try yet again.

But you weren’t a quitter!

You would win!

This was your last attempt at getting Deku to notice you.

After threatening to wrap all the citizens in the area with a giant froot by the foot, you were almost sad to say that the heroes ignored your cry for chaos and no one had come to check on you.

You sat outside the building you used as your trap for Deku, pouting into a hot dog that the neighborhood's grandma gave you because you looked like you needed something to eat. It’s a good thing you weren’t actually a villain or else they’d be fucked, you bitterly thought as you took another bite of your food.

It had been a month of empty, no Deku appearances, and you were going to bite the bullet and pretend to be not stubborn just so stupid Bakugou of all people could introduce you.

You kicked your feet as you sat on the staircase, humming as you watched the empty streets bend with the wind. It was quiet, beautiful, peaceful.

“YOU!” a voice shrieked to your left, and you watched a pudgy, red nosed man racing over towards you, a flash drive clenched in his hands. “TAKE THIS! RUN! DON’T LET THE HEROES TAKE IT!”

You gawked at him, feeling the small plastic device being shoved into your hands as the man collapsed at your feet. You squeaked when you heard a voice yelling stop and you bounced to your feet, turned into the building and raced in.

Your breathing was erratic, heart in your throat as you raced up the stairwell, unable to begin to imagine what the hell the information on the flash drive held. You were practically hyperventilating as you reached the floor you had come to know extremely well, and you stood near the window with shaky hands and legs.

What did you take?!

“I’m going to need that back, I’m afraid,” a low smooth voice said from behind you, and you froze immediately. Old anxiety overcome by a new anxiety, one that made your stomach flip and blood burn.

Turning around, you felt awestruck to see the one man you’ve been waiting for… for fucking years now, really, to appear before you, finally be there. In the flesh, completely, entirely. Your jaw dropped, your gaze looking down from your clenched hand that held the USB to the way that Deku looked at you with warm eyes that were underlined with steel that made you want to drop to your knees, confess everything, and beg to be his. God, he was so fucking tall. He had only been about five foot eight the last time you had actually talked, and now he was at least a foot taller. His teenager haircut was long gone, now replaced with his curls trimmed at the nape of his neck before filling out on top – not quite an undercut. He had more freckles now, surely. His skin just a bit tanner, a scar trailing from his cheek to his jaw. You knew there were more scars, just as you knew that there were dimples when he smiled.

You wanted to have him between your legs while you begged for mercy, holy shit.

Tucking the USB into your pocket, you tilted your head as you will yourself to relax.

“I went through all the trouble of getting it... I think if I’m going to hand it over quickly, I deserve to know what’s on it, no?” you tease, your confidence coming out of nowhere while a smile spreads ever so largely over your features. Deku’s eyes widened just a bit, shock overcoming his green eyes.

“I’m sorry, but that’s confidential,” Deku stresses, taking a step forward toward you. You click your tongue, taking a step backward while grinning.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked for,” you giggle as you watch Deku’s face go through an array of emotions before settling onto one – curiosity.

“What do you want?” he asked, apparently entirely ready to discuss any and all terms and conditions with you.

“Honestly?” you reply, tapping a gloved finger to your chin as you ‘think.’ Deku, however, nods. His stance relaxing, becoming one of preparedness but not the takedown he had previously entered with.

“A date with you.”

You watch as Deku’s eyes slam wide open, his jaw dropping immediately and he stammered. Oh, how your heart soared and how you felt giddy and wonderful as he seemed to slip and slide on his own tongue!

“A-A date?!” he ends up almost shrieking, his head shaking left and right. “T-That’s a total lie! You can’t possibly – well, no! Please tell me the truth!”

But you were giddy, practically drunk off the fact that you were making the most powerful hero in the world blush like a little schoolboy. You suddenly were on the offensive, stepping towards your hero who was much larger than you with power and drive behind each step. And it must have been the way you stared him down, the way you walked towards him at blank range with such brimming confidence that Deku takes a step back. But it’s something that makes you want to laugh as the heel of his foot gets caught on a raised tile, and you watch the mountain of a man tumble to the floor.

You’re on top of him immediately, hands pressed to his shoulders, knee settling near his crotch with most of your weight so he got the idea to not do anything funny. The USB sits between your fingers, and you lean over his flushed face that looks up at you with wide eyes.

“Actually, I changed my mind, I know what I want,” you say instead, nose ghosting over his. “Everytime I decide to do something… naughty… I want you to be the hero on the case to stop me. You and just you.”

You lean in closer, so close that you could see the specks of gold in his green, green eyes.

Deku hasn’t spoken, and you’re pretty sure his chest isn’t moving as you press your breasts against his.

“Understood, De-ku?”

Your teeth tug at his bottom lip and let go as he nods.

“Good, good,” you grin, sitting up on his chest and taking the USB in your fingers and slipping it into his utility belt. “Take good care of that for me, I’ll see you next time, hero…”

You had only managed to flash a quick wave before disappearing through your usual door, hoping and praying to god that whatever the hell possessed you would continue until you reached Mei’s. It wouldn’t hit you until much, much later than you had stunned Pro Hero Deku speechless within the first meeting.

Hell, you thought giddily as you answered Bakugou’s call about how he probably just got into a bit of a messy situation, maybe you do have the potential to woo him like this.

Thus truly began your descent as the villain Mirage.

It was quickly accepted and discovered that the moment you stepped into that costume and colored hair that you were the prey for Deku and Deku only. Most of your interactions with Deku occurred within buildings, and you used Mei’s gear to gain the final laugh each and every time to allow for you to escape. There were times, however, where you could be seen racing through the sky. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop as Deku followed after you, leaping, tumbling, and even catching you at times.

You flirted with him heavily, allowing yourself to be caught so that you could bat your pretty lashes and press your chest against his. It didn’t matter how professional he was, how good at his job he was, Deku was a pervert – so obviously a pervert it made slipping away almost too easy.

But because you had the world-renowned, world known Pro Hero Deku as the only hero on your case, soon the small block who had to play victims to your horrendous crimes became only a small percentage of people who were watching your crimes. These near daily crimes (or inconveniences/botherings as the people on the internet say to defend you and your actions) are becoming both a worldwide sensation, and so, it took nothing for you to continue having Deku at your feet and the world chipped in. So you agreed to do interviews, forcing uneager reporters to do segments on you so that the hype behind you and Deku’s relationship grew.

You didn’t want him to leave you, not until you got what you wanted, and unless you were an idiot, you were nearly positive you were almost there.

Why would you say that?

Well, a few reasons.

The first came about a week after you had first met Deku again.

You had joyously gathered the means to create a machine to shave down an eighth of an inch of everyone's shoes in the entire country of Japan without their knowledge. You had ever so evilly explained that the point of this was to ensure that for a full day, everyone would feel off and unbalanced but would not know why.

You had said this, grinning widely as you turned around to see Deku standing there attempting to fight off a very amused smile.

“I don’t think that would be all too evil, Mirage,” he called out to you, arms folding across his chest as he watched you set up the machine to do exactly what you said you would do.

“Mm, that’s what you say now, but just wait until you’re one of the losers stumbling around,” you say back, grinning as you turn around for just a second, wagging the knife at Deku from the distance.

“Well, regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku laughs just slightly, and you grin, standing up.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, so I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there.”

You giggle.

“Make me.”

You’re not sure what happens, but there’s dodging and weaving, spinning and sliding. You’re practically wheezing from how hard you’re laughing as Deku can not manage to land a finger on you with the help of Mei’s items and your quirk. It all comes to an end when instead of dodging, you throw yourself right at him, and Deku has not anticipated that.

His eyes are wide open and you fiercely grin as he falls back onto the floor, unbalanced and only slightly frantic. You have the knife pointed at his neck, the dull blade sitting gently on his skin.

“So, Deku,” you taunt teasingly, your teeth burying into your bottom lip for just a moment at the sight of the dark flash in his green, beautiful eyes. “Tell me one thing, or I’ll continue on with my vile plans.”

“O-Okay?”

“Are you single?”

The second attempt came a few many weeks later.

You had gathered about 75 tons of glitter bombs and were in the current process of making them one. You had plans of setting it off over Tokyo so that for practically the rest of eternity, the entire city would have glitter everywhere. The only thing is that you did have to glue the glitter bombs together because, well, no one made super giant ones.

“This is so annoying, there’s glitter everywhere, and I’m only ten glitter bombs in!” you complain to the ‘empty’ room but knowing full and well that Deku had appeared through the broken window at least five minutes ago.

“If it’s annoying to you, then shouldn’t you stop?” Deku replied and you grinned.

He really couldn’t stay quiet, huh?

“Well, if it’s annoying to me, then that means every one of my victims will also find it annoying. Win-win situation.” you say, turning around towards him and winking. Facing back towards the glitter bombs you scowl, “stupid fucking glue gets everywhere, too!”

“Regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku said as leveled as he could although you swore you heard a laugh in his voice.

“Just try and stop me,” you reply back stone cold.

You stand up and watch as Deku stands up from the windowsill and sighs just a bit too heavily.

“Guess I have to,” he says and shoots out before you’re well prepared.

Typically, and probably in any other situation, this would have been the end. Pro Hero Deku had come at you with the speed and power as he took out any other Class F criminals, but unfortunately for him, and definitely fortunately for you that glue was EVERYWHERE.

Deku’s hand was stuck onto your arm, and your chest was glued to his stomach, and you swear you never quite got the strawberry Deku references until right now.

The perverted hero burned scarlet, his face practically simmering with heat as your body became undeniably stuck to his. You had to fight off the vindictive smirk, the practically snarling grin as you could feel something hot and heavy twitch at your hip.

“Fuck,” Deku wheezed.

“Fuck, yeah,” you grinned.

“WHAT?!”

Deku could not look you in the eyes for about 10 more interactions following that, but you counted that as a win. But undoubtedly, your starred and favorite memory of it all was something that occurred just last week of the current present events.

You had stood on top of a building, threatening the entire government of stealing (i.e., cutting off) the aglet of their shoes and sweaters and then removing all the laces so that it would result in their wasted time and entire humiliation!

“I don’t think most people even know what aglets are, to be honest,” Deku said from behind you. You turned around to see that he was standing there with an unsuppressed grin. “It’s not a good enough threat.”

You go unfazed by his judgement, choosing to instead bat your eyelashes and push your hair behind your ear.

“Not a good enough threat, and yet, you’re still here?” you tease, enjoying the way pink flushes to his cheeks.

“Where else would I be?” he says, and you have to ignore the way your stomach fills with butterflies.

“You’re not cute when you flirt back,” you deadpan, biting your tongue harshly when he says ‘hey!’ “Enough chit chat, let me kick your ass now and then do what I need to do.”

Unlike probably what is 95% of the time, you made the first move today.

You were on the offensive, jabbing and weaving, sweeping and punching. Deku’s green eyes were nearly black as he watched you, analyzing and taking in your movements, countering them all without so much of an issue.

“I still don’t get your quirk,” Deku grunted as his hand swiped at the empty air. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“So then you can turn me in to the government who are still salty about their aglets? I don’t think so!” you say with a laugh, rolling out of the way as Deku lunges forward. “Try again, baby, I have full faith that you’ll get it.”

Deku puffed out a chuckle and lunged again, his huge gloved hand swiping at you, with nearly accuracy despite your quirk being on. But… he wasn’t exactly perfect.

RIIIIIIIIIP!

Cold air hit your breast and your jaw dropped as your very exposed breast appeared before you and Deku. Pro Hero Deku had torn the breast of your costume, the costume that you purposefully did not wear a bra for because you had wanted this exact scenario to play out.

“DEKU!” you screech, pretending to be modest and covering your tit as Deku finally yanked himself out of staring at your breast and whipped around.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn’t think that was going to happen! I didn’t even mean to look at your boob! It just sort of all happened too fast and it was very shocking! N-Not that you have an ugly boob or anything because actually I think you have a very great boob! But oh my god, I need to shut up please ignore me!” Deku spoke so fast in a matter of five seconds, and you couldn’t even tell him to come back as he sprinted away.

His ears burned red and you swore even as he was gone, you could still see the red of his ears illuminating the sky.

You laugh.

“What a perv.”

And so, we are back to the beginning.

Back to how you forced a local news channel to read your demands so that you could hopefully take your final bow as Mirage forever.

With the threat of having a machine that would make dogs bark at a frequency for hours on end until humans eardrums broke then bleed. You made your way to your typical building and hummed as you waited.

The world outside was the same as always.

There were a few people out, a few cars driving through the street, and a few birds chirping here and there.

It was peaceful.

“Don’t you think the new reporter thing was a bit dramatic?” Deku chuckled from behind you.

You were used to him approaching like that, used to him trying to portray being elusive and cool. In your opinion, it just made him dorky.

“No such thing as being dramatic when I’m trying to go head to head with the greatest hero ever,” you respond back effortlessly. You spin on your heel and look back at Deku, who is leaning against a doorframe that he most definitely is slouching on so that the top of his head doesn’t hit the frame. “Hi, Deku.”

“Hi, y/l/n,” he says with a soft smile, one that's slightly victorious, one that makes your stomach knot in a pleasant way.

“Ah, you discovered my secret identity,” you observe, grinning as you begin approaching Deku. “Should I be scared?”

“Probably not, I don’t think I could do anything to you,” Deku sighs, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you too. “You’re pretty amazing, y/l/n.”

“Let’s prove that then,” you grin while zipping forward.

As if the both of you knew that this was the end of the line, the final confrontation, the battle this time was different. It was showy, flirty, full of spins and side steps, playing a game of cat and mouse while dodging and weaving. You laughed as blackwhip dissolved around your costume, and you frowned as he began using more of his power to get from point A to point B much quicker.

You’re not quite sure how it happened, what exactly you did wrong, or maybe Deku just finally figured out the pattern you used for your quirk because suddenly you were being tackled from behind. You shrieked as the two of you went down, his body flushed on top of you, his chest pressing to your shoulders.

The both of you were heaving, panting, completely out of breath from the five minutes you took playing around. He holds your wrists in one hand, pinned above your head, and the other one is on your waist. You were trapped beneath him, unable to move the absolute unit of a man above you, arms and hips weak to his weight. You shoved your hips up, attempting to shift some of his weight off you, but you froze as he choked on a breath by your ear.

Your ass was pressed against something hard, thick, and hot.

Oh.

Ohhh fuck.

It was happening.

Holy fucking shit.

Your breathing hitches as you thrusted your ass up again, confirming you were grinding on what was definitely Deku’s hardening cock. And once again, Deku makes the prettiest, most embarrassed gravelly grunt at the back of his throat and you feel like every strand of resistance and strength snaps.

The hand on your waist pulls you even closer against his crotch, and there's lips pressing against your neck, and you absolutely lose it.

He kisses your neck sloppily, teeth nipping at your exposed flesh, and you grind against him, moaning and thrusting back as your body feels like it's on fire. He wanted you! He wanted you and your plan to woo him worked!

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you keen breathlessly. “Wanted you so badly, Deku.”

“Fuck,” Deku curses, his hips thrusting back against your clothed ass with power you couldn’t fucking wait to feel. “I wanted you too. Wanted you so badly, but didn’t think – holy shit.”

His hand that pins your wrists lets go of you, and moves to grab your jaw. You nearly fucking melt as his full lips slam against yours, and you moan as his lips move against yours. There’s something indescribable about how he’s kissing you, the want, the need, the months of suppressed tension bursting through every move and curve of his mouth. It doesn’t matter to you that you’re pressed up against the concrete floor, you feel like you’ve been placed into another world, an area where you can never come back.

Your arm reaches behind you and buries into his soft curls, you tug at them as your ass circles against his thrusting hips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whine at the hot, wet muscle in your mouth, and it sends your head spinning. You can’t take it anymore, you need him, want him flushed against your front.

“Can I fuck you?” Deku asks swollen lips pulling away from yours, his mouth frantic and trailing kisses up your cheeks and down your jaw. “Please, I wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna fuck you on the floor and against the wall. Can I make you mine?”

You nod your head frantically, unable to come up with the words to say in order to tell him yes.

Deku laughs breathlessly and flips you over so that it’s your back against the floor now.

And just like you want him to, Deku comes down to reclaim your mouth. Hot, open mouthed kisses, teeth tugging at your lips and hands grabbing your waist. His hands are huge against you filling up the space between your hip and your waist without an issue. Your legs wrap around his waist, feeling entirely small underneath him, but entirely ready to be fucked by him.

His lips move expertly against yours, teeth nibbling at your lips, mouth then sucking on your tongue. You can’t keep the continuous moans from leaking out, can’t keep yourself from staying quiet as your eyes flutter open and see green eyes so dark they look black, staring down at you with the intensity of a predator.

You were his prey, and you would present to him at the drop of a hat.

His body is hot, heat rolling off of his hero costume in waves, making you feel like you were near burning against him. And the heat between his thighs sits at the bottom of your ass, thrusting up and grinding against you so that you don’t forget even for a moment that you are making him this way.

“I always knew you’d have such a pretty moan,” Deku mumbles as his fingers find the zipper to your costume and begin to tug it down. His lips trail down your neck, biting and nipping at the newly exposed flesh. “Knew you’d look so pretty under me, waiting to be fucked into submission.”

The words spark something within you, your eyes fluttering as your hips grind just a tad bit faster and you whine.

“Aw, is that what you wanted this entire time, y/l/n?” Deku asks, his grin pressed against your collarbone. “Wanted to be stretched out and fucked until you can’t anymore?”

“I want it,” you gasp, your fingers burying deep into his curls. “I want you, I want it, I want your dick in me already!”

“Not into foreplay?” Deku chuckles just a bit, tongue then tracing up your neck.

“Oh I am,” you snap, fingers finding the zipper of his own costume. “You can find out later how much I’m into it, but right now, I have been wanting you for years, and you will not make me wait any longer!”

Deku only nods frantically, and it's a mess of limbs, sloppy kisses, and clothes as the both of you strip to nothing.

Deku’s in between your legs, one hand pressed to the back of your knee, the other gripping what you believe is his dick because it makes everything in the world freeze as you see it. It’s huge, so thick that his hand wraps around it in a nice grip, and it long, curling up to his abs, curved and veiny.

“Holy shit,” you squeak, your cunt already clenching at the thought of taking that in.

“Are you ready?” Deku asks, the hand on your leg moving away for a moment as he cards his fingers back through his hair. “I don’t have a condom, though.”

“That’s fine, I don't care,” you dismiss his words, eyes too focused on the flush cock in his hand. “I don’t think I’ll live after you kill me with that anyways.”

Deku laughs just a bit, his dimples flashing as he leans in and kisses you deeply. You tremble underneath him, feeling so small pressed up against him, and you mewl when you feel the head of his cock pressing between your folds.

“Put it in,” you gasp, leg lifting and wrapping around his waist, “put it in! I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, do you understand?!”

Deku nods, and with a sense of frantic need, his hand guides his cock into you.

It feels like you’re splitting in half. The girth of his cock stretching your walls out to the max, and he’s only going in. You scream loudly, both in pain and pleasure because it hurts so good.

“Take it, baby, take me all in,” Deku pants, his hips pushing out small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your twitching cunt. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You’re taking me all the way in. F-Fuck… you’re so amazing! So fucking perfect!”

Tears are pouring out of your eyes, and your nails are tearing into his back, you sob slightly overwhelmed with his cock and the absolute pleasure of finally getting what you want and it being so much better than you thought. Your cunt throbs almost violently as Deku’s cock finally hits your cervix and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts in further, lips attempting to claim yours.

“Fuck me, Deku,” you beg, hips beginning to slam and fuck up onto his cock. “Please! I need you!”

“Such a desperate little villain though,” Deku sighs, teasingly, giving you one strong thrust for good measure. It goes a long way though, the power behind his thrust and thighs promising you a bruised ass, thighs, and cunt makes your mouth water for more. “I need you to promise to never do anything like that again and be a good little manager for Kacchan.”

“W-Wha–”

“Be good and stop being Mirage, or else you won’t be fucked.”

There was no hesitation.

“Okay.”

And just like that, Deku’s soft smile curves into a knowing, fierce smirk, and you can do nothing as his hands press to the back of your knees and he begins thrusting his hips into you. And it takes you completely out of control.

It’s a messy, frantic dance, your body holding onto his, your lips pressing against his, desperate and needy for his, and he is basically trying to imprint his body onto yours, the concrete, and the walls. Your bodies are so foreign to each other, and yet, when he fucks into you just a bit hard, just a bit faster, you come undone, back arching and toes curling as you sob his name.

It’s overwhelming to know that he can read you this well and for you to have never fucked him before. It’s empowering to see that he likes every forced and involuntary squeeze and clench of your cunt. He loved when your nails dug into his skin, raking their existence against the plane of broad muscles and scars.

Deku curses your name as you clench around him, his hands moving to your jaw so that he can lift your face to kiss him just so. He kisses you with a heated passion, a need that strips your entire being bare, and his hips slam so loudly against you, the slicked wetness is squelching and slapping with every grunt and moan.

In and out his cock goes, and you praise him and his cock.

You praise him for making you feel so good, for stretching out your pussy with that fat cock of his. You beg for more, and more, and more. You want every snap of his hips to send new colors to your vision, and every echoing squelch of your meeting, sloppy sexes only adds to the blabbering, unmanaged sentences from your lips.

“Harder, faster, more!” you beg, practically wailing against his shoulders, needing him more and more. The concrete hurts against your back, but you don’t care. You don’t care if he breaks your back, it’s a fall you’ll take. “Don’t hold back! Don’t you dare hold back!”

“Fuck, you’re crazy,” Deku gasps, his sweaty brow burying into your cheek. “I won’t though, I won't. Be ready, I’m not sure if you can take it.”

Before you can snap back that you can in fact take it, Deku’s weight falls heavier onto you and the angle shifts just slightly, and your words are ripped right out of your throat for a pitched, window shattering screech. Deku fucks into you with a new power, some untapped strength as greenspark falls from his skin as he ruins you for anyone ever again.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the concrete was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Deku’s fingers shove into your mouth, and his other hand wraps around your neck, silencing your words and noises as he fucks up into you again and again and again.

“So loud, angel,” Deku smirks, fingers stroking and pinching your tongue as saliva pours endlessly from your mouth. His voice isn’t strained however, doesn’t have any indication that he’s out of breath or ready to tap out and that nearly makes you go insane. “I can’t wait to see everything that makes you look like this… you’re so pretty when you’re getting fucked.”

Your head is spinning, the heated tightness in your core clenching and throbbing as his conquesting cock never once stops or lessens. It just grows and grows and grows. His cock twitches in you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lets out a deep moan.

“Such a good and wet cunt you are,” Deku gasps as you gag against his fingers that press roughly against the back of your tongue. Your vision feels hazy, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine as his hand on your throat opens and closes, demonstrating his power over you. “I’m so glad you went through all this hard work to get me to fuck you.”

You can’t speak, so you nod desperately, you were so happy you did this too.

Your hips buck up into him with sheer stubborn drive to get him to toss his head back and moan, you wanted to see him unhinged too. Your eyelashes flutter, as his hands remove themselves from your face, and they move to your hips to help you out. But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“I-I’m so close,” you manage to moan out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose at that revelation.

Deku nods, his head moving so that his forehead rests against yours as he looks deep into your eyes. “I need you to look at the way your belly bulges while I fuck you before you cum, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering monster of a cock. And just like that, the tight heat in you snaps without a hitch, and you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Deku, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him.

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure he collapses onto his forearms above you. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

Deku is the first to move afterward, and you whine as he pulls his cock out of your sore, abused pussy. You make a noise of curiosity then fear as Deku spreads your legs even more open and moves so that his head is face to face with your cum filled pussy.

“What are you–?!” you screech as Deku takes a lick out of your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, this does taste good,” Deku smirks as he once again licks your overstimulated pussy and you sob. “Besides, who said we were done?”

bonus!

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend y/l/n y/n!” Izuku happily introduced you to his group of friends.

“What the hell?!” Bakugou screamed, thrusting a finger at you and all you did was laugh.

So much for not being stubborn, huh.

#midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #bnha #bnha x reader

867 notes · View notes

sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Revival

Jung Jaehyun X Reader feat. Haechan | Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmate AU | NC-17 | 15k

Summary: When fate brought Jung Jaehyun to you, it didn’t feel like your first time meeting him. And with him, smiling at you like his heart shattering to pieces, eyes painted with longing, you knew you were connected to him somehow. You just have to find the answers before it’s too late.

Warnings: sex scenes (both with Jaehyun and Haechan), mentions of death and suicide

For my lovely cinnamon bun Esme @rainydayswithnct I couldn’t think of anything else to give you but this. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, I hope this will make you happy ❤️

His eyes… They remind you of the ocean after the storm.

It’s not the color as his are dark brown, like the freshly turned earth after rain. It’s the feeling, the way they glimmer under the soft evening light, calm and steady, but in a way, emits sadness, yearning for something. As if he had been crushed, trapped inside a hurricane for so long, he was about to fade into the void. And as he peered into your eyes, full of depths and secrets you long to unveil, something tugs upon your heartstring.

It’s not love at a first sight. You’ve experienced that before with Lee Donghyuck, the lover whom you share frantic kisses and desperate touches with. But it’s something more intense, something you can’t even begin to fathom, something you wish you understand.

The second your eyes are locked to each other, it’s like you’re electrocuted, starting from the tip of your hair down to your toes.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, your voice sounds like you haven’t spoken in years. A tiny red spot begins to form on his chin from where it made contact with your head earlier. “I was looking for a book so I wasn’t—I didn’t see you there.”

The man, young enough to be around your age with a gaze wiser than most, has an expression of a heartbroken man. There’s pain that fleets through his eyes, a feeling that he quickly hides with a smile too bright to be genuinely coming from the heart. When he speaks, his voice is both rich and soft, deep and tender. “No, it was my fault.” He shakes his head. “Please don’t apologize.”

You want to reach out to him, want to know why he looks like he’s seconds away from breaking apart, want to ask him whether you’ve said too much or too less. But he’s nothing but a stranger and you don’t want to step out of the line. “Were you looking for a book?”

“Yes, umm…” He points his finger towards a book hidden in the shelf behind you. “That one.”

You follow his direction, smiling when you read the title written on its spine. “No wonder we bumped heads. I was aiming for the same book.”

“Oh, then it’s fine,” he says, pushing the book back to you after you handed it to him. “You can take it.”

“No, please, go ahead. I’ve read this too many times already.”

“Me too. So—”

“I insist.” You press the book to his chest, looking up at him. He looms before you, standing 180 centimeters tall that you have to tilt your head up to match his line of vision. You catch a sniff of his scent, the smell of soap and aftershave, thinly layered by cologne. His eyelashes are long, face framed by strong jawlines, brunette locks falling over his forehead. When his lips curve up, pretty dimples start to form in his cheeks. He looks like a painting, a thought runs through your mind, one that you hastily dismiss. “Take it as a form of my apology for bruising your chin,” you add.

His eyes widen, just for a split second before a soft chuckle reverberates from his chest. When he speaks again, it’s almost like a whisper—like a secret never meant to be told, “I can never win against you.”

You barely catch his words. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. “I’m… I was about to borrow this and grab some coffee. Would you care to join me? I’d love to talk more.” His body language indicates that he’s nervous which you find rather endearing. “I mean, It’s hard to find someone who has a similar taste like mine.”

Your heart convulses. You know how grabbing some coffee together tends to lead to something more. Your boyfriend’s name pops in your head but your lips betray you before your brain can form a warning. “Well, I do have a peculiar taste when it comes to books,” you answer with a smile. “Sure, as long as you tell me your name.”

“Right, sorry.” You love the sound he makes when he chuckles, and you love it more when it echoes louder in your ears. He offers his hand, stretching out his lean fingers. “I’m Jaehyun.”

You expect it to be soft just like the way he’s gazing at you, but his palm feels calloused against your own. When you reply to him with your name, he seems stunned but doesn’t stay still for long. Your name flows out of his mouth so naturally, as if he has been calling you for years, like a soulmate to another. It feels like electricity is running through your veins once more, something that you’ve never experienced before.

It takes around ten minutes to walk from the library to the nearest coffee shop and by then, you’ve caught on the little gestures he makes: the way he forces himself to laugh a little when he notices he’s being too straightforward; the way he clears his throat when he feels like his words have more hidden meanings than they let on. You’ve become aware of his passion and the love he has for books, so strong that it can only be matched by your own. You’ve learned about his dream, a novelist in the making, taking his first baby steps to turn it into reality.

“Have you thought about what kind of story you’re planning to write?” You question as you slide your cup closer with hot, black coffee shimmering inside. Before you take a sip, Jaehyun drags a sugar bowl toward your direction. “What?”

“It’s too bitter for you.”

“You think I can’t handle my coffee?”

“It’s not that.” He clears his throat and you wonder what is it that he’s trying to hide. “The coffees here are always too bitter.”

“Yeah?” You taunt him, smirking. “Well, watch me.” You take a sip, about to wince when the bitter taste hits your tongue but you act unfazed. Smacking your lips, you say, “See? I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“No. Give me the damn sugar.”

It doesn’t take long before Jaehyun’s little laughter becomes one of your most favorite sounds in the world.

“I’m planning to write a romance novel,” he responds to your earlier question.

“Romance, huh? To be honest, I see you more as someone who writes detective stories. Never would’ve pegged you as a romantic.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be more than just a romance story. It has a supernatural element to it. Borderline fantasy.”

“Like what?”

He takes a few seconds before he responds quietly with a secretive smile. “I guess you’ll just have to read to find out.”

“Cheapskate.” You purse your lips. “Is it going to have a happy ending?”

“Well, they’ll be separated by death in the end.”

“No,” you drawl out. “What happens to them? You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me about it.”

“Of course, I can.” There’s a tiny smirk creeping up his lips. “I’m the author.”

“And a jerk too, apparently.” You’re worried you might go too far with your joke but Jaehyun still peers at you with that warm, longing eyes that make you curl your toes.

“Fine, then,” he succumbs. “Since you insist, I’ll give you a hint later. But you’ll have to imagine the rest.”

“Then tell you about it? What if you steal my idea?” You raise an eyebrow, teasing him. “I happen to have a very creative imagination.”

“I promise you I won’t. I’ve finished writing my version of it. I’ll let you see it after you tell me yours.”

“Huh, interesting.” You pretend like you’re rethinking your decision, just to get him a little bit hopeful and nervous by it. “Deal, why not.” Your coffee has grown slightly cold but the sugary taste of it serves as an addiction. “So, does that mean we’ll see each other again?”

“Well, I do have to go back to the library to return the book. So, hopefully, yes.” You both exchange stares, sharing sheepish smiles with you breaking away first, bringing your focus back to your coffee. “I’ve never seen you in the library before,” Jaehyun questions, “Is today your first time visiting?”

“No. I’ve been visiting it almost every day for the last… two weeks, I think? It’s near my workplace so I usually drop by after work to read for an hour or two. My apartment is pretty small so it feels a bit cramped. That’s why I enjoy spending more time outside.” You swirl your spoon, watching the little whirlpool you create inside your cup. “Besides, I can’t read at home.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s…” You awkwardly laugh, waving one hand in the air. “I have a boyfriend who is younger than me and he’s a pretty lively person. It’s hard to focus on your book when someone keeps pulling you into conversations.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop tapping against the surface of the coffee table but it’s too fast for you to notice before he starts again. “Isn’t it better to have someone like that rather than to be alone, though?” He counters, the smile on his lips never falter but the one in his eyes does.

“I…” It’s not apparent but you can sense it, the painful look on his face. It feels like you just said something that hurt him so badly that you want to apologize about it. “Yeah… I guess so…”

Maybe he notices you noticing, which is why he tries to mask his feelings better with a wider smile that does reach his eyes this time. “Why do you choose this library?” He diverts the topic. “There are a lot of new ones in town, bigger ones too. This place is pretty old and dusty.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You nod, sighing. “Okay, don’t laugh, but honestly? It just feels somewhat nostalgic to me. The first time I stepped inside, it felt like I’d been spending all my life there—just sitting on that old couch, reading books, enjoying the silence. It just feels familiar, even more comforting than being in my room. It’s weird but I can only feel at ease when I read there.” Jaehyun stays quiet that you have to lift your head to understand what goes through his head. His face is pensive, undecipherable. “What about you? What’s your reason, Jaehyun?”

He stops breathing at the sound of his name escaping your mouth, his shoulders tense, and only after what feels like hours, he finally has the strength to drag his eyes away from yours, bringing them down to see his interlaced fingers lying on the table.

“It’s just closer to my place.”

***

“Hey, babe.” Donghyuck chirps with a lollipop stuck in his mouth, his fingers running through the keyboards, eyes locked to his computer screen. He can tell that it’s you who just slipped through the front door by the sound of your footsteps. “You’re late. Did you get the puddings I asked you?”

“They’re in the fridge.” You take off your coat and unwrap your scarf from your neck before you stroll toward the living room. You can’t remember what or who initiated it but it has been almost six months since he started living in your apartment. You remember how he used to spend just one night at your place on the weekend, then two when he felt a bit needy for your touch. Before you knew it, his personal belongings were scattered all over the place—his hoodie on the couch, his towel on the bed, his toothbrush on your sink—and he could be spending the entire week at your place, only moving once to his apartment when he ran out of comic books to read. It just came so naturally that you didn’t notice at first but by the time you did, it was too late to even bring the topic to the table.

Being with Donghyuck was easy, casual, and he gave you more reasons to laugh over little things more than anyone else. During the first two months, you acted like newlyweds with him peppering kisses on your face whenever you arrived home from work. Unlike you, Donghyuck is a freelancer and he does most of his work at home. He used to be considerate enough to do some chores for you—cooking, cleaning the bathroom, sometimes even doing your laundry when he felt he’d been neglecting you. Whenever you arrived late, he would’ve always had something prepared for you, beaming at you with a contagious grin while chiming, “Finally, you’re here! I’ve been waiting for you and I’m starving. Today’s dish is your favorite so let’s eat!”

But things are bound to change and happiness doesn’t last forever. It started slow, almost unnoticeable, with him forgetting to kiss you good night before bed and you treating the fact that he no longer paid attention to what you were wearing as normal. Nowadays, he doesn’t have enough affection to greet you with his smile—one that used to shine brighter than the sun. Comforting hugs and welcome kisses are long forgotten.

It’s lonely, but it’s fine. He’s still here. Donghyuck is still yours as much as you are his.

It’s fine.

“I met someone today,” you say, reaching out to stroke his dark hair. It’s so soft and fluffy like a dog’s fur and you find it calming just to card your fingers through them. The feelings are the same, only his reaction isn’t. He used to lean into your touch as a kitten would. Now, he doesn’t even spare you a glance.

“A man?”

“Yep.”

“Is he hot?”

“Well, he’s not ugly.”

“Then don’t get too close to him.”

Donghyuck is the jealous type, he’s always been—sometimes even a bit possessive but it makes you happy to know there’s someone out there who cares about you so much he doesn’t want to share you with anyone else. But not today. Today, his words feel empty. You can tell that he doesn’t mean any of them. He just says them as a joke, maybe out of habit, but certainly not a warning.

“What will we be having for dinner?” You ask him when he’s busy shouting foul words to his screen as his character just got shot dead.

“Jesus—left, you moron!” He groans loudly in to the air before he turns around, finally recognizing your presence. “What? Oh.” He pops the lollipop out of his mouth. “I just had some take-outs.”

“You didn’t wait for me?”

“I was dead hungry, but I ordered some for you too. It’s probably cold now but you can heat it up.”

“Can you do that for me, please? I love it when you add more seasonings to it.”

“I’d love to do that but,” he smiles apologetically, his fingers meeting the keyboards once more. “I’m busy, babe. There’s an event going on and Jeno literally won’t let me take a break. Look, I’ll cook for you tomorrow, I promise.”

You have stopped believing in his promises, or at least, don’t allow yourself to believe. You’ve learned that the best way to avoid disappointment is to not expect anything.

You smile back, push his hair away so you can land a kiss on his temple. And no matter how much your bottled-up feelings are about to burst, you don’t say a word.

Because you know silence is what keeps your relationship alive.

***

That night, Jaehyun appeared in your dream.

He had a different hairstyle, a little bit shorter, color’s a shade darker. He was dressed in an old-fashioned way—a white buttoned-up shirt under a brown blazer that was a couple of sizes bigger than it was supposed to. Nevertheless, he looked just as strikingly handsome as he was in real life.

He took off his fedora hat, bowing when his eyes met yours as he entered the library—the one that you always visit. “You look beautiful today,” he said, smiling like he always has from the first time you saw him but it felt different in the dream. His smile was timid and shy, eyes never stayed long enough to be locked with yours, but they were honest. The way they shimmered in adoration at the sight of you, painted with both desire and affection.

Your body went autopilot, words flowing from your mouth before you could even process the situation. It was like you were residing in someone else’s body, just a bystander. “Are you saying I didn’t look beautiful yesterday?”

“No, that’s not—” At the sight of you covering your smile behind your hand, he sighed, pressing his hat to his chest. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m sorry. Which book would you like to read today?”

“Will you choose one for me?”

“Unfortunately, I have a peculiar taste when it comes to books—”

“I trust you.” He smiled a tad wider, perfect teeth peeking behind soft red lips, and you could feel your lips curving to mirror his.

“Well then,” you said, reaching toward a bookshelf. “Why don’t we start with this?”

It ended without you knowing what book it was nor the line between your dream and reality. They stand out so vividly—the scenery, his expressions, the lines you’d exchanged with him—that it takes you a few good minutes to realize that it was just a dream and not a memory.

You couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

***

The library is indeed old, with walls standing in dire need to be repainted. But the faint smell of sandalwood combined with the orange tint of sunlight sneaking through the windows is comforting. Crowds don’t gather much around here—maybe four or five people at most—and you’re consoled by the tranquility. There’s only a soft thrum of acoustic guitar playing through the speakers that keep you company.

And Jaehyun.

You meet him every day when the sun is an hour away from setting. You don’t chat for long, spending most of your hour reading your chosen book for the day while stealing glances at him scribbling stuff down on his notebook.

“Why don’t you use a laptop?”

“Not fond of it. I feel more like a writer this way,” Jaehyun responds, re-reading the words he just wrote on paper. When he notices you’re giggling, he frowns. “What?”

“You’re like my dad.”

“Then I’m sure your dad is a very smart, tech-savvy man.”

“I’m saying you have an old soul, the way you prefer to do stuff more traditionally.” You sink further into your chair, opening a new page, eyes scanning the lines but not reading them. “Well, I guess that makes the two of us since I already have the e-book version of this on my iPad and I’m still here reading it in a library. How’s your story going?”

“Pretty well. I just came up with a really annoying character.” His smile is a bit different this time, somewhat mischievous. “Inspired by someone.”

“You’re not talking about me, are you?”

Jaehyun drags his pen over his note. “Character A begins to question her—”

“Shut up!”

The more time you spend with him, the more you feel like he’s becoming a mystery you can’t solve. You’re closer to him, closer than any of your friends, but you know there are secrets he tries to bury underneath those tender smiles. To you, Jaehyun, with his eyes that always seem like they’re telling a different story—one that nearly drives him to the brink of tears, still seems like an incomplete puzzle. And if time allows you, you’d gladly collect every piece of him to be able to perceive him better.

***

Jaehyun visited you in another dream.

This time, you were walking next to him beside a beautiful pond in a backyard that seemed familiar enough to be your own. Both of you were dressed in traditional clothing and you wondered whether a ceremony just occurred.

“Are you nervous?” He asked, holding your hand.

“I don’t know, maybe,” you heard yourself mumble, body moving beyond your control. “I just feel like we’re moving too fast. We just turned twenty.”

“Are you having doubts?” He intertwined your fingers better and you noticed how his were shaking slightly. “About me?”

“Of course not.” You turned around, reaching up to caress his cheek, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “Jaehyun, this is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. I want to be with you, there’s no doubt about it. I’m just thinking about our future, that’s all. What will we do with our jobs? Our money? What will we do when we have kids—”

“It’s just like you to overthink about stuff,” he tittered, “We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.”

That earned him a pout. “I’m not overthinking about stuff. I’m planning them.”

“Of course, my bad.” He kissed your inner palm once before he let you frame his face again, his hand pressing against the back of your smaller one. “Thank you.”

You frowned. “For what?”

“For everything. For caring, for worrying.” Jaehyun smiled so gently, it was almost heartbreaking. “For being with me. Perhaps it’s immature for me to say this, but whatever future that lies ahead of us, I’m sure it’s filled with nothing but joy as long as we’re together.”

“That is such an embarrassing line to say.” You giggled and the blush that bloomed on his face was instant and striking but before he could say a word, you pulled him into your embrace, resting your cheek against his chest. “As long as we’re together, huh?” You repeated quietly. “Then will you promise you’ll stay with me forever?”

“I promise.” Jaehyun’s smile was pressing against your hairline. “Not even death can separate us.”

You wake up with a cold sweat, your heart thrumming so loudly, it makes you feel nauseous. Donghyuck shifts around in bed at the sound of you gasping for air, sleepily asking what’s wrong as he rubs his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you tremulously utter, a hand on your chest as if it could do something to steady your racing heart. “Go back to sleep.”

Donghyuck sends you another look with eyes barely opened. “Come here.” He tugs you closer to his chest, his nose grazing the crook of your neck. “It’s just a nightmare,” he murmurs drowsily against your skin, and in a matter of seconds, he drifts back to sleep.

“Yeah…” You swallow your breath, Jaehyun’s name resting on the tip of your tongue. “Just a nightmare…”

One that feels too real.

***

Weeks turn into months, and what started as curiosity becomes affection.

Reading books has turned into nothing but an excuse for both of you to spend time together. What started as stealing secret glances at each other has morphed into an exchange of secret whispers in a secluded corner. The questions have become more personal too, and you find yourself talking about childhood memories and nonsensical ideas that show up in your thoughts, even the ones you have never shared with anyone else, not even to Donghyuck who lends his arm for you at night.

It’s only the dreams that you keep quiet about, as they always revolve around him since the first day you met Jaehyun. You’re not sure why, maybe it’s a way of your subconscious trying to tell you that you have feelings for him—feelings that aren’t meant to be shared with friends—as the dreams tend to play romantically. And you can’t deny that you do feel something about him.

It’s hard not to feel anything when Jaehyun has given you everything you’ve ever asked from a person. From a friend. From a lover.

But it’s not love. Definitely not love. At least not in the way you know of. In your mind, love is in the form of hugs you share with Donghyuck, not in the way Jaehyun lands his eyes on yours. Love is—

Your head swirls. What is love?

The concept of love is so complex that even if you know about it, you’re not sure if you understand it enough to experience it. You have never talked about love, not with your boyfriend, not with yourself. Is it something that you’ve already felt once? Are you in love with Donghyuck—the man you’ve spent the last two years together?

What does he think of me? You start to lose focus, sinking into your thoughts and the soft music playing in the background feels like a lullaby. Does Hyuck love me?

Before long, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. You fall asleep with your arms folded on the table, cheek pressing against them.

You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming of a hand, so warm and tender as it brushes stray hairs from your temple. You’re dreaming of a voice, so familiar to your ears, so quiet and heartbroken as it resonates in whispers. You’re dreaming of a pair of lips, so soft and light as they press against your strands.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember me. It’s okay, so please…” Slender fingers curl around your wrist, bringing it to frame a face with skin as soft as porcelain. “Just come back to me…”

You wake up.

Jaehyun is sitting on the other side of the table, pen tapping against his lips as he reads back his work, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He notices the little shift in your movement, immediately beaming at you with his signature smile. “Hey there, Sleepyhead.”

You rub your eyes before sitting straight on your seat, your hair’s astray. “What—How did I—” A coat is slipping through your shoulders and you catch it before it meets the ground. It’s Jaehyun’s. “Umm—t-thanks,” you mumble, handing it back to him.

“Sure,” he responds. “You were shivering so…”

“Oh… Right.” You certainly don’t feel cold now especially when your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “W-what time is it?”

“Around eight. The place’s about to close.” Jaehyun takes a sip of his drink, grinning at your behavior. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve. My boyfriend's gonna interrogate me for this.” You sigh, trying to gather back every bit of your strength and dignity. “Why are you still here?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, acting offended. “You don’t actually think that I’m the type of guy who leaves pretty girls sleeping defenselessly in public, do you?”

The word ‘pretty’ comes so effortlessly from his mouth that you’re sure he doesn’t mean it to mean something more. “There’s literally no one else around here but the staff besides us.”

“Which should be the more reason why I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You scoff, shaking your head in amusement. “Yes, yes, how chivalrous of you. Thank you, oh my mighty prince. How can I return the favor?”

“By coming here again tomorrow?”

The way his eyes shine with excitement at the thought of seeing you again makes your heart flutter. “I don’t think you need to ask,” you grin.

***

Jaehyun knows you. He knows you too well. But it’s not the things that can be seen, it’s the things that you can only know by spending time together. Jaehyun knows the type of music you listen to, knows that whenever it gets too cold, you’ll start craving a cup of hot chocolate.

It’s strange, the fact that Jaehyun, a stranger you just befriended, pays attention with all his heart, even at the words that accidentally slipped off your tongue as if you’re the only person who matters in the world, while Donghyuck, your boyfriend, barely bats an eyelash when you share an important aspect of your life. It feels strange at first, but now, it sickens you.

“What’s this?” You ask, examining a CD case he just hands over. “Are you giving me a mix-tape?” It doesn’t have a cover, just a note painted with the words: When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other. You have your eyebrow raised. “A quote by Rob Sheffield?”

“It’s a hint for my story. As promised.” He takes a seat in front of you. “Have you worked on it?”

“When you’re only giving me this quote as a hint and nothing more, it’s kinda hard to come up with something tragic for the ending.”

“I thought you had a very creative imagination.”

You throw a playful glare and he titters a little bit in response. “Is there any other reason why you’re giving me this?”

“Just something to keep you company.” He smiles. He always smiles, but more with his eyes than his lips. Then he slides down another thing—a book this time—wrapped with a red ribbon. “As you read this.”

It’s an old book written by your favorite author, one that you haven’t been able to read because it’s so rare to find. “How do you—” You’re lost for words. You have never told him about this. You’ve mentioned your favorite books but none from this author as it is something personal that you prefer to keep to yourself, not wanting others to judge you for your distinctive taste.

“It’s written by my favorite author,” he elaborates, “I just thought you’d like it too since we have similar taste.”

There’s something he’s not telling you, you can sense that. But if he’s not ready to provide the words, you won’t take them away by force.

“Thank you.” You hug the book to your chest. Somehow, the air feels like spring, like cherry blossoms blooming for the first time after being frozen for so long. “I’ll cherish this.”

“It’s just a book, don’t be dramatic,” he chuckles but happiness is written all over his face, mirroring yours. Jaehyun’s eyes soften and he appears so fragile, like a porcelain doll. So beautiful and vulnerable.

The songs he has compiled for you seem like they’re taken straight out of your playlist. Even for the songs you’ve never listened to before, they click right in. You’re so caught by the moment, drowned deep in the lyrics and the music that resonates from your speakers, that you don’t hear the sounds of your boyfriend stepping into the room.

“I thought I heard noises. What are you listening to?” Donghyuck asks, leaning over your shoulder to peek at the empty CD case you’ve been holding on your lap.

“A friend gave me,” you answer. You notice the way his eyes dart to the handwritten note and it makes you nervous as if you’re doing something wrong behind his back, something forbidden.

“What a thoughtful friend,” he comments nonchalantly, albeit a little bit cold. You mask your anxiety with a chuckle. “Maybe you can tell your friend that there’s this thing called Spotify nowadays. Literally no one listens to CDs anymore.”

Your tongue lays heavy in your mouth, and maybe it’s better to leave things the way it is but you can’t stop yourself from bitterly saying, “I happen to like listening to CDs. It makes me feel nostalgic.”

“You and your nostalgia.” Donghyuck snorts, completely missed the annoyed tone in your voice. He places a peck on the top of your head. “Well, I’m hungry. What do you want to have for dinner? I’ll cook."

“There’s a new Chinese restaurant opening just a block away,” Jaehyun said on a Sunday evening when you two were about to part ways. “They got amazing reviews. Do you have some time to spare? I know how much you love Chinese food.”

“I never told you I loved Chinese food.”

“Everybody loves Chinese food, it’s not that hard to guess.”

“Fine. But if you can guess what I’m about to order, I’ll start filing a restraining order against you, assuming you’re a stalker.”

“Well, I gotta be careful not to get caught then.”

“Baby?” Donghyuck snaps you out of your reverie. “I’m asking what you wanna have for dinner.”

“Umm…” You push a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, somewhat jittery. “Chinese food?”

He frowns upon your words. “I didn’t know you liked Chinese food.”

“I-it’s just something I haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Well, I’m going to cook you something better.” He grins, boyish and ignorant. “How about your favorite Spaghetti Aglio e Olio by Chef Lee Donghyuck?”

You smile, weak but hopefully not empty. “That would be nice.”

***

“You’re okay?” Jaehyun asks the second you take a seat in front of him. He seems so concerned that it surprises you. You haven’t realized you look that troubled.

“I’m fine,” you assure him with a smile. “Just… You know, boyfriend stuff.”

You can tell how Jaehyun is holding back his words from how tightly he keeps his lips pressed together. He’s always considerate like that, always detecting every little thing that you try to hide but never pressures you to speak, especially when it comes to your relationship. Jaehyun respects you, respects the fact that you are already involved with someone that he never tries to get you to look in his direction. Though his eyes often betray him, Jaehyun tries his best to maintain his distance. He never flirts, never praises you with romantic words, never steps out of line.

And you’re thankful for that because deep down you know, once he does, it will be hard to untangle yourself from his grasp.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Then...” Jaehyun closes his book, leaning closer. His dimples are so prominent when he grins, eyes turning into a beautiful pair of crescents. “How about we go try out some dumplings?”

It’s so sudden and random but once the idea sinks in, there’s only one thing you want to say. “Take me away, Jaehyun.”

It’s not about the food. It’s not about ignoring your problems, or the loneliness that’s drowning you a little bit more every day. It’s about enjoying the little things with someone who understands you, someone who doesn’t need to hold your hand to keep you warm.

Someone who can finally let you breathe.

***

“I can’t believe it’s closed early,” you whine after you read the sign that’s strapped to the library’s front door. “And I was so excited to read the next chapter too.”

“What’s the book?” Jaehyun asks, adjusting the strap of his bag that hangs low on his shoulder.

“No Longer Human.”

“By Osamu Dazai?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve got a copy of that.”

“What, really?” The spark of glee that glimmer in your eyes catches him by surprise but he hides it behind a soft smile. “Can I borrow it? It’s such an old book, I can’t even find the e-book version of it.”

“Sure. Would you like to come over to my place?” The line makes your breath hitched in your throat and Jaehyun recognizes the faint blush that spreads on your cheeks. Mirroring your reaction, he hastily clears his throat, rubbing his nape as his face turns scarlet. “Or, uhh, I can just hand it over to you tomorrow.”

“No, it’s—” As you tuck your hair behind your ear, you notice your fingers are shaking. “I have—I’ve got time to spare. You have coffee at your place, right?”

His shoulders begin to relax and with a soft gaze, he reciprocates with an even tender smile. “If you’re alright with instant coffees.”

“Then lead the way.”

Jaehyun has this mature persona around him, like a caring big brother that calms you down but the second you arrive in his hallway, he fumbles with his words, his key slipping out of his fingers during his first try, and his nervousness starts to rub off on you.

It makes you wonder whether he’s feeling like he’s crossing the line, just as much as you are with Donghyuck’s name sitting on the front of your mind.

“Come in,” he invites, opening the door but keeping his eyes anywhere else but yours. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

His apartment smells just like him and it makes it hard for you to focus on anything else. But the second you’re able to sort that thought away, you realize something. He keeps his place minimalist and neat, just like the way he dresses and writes. Everything is organized properly with two paintings decorating his walls—ones that remind you of your grandmother’s house. “You really do have an old soul,” you playfully comment and he scrunches his nose at you in return.

It feels more familiar to step into Jaehyun’s apartment than your own because he has everything that you wanted and more. All the books sitting on his shelf, his collection of CDs, even the potpourri he has on his coffee table has the same scent with the one you’re planning to buy.

“I know you said we have similar taste, but this…” You scan his bookshelf in awe, noticing how it almost covers his entire wall from how huge it is. He owns hundreds of books and everything is arranged alphabetically. “This is just taking it to another level. Are you sure you’re not my stalker?”

He simpers. “If I was, I wouldn’t have invited you here. Too much evidence.”

“Or maybe you’re just planning to keep me here with you forever.” When he doesn’t reply, you realize how wrong that line just sounded. “I’m sorry, was that a weird thing to say?”

“I didn’t hear anything.” Jaehyun waves you off, walking to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

The tension gradually starts to ease by the time you have a book in your lap, your eyes running from one passage to another. Sitting next to you, Jaehyun has his pen glued to his notepad again, his brown hair nearly looks golden as the sunset illuminates his face with such a warm, beautiful glow.

He really does look like a painting, you admire as you steal glances at him from behind your book. The perfect shape of his nose, his smooth skin, the way he’s so focused on his story, drowned inside his imagination… Maybe you’re being carried away, taken by his beauty, that your mouth begins to produce the words without thinking.

“Why do you look so sad?”

Jaehyun’s pen nearly slips from his fingertips. “What?”

“Sometimes you just look... so lonely and hurt,” you clarify although you’re growing more conscious of the way you’re crossing the line. “It feels like you’re forcing yourself to smile when you look at me...”

Jaehyun loses the ability to speak, even just blinking his eyes already seems like a stretch. But he sees something, the genuine curiosity and concern written in your eyes, that makes him avert his gaze away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he remarks, forcing himself to chuckle and you know that’s he’s showing you that smile again, even when you can barely make out his features.

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe you’re just tired of him keeping secrets to himself when you’re sure they concern you. Maybe you’re just sick of seeing him like he’s on the verge of breaking apart without knowing the cause. Or perhaps it’s just your selfish way of saying, “I want you to smile, truly smile, because of me and no one else.”

But you find yourself reaching out a hand, your fingertips meeting the warm skin of his cheek, wanting him to turn his face around so you can see his expression. Jaehyun jolts, your name tumbles down his lips abruptly, his hand clamping against your wrist. “What are you doing?” His eyes are shaking as they bore deep into yours but yours are steady. Your eyes, your voice, your fingertips. They’ve never been this steady.

This is the first time you’ve been this close to him, to know how long his eyelashes really are, the way they flutter against his cheeks, the curve of his mouth, and the beauty mark on his pale skin. He’s possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever witnessed in person.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suddenly touch you like that.” You try to retract your hand, but he keeps his fingers around your wrist, hand hanging mid-air as he swallows his breath. Seeing him nervous makes you nervous. “Jaehyun, I won’t force you to say anything you don’t want to say, but…” You haven’t realized that you’ve been speaking in whispers, but Jaehyun has and his eyes soften just as much as yours do. “Please don’t pretend, not when you’re with me.”

Whether it’s from your words or the tenderness in your voice, you’re not sure, but Jaehyun releases your hand only so he can cup your cheek. He murmurs your name, so soft as if he’s telling a secret that he’s been dying to say. He leans forward, his breath is now fanning your cheek, and he’s so close, so close, and your eyes begin to shut when his lips faintly graze against yours—

The ringing sound of your phone blares through the room.

Your entire movement stops but your heart runs a thousand miles per hour. It takes a good few seconds to come back to reality, and when you do, you’re not graceful at it. “Umm—” You glance away, breaking free from his touch. Your fingers are trembling hard when they retrieve your phone from the table. It has stopped ringing and a notification appears on your screen. The sight of your boyfriend’s name makes you feel like the floor is crumbling underneath you. “Sorry, it’s Donghyuck—I have to—It’s getting late, he must be looking for me.” Too embarrassed to see his face, you quickly gather your belongings into your arms, not even spending a few seconds to wear your coat back. “Thank you for inviting me. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” And you don’t wait for an answer, only forcing yourself to laugh which comes out as strained and pitchy, before you head toward the front door.

“Wait.” Jaehyun has his right hand pressing against the back of the door, shutting it close before you have the chance to let yourself out. You’re trapped between the door and his chest, making it harder for you to breathe. “Can you look at me?” He firmly orders but promptly adds a soft, “Please,” when you’re not brave enough to respond to him.

You turn around, hugging your purse and your coat to your chest, facing him but not meeting his eyes. You can feel him analyzing your expression, feel how heavy his gaze is on your face. He bends down slightly, hand reaching out to frame your face like before but you flinch, eyes shutting tightly before he can make any contact.

You can’t see the look on his face as you are too frightened to do so, but you can tell how much you hurt him by the sound of his voice. “You forgot your book,” he states, handing a copy of Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human.

“O-oh, right.” You sound so nervous, so afraid, and you don’t know why. “It’s okay. I won’t be able to read at home anyway—”

“I want you to have it.” It’s the first time he loses the warmth in his voice when he speaks and if you’re not too clouded by your thoughts, if you weren’t so selfish, you would’ve tried your best to fix the situation. But not right now. Right now, you just want to disappear. You want to run back home, run into Donghyuck’s arms like how you’re supposed to be.

Because this is wrong. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not when you have another man waiting for your return.

You take the book from his hand, noticing how your fingers brush his and how they stay that way for a little too long, but Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. “I’m sorry,” you mumble out, tears begin to prickle at the corner of your eyes and you’re still not sure why you’re on the verge of crying.

“Don’t be. It was my fault.” He notices your emotions, he always does, and it breaks you apart to know how much you’re breaking him right now. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nothing happened,” you convince him, shaking your head and will your tears to go away before they fall down your cheeks. “We didn’t do anything.”

Jaehyun’s fingers curls, nails sinking into his palms as he tries his best to mask what he’s feeling. “You’re right,” he quietly repeats, “Nothing happened.”

***

“Where have you been?”

Your keys slip through your fingers at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice and you’re petrified, millions of thoughts running through your head as you try to come up with an excuse.

But why? Why do you have to come up with an excuse? “Nothing happened. We didn’t do anything.” Isn’t that what you said?

“Babe?”

You jump back a couple of steps when Donghyuck walks into your personal space with a frown breaking on his temple. He furrows his eyebrows deeper at your reaction. “You okay? You look kinda pale.”

“Yeah, umm—” You adjust the collar of your turtleneck shirt, suddenly feeling like you’re being choked. “It’s fine—I’m fine. I just had a long day at work.”

“Why didn’t you text me? I could’ve swung by to pick you up.”

You force yourself to smile at his offer. “Thank you. It’s okay, really. Were you waiting for me?”

“Well yeah, I wanted to eat dinner together. It’s been a while since we did that and I wanted to make it up to you.” He cutely pouts and you’re reminded of the reason why you’re so trapped under his spell. “Text me next time when you’re about to come home late so I don’t have to wait for you.”

There it is. It strikes again. The feeling of loneliness. Curling your fingers at the hem of your shirt, you weakly reply with, “I’m sorry.”

Because out of the millions of thoughts that run through your head, that’s the only thing you have the bravery to say out loud.

***

“Hyuck?” You call out, carding your fingers through his soft locks. Donghyuck has his head on your lap with his legs sprawled out, taking most of the couch. His eyes are glued to the screen of his Nintendo Switch, thumb moving frantically to land a new high score. “I think we need to talk.”

Donghyuck doesn't respond right away. After a few relentless movements of his thumbs, he shouts, “Fuck, not again! Goddamn, I gotta restart all over again.” You can see him renewing the game, picking a different character. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I just…” You’re nervous, feeling more so than the pain that swells in your chest from not being taken seriously. “It feels like we haven’t been spending time with each other. Properly, I mean.”

“We’re spending time together now, aren’t we?” He hisses when his character takes another damage from his opponent. “What, do you want to watch a movie or something?”

I want us to talk. I want us to laugh. I want us to listen to each other like we used to. “I’m not in the mood for movies right now.”

After taking another shot, Donghyuck groans. “Fuck this stupid game,” he grumbles, throwing his device to the coffee table. “You know what’s annoying? The fact that I could land a perfect high score when I was drunk as fuck but now, I can’t even get into top three!”

Your patience is growing thin, but even then, you can’t find the strength to confront him properly. “Hyuck…”

“Right, sorry.” He heaves a sigh, rubbing his head as he sits straight up, facing you properly. “What is it? Is there something wrong?”

You meet his gaze and you realize how rarely you stand in this position, with him looking directly at your face with concern in his eyes. Now that he’s paying you full attention, your vocabulary turns into a blank slate. Your lips are parted but your voice is nowhere to be found, as it is hidden by the fear of speaking beyond control once you let your emotions run loose.

“I…” You begin, clearing your throat to sound less anxious. “Are you happy with me?”

He knits his eyebrows together. “Of course, I’m happy. What are you talking about? Have I done something to upset you?”

“No, it’s…” Your hands lay rigid on your lap, fingers tightening around each other. You weakly smile. “Nothing. I guess I just had some weird thoughts popping in my head.”

“Look, I promise you I’ll do the laundry this weekend,” he confidently convinces you, as if that was the problem you’re currently facing. He pokes you on the nose, grinning boyishly. “Stop acting so weird, you’re creeping me out. What else are you thinking about? If it’s sex you want, you just gotta ask. You know I’m down with it anytime you want.”

“Yeah, of course…” You can force yourself to laugh but every sound you make feels like a knife piercing against your heart. “Sorry, I was just being stupid. You can ignore me.”

“I won’t ignore you, how can I do that? Not when you’re this cute.” He giggles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. But his affection does not make the butterflies in your stomach come alive. It makes hot tears threatening to appear in your eyes. “I like your sweater,” Donghyuck coos, “Is it new?”

No, this is my third time wearing it in front of you. “Yes. I’m glad you noticed.”

“I always notice everything about you.” He ruffles your hair as he stands up, stretching out his arms above his head. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about? ‘Cause I’m dead tired.”

“No. Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime, babe.” He bends his head down to kiss you fully on the mouth, tongue running along your lower lip just to tease like usual. When he pulls away, he has his juvenile grin intact. “Well, I’m going to bed. If I wake up late tomorrow, you can re-heat the food. I’ve stored everything in the fridge.”

Donghyuck disappears behind the door before you can finish saying good night.

***

The sun’s about to set… He must have been there already.

It has been two days since you last saw Jaehyun. You know you’re not being fair avoiding him like this, but you don’t know what else to do. You’re not brave enough to face him after that. Have you been giving him signs? Was it your fault, was it the expression you made, was it the words you spoke, that made him lean towards you, asking for a kiss that you were more than eager to give?

“Hey, babe,” Lee Donghyuck chirps against your ear, arms finding their way to circle your waist, pulling you to his lap. “What are you doing?”

You’re successful at hiding your surprise but knowing it’s Donghyuck, anything will probably pass by without him realizing. Even when you have spent the last fifteen minutes reading the same paragraph in your book over and over again as your thoughts drift somewhere else.

You have a boyfriend and it’s not Jaehyun. Donghyuck is everything to you now, isn’t he? Yet, if you hadn’t been interrupted by that phone call, you were sure you would’ve yielded to Jaehyun’s touch.

“Nothing happened. We didn’t do anything.”

You’re disgusted with yourself.

You throw a glance to the side, your nose nearly brushing his as Donghyuck settles his chin on your shoulder. Unlike Jaehyun who has a fresh, masculine scent, Donghyuck smells like summer and lilacs under the sun. It’s comforting and sweet, yet even after two years, it stills feels somewhat unfamiliar to you.

“Reading a book.” You shiver when he pushes your hair away, placing a lazy wet kiss on your nape, lips parted and tongue pressing against the skin. “Hyuck…”

“It’s okay, keep reading.” Whenever his mouth makes contact with your skin, he adds a hum or a moan to make sure you know that despite his words, he’s not giving you the chance to continue. “You want us to spend more time together, don’t you?”

You deeply exhale, staring lifelessly at the ceiling, sensitive skin being caressed but none of his touches pumps desire through your veins. Since when did I stop wanting him this way? You wonder, feeling guilty when Jaehyun’s face appears in the corner of your mind once more.

“Baby,” Donghyuck murmurs seductively against the skin, thin fingers slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your navel. “Hasn’t it been a while since we last did it?”

“It’s only been a week.”

“And that’s a week too long. I want you.” He strokes your cheek, guiding you to meet his eyes. “Can I touch you?”

It’s a rhetorical question since you both know you can’t say no when he demands something from you. “Of course.”

Donghyuck’s lips still taste the same, feel the same as they suck bruises on your delicate skin but the sparks are no longer there. He used to make you squirm with excitement, body begging under temptation. Sex used to be an adventure, a way for him to make you lose your mind, to have you gasping his name between moans, nails clawing against his back, thighs trembling under his fingertips.

Right now, sex is just… another glue to keep your relationship in place.

Clothes are discarded on the floor, and Donghyuck is sitting with you on his lap, his spine pressed against the couch, nails digging into your hips as he brings you down to take him inch-by-inch. He hisses when he feels you engulfing him with your warmth, head thrown back with lips parted in a blissful moan.

“No matter how much we’ve done it,” he chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “I can never get enough of the way you’re taking me so well, baby.” Donghyuck is a very passionate lover and his lips love to praise, both by words and kisses. The way he calls your name, the way he whispers, “You feel so good around me,” often makes you wonder whether there would be any other man who will desire you this much. But is it love? Does he love you?

Do you love him?

You’re not sure. You don’t know yet. But you know he plays a huge part in your life. Donghyuck once added a spectrum of colors into your previously dull, monochromatic life. You care about him, think about him more than you should, even putting his needs and priorities above yours.

If that’s not love, then what is it?

“Donghyuck…” You flinch when he rocks his hips up, a bit too rough and forceful as he’s getting impatient with the pace you’re going. “I—I think I love you.”

It surprises you that these words can leave your lips but you don’t regret it. It’s the right thing to do, saying these words to him. It’s only natural after the amount of time you’ve spent with him. It’s a way to bridge the gap between you and him, to reignite the flame, to bring laughter back into your life.

To fix the mistake you just made two days ago.

But maybe his thoughts are too clouded with lust, maybe your words are too quiet for him to hear, or maybe you haven’t said the words at all and everything is just playing inside your imagination but no matter what the reason is, Donghyuck doesn’t answer. The words that escape his lips are obscene, a sign that he’s about to finish and you let him pull you closer to his chest, let him sink his face in the crook of your neck, let him groan and release everything inside because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Did you get to come?” He asks, breathless and flushed when he’s finished. His bangs are glued to his temple, sun-kissed skin glistening with sweat and when he strokes your cheekbone with his fingers, they tremble from the pleasure that washed through his body.

“Yes.” You didn’t. You haven’t in a while. It’s not because you didn’t enjoy it. Donghyuck still moved in the way you wanted him to—in the way that used to untie the knots in your stomach, almost making you cry from how good it was. But you’ve begun to realize that there was a part of you missing and Donghyuck isn’t the right piece to complete the puzzle.

Jaehyun.

The dread of having another man’s name running through your head is so much, it almost makes you vomit your insides.

“Hyuck.”

“Yes, baby?”

“I said I love you.”

There’s no going around it this time. You’ve said the words, you’ve pronounced them loud and clear but when Donghyuck still doesn’t say anything, you wish the earth could swallow you whole. “Can you… say something, please…?”

“Baby,” he sighs, fingers framing your face so gently, it hurts you. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s not that I don’t love you but—”

You’re stunned, shocked to your core at the incoming rejection but… that’s it.

You don’t feel anything. How can you not feel anything? You don’t feel hurt, you’re not disappointed, you’re just…

Relieved.

“Baby, are you listening?” Donghyuck calls again, grabbing you by your chin so he can peer into your eyes. “I like you. I really do like you. I like you so much but love is such a big word and for me to be committed that way is just… I don’t know, I haven’t figured out my feelings yet. I don’t even understand what love is. I just—I need more time.”

You’re lost for words. How can you tell him? How can you say that you’re so relieved he doesn’t love you back? How can you tell him that his action does not break you apart, but only makes you realize that you’ve just been forcing yourself to stay with him because it feels like it’s the right thing to do?

What if you’re just staying with him because you’re so afraid of being alone, not knowing that loneliness is the only thing he can offer you in return?

“I understand,” you quietly reply, climbing off his lap. Your knees wobble slightly under your weight as your mind travels somewhere else. You gather your clothes into your arms, placing them back on your body.

Donghyuck frowns at your reaction, calling your name as he stands up and pulls his jeans back to place. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you by saying it when I still don’t truly mean it the way you do.”

You can’t look at him, can’t meet his eyes when you can’t even understand how you feel. “I get it, Hyuck, it’s fine.”

But maybe Donghyuck is taking it the wrong way because his voice is laced with both exhaustion and desperation to make this feel any less terrible. “Babe, can we just talk—”

“I said, I’m fine!” You turn around to face him, head dizzy and heart palpitating. It scares you. It scares you that after all this time thinking Donghyuck was the one for you—all the things you’ve done, all the memories you’ve shared—you still don’t understand your feelings for him. You loved him once, you’re sure you loved him once. But is it love if the feeling isn’t eternal? Can you call it love when it fleets by so fast, disappearing without a trace as if it’s never existed in the first place?

To think that these two years you have spent with him would amount to nothing...

You take a deep breath, wishing your body and voice to stop shaking. When you look him in the eyes, there’s nothing but certainty written in your eyes. “You’re right, we need to talk.”

Donghyuck walks to your spot, hand resting against your waist, another one framing your cheek. “Please don’t be mad,” he whispers, and for the first time in the last few months, he does look sorry. “I’m happy to hear you say those words, I really do, but—”

“I want to break up.”

He freezes, jaw dropping low. “What?”

“I want to break up with you, Donghyuck.”

“What—why—” His eyebrows are sewn together, and you take his hand away from your face, breaking free from his hold. “You’re breaking up with me because I can’t say I love you too?”

“No.” You exhale. “I’m breaking up with you because I feel fine with you not saying it back.”

He stands in silence, then his forced chuckles fill the air. “Babe, what are you talking about—”

“Are you happy with me?” The tremble in your voice has receded. “Be honest. Are you truly happy with me? Or are you just going along with everything because you’re so comfortable—so used to the situation of being with me—that you start to think as long as I’m not hurt, it’s fine. As long as I’m not alone, I can keep going with this relationship, even when I’m with someone who doesn’t truly understand me. Or accept the real me.”

Donghyuck releases the breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. His voice is a pitch lower when he speaks, bitter and hurt. “Is that how you feel? All this time when we’re together?”

“No.” Your heart still breaks at the sight of his face. “I think I really did love you once, Hyuck. And if you had rejected me a few months earlier, I would’ve probably broken down crying. But now…” You grow stiff, noticing the infuriated look that’s plastered on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck stays mute and the silence only adds more tension to the atmosphere. His teeth are grinding against each other when he replies. “Why did you even say you loved me if you weren’t fucking sure about how you felt?”

You twist your finger in the hemline of your shirt, in dire need of something to keep your emotions collected. “I thought it would make us grow closer again. To fix what’s lost between us,” you weakly admit, heart throbbing and breaking at the sight of him. “But then I realized that we shouldn’t say we love someone just because we have to. We should say it because we want to. Because we truly feel that way. But I didn’t feel anything when you didn’t say it back. I only felt… relieved.”

The enraged look on his face forces you to drag your eyes to your feet and you stay still, breathing as quietly as possible. It’s only when Donghyuck starts to reach for his jacket, muttering, “I’m not having any of these bullshits,” as he walks passes you that you dare to look in his direction.

“How easy for you to put this all on me,” he declares with his fingers lingering on the doorknob, so spitefully it shocks you. “You probably think I’m dumb and insensitive, but I know. I’ve noticed the way you changed ever since you met him.”

“What?” His words feel like a slap to the face. “I don’t—”

“You know,” he cynically laughs into the air, throwing his head back. “Just because you found someone who makes you happy ‘cause he can quote your favorite lines, read your favorite books or listen to the same shit you like, doesn’t mean you can throw me away like I’m some fucking garbage.”

You’re petrified by his words. Somewhere in your head, you keep saying that the reason why you’re breaking up with him is that you’re so different from each other—that there would be little to no chance for the two of you to understand one another even if you’re given all the time in the world. But you can’t deny that there’s a part of you that completely rejects Donghyuck simply because you’ve stopped wanting him as much as you want Jaehyun.

It sickens you.

“I’m…” It’s suffocating. The tension in the air, his eyes, the way your heartbeat is ramming against your ribcages. “I’m sorry...”

Your apology only aggravates him more and with gritted teeth, Donghyuck slams the door behind him, leaving you alone in the silence of your room.

Your apartment has never felt this big before.

***

It’s funny how you just ended your two years relationship with your boyfriend but Donghyuck isn’t the one you’ve been avoiding for months. It’s Jaehyun.

Something is gnawing at you from the inside, the feeling of guilt as if you just sinned. You didn’t cheat on your boyfriend. Physically, you didn’t. You’re attracted to Jaehyun, everybody would be to someone who owns such a handsome face and delicate features. But it’s more than just physical attraction because when you lay at night in your bed, alone and empty, it’s not his face that comes to mind. It’s the little thing he does, the way he listens to your words so attentively, the way he smiles—happy and sad at the same time, the way he greets you, the way he nibbles at his lower lip as he tries to think of a word to write on his note.

And the dreams.

The dreams never stop, they only grow stronger. You can remember each and every one of them crystal clear when you wake up. They’re usually different every night but for the last few days, the atmosphere and the surroundings were the same.

In the dream, you were lying down in a hospital bed, wearing nothing but your white gown, too weak to even lift a finger. Jaehyun was sitting on a wooden chair with a book in his hand—the one that he presented you as a gift in real life—while his other hand was holding yours, thumb tenderly gliding against your knuckles. He seemed much thinner, cheekbones growing prominent with dark eye-bags tainting his pale skin. But his smile was the same, just as warm, just as tender.

He was reading you a story, one that you had memorized by heart from how many times you’ve read it. But it’s different when he read the words out loud, voice melodious and soothing, like a mother’s lullaby. When it was over, he beamed at you, asking, “What’s your favorite part of the story?” And you opened your mouth but no words could come out. You were losing your voice, could only make croaking sounds and even that already put a strain on your body. You could see how much it broke him to hear you struggle but he waited patiently, hand squeezing yours tighter.

“Me too,” he responded after he heard your answer, kissing your knuckles. “I like that one too.”

In another dream, you saw him sitting at the edge of your bed, his mouth still formed that beautiful, delicate smile, but his eyes were as heavy as the storm. You asked him, why, what’s wrong, trying your best to let your voice break free from your mouth. He brushed his fingers against your cheek, pushing your hair out of your eyes. “I won’t let anything separates us,” he said and it felt more like a promise than how it sounded. “Not time, not death, nothing. I will always be with you.” He let his lips linger on your temple as he whispered the next words. “So it’s okay if you want to sleep. I won’t be going anywhere.”

Then… I’ll see you again when I wake up.

“Yes.” He leaned closer, letting his lips meet your chapped ones in a chaste kiss. “I’ll see you again when you wake up.”

But by the time you opened your eyes, heart thrumming loudly inside your chest, with the sound of the alarm in your phone muffled by your pillow, you knew that in the dream, once you go to sleep, you’d never be able to wake up.

I have to see him.

***

Three months have passed since you last saw him. It’s funny that despite how close you are to each other, know each other like the back of your hand, you just only realize now that you haven’t given him a way to contact you. No home address. No phone numbers. No social media. You’re not even sure what his last name was. You never needed to know his contact details before. Every day, an hour before the sun is replaced by the moon, you will meet each other here in this library—that was the unspoken promise between you and neither of you ever broke it. Not until now. The second you stop coming to the library, you disappear from his life as well, as easy as snapping your fingers.

The quickest way to see him is by visiting the library. Today you will see him. You just have to.

It’s raining hard, hard enough to drench you to your socks, painting shivers to each of your fingertips. It’s a Sunday evening, the sun is an hour away from setting behind the horizon. But with how heavy the rain is going, the day will turn into the night before the sun can shine its light through the clouds again.

Hesitation arises within you as you take shelter on the porch, your shivering fingers circling the doorknob to the library. He might not even be here in this kind of weather, you miserably think to yourself. It wasn’t raining when you took your leave half an hour earlier but you should’ve noticed how thick and dark the clouds were. Your thoughts were too jumbled that you didn’t even think about carrying an umbrella with you.

But you’re already here and if he still keeps his promise…

You take a step inside.

Your clothes are drenched but thankfully they’re not dripping water to the carpeted floor. It’s warmer inside, so warm that you feel like you’re home, sitting close to a fireplace, basking in the scent of sandalwood. Your eyes naturally scan the room, taking a longer glance at the table where you usually sit in front of him, a book in your hands, a smile strapped to your face. Jaehyun’s nowhere to be seen.

He’s not here. Is it because of the rain? Or… Maybe he has stopped coming here to see me.

You can only realize how important someone is to you when they’re gone and it hurts so much that you have to nip at your lower lip, fingers curling around the end of your sweater.

I want to see him again…

“You’re here…”

You turn your head to the source of his voice, heart about to burst when you see Jaehyun stopping on his tracks, one hand holding the entrance door open, another one carrying a folded umbrella that drips water to the floor. He’s so stunned at the sight of you, he doesn’t even appear to be breathing. In a whisper, your name breaks free from his lips.

And you run towards him with all your might.

He nearly stumbles from how hard you’re crushing your body against his, his umbrella falling from his grip but he doesn’t push you away. Jaehyun is warm, warmer than everything you’ve ever held and you wonder whether you’re just freezing from the cold or he’s always been this comforting. It feels so natural to stay in his embrace, to be wrapped with his strong arms, to have him whisper your name against the shell of your ear.

I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.

Jaehyun...

The first tear that slips down your cheek is an accident, as you don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t even know why you’re crying but you can’t stop. You sob against his chest, fingers curling against the fabric of his knitted sweater, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from crying harder but failing every time.

Jaehyun never breaks away from your embrace. He does not care if people stare, does not listen to the murmurs being exchanged at the back of the room. He pulls you closer, one hand holding you around the waist and the other one stroking your damp hair. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he says, overwhelming you with his scent, his warmth, his voice, his everything and you still want more. His lips nearly brush against the tip of your ear when he whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

Your hands are now fisting the back of his sweater, pressing your cheek to his chest as you muffle your cry, focusing more on the sound of his heartbeat. It feels like a dream, one that you never want to wake up.

It’s only when you have the strength to pull away from him that he releases you. He swipes his thumb under your eye, erasing the stains of your tears. He looks at you in a way that is so different than the way Donghyuck used to. His gaze is softer, a mix between the feeling of relief for having you in his arms and a yearning to have more as if you’re still far away from his reach.

I want him to stare at me like this forever.

“You’re freezing,” he says, noticing the coldness of your cheek against his palm. “Would you like to come over to my place? I can make you something warm.”

You let out a tiny laugh. “That would be nice.”

***

Jaehyun’s sweater is too big that the hem falls to the middle of your thighs. Your clothes are in the dryer, making rumbling noise that’s loud enough to fill the awkward silence between you. Drying your hair with a towel he gave you, you take a seat next to him, careful enough not to invade his personal space too much.

“How are you feeling?” Jaehyun asks, handing you a cup of hot chocolate.

“Warmer now, thanks.” You wrap your fingers around the mug, seeing a cloud of steam erupting from your drink.

“It’s been a while since we last saw each other. I’m glad you look fine.”

“I am. I feel fine. More so than I’ve ever been.” And it’s not a lie. Being here with him, despite everything that happened, makes you feel at ease. He makes you feel as if you had been embarking on a trip for so long and now you’re finally home. “Were you, umm…” Were you planning to wait for me at the library? Have you been waiting for me all this time? Or was it just a mere coincidence that we bumped into each other again?

“Were I what?”

“Never mind.” You don’t have the bravery to do it. Flushed, you quickly take a sip of your drink.

“I was about to wait for you,” he suddenly confesses, nearly making you choke. “I was… worried about you. I kept wondering whether something bad happened.” His voice gradually turns into murmurs as he continues. “And I thought... After what happened... You hated me.”

The ticking sound of the clock echoes like thunder when silence hangs in the room. “I would never hate you, Jaehyun…” You’re unconsciously rubbing the edge of your mug with your thumb, eyes fixated on the glass instead of him. “There’s no way I could hate you.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see him turning his head to face you. “Well, you stopped visiting for three months without leaving a word. It was hard for me to stay positive,” he says, a bit teasingly, “And I had no idea how to contact you either. I didn’t know what else to do but wait in the library every day until I could see you again. So that’s what I did.”

Blood is rushing to your face. He did wait for me. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He chuckles and you just realized how much you missed hearing it. “You don’t need to. I’m glad we can meet again.”

“Me too.” You mirror his smile. “You know, you could’ve just looked me up online.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” He asks and your heart stops. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You have to tell him the truth, you owe him that much. “I couldn’t. The way Donghyuck looked at me when I broke up with him made me feel so guilty and I knew I would hate myself even more if I ran back to you right after.”

“Why?” Jaehyun questions in a whisper. “What did you feel guilty for?”

Your heartbeat roars so thunderously loud, you can hear it in your ears. “Because he said the reason why I broke up with him was that… I had feelings for you.”

Jaehyun stays in silence for a few seconds and it drives you insane. Eventually, he leans forward to lay his cup down on the coffee table. “So…” He hesitantly speaks. “Did you tell him he was wrong about that?”

You tighten your hold around your cup. “I…” Taking a deep breath, you confess. “I didn’t.”

And there are so many things to be said, but none of you dares to speak. The silence is deafening, its invisible arms strangling you little by little and you’re trapped, not knowing whether to ask him to respond or just run away before your heart explodes to pieces.

Jaehyun does that look again where he stares at you like you own his heart, giving you the permission to hold it or crush it however you like. “Your hair is still dripping water,” he says, reaching out to place his hands around the towel and gently dab your strands, squeezing out the excess water and he’s so close, you can truly see the color of his eyes. In the soft, yellowish light of his room, they’re a little bit darker, a stark contrast to his pale skin. You’re distracted with the way his eyes shimmer under the light, the way he breathes so softly, warm breath hitting your lips.

And you don’t know who initiate it, but for the next breath you take, you’re gasping for it against his mouth. Jaehyun’s lips move slow against yours, tentative and patient, waiting for you to react. But he doesn’t have to wait, not when you’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Not when both of you have been wishing for it to happen.

If your mind wasn’t too deluded with the thoughts of him, how he feels against your body, how he tastes on your tongue, how the low grunt and moan that escape from the back of his throat successfully send shivers down your spine, you would’ve probably thought about how different he was compared to Donghyuck. Jaehyun was so tender, cradling your figure so gently as if you were about to break into pieces if he moves too fast. His kisses aren’t as rushed and bruising as Donghyuck’s, but they’re deep and just as passionate, if not more. The effects that his lips have on your skin burn stronger than anything you’ve ever felt. And if you thought Donghyuck reminded you of the sun, Jaehyun was the blazing sun himself.

But you couldn’t think of Donghyuck. You can’t think of anything else but Jaehyun. Right now, he’s the only one that matters.

“Push me away anytime you want,” he says, eyes dark and hazy, as he circles a hand around your waist to press your body flat against his chest.

With one hand fisting his collar, you let your lips taste him once more. “I never want you to.”

Your soft gasp is muffled by the skin of his neck when Jaehyun lifts your body off the couch, and you tangle your legs around his waist for support as he carries you toward his bedroom. Despite the growing, overwhelming passion between you, he lies you down so gently on the bed, hovering above you as he paints your name at the skin below your ear. You let out a sigh, pulling him closer and closer until you can sink completely into his warmth.

No words are being exchanged because they don’t need to. Jaehyun speaks with his eyes, expresses his feelings with his lips, and carves your body with nothing but affection and adoration with his gentle hands. It amazes you how different sex can feel when there are feelings involved. It’s a connection, not just between your body and his but your mind, your soul, and every bit of your heart.

You’re more sensitive to his touch that even the slightest slide of his finger can make you arch your back. Jaehyun swallows every gasp, every moan of his name that tumbles down your lips and you do just the same with his.

He only stops to give you the chance to catch your breath when he’s fully sheathed inside you. His fingers tremble as they caress your face. “Are you okay?” He asks, sounding breathless and hoarse. He looks even more beautiful like this, skin glistening with sweat, lips bruised and swollen by kisses, pale cheeks reddening at the feeling of you peering into his eyes.

You smile, gaze softening. “I’m fine.”

Jaehyun has never looked so content before, so relieved, so happy and it makes you feel something in your stomach—something that you haven’t felt for months—to know that you’re the reason behind his most genuine, beautiful smile. When he whispers, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me,” into your ear, you know that he’s not talking about the time you were absent from the library. His words have more weight to them as if he’s been waiting for you for years as if you once belonged to him before something separated the strings between you.

“I’m going to move, okay?” Jaehyun murmurs against your lips, and you let out a shaky breath, nodding a little.

He takes it slow, waiting for you to adjust to his rhythm as he keeps his eyes on your expression to make sure he’s not hurting you in any way. His eyes are half-lidded, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a small moan, barely audible. He splays one hand on the inner part of your thigh, fingers pressing hard against the supple skin as he pins it down to the bed, spreading your legs wider so he can press himself deeper inside you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against your jawline. “So beautiful…”

You nibble at your lip, circling your arms around his shoulders, raking your nails down his back as he picks up the pace. He’s perfect, he’s so perfect at everything he does—the sway of his hips, the angle, the way he changes from giving shallow to deep thrusts in accordance to your expression, knowing exactly what you need.

He kisses you every time you give him the chance and it makes everything a lot more intimate, makes you feel more vulnerable, makes you feel more exposed. “I’m in love with you,” he says, forehead pressing against your own. “I’ve always been… All this time…”

There’s a surge of joy washing through your entire body and it’s so intense, you find yourself hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your vision blurred with tears. How can you feel so complete when this is your first time with him?

“Jae—” You gasp, your thighs trembling as you wrap your legs around his hips, arms hugging his shoulders tighter. “Jaehyun, I’m—I’m close—”

At your words, Jaehyun untangles your arms from his body and sits on his heels. He takes a hold of your waist and slams his hips harder to yours, driving you to the edge until you’re left sobbing against the sheets. He pulls away on the last second to finish himself off, tainting your stomach as a low grunt breaks free from the back of his throat. His bangs are falling over his eyes, a bead of sweat rolling down from his chest to his lean stomach and he still looks like a painting, one that you can’t seem to stop admiring.

“Wait, don’t move,” he says as if you had the strength to do so. “I’ll clean you up.”

When he comes back from the bathroom, fully clothed in a white tee and black sweat pants, he takes care of you so attentively, dabbing warm towel along your skin, swatting the bangs out of your eyes. A gentle smile never leaves his face but he blushes whenever your eyes make eye contact, though not as apparent as the shakes on his fingertips.

“You’re so good at this,” you tease him, propping your elbows on the bed. “Must have a lot of experience with women, I’m sure.”

“I’ve only ever been with you,” he answers and it doesn’t sound like a lie.

“What?”

His movement stops, acknowledging the appalled look on your face. “There’s… something you need to know.” He slips under the comforter, lying down on his side, and makes sure it covers your body to your shoulders to keep you warm. “That day, when we first met… It wasn’t our first time meeting each other.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows are adjoined in the middle. “When did we first meet then?”

Jaehyun falls quiet, eyes searching yours. “In the same library,” he says, “Seventy-four years ago.”

***

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips as you scan your surroundings. Jaehyun has taken you somewhere you haven’t been before, a rural area in the foothills of Jiri Mountain. After spending more than three hours drive from Seoul, seeing nothing but never-ending roads and traffic signs, it feels refreshing to see a charming little village, blanketed in a snow of white and soft pink, with the sound of water streams soothing your ears and cold wind of April caressing your cheeks.

“Hwagae,” he claims, his hand never leaving yours as he walks next to you, taking shorter strides to match your step. “People usually think that Jinhae is the best place to see cherry blossoms, but for me, it’s here.” He glances at the way your fingers are intertwined with his, smiling timidly to himself. “But maybe due to personal reasons.”

“Well, you’re not lying…” You murmur in awe, eyes widening at the sight of cherry blossoms trees that line the road, following both sides of a turquoise-blue stream, pebbles whisked about in the under wash like pieces of glitter. “It’s beautiful.”

You can hardly pay attention to anything else so when Jaehyun presses a kiss against your hairline, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. “It is, isn’t it?” He says, pushing some loose strands behind your ear. “Beautiful.”

With his eyes locked with yours, it seems like he’s praising something else and you look away, cheeks heating up at his words. “How long does this road goes?”

“Around four kilometers.” Jaehyun follows your steps. “There are more than a thousand cherry blossom trees around. Locals call this lane the Marriage Road as it is said that lovers who walk hand-in-hand under the trees will get married and live happily ever after.”

He tightens his grips around your hand, and you can swear your palm is getting sweaty from how nervous you are. “You just can’t stop making me blush, can you?”

“I’m just stating out facts.” He chuckles and it’s even more beautiful than the whole scenery. He’s more beautiful than anything you’ve seen. But when he speaks, all trace of humor has dissipated. “You may not remember but... This was the place where I asked you to marry me.”

You have seen it coming but it still shocks you, nonetheless. It’s easier to treat him as a liar who’s telling superstitious stories and pointing things about you because he’s a stalker that knows more about you than he should. But the more he tells his stories, the more they feel like the truth and it’s not just a hunch. His stories are his versions of the dreams you’ve been having. The dreams that you’ve gotten ever since you first met him, and you never told anyone about that.

As you take a seat on the nearest bench, Jaehyun hands you his journal—the one he’s been using to write his novel. “I think it’s time for you to read the story.” But as you reach out to open it, he lays his hand on top of yours. “Before that,” he says, “Remember what I asked you? I want you to guess the ending for me.”

You’ve never thought about it, never imagined how the ending of his story would unravel. He has told you that it was about a pair of lovers meeting each other by fate and separated tragically by death, you knew that much. But anything could’ve separated them, whether it was because of sickness, accident, or simply because of old age, you could’ve guessed wrong. Yet, when your lips moved without thinking, providing answers that make your heart jolt, Jaehyun smiles and says, “Correct.” He then opens the book and gives you the chance to run your eyes through every passage. It’s written in a first-person narrative, allowing you to see through Jaehyun’s eyes as he unveils his story.

The female lead has your name.

Every line. Every word. Every description. They feel like deja vu and the tiny hairs at your nape begin to raise. Your fingertips tremble as they move to open new pages. These are memories. They truly happened in the past. As you read, you can feel your own coming back, little by little, and by the time you’re halfway through the story, you can guess the next part that’s about to happen or correct little details that may have slipped from his mind.

“They were lilies,” you say, fingers tracing his perfect handwriting. “Not white roses.”

“What?”

“The flowers you gave me on our first anniversary.”

Jaehyun takes a shaky breath, and when he chuckles it sounds like a peal of tiny laughter and a choked sob at the same time. “Is that so?” He weakly asks, fixing his gaze to his lap. “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten.”

But he remembers everything else, everything that matters, even the way he felt back then. You could tell the love he once experienced with you through his eyes, the longing he has suffered as he waits for you to remember him once more, and the agony of being separated from you.

It’s easier to cry than to breathe when the memories of your past life start to dawn on you but you provide your best effort to stay reserved. There are more you need to learn.

The reason why he visited the library was not because he lived nearby. He moved there so he could visit the library, as it was the first time he met you in the previous life. “I was hoping she would remember the place as it was something we both grew fond of,” Jaehyun wrote in his journal, “She always thought I had a passion for books. She was wrong. She was the one who taught me that stories could mean something more. That they could make you feel alive, make you feel something you’ve never experienced just by words. I’d like to believe that these stories were the ones who brought us together, so we could create our own and maybe then, we could inspire other people—to make them feel alive with our stories.

I waited for her every day, from one season to another. The memories I have of her have always been there with me ever since I could remember, but that did not guarantee hers would resurface. Maybe she was looking for me. Maybe she was not. Either way, I couldn’t give up. I would not give up.

And finally, one day, I saw her again. In the same library, with the same little smile she always had whenever she had her eyes fixated on her book. She appeared exactly the same as the first time I met her 74 years ago. I could not breathe, trapped between reaching out to her or just standing still in the distance, because when our eyes met for a brief second, she looked away.

She did not remember me.

I was crushed. Devastated. I was nothing but a stranger. Twenty-five years I had been searching for her and now that she stood before me, I lost the ability to speak. It took me another week until I could find the bravery within me. I tried my best to appear as nonchalant as possible, even when my heart was breaking, even when my hands were shaking. I sank my nails into my palms so I wouldn’t take her hand and pull her into my embrace. When she told me her name, I was shocked. Her last name was different but her first name was the same, and I wanted to laugh. Fate could be so cruel, letting her keep her name but not her memories.

But memories could be re-created, and I learned that none of her habits had changed. I might be a stranger, but to me, she was not. She was my wife and I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her I love her and hear her say the words back to me. I was ready to start over, to make her fall in love with me once more but before I could even begin, I learned that she had belonged to someone else.

And what killed me was that… She did not look happy with him.”

Your breathing stalls. Everything makes sense now. He’s been holding everything to himself. This was the secret he kept from you. And that time when he almost kissed you… What did you say to him?

“Please don’t pretend, not when you’re with me.”

That’s what he did. He stopped pretending.

And you pushed him away, treating both of your feelings and his like a mere high school crush when they were something deeper than anything you’ve ever had.

You place your lower lip between your teeth, nibbling at it until it grows white. He must have been so hurt, you realize, I’m the worst.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asks, reaching out to take your hand. “You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I—” You shake your head, hoping the tears won’t fall. You give him a reassuring smile. “I want to. I need to remember.” Your smile doesn’t deceive him but he gives you the space you need, believing the honesty in your words.

Your marriage with him only lasted for four years before you passed away in your sleep, your weak lungs could no longer support your system, and through his story, you learned that Jaehyun followed you to the place he shouldn’t have. Because just a few minutes later after you took your final breath, he slit both of his wrists with a knife and hugged your body close to his chest, his blood drenching the white sheets underneath. His lips lingered against your hairline as he spoke, “I’ll see you again when you wake up.”

His neat handwriting starts to turn into dark splotches of ink as it is tainted by your tears. You’ve remembered. You’ve remembered everything. Everything that makes you happy and everything that hurts, you’re reliving each and every one of them.

“Why?” You sob, shoulders quivering as you try to keep your emotions contained. “Why did you do that? You could’ve lived for many more years. Could’ve found someone else.” You bury your face in your palms, voice muffled by your skin. “You could’ve been happy without me.”

You can’t see how he looks at you, can’t feel his touch as he’s nowhere near, but you hear him take his breath. “My mother used to say,” he says, “that two people who are meant to be would always find their way to each other, even in the afterlife.” Jaehyun moves and kneels on the ground in front of you, his hands prying yours away from your face and his smile has never looked this blissful. “That’s why,” he continues, voice so soft it’s almost as light as the wind. “If there’s a chance, no matter how little it is, for me to see you again I would gladly trade my eternity for it.”

There are emotions you can’t explain, ones that you can’t understand. Emotions that make you cry as if the world was ending but also ones that make you feel so blessed to be born into this world, to be able to see him again, to witness his beautiful smile, his beautiful soul, and the beautiful love he has for you.

“Why are you crying?” Jaehyun chuckles softly but the quiver in his voice betrays him. He strokes your cheek, drying your tears with the pad of his thumb.

Leaning into his touch, you sob against his palm, “I love you,” you confess, “I love you, Jaehyun. Even if my memories never came back, I’d still fall in love with you. Over and over again. I’m sorry you had to wait—”

Jaehyun abruptly stands on his knees, pulling you into his embrace. As your eyes widen in surprise, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, whispering, “If I had to wait a thousand years to be able to have this one moment with you, I’d gladly do it in a heartbeat.” His shoulders begin to shake and you wrap your arms around them, drenching the fabric of his shirt with your tears. “I love you too.”

There’s a voice inside your head that says, ah... so this is how it feels.

Love... is not so complex after all. It doesn’t have to be. It’s not something to be understood. It’s not something to be thought endlessly. It’s not a choice to be made.

It’s a feeling, and feelings are meant to be felt. And you realize that happiness does not only emerge when your love is answered with the same passion. Happiness is already there in your heart just by loving him. You love him. You just love him. Entirely. Infinitely.

So you kiss him with the biggest smile you can make, you pull him close with every strength that you have and you let him stay. In this life or another, you will let him stay.

And you will see him again when you wake up.

***

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #haechan smut #haechan fluff #jaehyun scenarios #haechan scenarios #jaehyun imagines #haechan imagines #jaehyun x reader #haechan x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun timestamps #nct timestamps #nct smut #nct fluff #haechan timestamps #donghyuck smut #jaehyun drabbles #haechan drabbles #nct x reader #oh god this is the first time i'm writing a fic for jaehyun i hope i'm not ruining his characterization #and as a sunflower who wrote A LOT of haechan-centered fics it literally HURT ME to write haechan this way #haechan baby i love you you're perfect never change a thing #i'm sorry i had to ruin your character in this fic it was necessary for the plot #but you're not a jerk baby you're a doll!#esme i'm sorry if this sucks but i've tried my best and I hope you'll enjoy this just as much as I enjoyed writing this down!

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ellsbclls · 3 years ago

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you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there???

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut.

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh, enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well.

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub,

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #something about this man fucking the bad day out of you 🥰#what a gentleman #ANOTHER 3K DOOZY??????#WHA T TH E FUCK???#mine*

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dollslayer · 3 years ago

Text

Artistic Intention

Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve's doing well in his life drawing class, but a new muse throws him for a loop in the back supply room.

W/C: 2,374

Warnings: NO MINORS, p in v smut, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding kink if you squint, swearing

A/N: Hey! I wrote this for @buckyownsmylife 1st anniversary challenge! I love me a good AU so I chose Artist AU+ exhibitionism. Happy tumblr-versary! I made Steve a shy boi in this lol. If you liked this fic pls reblog/comment!! Check out my other fics too! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

It’s 1:45pm and Steve is desperately trying to weave his way through the crowd of people before him. His art folio hits everyone and thing as he makes feeble attempts to apologize to everyone for the bulkiness of the case. He can’t be too apologetic though, he’s running late for his 2pm life drawing class and if he doesn’t make it the professor will close the door in his face.

This is the longest 15 minutes in Steve’s life, he figures. He finally makes it up the steps and jogs up the stairs. His folio hits his leg, he winces but doesn’t stop, he’s only got a few minutes to make it up to the second floor and get himself situated behind an easel. He’s nearly out of breath when he makes it to the second floor and he’s trying to check his watch while running for the door. Two minutes.

Steve bursts through the doors and exhales loudly, he’s not sure he’s ever felt so relieved. His feeling of relief is short lived and quickly replaced with embarrassment as he realizes every pair of eyes in the room is on him. Every pair except for one. The new model for class this week, you slowly turn your head to reveal sharp eyes and a coy smile. He feels himself blush under your gaze and mutters an apology before getting settled in an easel directly in front of you.

He tries his best to focus on getting his paper and charcoals set out in an effort to shrug off the mixture of humiliation and lingering anxiety he had about being late. He feels his heartbeat begin to steady and he lets himself relax a little bit.

“Good afternoon, everyone. We have a new model in class this week, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. She’ll be keeping her current pose for one hour and repositioning for the second half of class. Mr. Rogers, since you had no problem running late I assume you’ll have no problem staying late as well. You’ll clean up after class.” The professor concludes with a short nod.

Steve sighs but nods his head in acknowledgement. He catches you smirking in amusement again at him and he can’t help but to blush all over again. He feels just like he did in high school, embarrassing himself in front of pretty girls. He sighs and picks up a piece of charcoal.

Steve decides to get a proper look at you and almost regrets it when he chokes on his own breath. You’re gorgeous, you’re coy and charming, you’re a muse. He’s still blushing because you’re naked, and beautiful and the feeling of humiliation hits him even more. He’s been in this class before, he knows the models will be naked but none of them had ever caught his attention as more than a subject, none of them were you.

He takes his time admiring your natural curves and appreciates your figure. You are so full of natural beauty, your bare face is perfectly flawed and the sun shining through the window highlights your skin tone. He can see why you were chosen to model for class, you’re perfect. He has to discreetly adjust himself and shuffles his jacket into his lap as he feels his pants tighten. He’s flustered all over again and realizes everyone else is already ahead of him. He puts charcoal to paper and gets to work.

____

As class goes on Steve’s sketch is coming along nicely. He can’t bring himself to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time for fear of getting hard again. When he sends furtive glances your way he catches you looking back at him with that smile of yours. He swears at one point you raise an eyebrow at him like you’re amused by him. He brushes it off and keeps drawing.

Class comes and goes much faster than he anticipated. He wants to pack up and get out as quickly as he can when he remembers that he has to clean up the room. He lets out a groan and waits for everyone else to leave. Now it’s only you, him, and the professor who are left in the room.

“Mr. Rogers I’ve got to get out of here, I trust you can put easels away without incident?” The professor asks. Steve nods and the professor turns to you. “Thank you for your work today, you can collect your pay from the front office. I look forward to having you as a model for this class.”

You smile and nod, waving goodbye to him. By now you’ve slipped on a robe and are reaching for your bag but it feels like you’re lingering. It’s just now that Steve realizes the two of you are alone. He swallows thickly, trying not to pay attention to you out of the corner of his eye. He begins to pack away his own drawing but not before giving it one final assessment. He can’t help himself from his own critical eye, analyzing mistakes and appreciating triumphs.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

Steve jumps in surprise, you’re peering right over his shoulder. He’s caught off guard by your presence and also by your voice, do you always sound this sultry?

He swallows and nods before taking a deep breath. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans he turns to face you.

“Uh, yeah. Yes it is. I don’t think it’s very good but I’m trying” He anxiously starts making excuses, assuming you hate it.

But you don’t. You just smile thoughtfully at him and nod.

“It’s good. At least, I think it is.”

“Th-thanks, thank you.”

“Do you always cut it that close or were you just hoping to stay late with me?”

Steve sputters at your boldness. He has to remind himself that he’s not that scrawny, measly kid he used to be. But he can’t help but feel like he is with his sweaty palms and short breaths.

“I, I um, I didn’t realize there’d be a new model. Was kind of expecting the old one. Not- not that there’s anything wrong with you, of course! I, sorry I didn’t mean to imply that, you’re- you’re beautiful too, you’re perfect really, I just. Oh jesus.” He spews the words out faster than his brain can keep up and he’s making a complete fool of himself.

He can’t bear to look at you, so he starts closing up easels and stacking stools. He doesn’t notice you ogling his muscles through his tight t-shirt.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You ask innocently.

“I-, um, yes. I think you’re very beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Steve answers honestly.

He moves some stools to the large supply room in the back of the classroom and you follow him.

“I think you’re beautiful too. And cute. You’re practically falling all over yourself, it’s sweet”

Are you talking to him? He still sees himself as he was back then, having a hard time thinking that anyone would look at him and find him attractive. It’s why he’s so beside himself now. You’re so completely beautiful and self-assured, there’s no way you’re talking to him. He sets down the stack he’s carrying and realizes you’re much closer than he thought. You’re inches away.

“What do you like the most about me? Is it my body? Don’t think I didn’t notice you readjusting your pants at the beginning of class.” You move even closer and Steve thinks you must be able to hear his heart beat because it’s about to come right out of his chest.

Your hands are on his chest and you have to lean up on your tip-toes for your lips to meet his ear.

“What do you say? You and me in this supply room? There’s hardly anyone here. Come on”

Steve feels like he’s dreaming, he has to check if he is. But then your hand reaches for his dick through his pants and he nearly doubles over from the sensation. He’s never been with anyone so brash and confident, your touch leaves a burning trail on his body.

“But- but what if someone comes in and sees?” He says, using every last bit of coherent reasoning he has.

“Isn’t that what makes it so fun?”

Oh, God. You. You. Smiling that devilish smile at him. He was weak in the knees and you took the opportunity to push him backwards onto a spare desk. You pulled him by the shirt collar to meet your lips and he let out a noise of surprise. Steve pushes his tongue into your mouth and lets out an obscene moan. You feel so good. He knew you’d feel good but not this good.

Steve’s large hands come to your waist and venture lower until he has a handful of your ass and grabs. You let out a little moan and nudge your knee between his legs and he grinds against it. You pull back to catch your breath when your hands go to the ties of your robes.

“We’re a little overdressed, don’t you think?”

Steve doesn’t need to be asked twice as he pulls his shirt over his head. Jeans have never felt so uncomfortable and he’s frantically trying to get himself down to his boxers. He swears he goes slack jawed when he looks back up at you. He’s already seen you naked, he just stared at you naked for hours, but you’re just as gorgeous as before but it’s the way you’re looking at him. Like he’s desirable, almost like he’s a piece of meat. It makes him feel wanted and reassured and he feels himself grow harder.

Your hands slip beneath the elastic of his boxers and slowly slide them down his legs. He can’t help but flush when you let out a small gasp at the size of him. He doesn’t want to get too big of an ego with it but he’s always known he was… gifted.

Before he can let anything go to his head he lets out his own soft gasp as you stroke him languidly. He can’t control his hips as they cant up into your hand. You grab his hand and quickly lead his fingers to your dripping pussy. Steve nearly melts when he feels how wet you are and slides two fingers in easily. He’s pumping them in and out and you let out tiny mewls as you kiss his neck.

There’s no more time for preamble though, you two need to be quick if you don’t want to be caught by some unfortunate custodian. You remove your hand from his cock and he takes his fingers out of your pussy and swears you whine a little. Feeling brazen himself, he makes direct eye contact with you and sucks his fingers clean. You bite your lip and squirm while he revels in the taste.

Reluctantly he takes his fingers out of his mouth and gets up to situate you so you’re sitting on the desk. You spread your legs wide for him and he takes in the sight, committing to memory. Maybe he can draw you like this some time. For now he takes a step closer but falters, remembering one fatal flaw in this whole plan.

“I… don’t have a condom”

You don’t look let down at all, you look excited in fact. Shaking your head, you explain to him.

“Doesn’t matter, ‘m on the pill. I wanna feel you cum inside me”

Steve might pass out before he gets the chance, the way you keep talking with that mouth of yours. He wastes no more time and positions himself at your entrance. He has one hand on his dick and the other on the back of your neck when he looks you deep in the eye and impales you fully in one go.

The moan you let out is pornographic and Steve uses his newly freed hand to cover your mouth.

“We have to stay quiet. Can you do that?”

You nod silently and he removes his hand, opting to grab your hip instead.

He pulls back and begins to start pumping into you. He’s steady at first, trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly. Slowly he starts increasing his speed and the force that he uses is causing the legs of the old desk to scrape against the floor.

Your hand reaches and grabs his ass, pushing him deeper into your pussy. You feel so tight wrapped around him with no barrier and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. You’re trying to keep your moans quiet when he kisses you to silence them all together. He’s trying with all his might not to cum before you do.

His fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing it in tight circles. You have a harder time keeping quiet and you’re squeezing him like a vice. The friction on your clit and his dick hitting your G-spot perfectly is causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

“‘M gonna cum, please. Please don’t stop” You beg. Steve feels a wave of power surge over him now that you’re the needy one.

“Go on then, I’m not far behind ya. Wanna feel your pussy cum on my cock.”

With a few moments more he has you seeing stars and you claw at his back and pull him close to you. He continues on in his movements and starts pounding into you in earnest chasing his own release. All you can do is hold on for dear life.

Steve makes one final thrust before he’s cumming deep inside you. The rush of warmth is welcome to you and you kiss his jaw as he tries to catch his breath. The only sound being both of your heavy breathing. Hopefully no one heard you.

Steve can’t believe what just happened. He met a gorgeous girl and she propositioned him in a public place all in the span of two hours. He realizes just how far he’s come from who he used to be. He looks down at you, your noses touching.

“So, what’s your name?”

#steve rogers x reader #artist!steve rogers #artist!AU #marvel fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #marvel x reader

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fair-fae · 3 years ago

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FFxivWrite Entry #27: Benthos

FFxivWrite 2021 Prompt #27: Benthos tw: suggestive, violence, language The streets of Ul’dah were barely more hospitable than wandering the Sagolii alone, but they were where C’therin had chosen to make her home, if it could be said that she truly had such a thing. Handouts were rare, and it was her policy to never take them. She knew that nothing was truly free, and anything advertised as such must have a higher price than anyone in her right mind would be willing to pay, but sometimes the work she found wasn’t much better.

She couldn’t remember his name, or if he’d even told it to her. She couldn’t remember, and she didn’t care. She had no doubts he hadn’t bothered to learn her name, either. He was little more than a stranger, and she was more than content to keep it that way. She slipped out of the comfort of the inn room bed, grabbing her discarded clothes from the floor and tugging them back on. “Well, assumin’ we’re done here, I’ll be glad t’take m’payment an’ get outta your hair. ‘Less ya want another rrround?” she shot him a challenging grin as he also redressed on the other side of the bed. “Oh, sadly, I think I’m spent… Speaking of spent… You mean you weren’t just having a good time with me, kitty-cat?” C’therin scoffed out a laugh. “Funny joke, but ya know we discussed m’rrrates before this.” He sighed woefully. “But you had a good time, didn’t you? Shouldn’t that count for something? I bought you some drinks. Let’s call it even.” Realizing that he was not, in fact, joking, she felt her patience immediately growing thin, feline ears curving back and her eyes narrowing as she peered at him across the bed. “Uh, yeah, not that good of a time. ‘M worrrth more than a few cheap drrrinks, ya know?” “Are you? All right, all right, don’t get too ahead of yourself. I did give you a roof over your head and a bed tonight. Factoring that in…” She sharpened her glare at him. “Factorrring what in? ‘F ya ain’t noticed, the night is farrr from over, an’ I aint really in the mood for stayin’ for snuggles an’ pillow-talk.” He heaved another large sigh, making a show of patting himself down until he found his wallet, fishing it from his pocket and tossing it haphazardly onto the mattress. “Fine, fine. There you go. Considering everything else, that should be more than fair.” He meandered his way past her and over to the sofa where they had been sharing drinks earlier in the evening. She picked up the wallet, opening it to reveal its contents, no more than a few coins falling out. She stared for some time at the meager sum of gil upon the mattress, then the empty wallet, then back to the man as he searched their emptied glasses and bottles for any remaining traces of alcohol to consume. “Ya kiddin’ me? This ain’t what we agreed on.” He laughed from across the room. “You really thought I’d pay to sleep with your trashy ass? Cheap whores like you are barely worth the booze.” “Uh-huh. An’ ya thought I’d fuck a slimeball like you for frrree? Shut the fuck up.” Tossing the thin wallet aside, she marched over to him to stand in front of him, sizing him up, her black-furred tail swishing in agitation behind her. “Bottom-feeders like you are disgusting. You think you’re getting my hard-earned gil just because you’ll spread your legs for me and everyone else? I’ve got a wife at home--a real lady deserving of my money--and I can’t have her wondering where all my wages have gone,” he snapped, glowering down at the Miqo’te. “Oh yeah? Bold worrrds when you’re the one payin’ t’fuck me, dumbass,” C’therin sneered. Her words must have struck something in the man’s pride, as his expression immediately switched from smug disdain to something far more resentful. “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome, skank-ass whore. You should be grateful I gave you any gil at all. Get out.” He held one of the bottles he’d plucked from the smattering of mostly-emptied glasses and liquor bottles upon the table, his fingers curled tight around its neck. “Oh, I would love to. Once ya pay me what ya owe me, dickhead. Ya better get t’scrrrapin’ up the rrrest of that gil rrreal fast.” She held her own, unflinching against the man’s rage. “You’re not getting a single more gil out of me. I said leave! Bitch!” he shouted and raised the bottle over his head as if to swing it down upon her. The gesture may have only been a threat, but unfortunately for him, that mattered little to C’therin, and she was far faster than he. She caught the bottle, snatching it out of his hands and swinging it back at him. The bottle caught him upon the temple, glass shattering upon impact and he immediately dropped unconscious to the floor. “Serrrves ya rrright, fucker.” Therin carefully nudged him with one foot, making sure he was truly out of it as she watched the blood trickle down his forehead and onto the floor. After eyeing over him for a moment, she crouched down beside his unmoving body, none too gently tugging the golden wedding band from his ring finger and pocketing it before she stood up straight once more. “Now that should fetch me some gil. Good luck explainin’ this one t’your lady-wife. Talk ‘bout a bottom-feeder,” she muttered, moving to collect the pittance of gil from the mussed sheets on the bed before she took her leave, offering a lazy kick against his ribs on her way to the door for good measure. @kitty-ffxiv

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wornoutmouse · 4 years ago

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Deku cursing is so hard to write. Uraraka slander, I don't really hate her but this was needed. Cunt is such a funny word.

"Zuku are you ready?!" You call out as you put on your hoop earrings. You were going to a hero gala of sorts and of course you wanted to look your best. "I think so y/n."

Izuku walks out from the bathroom looking absoulutely scrumptious as he rolled up his dark green cuffs that matched perfectly with your green slit dress. You lick your lips as you trail your eyes down his form groaning when you get to his feet. "Really Deku, the red converse?!" He blushes, "I feel like it's very nostalgic to wear these shoes especially when we're seeing the others."

"Yeah well go be 'nostalgic' with those green bottom church shoes I got you in the closet." You rolled your eyes before fluffing your hair as you hum your way past Midoriya's whines of displeasure.

When you arrive it's extravagant. Paparazzi are lining the outskirts trying to get even a pinch of an interview with a hero. "Puppy, stay here I'm going to go try to find the others!" Izuku yells over the noise as he heads towards the line of limousines arriving alongside the building.

"Miss, "H/N, can i ask you a question!" A reporter calls out to you.

Judging by her shakiness and crooked glasses, she was a juvenile reporter. Feeling bad, you decided talking to her wouldn't hurt. "Sure what would you like to know?" The reporter fumbles through her notes elegantly ignoring the hateful glares coming from her peers. "Um, w-what is your take on the recent rumors, b-between pro hero Uravity and Deku?!"

You hold your chin in thought, as far as you knew there were no rumors surrounding the two so maybe this is a new one that just barely breached the surface. "I'm sorry you're going to have to tell me this rumor dear." The reporter blushes at the term of endearment before fumbling with her notes once again. "I uh, according to a few eye witnesses, Pro-Hero Deku and Uravity were seen together late at night multiple times alone.

You laugh out loud scaring nearby people. "Oh really, are there any photo evidence of these meetups?" Outwardly one would think you were amused but they could tell by the way the blood drained from the thing reporters face that she realized that her new career depended on her proof. The other reporters had cleared away once the senior hero's arrived so it was just the two of you minus the civilians.

The clumsy girl fumbled with her phone and borderline dropped it from her sweaty grasps as she tried to keep her cool.

Low and behold, there was a crystal clear photo of Deku and Uraraka walking into a park with big bright smiles on their faces. "Interesting.." you mutter squeezing the phone so tightly that it bursted. You blink before shaking it's remains from your hands.

"Sorry about that hon," you pull out a few hundreds and toss them her. "Use this to buy yourself a new one." The reporter nods weakly and walks away clutching at her chest.

"Y/N!" Izuku calls out to you waving you over. Behind him is the rest of 1-A and next to him is....Uraraka. "Sup Bakuhoe." You say daping up Bakugo who only grunts in response.

As you all go to walk in, Deku reaches for your hand but you quickly walk up to Shoji and start a miscellaneous conversation. "What's up four arms?" Shoji rolls his eye at you before slinging his webbed forearms around your shoulder.

From behind, Izuku purses his lips at the sight as Uraraka takes this as a chance to latch onto his and start a worthless conversation.

Inside the plaza, there are lights adorning the walls and ceilings creating a warm golden glow onto the various colors gliding across the floor as the hero's conversed below.

"Izuku honey can you go get me some wine?" You ask jutting out your bottom lip as you gesture to the table adorned with finger sandwiches and a river of chocolate. "Sure!" Izuku immediately perks up as he heads trip the table, Bakugo following close behind.

"So...Y/N, you look nice!?" Ochako starts up picking hesitantly at her nails. You swallow the distain and put a smile on your face once again. "How have you been Ochako, it's been a while since we've all seen each other." Momo clasped hey hands together, "It has hasn't it?! If someone would have told me hero work would be this time consuming, I would have second guessed my choices."

Todoroki shook his head, "No you wouldn't have." Suddenly pink arms wrap around your shoulders in a tight embrace, "Y/N!!! Heya g-friend!" You giggle as you feel a chin rub the top of your head. "Mimi you gon mess up my hair!"

Mina laughs as she comes into your view, her vibrant pink skin blending with her red dress. "I see you girl, matching with your husband!" You tease watching her pink hue turn darker. "Your one to talk! Where's Katsuki anyways?" Your point to the wine table, shaking your head as Mina struts off.

Moments later, Izuku walks over with two glasses of a clear alcohol. "So Y/N, anything new come up recently?" Ochaco asked poking at a small piece of cake settled on her plate. You gingerly take your glass from Izuku as he sits down next to you. "No I have not, why is there anything you'd like to share?" You stare at Ochaco over the rim of your glass as you sip.

Uraraka's eyebrow twitches slightly as she plasters on a tight smile. "No, not at all."

From the corner of your eye you see Bakugo shift in his seat as the subtle hostility in the air gets thicker. "Aye nerd, come over here, I need to talk to you about something." Deku places his glass down and stands up oblivious of the situation as always.

"Is it hot in here or is it just me?" Momo asked glancing from the two of you. "You know Y/N, usually in this stage of life, one would settle down with their…highschool sweetheart?" You bite the inside of your cheek at the comment. "Oh Uraraka you're so funny, just because Kaminari and Jiro are married doesn't mean we need to add well!" Momo chuckles softly. Under the desk you could feel her leg tapping rapidly from nerves.

You down the rest of your drink and release your curled hair from it's bobby pins before turning to Ochaco. "Look sis, if you got something to say, say it." Uraraka giggles playfully, "All I'm saying is it's very strange that Deku seems to have so much free time that he's able to spend a lot of it with me all the while he had a.. loving(?) Girlfriend at home."

Shoji tensed in his seat and tried to make himself look smaller which was in no way an easy feat.

You clench the table sheet in your hands. "Is it getting darker in here?" Todoroki asked as he watched the small shadows in the room grow in size. "So, Uravity, what are you two doing during your alone time since you seem to have something to say?"

Ochaco smirked as her brown eyes darkened, "Oh a few things, but I don't think any of them are appropriate to discuss in a public place like this. Maybe it is where your from but not in Japan."

Momo squeeked, "Uraraka that's so rude! Y/N you know she's only jesting, Deku would never do something like that"

The room had darkened considerably and the other guest had finally took noticed including Deku and Bakugo who were talking in the most well lit part of the room. "It's about time she reacted." Bakugo said as Deku quickly shuffled back towards the table.

"Puppy?" You breathe shallowly glaring at Ochaco who gave you one last look before putting on a scared face. "Deku, I don't know what happened, she's freaking me out!" Izuku places a hesitant hand on your shoulder, "Y/N what happened." You close your eyes and stand up, "It's nothing, I think I'm ready to go home."

You head to the car with anger in your heart as Izuku stays back to pay respect to the others. From any onlooker, you would think the end was near from the way shadows seemed to come out from the darkness and wrap around you as you headed towards the car. "Okay Y/N calm down." You say to yourself as you take out your keys.

"Puppy." Izuku mumbles sliding his hands around your waist, gently burying his face into your neck. "What's wrong?" You grunt shrugging your shoulders, "Get off." Deku releases you after placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. "You can't avoid me."

You both get into the car and sit in silence as he drove. "What have you been doing with Uraraka?!" You say staring ahead. "What do you mean?"

"Why are there pictures of your an Ochaco floating around in less than appropriate places?!" Izuku glances at you and sighed, "Nothing puppy, Uraraka has just been asking to spar with me."

"Then why didn't you tell me?!" You yelled slightly making Deku swerve a bit. "I...I didn't think it was important?" Your roll your eyes, "You had me clueless and stupid." Was all you said before you got out the car. Deku got out to follow you but his phone suddenly rang, "Who is that Ochaco? Go ahead and answer since you have so much time for her."

"Puppy it's not like that!" You slam the door in his face and head to the room.

Moments later Deku walks in but you ignore him. "Puppy?" You remain silent "Puppy I'm sorry for not telling you, I didn't think you'd care." You whine into the sheets turning your head away.

"That was Momo, she told me what happened. It's not true…what Uraraka said"

You didn't reply but you lifted your head to look at him "I'm not speaking to you." His eyebrows furrowed as he walks behind you.

*Thwap!*

You lurch forward as a hand comes to grab your ass cheek. "Huh?" Deku crawls up and straddles your thighs while gently massaging your lower back. "Want me to make it up to you puppy?" Izuku asked, kissing the back of your neck sucking lightly. "You looked so good at the party that I was jealous." You moan softly as teeth sink into your neck, "You let Shoji touch you but not me? That hurt puppy."

A soft hand trails up the expanse of your leg where your dress split open. "Zuku?" You feel something hard press into the curve of your ass. "I wanna make you feel good puppy, forget about the rumors."

You find yourself turning around with Deku settled in between your opened legs. Your dress had rode up your legs so Izuku took this as an opportunity to press kisses to your lower stomach and naval. You huff Izuku pressed kisses on your face, "Will you forgive me?" Two hands take hold on your thighs and pull you forward. "Or will I have to make you?"

Deku kisses you, accidently clinking your teeth together making you grunt. You trail your fingers through his hair drinking his moans with your mouth. You pull Izuku further into the bed as you switch positions opting to straddle him instead. "I wanna be on top."

Deku licked his lips as he gazed hungrily at your breasts. You pull the dress over yourself sighing as your chest fall out, bra-less. "Y-You were walking around in nothing Puppy!?" Deku asked, face flushed as he took in all the bare skin displayed in front of him. "Well I was thinking of doing something naughty while we were at the party anyways." You reply, looking at Deku with lidded eyes as you played with your hardened nipples.

Izuku leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth sucking lightly on your bud making you toss your head back. "Your so perverted puppy."

By now Deku was extremely hard as you rocked yourself back on his unclothed length, when that happened, you have no clue.. "Sit in my cock puppy, I need you so bad!"

You reach behind yourself and grab Izuku's dick, positioning it below yourself. Izuku moans softly as you side down slowly making him sheath snuggly inside of you. It took all l the strength in his body not to thrust completely inside of you.

You rock slowly trying to adjust to the feeling of fullness. Izuku may be shy in the streets but the length of his dick was not. "You're so fucking warm." He growled, wrapping his arms around your waist before thrusting once, pushing the rest of himself inside of you. You whine as your nails unapologetically scratch the curve of Izuku's back.

Contrary to popular belief, Deku was a slut for pain and the feeling of your nails breaking through his skin only edged him more as he suckled dark bruises onto your right breast praying you'd adjust soon. He trails his hands down your sides before coming back to grip your ass in-between his hands.

You trail your hands down your stomach and rub soothing circles into your clit. Izuku watches closely as your face contorted from pleasure while you made yourself feel good. Each flick of your fingers made your cunt clench on his dick as it twitched inside you.

Izuku rolls his hips purposefully up into you, making your breath hitch as it slowly exits your body before slamming back in.

Soon you'ry both breathing heavily and Izuku is using his full quirkless strength to lift you up and slam you back down on his cock. "Fuck you feel to damn good!" You wrap your arms around his shoulders as your body bursts with pleasure. "I'm gonna cum, make me cum Izuku!"

Deku lays back a bit and watches your boobs bounce with the force of his thrusts. "You gonna cum? Then cum puppy!" You arch your back as Izuku's thrust turned frantic and rhythmless. The sound of his balls hitting your ass was hilarious yet sexy as his fingertips would briefly light up with green sparks, shocking your nerves every time.

The room was filled with a series of 'fucks' and 'so close' as you used your little bit of strength to bounce on his cock. You trembled from the overstimulation as Izuku cums inside of you, filling you up so much that you could feel it deep inside your womb.

You roll off of Deku and he immediately pulls you towards him in a loving embrace. "M'sorry for not telling you Y/N, i won't do it again, promise." He mumbled into your hair which had miraculously survived your seat inducing activities. To your left, Deku's phone rings and the name Ochaco flashes before you. Izuku was already snoring softly behind you so seeing this as an opportunity, your answer it.

"Hello? Deku?" You hum softly as to not give away your identity. "How did it go with Y/N? I feel so sorry that she embarrassed you in front of everyone like that… You know if you ever want to talk about it, my door is always open."

You growled and opened your mouth to tell her off but a hand, soft but firmly, removes the phone from your hand. "Uraraka, I think it's best if we maintain a professional relationship from now on." From the other line you could faintly hear sputtered responses, "What do you mean, I-I was just trying to help and-" Izuku gently grips the bridge of his nose, "Shut up and don't lie to me, I don't want you near me or my family, now excuse me while I cuddle with my freshly fucked wife."

You slap your hands over your mouth in shock and laughter as Izuku hangs up the phone without further response. Izuku smiled softly before rolling over on top of you, "Oh, you're not off the hook yet puppy, keep laughing and I'll put that mouth of yours to use next.

#black y/n #blackreader #bnha headcanons #mha #bnha #bnha x black reader #mha smut #bnha deku #deku smut #deku x reader #uraraka slander

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sourwolphs · 4 years ago

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Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (3/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Kidnapping, Mentions of non-con (nothing actually happens), self-hatred A/N: The rest of the team makes an appearance! Whoo!

Steve burst through the door first, using the force of his shield to break through the external locks Bucky had been unable to reach. As soon as the scent of their combined heat and rut hit him, Steve threw his best friend a wide-eyed look. From where he knelt on the floor next to the Omega, Bucky shook his head, feeling a fresh wave of shame wash over him. His release minutes ago had taken the edge off of his rut enough that he was thinking semi-clearly again, realizing what he had done.

He had violated her. He didn’t stop. He was the most worthless kind of Alpha— not a protecter, like Steve, but a taker, like Hydra had trained him to be.

“Who is she?” Steve asked, taking slow, careful steps towards them. Bucky had to grip hard into his thigh with his metal hand to stop himself from grabbing her protectively, shielding her from the nonexistent threat of the other Alpha, the way his instincts were screaming at him to.

Y/N was still shaking and crying, curled up on top of his clothes and holding her legs tightly to her chest to protect herself.

“Dunno. She’s enhanced. Sympathy heat. Get her to safety. Please,” he said lowly. Steve nodded, giving Bucky another searching look. “They gave me something. Rut. I— I don’t know. I’ll be fine.” He shook his head as he stood up, trying to clear it again of the rising fog of arousal.

“Are we fighting our way out?” At least that way, he’d be an asset. Even a normal Alpha in rut possessed enhanced strength and endurance, not to mention a super-soldier.

Steve shook his head. “Tony and Nat practically cleared this place out already. You know we’re in Paraguay, right?”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief.

“I know. Took us way too long to find you. Scared everyone,” Steve said. “Once we touched down, a few Hydra squads fled the base right away. Probably whoever was in charge of…” —he motioned at Bucky’s body to indicate his artificial rut— “….this. Sam’s tailing them now.”

Bucky watched as Steve gently kneeled down next to Y/N. Her eyes were glassy and out of focus. She strained her neck to bare her throat submissively to the new Alpha looming over her, turning her face into Bucky’s ruined clothes. He swallowed hard, feeling sick to his stomach at her display of fearful vulnerability.

The reminder of the spend he’d eked out against her will was still wet against his body. He was a fucking monster.

Steve gently scooped Y/N up into his arms. She protested weakly, still crying as she pushed on his arms with her bound wrists, murmuring unintelligibly and whimpering in either fear or pain. Bucky grimaced as Steve tucked her face into his neck, offering his scent gland to comfort her in the intimate way Bucky had just a few hours ago. He watched as she snuffled into his neck and the rigid lines of her body began to relax minutely. “Alpha,” she whined. He had to stop himself from tearing her from Steve’s arms— though he knew if anyone deserved the trust of a defenseless Omega, it was his best friend. Bucky had proven himself unworthy ten times over here in this cell. His self-hatred rose like bile in his throat, competing with the heat of rut still burning through his veins.

“Bucky okay in here?” Nat slipped soundlessly through the cell door, brushing her hair out of her dirt-smudged face. She was a little breathless, but looked otherwise unharmed. “Upstairs is clear, but we need to get moving before—“ She cut off when she saw Y/N curled in Steve’s arms. “Holy shit,” she breathed.

Steve had already started moving out of the cell, stopping when he realized that Nat recognized Hydra’s other prisoner. “So she’s not a Jane Doe?”

“Her name is Y/N,” Bucky interjected. My Omega.

“Not a Jane Doe,” Nat said. “I’ll explain on the quinjet.”

Nat navigated them quickly and expertly through the evacuated base. There were some limp bodies strewn around as they made their way up nearly a dozen flights of stairs, Nat’s swift and nearly bloodless execution style apparent in the pattern of dead. The closer they got to the exit, the antsier Bucky felt, his skin starting to crawl again with rut. He knew he was moments away from dipping back into mindless lust— especially without his, no, the Omega in his arms— but he couldn’t speed up ahead for risk of leaving her behind. The urge to stay protectively by her side was too strong, though he knew she was more than safe in Steve’s arms. She had quietly dozed off in Steve’s arms.

“Almost there,” Nat murmured, nodding her head at a set of busted steel doors at the end of a long hallway. Bucky knew she could smell his desperation, clamping a hand down on his flesh arm to ground him. “I have emergency suppressants,” she told him reassuringly.

As they burst through the doors and out into the humid air, Bucky let out a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Sam was standing, wings folded, on the quinjet’s loading hatch as they approached at a quick jog. “Couldn’t stay on their tail,” he updated Steve, who shook his head. “Glad you didn’t die,” Sam said teasingly to Bucky, but Bucky didn’t have the stomach for their usual banter. He gave a grim nod, to which the Beta male raised his eyebrows.

Once they were all on board, Tony raised the loading hatch and lifted the quinjet off the ground with a lurch, activating the cloaking panels so their jet disappeared into the sky. Bucky slipped into a gear room in the back to quickly shuck out of his ruined clothes, forcing himself to toss them in the incinerator even though he ached to press his face into his shirt and breathe in Y/N’s lingering scent. She hadn’t consented. She couldn’t have. He slammed his right fist into the wall, forcing himself to feel the pain in his knuckles.

Nat knocked on the door before opening it a crack, offering four white tablets in her palm.

“Thanks,” Bucky murmured, swallowing the emergency blockers dry.

“Give yourself ten minutes for them to kick in, then we should debrief,” she murmured. Bucky nodded. Once he was dosed up with blockers and finished the debrief, he could lock himself back in here, as far away from Y/N as possible— even though his Alpha was screaming at him to break down the door and pull her back into his arms. The last thing she needed was to see his face if she woke up mid-flight. The sound of her terrified sobs still rang in his ears.

It took more than ten minutes for the blockers to work and for Bucky to start feeling normal again. His temperature had gone down, but he kept his outer layers off, quietly emerging from the gear room in a short sleeve shirt. Tony was manning the controls with bags under his eyes. Nat was sitting with her legs thrown over Sam’s lap, the both of them peering intently at her tablet as she scrolled through files. Steve had buckled himself into one of the co-pilot seats with Y/N on his lap, his hand cupping the back of her neck to keep her face pressed near his neck. She still looked feverish and weak, sweat forming a sheen across her exposed skin, but she was out cold. Bucky’s eyes traced the curves of her face, drinking in the sight of her and her sweet, minty scent.

Steve’s earnest blue eyes connected with Bucky’s as soon as he registered his best friend entering the main room. He must have caught the scent of Bucky’s dueling protective and guilty emotions because Steve gave him a reassuring nod. “She’s doing fine, Buck. Hasn’t made a peep. But she’s… cold,” he said.

“She has some kind of ability. Said she could freeze things,” Bucky explained.

“What the hell happened back there?” Sam interrupted. “No offense, Buck, but you still reek— even more than usual.”

“They dosed me with something,” he growled. “I didn’t even realize until they brought her in. I—“ he cut himself off. He wasn’t going to tell the whole team how he’d forced himself on her. They’d probably throw him off the quinjet, like he wanted to do to himself. He was just grateful Steve had arrived when he did, or there’s no telling what he could have been capable of. And to think she had trusted him enough to offer him her gland to scent….

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the voice in his head reminding him of all the reasons he didn’t deserve that trust. “I think they wanted us— me— to…” he trailed off. Tony turned around to face the group with a grim expression, and Sam’s eyes widened as he realized Bucky’s meaning.

“Wait,” Steve interjected. “Nat— you recognized her.”

“I know her, yes,” Nat sighed, pursing her lips, before setting her tablet down in Sam’s lap and swinging her legs over the edge of the seat to face the group. “A year or so ago— after the Blip— Wanda, Fury and I started looking for more… enhanced individuals. The last thing we need are more people out there like Pietro and Wanda being… experimented on, when we could so easily bring them to safety and a… purpose.”

“Well, who is she?” Sam pressed. Bucky could tell Sam had been fighting his overprotective Beta instincts back ever since Steve had carried her on board. His normally neutral scent— like citrus and saltwater— had flared up in his agitation.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Nat answered. “Fury discovered her after we found a whole gang of street criminals frozen solid in Brooklyn. Her parents were scientists working for S.H.I.E.L.D., pre-Hydra. She likely got her abilities when she was a teenager when one of their lab experiments went wrong. Both her and her parents were assumed D.O.A., but she was actually underground for the past 10 years. I found her not too long ago and warned her of the risks, told her we could protect her. She seemed very… disillusioned by the Avengers. Gave me the slip, too— Not many people can do that. I haven’t seen her since.”

“Sounds like she’s been through a lot,” Steve said softly. Y/N snuffled softly in her sleep, and Steve rubbed her back soothingly. Bucky clenched his jaw so hard it felt like his teeth were going to crack. “Probably figured if S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t protect her and her parents, how could we? Tony, any idea how to get these restraints off her?”

“Looks like some kind of Terrigen Crystal manipulator, common scrambling device for enhanced individuals,” Tony replied. “We can deactivate them back home, but I’d keep them on until she wakes up. We don’t know how powerful she is.”

Rage rose hot and sharp in Bucky’s chest, surprising him. “She’s not dangerous,” he growled. “She’s just—“

Tony cleared his throat. “Just an Omega?” he scoffed. “Yeah. So is Wanda. And Banner.”

“I was going to say she’s just been kidnapped,” Bucky growled, hackles raised. “If I woke up surrounded by a strange pack, I’d use my strengths too.” Steve and Tony both quirked an eyebrow, their Alpha instincts completely under control. Bucky knew he was acting like a deranged knothead, but he couldn’t help it. Never in his life had he felt a pull to an Omega this strongly. All he wanted was to curl her into his arms, where she belonged, return his face to the scent gland on her neck and use his heat to warm her cool skin. But he wouldn’t. And he shouldn’t. He didn’t deserve it. He spun on his heel, returning to the gear room, which he bolted shut behind him, sliding down with his back to the floor to ride out the rest of the journey home— as far away from her scent as he could get.

——————-

The first thing I felt when I woke up this time wasn’t the pain in my wrists— though that was still there, burning hot and freezing cold at the same time. No, the first thing I felt was a comfortable bed beneath my back, and the scratchy soft material of a hospital gown across my chest.

My fractured memories came back in a rush. Heat, burning heat. My Alpha’s soothing cedar scent above me, his gentle kisses against my gland, the mind-numbing euphoria of his purrs filling my chest. The scent of his spend driving me wild with need. The ache in my core, growing unbearable as he inexplicably drew away from me. The desperation racking my body with sobs, my scent sharp with the anxiety of heat abandonment. The sound of steel shattering, the smell of another Alpha warm, strong and safe like sunshine and old books. The comfort of being held against a broad chest warring with the fear and wrongness of my Alpha getting left behind. Fighting against the mindless Omega space that threatened to pull me under. Leaving the cell, my body jostling as I was carried up stairs, the humid outdoor air hitting my flushed skin. The sound of jet turbines, the leather edge of a seat buckle. Beta scents: Citrus and saltwater; Roses and rainwater. A bonded Alpha— Motor oil and whiskey. Fear for my Alpha. Where was my Alpha? A soothing hand dragging up and down my back. Darkness.

I jolted back to the present all at once, opening my eyes to take in the plain white hospital room and hear the sound of the heart monitor next to me pick up as I began to panic again. Who had brought me here? Where was Bucky? Was he alive? Were we safe? I couldn’t scent anything over the powerful antiseptic smell of the hospital, sending my thoughts spiraling further.

Who had changed my clothes? The dirt underneath my fingernails had been scrubbed clean. The symptoms of my sympathy heat were gone, though the heat itself had jumbled my memories. Someone had plaited my hair in a french braid behind my head.

I sat up, groaning as the familiar post-heat aches and pains protested throughout my muscles. Before I could swing my legs over the side of the bed, the handle to the only door out of the room turned and a red-haired woman stepped in. She had large, soulful eyes and beautiful features, and as her cinnamon-sweet bonded Omega scent drifted towards me, I immediately felt myself relax. “Y/N?” the woman said gently. Her voice carried an Eastern European lilt to it. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place where I knew her.

“Where am I?” My voice was surprisingly raspy, and I coughed to clear my throat. How long had I been out? I swung my legs over the side of the bed, hissing as my feet hit the cold tile floor. Wanda joined me on the edge of the bed, putting a few feet of distance between us.

“You’re in a safe place— the Avengers compound in New York. My name is Wanda,” she said soothingly, leaning into her dulcet Omega voice. Holy shit, the Scarlet Witch.

“I know you,” I gasped. Her lips quirked up on the sides in an amused smirk. “I mean— From TV,” I corrected, shaking my head. “Where’s Bucky?”

She looked surprised I asked, quirking her head to the side. “Nowhere near us. You’re safe here,” she answered slowly.

What a weird response. Why wouldn’t I be safe?

“I mean, I figured it was safe… I’m in one of the most heavily fortified buildings in the world. But can I… see him?” I felt shy, suddenly, for asking. I barely knew him. But we’d made it through something terrible together, and I felt… connected to him. Maybe he didn’t want to see me at all. Maybe he has another Omega.

“Maybe… later,” she said, then reached out to place a hand on the wrist restraints. “Sorry to leave these on you. I know the pain they cause. We didn’t know how you’d react when you woke up in a strange place, especially post-heat. Do you feel comfortable having an Alpha come in here to remove them? I will stay here with you. And he’s bonded.”

I nodded mutely. She was treating me like I was a delicate flower, like any minute I would wilt and snap. It’s not like I hadn’t been alone in a room with an Alpha before. But then again, the last time I had been, we’d almost bonded in a frenzied, drug-induced haze. Alpha, my Omega sighed, suddenly reminded of the heat, the arousal, his scent, what we’d almost done. Find Alpha.

I’d never felt a pull to an Alpha like this before. Ever. Usually, they smelled too strong, filled up too much space, made me feel small and weak despite my inner certainty that I was anything but. Away from him, now, I felt… adrift.

Wanda crossed the room to rummage through a clinical looking chest of drawers, pulling out a sweatshirt and soft pants. “Once Tony gets you out of these restraints, you can have a shower and get into something cozy,” she offered.

“Stark?” I choked. They were really gearing up to introduce me to all of the freaking Avengers.

“That would be me, Y/N,” said the Alpha, easing the door to the room open with a quick rap of his knuckles on the frame. It was jarring to see Iron Man clad in jeans and a baseball tee. I’d only ever seen him buttoned up in a suit and tie on TV press conferences, or hidden behind black shades in tabloid images. His scent was strangely familiar, too— harsh and spicy, like motor oil, mixed with what I could only assume was his Omega’s gentle strawberry smell. “But you can call me Tony.”

“Tony,” I said, starstruck. My father, and by extension— me— had idolized him growing up. Now, he was carrying a sleek black and gold device that he waved in front of me.

“We’re using a little handheld vita ray action here to deactivate your restraints,” Tony explained. “Just hold tight for a second.”

I held out my wrists to him, away from my lap, and he activated the vita rays, sending what looked like a blue laser beam to cut straight through the middle of the metal. The restraints creaked and groaned as they released, cracking in half. Before they could hit the floor, a swirling orb of red energy appeared beneath them, lifting them gently into the air to rest on the bed next to me. I looked up to see Wanda’s eyes and hands glowing softly in the same color. Sick.

“Thanks,” I breathed, rubbing my wrists, the relief imminent. The pain no longer seared through my forearms, and I could feel the familiar burst of energy from my chest down to the tips of my fingers. Just to test, I held my hand out in front of me, seeking out a few molecules of water in the dry, filtered hospital air and freezing them instantaneously, falling like bits of hail into my palm.

“That’s a cool party trick,” Tony said. I closed my palm, feeling the ice melt against my skin. How embarrassing. “We’ve always needed someone to help make sure our groceries stay at the right temperature.”

I scoffed. Knothead. “I was just kidnapped by Hydra, endured a sympathy heat unprepared and had my abilities stunted by a magical pair of handcuffs. You can scrutinize me again after I get nine hours and a decent cup of coffee.”

Tony barked out a surprised laugh, turning around to leave the room. “I like this one,” he said to Wanda, before disappearing out the door, what remained of my restraints clutched in his hand.

Wanda rolled her eyes at his back, then turned to face me with her hands on her hips. “Well Y/N, if you’re up for it— let me show you to your room.”

#my fic #like an animal #bucky x reader #bucky reader #bucky fic #bucky reader insert #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader

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binniedeactivated · 4 years ago

Note

ma’am imma need more of toxic tyun after seeing that sassy vid of him

a/n : why did tumblr expose your @ to me 😭😭anyways more toxic!tyun content coming up!

[ kang taehyun ] - 6:15pm

you smoothed out your dress and added the finishing touches to your makeup in your vanity mirror. perks of marrying a ceo. he bought you anything you wanted when you wanted it.

so thanks to kang taehyun you had as much makeup, cars, jewelry, money and designer clothes any girl would ever want. you were spoiled, and you knew that.

“where do you think you’re going?”. you heard a voice sound from the doorframe. you peered through the mirror to see taehyun with a towel wrapped around his waist and his wet blonde hair dangling above his eyes. it was clear that he was fresh out of the shower. by his tone alone you knew he wasn’t pleased.

you cursed under your breath.

“I’m going out with Tanya and the girls tonight. I told you already. we’re getting drinks and then we’re going home”.

he made a small “hm” noise while walking in the bedroom and opening his closet. he was so nonchalant it actually scared you half to death.

he took a couple of glances at his choice of bed shirts. “I don’t mind you going out. but can’t you save that dress for another occasion?”.

“like what? I like the dress I think it’s cute”.

he chuckles a little. but not the friendly kind of chuckle that you loved. It was the kind of chuckle that made you panic.

“of course you do”.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”.

“anything that hugs your ass and barely gives you any room to breathe is what you love”.

you push the cap back on your lipstick. “why are you doing this? why are you slut shaming me I said I like the dress and I want to wear it tonight. you know I like these type of clothes anyways so why is it a problem now?”.

“you know what?”. Taehyun points matter-of-factly, “if you want to wear it then go ahead”.

you sat still biting the inside of your cheeks. usually when you two fussed like this he’d get stern. It was odd that he was okay with it. Suspicious even. you felt uneasy.

“...go ahead?”.

“yes, have fun tonight. be safe”.

you got up out of your chair grabbing your purse off the bed and swinging it over your shoulder. your eyebrows were knitted together nervously while staring at taehyun’s bare back. “well I should get going now. The driver said he’d be out front waiting for me”.

“alright I see you later”.

you were turning on your heels to leave but you hated how taehyun was acting. And the fact that it was all over something as simple as a dress made you even angrier.

“you know what taehyun it’s just a dress why are you acting like that?”.

he snatches his eyes away from his wardrobe with enough attitude to make your heart stop.

“what are you talking about?”.

“This! This passive aggression all because I don’t want to wear what you want me to wear. And don’t even say it isn’t passive aggression because I can hear it in your voice!”.

he does that low chuckle again. “It isn’t passive aggression. I’m genuinely telling you to wear it and have fun while you’re at it. what’s all the yelling for sweetheart?”.

he knew it. he knew what he was doing. playing mind games and calling you by your favorite petname. it always worked.

“you’re telling me to have a good night now but how do I know when I come home and you’ll do some petty shit like lock me outside the house? or be with someone else?”.

“why do you want me to be toxic so bad?”.

you breathed, trying to think. why were you acting so crazy of all of a sudden? why is he so calm?

“I don’t want you to be toxic taehyun I want you to let me wear my clothes without shaming me for it and acting all crazy”. you say sternly. but truly you felt like the crazy one, starting an argument and acting belligerent while his voice was low and calm.

he looks you up and down slowly. his eyes melting over your curves and beauty.

“you can wear what you want. I was wrong for what I said”.

you swallow. his voice was way too husky to make you want to go anywhere. and you hated how deliberate his eyes were. they made your legs weak every single time.

“good, then. can I get a kiss goodbye maybe?”. you ask but you didn’t really want to leave. you wished taehyun begged you to stay home so you could have a reason. he does this cute grin before strolling over to your much smaller frame and pushes his lips onto yours.

he made it quick yet chaste, making sure his bottom lip stuck to yours just before pulling away. he rubs his thumb over your chin while he gazed down at you. not only did he smell amazing but he looked just as good as he smelled.

his plan had worked. judging by your face alone he knew you’d no longer be going out. he played along anyways.

“have fun sweetheart. okay?”.

#cutie moots💕#toxic!tyun

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

Text

Kinktober #20: My Turn: Mirio Togata

In which Mirio’s got a game for you.

Characters: Mirio Togata x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), aged up characters, fingering, teasing, edging, tears, Mirio trying his hardest not to be a sunshine boi and only sort of failing

Notes: See? See? I can do thirst. I can make it SEXY. Today’s prompt was “Edging” and I just loved the thought of Mirio trying his best to be a little kinky for you. He’s definitely got a filthy side.

Kinktober Masterlist

It’s a windy Saturday night in November and you’re curled in bed early with Mirio. Raindrops roll along the bias of your windowpane and the wind howls past your upper-level apartment.

But you don’t feel an ounce of cold, with Mirio- warm like the hearth- stretched out next to you. You’ve been like this all day, in and out of bed with episodes of a fluffy sitcom playing constantly in the background.

Now, though, as the chill of the evening’s pushed you closer together, your hands are starting to wander. It’s lazy at first- his rough palm up the edge of your thigh, your fingers dancing along his bicep. You’re easing into one another, and though you can feel the warm apex of where you’ll end up drawing near, you’re in no rush to get there.

Not yet, anyway. You’re about to eat those words.

“Princess,” he croons in your ear, drawing his lips up the side of your neck, “play a game with me?”

“Okay,” you giggle back as warmth blooms across your skin, following the path of his mouth. “But you picked Bananagrams last time, so this time I get to pick. Scrabble.”

He chuckles low and warm into your shoulder. Just the reaction you were hoping for. But he knows you’ve caught on, so he doesn’t even offer you a response. His mood has completely shifted.

That’s what you love so much about him.

“I wanna see how long you can last,” he murmurs. His fingers continue to trace up and down your thigh, as if he’s coaxing you around to the idea. But to you, it sounds like you’re going to get to do a whole lot of nothing while Mirio does his best to please you.

You don’t need any more coaxing than that.

“Like, without coming?” You hum, shifting a little so you can get a proper look at his face. He flicks his eyes up to yours, looking a little sheepish, but sure.

“Yeah. Y’know. I wanna test your stamina.”

You’re not exactly sure how to tell him that stamina isn’t a problem for you. He’s certainly never fallen short of satisfying you, but most of your sex life has been characterised by getting there in the first place, let alone measuring how long it takes you. You’ve never really had to hold out before- at least, not like he has.

This is going to be a cinch for you.

“Alright.” You smirk, but he’s one step ahead of you, already sliding his hand to your belly and starting to inch it toward the bottom of your shirt. You’ve got a flannel buttoned over your shoulders to keep the chill out, but it’s your day off and there’s no possible way he could have convinced you to wear pants.

Not that he’d tried.

He dips his face into your neck again, starting to kiss and lave his tongue over your delicate skin. You lean into the sensation eagerly, letting your eyes flutter shut as his fingers work their way toward the apex of your thighs.

The laugh track sounds quietly from the television as you let yourself relax. Mirio’s fingers are chilled as they dip into the hem of your panties, but he’s thrilled by the opportunity to pay you this kind of attention. He’s always so eager to get his hands on you. And you’re hardly ever in a position to deny him.

“I knew you were holdin’ out on me, princess,” he chuckles as his middle finger curls against your slit. You’re already growing wet with the anticipation of his touch, the shivers that his attentive mouth sent over your skin. He turns your chin with his free hand and drops a lazy kiss to your lips. All the while, he continues to gently explore your folds, working you open for him.

As he draws his wrist up to search for the swell of your clit, you’re starting to wonder if you do need to worry about your stamina. He’s barely touched you and already you’re starting to get those lovely little twinges of pleasure that have your hips twitching beneath his touch.

He grins, pulling his mouth teasingly from yours. “You’re gonna tell me if you’re about to cum, right?”

You never realized that his game was going to come with so many rules. But you know your own body- you’re more than ready to follow them.

“In that case, you might want to slow down, baby,” you breathe. Mirio laughs, nuzzling your neck and breathing hot puffs of air across your skin. The pad of his middle finger centers on your clit and he starts to circle in earnest.

“I could,” he quips, “or I could make it harder on you.”

His wrist flicks deftly back and forth between your legs. There’s something about the spot he’s found that’s tantalizingly perfect, and you can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach. You purse your lips tightly, ready to ride that wave.

“Ooh,” you sigh, gripping Mirio’s thigh hard. “I’m close, baby.”

“That so?” He grunts in your ear. There’s an unfamiliar edge to his tone, but you don’t pick up on it yet.

“Yeah,” you whine, and he pulls his hand clean out of your panties. Your hips arch as you give a sullen little whimper. Immediately, you turn to face him.

“Why’d you stop?”

Mirio’s grinning. Normally, that grin sets you at ease. But there’s something about it today that sends a spike of nerves through your belly. He’s planning something.

You’re not sure you want to know what it is. You’re also not sure he’s going to give you a choice in the matter.

“I didn’t want the game to be over so soon, princess. C’mere.”

He slips a beefy arm around your waist and tugs you easily into his lap, situating you between his splayed thighs and letting you lean back against his chest. From there, he digs his fingers into the hem of your panties and tugs them down your thighs, helping you kick them off.

“Just relax,” he croons. “Watch TV. I gotcha.”

He brings his fingers to your pussy again, this time sliding his other hand under your thigh to join. He sinks two thick fingers into your slit, rubbing tight circles into your clit again. It doesn’t take you long at all to reach the edge. Before you can even warn him this time, Mirio stops again.

“Mirio,” you plead softly, but he’s still chuckling and nuzzling you, over and over again.

“You’re so cute when you want something from me. C’mon, let’s go again.”

He brings you to the edge one more time like that, pushing you so close you can practically taste the relief. When he pulls away for the third time, you’re squirming and fussing in between his legs.

“Let me cum,” you whimper. You’re not even proud about asking for it anymore. He shifts, crawling out from behind you and easing you onto your back.

“Don’t worry,” he continues. “I gotcha, princess. You think I’m gonna leave you high and dry?”

You glare daggers up at him, and he just shoots you an easy wink as he slips between your thighs.

“You’re getting tender down here,” he purrs, nosing his way up your inner thigh as he settles onto his belly. “Y’almost ready for me?”

“I was ready for you weeks ago,” you grumble. You can’t stay angry for long when he puffs hot air over your clit, then drags his tongue along the folds of your pussy and swirls.

He eats you out like a man starved, holding your hips taught against his mouth as he fucks you with his tongue. When you’re sure you can’t take any more, he lifts his chin, tonguing the swell of your clit and making you scream.

But he still doesn’t let you go. He pulls back from your pussy as you start to tremble, and when he does you let out a sob of such frustration that, when you open your eyes, his brow is creased with legitimate concern.

“Why won’t you let me cum?” You blubber.

“Aw, man.” Mirio stretches out next to you and pulls you into his arms. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, princess, I-I just wanted to try something new with you. I-I thought…”

“Please,” you sniffle, “please, Mirio, just fuck me, before I do it myself.”

He pauses and looks down at you in shock. For a moment, his eyes search yours. Then he breaks down, grinning fondly at you.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Alright.”

He gets back between your legs, shucking his boxer-briefs and quickly stripping out of his t-shirt. As soon as he’s bare you can see how much he’s been enjoying your little game. His cock is already rock solid, flushed and curving perfectly towards his belly.

“God,” he sighs, casting a gaze over your desperate form. “Look at you.”

He pushes your flannel up around your chest, exposing your ribcage and your chest. His thumbs strum your nipples. Then he grips your hips, positioning himself and easing smoothly into you.

Your head falls back against the pillows. Utter bliss.

But you can’t trust this pleasure.

He starts rocking his hips forward, undulating into you with dull cries of you’re so tight for me, princess, and I can’t believe you made it this far.

You don’t last much longer than that.

As soon as he settles into a familiar rhythm, the slap of his body against yours is enough to push you precariously close. You squirm underneath him, doing your best to hold out.

“Miri…Mirio, c-can I…” you choke, peering up at him as he continues to fuck you diligently.

“Of course, princess, shit,” he sighs, buckling over you. “Let go for me. Please. I wanna see it.”

The build-up has been immense. And the fall does not disappoint. You tumble over the edge like an avalanche, seizing hard around him as you grip his hips tightly with your trembling thighs. Your back pulls clean off the bed.

Your vision goes white.

When the spots clear he’s panting above you, his cock already going soft inside you. But you don’t care. He made good on his promise- you are neither high nor dry.

“There you go,” he coos, pressing tender kisses across your collar bones and down your shoulders. “That’s it. God, you’re so pretty when you’re coming your brains out.”

You muster a weak chuckle, pulling him into your arms as he collapses beside you. The TV is still playing, and you slowly settle back into watching together as you bask in the afterglow of Mirio’s vicious game.

“So that was… okay, in the end,” he finally says, tracing a fingertip down the buttons of your flannel as you tug the warm fabric back into place.

“Yeah,” you agree sleepily. “It was fun.”

“So we can do it again sometime?” He quips carefully. You purse your lips, pretending to mull it over.

“Sure.”

He bolts upright. “Really?”

You pillow your arms behind your head and smirk.

“Yeah. Only next time it’s my turn.”

#my hero academia #mirio x reader #mirio togata x reader #mirio togata #mha lemillion #lemillion fanfic #kinktober #jbbkinktober2020 #lemillion #mirio #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction

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kittydemon9000 · 4 years ago

Text

Hrrrrrrrr I know @blursed-ninjago-ideas reverse prompt thing was a while ago, but it took a while to finish mine and I ended up cutting out bits that didn’t work, so here. The prompt was Kai getting akumatized, but HM loosing control so here we go

————————————

Kai didn’t know akumas could be so destructive. None of them did. Or at least, they’d been stopped before they could do any real lasting damage.

“GET DOWN!” Cole shouted, tackling him to the ground. A bright blue laser sailed past where Kai had just been, hitting a car instead.

It crumbled to dust.

From what Kai has gathered, the Akuma was from a young boy who had been bullied for his love of sci-fi, to the point where they’d started beating him up. His Akuma powers were the same as the kid’s favorite character: being able to blast beams of light that disintegrate whatever they touch.

Kai found himself cursing Hawkmoth yet again.

The group had already seen more than ten people get disintegrated, and there were probably many more.

“I have located the targets.” A monotonous voice said behind them. Kai’s blood ran cold.

The group turned around in horror to see true Akuma behind them. He had pale blue skin with a black visor covering the top of his head. He was wearing a deep, black suit with gold accents and a golden cape fluttered behind his. His boots were a similar gold with tiny rockets on the bottom, granting him flight. And his gun…..his gun was pointed right at them.

Before any of them had a chance to react, he fired.

Jay didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth before he crumbled to dust. They barely had a chance to breathe before the Akuma fired two more, at Cole and Zane respectively.

Nya was next, having a second to jump out of the way but the Akuma easily tracked her movements.

“KAI-“ was all Lloyd had time to say before he was gone too.

Kai could barely breathe. Jay, Cole, Zane, Nya, Lloyd…...his family, his siblings…..every single one of them was gone…..turned to dust

He vaguely heard the sound of the Akuma yelling out as Ladybug and Chat Noir chased him away, no doubt to lure him into a trap, or at least away from all the civilians.

The smell of burning surrounded him, he needed to leave, it was so suffocating and he needed to get away.

He was running. Sprinting at full speed, with no destination in mind other than far away from here.

Kai didn’t know how long he ran for. Minutes, maybe hours. All that filled his ears were the echoing sounds of Lloyd’s call and the haunting ringing of his phone.

In his running, Kai tripped on a piece of sidewalk, sending him crashing to the ground.

And that second of pain was enough to bring him back.

His family was gone. Turned to dust before his very eyes. And Kai? Kai was terrified. Kai was angry. Kai was guilty. Kai was filled to the very brim with unwavering, unrelenting grief.

Why did the Akuma decide to shoot him last? Why was it even targeting them? Why wasn’t it going for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous instead? Why did it have it be them?

Pyrovenge.

Kai’s breath hitched before letting out a dark chuckle. That was a new one. How many Akuma forms did he have now? Four? Five?

In return for avenging the deaths of your family, I want Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous.

That did sound nice……...but no.

Why not?

That kid. It wasn’t his fault. He was just another victim.

And what about Ladybug and Chat Noir! If they had kept him distracted, or shown up earlier, your family would be fine!

Heros can’t be everywhere at once. They’re still human. The fact they step up to beat you-

But then something clicked in Kai’s mind.

Targets.

The Akuma had called them targets.

The anger grew.

Wait! Stop-

Hawkmoth had told the Akuma to target, to murder, his family. Probably to get him akumatized.

“I’m coming for you Hawkmoth, and there is nowhere you can run that I won’t find you.”

The purple blobs enveloped him, Hawkmoth yelling in his mind. But it didn’t matter.

Pyrovenge wouldn’t stop until Hawkmoth was dead.

———————

Ladybug bolted across the rooftops, dodging and jumping over the fires, ice spikes and piles of rocks that blocked her path. This new Akuma was tough. They so far hadn’t gotten anywhere close to him, and only through some live video footage did they learn their name was Pyrovenge. But, despite the name, they seemed to be able to do more than just make fire.

They also seemed to hate Hawkmoth, which could be used to her advantage.

“COME OUT YOU COWARD!” A deafening and furious voice echoed, followed by a loud explosion. Up ahead, Ladybug saw what looked like a fire tornado appear for a second before dissipating.

“Pyrovenge!” Ladybug yelled out as she reached the end of the building.

The Akuma was wearing a bodysuit that started at black by the feet but slowly transitioned into red as it went up. He had fingerless black gloves with a molten rock pattern runnin up his arms and stopping at the elbow. On his left shoulder was something that resembled a grey archery chest guard while on the right was a brown and gold shoulder guard that went down the length of his arm. A blue sash was wrapped around his waist with a few colorful buttons pinned on. It looked as though someone had taken clothes and accessories from six different closets and thrown them together. Ladybug’s inner designer cringed. It wasn’t even horrible, all the accessories by themselves would’ve looked great, but together it was just too random and all over the place.

Their skin was a burnt brown color with a black domino mask covering their eyes. The Akuma also wore a sort of head band, but instead of hair there was a roaring fire. His eyes were blazing red and filled with rage.

“What do you want!?!” He yelled, temporarily stopping his war path. The block of street they were on was almost completely destroyed, fires roaring on all sides. But luckily, Ladybug didn’t see any civilians.

“You need to stop. You’ll destroy all of Paris!” Ladybug pleaded.

“So what?” He spat. “You can just cast the cure to fix everything.”

“That doesn’t mean that damage hasn’t been done! Think of the people who might get hurt!”

Think of the people who could die went unsaid.

“That’s what I'm counting on.” Pyrovenge snarled.

“Well, we’d be pretty lousy heros if we let you.” Chat Noir quipped as he landed. He winked at Ladybug. “So it took so long, Milady. I got a little held up.”

Pyrovenge growled. “I won’t let you, or anyone, get in the way of my revenge. Hawkmoth killed my family. I won’t let that deed go unpunished.”

The sash around his waist started glowing a cyan blue and suddenly the flames atop his head went out, replaced by a slowly growing mass of water. The harsh reds of this clothes were replaced with a vibrant cyan blue.

He held his hands out and lifted them, and suddenly water erupted from the nearby fire hydrants and shot toward the heros.

The pair jumped out of the way, but the water curved around and shot toward them again. The heros just barely jumped out of the way again, dodging for a few more seconds before Pyrovenge let out an angry growl.

The floating water suddenly dropped to the ground with a splash, spraying outwards.

“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug cried out. From the magical ladybugs, a piece of paper began to fall. Before it could be snatched away, she jumped up and grabbed it.

“I don’t have time to deal with you!” He shouted.

Then, the buttons started glowing a darker blue and electric sparks exploded from his head. The cyan of his outfit was replaced by a dark blue, similar to the color of the electricity.

With speed like lightning, he darted away.

“Oh no you don’t.” Chat Noir said, sprinting after him, but he was quickly yanked back by Ladybug grabbing his tail.

“Meowch, Milady. What was that for?”

But Ladybug was looking with a slightly horrified expression at the Lucky Charm. For once, it wasn’t just bright red with block spots. There was a window of color.

“What is it?” Chat walked over and peered over her shoulder, but felt his breath stutter.

Chat recognized it, or rather, Adrien recognized it. It had been taken mere days before at the park.

In it was Lloyd, Zane, Jay, Cole, Nya and Kai. Only everyone but Kai’s eyes were scratched out.

“He doesn’t know the Cure brings people back.” Ladybug whispered.

“He doesn’t know the Cure brings people back!” She said again, this time much louder.

“Well, at least we know how to get him to calm down.” Chat commented.

————————

Pyrovenge let out a small snarl. Hawkmoth was back to trying to get him under his thumb.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable.” He said aloud. “If you just come out, it’ll be over quick.”

That was a lie and they both knew it. Pyrovenge would do anything to make sure his death was as slow and painful as possible.

“Pyrovenge!”

He let out an angry sigh.

“For the last time, I don’t want to deal with you!” he yelled. He glowed red and the fires atop his head grew.

“We just want to show you something.” The bug said.

“Nothing you say or do will make me stop. Hawkmoth. Needs. To. DIE.”

“Maybe nothing they say will.”

Pyrovenge stopped. No. No it was impossible. They were….they were dead.

“But maybe we can.”

But they weren’t. Standing before him were his family, each of them without a scratch or bruise. Looking just like they had before they were….

“Kai, please. Stop this. You don’t need to get revenge. We’re all okay.” Lloyd said.

“.....Lloyd?” Kai Pyrovenge whispered. The gloves started glowing and the earth keeping him high above the ground slowly started retreating back into the ground. Once he touched the ground, their glow faded and the reds and fire was back.

“Is it really you?” He whispered, his eyes pleading, desperately hoping it was true.

“Yes! Now please Kai, stop all this!” Lloyd pleaded. Pyrovenge took a few steps to him, hesitant and afraid.

With every step he took, the ninja grew tense. They trusted Kai to never hurt them. He’d probably die before he allowed that to happen….. But he wasn’t exactly Kai right now.

Once he was within a foot of Lloyd, he stopped. The flames shrunk until they were barely embers and he placed a hesitant hand on Lloyd's shoulder. His eyes widened at the contact, almost like he was expecting Lloyd to disappear under his touch.

He suddenly pulled Lloyd into a tight hug, tears escaping from his eyes.

“It really is you.”

#time for some kai hurt #kai #kai smith #lloyd #lloyd garmadon #miraculous au #ladybug #chat noir #ninjago #miraculous

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lluvguts · 4 years ago

Text

“...secrets?” // byler

pairing: eleven / mike wheeler & will byers / mike wheeler

warnings: none!

word count: 2693

summary: Where Eleven snoops around Mike's house and finds a peculiar journal entry.

Eleven grew tired of sitting in the blanket fort, waiting for Mike’s watch to say the three numbers he told her earlier— ”When this read 3:15. Three, one, five. Got that, El?” Mike adjusted the digital watch to her wrist with soft, sweaty fingers— and letting her stomach settle the burnt Eggos he snuck back from breakfast.

“Just stay here in the basement, Eleven. So it’s a secret. And eat these waffles, understand?” Mike was staring at her with intense eyes, ones Eleven knew were filled with curiosity at her; those deep brown eyes; they were fixed on her face, on her puzzled stare, only belonging to the boy who saved her. Her friend. But Mike’s eyes led her to believe that maybe he found something more than a friend there, in her gaze. His looks were too deliberate and his gestures too sudden and eager—of the three boys who had rescued her, Mike was the only one willing to communicate, make her feel at home—and even if the other two thought she was stupid, Eleven knew better than to assume this boy sitting next to her thought of her as only a friend.

She herself was unsure what she felt, what she thought of him. No words came to her aid. A blank, soundless mind.

Eleven understood his words. Stay. Eat. It was but the one sentence that made the bite of waffle she had chewed off cling to the back of her throat.

“Secret?” She asked, letting the packaged Eggo return to her lap. Mike’s expression changed, once kind and assertive; now confused. It was a look Eleven had often recalled on the many faces of those around her—before. Especially her Papa, the white-haired man that occupied every vacant space in her mind, breeding intrusive thoughts of other places and nightmares she had no way of forgetting. A gentleness painted on the man that was quickly met with irritation when she did not comprehend a task.

But these new people, new faces, were different. Mike was different, she was sure of it. His thoughts and emotions were obvious for anyone to see. Sensitive and on display.

Too exposed.

“What?” Mike’s voice broke her from the memory. He leaned forward, just barely. From this close Eleven could discern every one of his freckles, on those pale cheeks tinged with blush, lashes dark and just as visible as the straight, raven-colored hair that framed his face.

“What is secret?” Eleven repeated the question, the word was familiar on her tongue, but had no meaning, no flavor. Dull and lifeless like the many things she found herself unable to remember.

Mike’s legs shifted on the blanket, searching the wall for an answer, as if it had one.

"A secret is something that no one else can know about,” he replied slowly, making sure she caught everything.

“I am a secret?”

“No! Of course not. Well, not exactly—” He assumed a body posture she did not like: too quickly did his shoulders rise to shrug, his face a notch above where it should be—looking at her—and mind clearly elsewhere. It made her feel unwanted—a weirdo, a stray dog—and that she was wasting his time with her questions. Did Mike not want to explain? Why must she stay in the blanket fort? Eleven wondered with hidden frustration. The bad men couldn’t infiltrate the confines of this house, the stability that Eleven needed it to have. Not even the other things, the screams she heard in her sleep from the Upside Down. Not yet.

All of her questions were lost past communication: so many words and phrases and meanings entirely taken from her, unable to speak them aloud.

“Michael! You better be up here right now if you don’t want to be late for school!” A voice shouted from upstairs, making Eleven flinch and cast wide, frightened eyes at the ceiling.

Mike set a hand on her sleeve to reassure her—and she paid careful attention to the fact that he did not touch her. Was he afraid of her abilities, that could stun an entire room? Like everyone else was?

“It’s just my mom. I’ll see you later, okay? Remember: three, one, five, El.” And with that he was gone, only leaving Eleven to reflect on his words—even the unsaid ones—and finish her breakfast.

But by that time Eleven was no longer hungry. More sounds echoed from above, she listened intently under the cover of blankets to every thud of footsteps and pinging clatter of dishes until the house settled into a comforting silence when the watch read one-zero. The only thing that stilled her racing heart was the repetitive blink of that watch, its numbers flashing in red light. A color that made Eleven’s eyes burn when she stared at it for too long, too closely, her pounding vision ringed in scarlet.

She didn’t want to stay in the basement, even if Mike said so. She wanted to discover other foreign things in the house, like whose voice accompanied what room, what his family looked like, where Mike slept. The image she constructed of his face shrouded in sleep—innocent features undisturbed, not a sign of worry or a frown—made her blush. Eleven smiled down at the Eggo’s crinkly plastic in her hands, surrounded by the speckled grey of someone else’s sweatpants; her shirtsleeve crusted with a coppery red from the ghost of old blood.

Not now. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on it, her “superpowers.” A term the boys often used for it—either in amazement or fear she did not know. Eleven shook her head, if only they knew it was anything but a gift. They were right to be afraid.

Out of habit, she checked the numbers again: 12:37. Too early to leave out the back door, but just enough time to creep upstairs with no one home yet. The stairs were carpeted, mysterious blue steps that led her up into the house, soothing her bare feet. Once above ground, Eleven stood at the base of the kitchen’s hard tile and stared in awe. Many things reminded her of Mike, and possibly the other voices she heard during her stay: dirtied dishes, a child’s plaything, an old house phone suspended on the kitchen wall and backed by creamy floral wallpaper. Signs of life. Family.

Home was a far off place, invisible to her reach. She searched her mind for a taste of it, trying to force the past out of her, but the emptiness was inescapable; it only brought a blistering headache and the all-too-familiar faint feeling Eleven often adapted to for the past twelve years.

Somewhere in the living room a clock trilled the time: 1:00. How long had she been standing there? Eleven wiped her face, her sleeve returned wet with tears she did not know where there and the speckled dots of a nosebleed. The smell of blood burned in her nostrils, salty and pungent. It made her sick.

She spun on her heels and went to the staircase, hoping Mike’s room was somewhere up there. It felt wrong in some ways, like a burglar stepping into a stranger’s house; her stomach twisted with guilt but still she climbed up the stairs until she reached the landing, it’s walls covered with photographs. Mike’s face popped up in random ones, surrounded by people Eleven did not recognize. His smile was etched into the lips of other people, an older woman with thin brown hair she assumed was his mother. Sister with her arms around a much younger mike. Her pretty face, her prettier body. The final photograph stopped Eleven dead: the three boys, all standing around a podium, joined by a fourth.

Chestnut brown hair that curved around a kind face. Shy, expressive eyes stared back at Eleven. In a sudden moment of realization the face of the boy matched his voice, his shrieks of pain. The remnants of her time in the Upside Down were already fading but even still the sounds of his screams resonated with her, weeks after. The boy trapped in the other world. Will Byers.

It all began to make sense. This was who went missing, who the others were searching for. Eleven shuddered with emotion, with empathy for this boy: having to survive with the torment of the monsters in the Upside Down, the constant disillusionment, fearful frustration of not being seen. Completely alone.

Eleven’s finger landed on Will’s face in the photo, covering it.

“Hide,” she whispered.

Across the gallery was a series of bedroom doors, mostly shut but some left open. One final look at Will was enough; Eleven left the memories suspended in time, and headed towards the hallway.

Mike’s room was first, it's door left cracked. She knew this mainly because of its assortment of comic books and small figurines that matched the ones in the basement—and partially due to the smell: Mike had given Eleven his navy blue crew neck to wear that first day, it filled her blood-caked nostrils with his boyish scent. Again she caught her cheeks flame, standing at the threshold of his room, on the outside looking in.

With a cautious step she set a foot on the carpet. Apart from the mess the room was very intriguing to Eleven, with the exciting posters tacked on every available space, school books left in a haphazard pile by the bed, clothes strewn about, a lone mirror leaning against the wall. She crept inside the room completely and stood at the mirror’s length.

What was peering back left her speechless. A thin, androgynous figure with slouched shoulders stared ahead, hair shaved, a look of horror and alarm crossing its face. Eleven knew it was her—the borrowed clothes, the grime of tears and blood. It was her own eyes that startled her: dark and off-balance, like she did not trust herself. Like she was staring into the soul of a stranger.

She let her eyes trail across the glass until they landed on something tucked at an odd angle under Mike’s bed. Turning around, she knelt beside the bed frame and touched the corner of the object—cool leather met her curious fingers, inviting her—until she found herself holding the item. It was a notebook. Eleven flipped the pages, poring over every passage undeniably in Mike’s handwriting. Although she was incapable of understanding some of the phrases, the entries were easily read until Eleven’s fingers stopped on the final page.

The latest entry, dated a few days ago. She read carefully, tracing the letters with the pad of her finger to feel them as she went, fascinated by the indents in his disorganized scrawl.

I won’t let myself believe he’s gone. Gone as in dead. He isn’t dead. He can’t be. But why is everyone acting like he is? Are they searching for Will because they feel bad? It’s the only excitement this town has had in years? That’s pretty shitty.

On the way to find Will, to find answers, we met a girl. I thought she was a boy at first. Her hair was cut really short. It was pouring buckets and Dustin was still arguing about turning back when we found her. Damn, did she look scared. Shaking like crazy. We took her back to my house, even though Lucas and Dustin didn’t want to. They said she was a freak, a weirdo. I wasn’t sure. She seemed nice enough for a girl who doesn’t talk. Eleven. That was her name. How weird? Who names their kid some number? Even more reason for the guys to be worried. I didn’t think it mattered, when she was cleaned up she looked really pretty. What’s that word on the vocab test in English? Stunning.

I tried to tell them she just needed a place to stay but they said I was crazy, that Eleven was crazy too. Just because Will’s gone and everything, now I have someone else to obsess over, they said. That isn’t true. I don’t obsess over him. It’s not like that.

But maybe I did? That day after school, when it was just him and I. Will was telling me about how the older kids were pushing him to the ground, calling him names. Faggot. Queer. He hated them for it. I almost said, ‘But Will, you aren’t a queer’ but as I started to talk he turned on his bike to stare at me. It made my stomach flip, why did it do that? Like stupid butterflies and crap. He looked at me like he knew I was lying. Like maybe I was lying too. To myself. But that’s a secret Will couldn’t tell, not to anyone except for me.

And now Eleven’s here. She’s asleep down in the basement. As I write this I don’t know what to think. I miss him in a way I didn’t think I could. Like a piece of mt is gone. God, that sounds sappy, huh? Great, now the kids are gonna call me names worse than Frogface. Say I like one of my best friends, the boy who might be dead.

But do I stop them? Are they wrong? I can’t get his face out of my head and it’s messing me up. I wish I could have said something that last night, when it was just Will and I. He was keeping a secret too.

The words ended there, but Eleven reread the page to make sure she didn’t miss what she thought she read. Mike Wheeler, the boy who found her in the rain, had secrets? Elven thought they were friends.

“Friends don’t lie,” she told herself, and the pages that said Mike liked Will. They also said that Mike liked Eleven too, and her heart hammered out a disjointed beat at that. Could you like your friends? In a way that was more? Eleven squeezed her eyes shut in concentration, trying to form the words that would make sense of it all. Mike was friends with Will, but there was something to his journal that was laden with different emotion too foggy for Eleven to fully grasp.

She opened her eyes. It was the same way she felt for Mike, that distant feeling. She relished in the fact that she knew something no one else did, but was shocked as well: are friends allowed to hide things like this? Keep locked away the shy smiles, the stares at one another, the rapid hearts? Friends but different.

A echoey toll sounded from downstairs, and for a shaky moment Eleven forgot about the time; she jumped at the noise and the notebook fell from her hands. It clattered to the floor with a soft thud and a rustle of paper. Eleven stared down at the black notebook for a long while, pondering over what she had read. Was it a secret she had snuck upstairs? No one had to know she was up here at all. But an outside grumble of a motor rolling up the driveway sent Eleven frantically back down the stairs, jumping the last few steps, and dashing into the basement. She retreated into the blanket fort and wrapped the sheets over her body. Her heart pounded with dread at the opening of a door, the preceding footsteps. A lively voice on the phone.

“Oh no, I don’t have to pick up Michael today. Stop by anytime. Yes, he’s with his friends,” the woman chattered. Eleven was trapped.

The numbers read: 3:08. It was too late now. She found herself once again stuck with her thoughts, staring at the same Eggo waffle wrapper. Wondering how she got stuck in a house she didn’t belong in, reading things that weren’t for her, feelings she couldn’t put into words.

Now Eleven knew two things: friend feelings, but ones that can be twisted into something else. An old word, with new meaning.

Maybe, Eleven thoughts, Mike hiding her in the basement was a secret, and Mike liking the boy in the other world was one, too.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #byler #byler fanfic #soft angst #eleven stranger things #fanfiction #some fluff

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horde-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Death With Dignity

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Catra reflects on her redemption and the sacrifices of angella and shadow weaver (and kisses her girlfriend 😌😌). Inspired in a major way by @catradora‘s beautiful illustration of catra gazing up at a mural of angella 💘

1. monarch

Bells echoed quietly through the halls of the Bright Moon palace. It was four in the morning and Adora’s arm was draped protectively over Catra, her chest rising and falling against her back, heartbeat slow. If they were back in the Horde, the rhythm of it would’ve been fluttery and anxious. But in recent weeks an era of peace had settled over Etheria, and maybe especially over its destined hero. Her calling fulfilled, her new life beginning… Sometimes Catra let herself dream of it, too. Finding peace.

read on ao3

She quietly slipped out of Adora’s arms, careful not to wake her. She’d had a lot of practice the past couple of weeks, which should probably worry her, but if there was something bothering Catra she couldn’t bring herself to admit it... too afraid of watching Adora’s love shatter in her hands like a fragile glass illusion that was never really hers.

Adora stirred in her sleep and her fist hit Catra’s pillow before she relaxed again. Catra flinched. It was hard to look away from her, a living mosaic of everything she found terrifying and breathtaking. The way the moonlight kissed her skin, the curve of her shoulder. When tears blurred her vision enough that she could barely make out the form of her anymore, Catra turned to leave.

Walking the halls at night, she found an intimacy with Bright Moon that evaded her during the day. The bright colors were dimmed in shadow, there were no curious faces--or suspicious ones. Just the same few guards who had gotten used to her nighttime wanderings. While the palace was full of beautiful paintings and murals like nothing Catra had ever seen, there was one in particular that she kept coming back to every night. She stood before it and gazed up in child-like wonder.

Queen Angella… The former ruler of Bright Moon--or, as Catra knew her, the Horde’s number one enemy--loomed above, a masterful work of art set with colorful stones, gems, painted glass. Occasionally, light from the torches would refract through it a certain way and almost make her seem to come alive. Wings glittered as though moving in a breeze, giving her a divine essence. The larger than life depiction did little to discourage the way Catra had mythologized her in her mind.

A mother, a warrior, an immortal queen… and the reason Catra found herself gazing into soft blue eyes every morning.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

A voice from down the hall tore Catra from her thoughts and set her heart racing. She automatically assumed a soldier’s stance, the way she was taught to show respect in the Horde.

“King Micah?--” Her breath caught in her throat.

It had been two weeks since Micah had learned the truth about Angella’s sacrifice. She hadn’t dared ask for forgiveness. Not even as the days passed and Catra wasn’t able to eat, or sleep, or be of much use to anyone, really. Glimmer kept saying he just needed time.

Micah approached slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the mural. He was dressed all in white, the traditional Etherian color for mourning, which drew attention to his sunken cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes. He came to stand beside Catra, who watched him warily before also returning her gaze to Angella. She could hear her own pulse in her ears.

“Just Micah, now,” he corrected after a moment. “My days of ruling have long ended.”

His voice was gravelly, tired. Catra guessed he wasn’t sleeping much either.

“Y-yes, sir.”

They settled into an uncomfortable silence as the queen looked down upon them, in all her dignity.

“I’ll admit…” Micah cleared his throat. “When Glimmer told me what happened, I… Well, I’m sorry. For the way that I reacted.”

A wave of nausea swept over Catra. She clenched her fists, feeling mortified.

“No. I deserved it.”

She could feel Micah’s eyes on her but kept looking straight ahead.

“Did you ever meet her?” he asked.

Catra tried to think, sorting through a dusty bookshelf of painful memories.

“I… I saw her once,” she whispered. “During the Battle of Bright Moon, she was… defending the Moonstone. But not really, no.”

Micah nodded thoughtfully, then smiled.

“And she always said I was the brave one.”

Mesmerized by the artwork, memories continued to pull at Catra… Glimmer breaking down in tears, Adora and Bow’s restrained anger when they asked Catra to leave. The three of them sharing stories about what a loving mother Angella was, what a strong leader. Adora hugging herself as she relayed the details of what exactly happened in the portal that day. How Angella sacrificed herself to save everyone.

How she sacrificed herself to save Adora.

To save her from... Catra.

From her own monstrous, vile, misplaced wrath.

Catra realized tears were streaming down her face.

Too overwhelmed with shame to stand any longer under the queen’s scrutiny, she fell to her knees, as if in supplication. She barely registered Micah’s concerned hand on her shoulder.

“I--I owe her everything,” Catra wept. “I can’t make up for it, I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”

Before she knew what was happening Micah had knelt down and wrapped his arms around her and she was falling apart, shaking like a child. She didn’t know how long she cried but at the end of it his white gown was washed completely by her tears.

“You’re forgiven, Catra,” he murmured into her hair, and she could only shake her head, trying to hold back another sob.

“Why do you even care about me?”

Micah sighed. “The same reason my daughter does: you’re trying to make things right.”

He leaned back to gently rest his hand on Catra’s cheek, encouraging her to meet his eyes. The kindness in them was terrible, burning.

“And wherever she is, I know that Angella forgives you, too.”

Somehow, Catra actually believed him. Not because she could ever be worthy of it, but... because it's who Angella was.

Micah offered her his hand. She hesitated, then accepted it. He pulled her to her feet and they continued to study the artwork together, side by side. Catra felt like she could stare at it for hours. Truthfully, she had.

“I wish I could’ve known her,” she confessed. “Everyone tells me how kind she was. And giving. Nothing like--”

Catra wasn’t sure where she was going with that train of thought.

“Like Shadow Weaver?” Micah guessed.

The name was like rusty nails scraping out Catra’s insides. She didn’t say anything more. But Micah placed a hand on Catra’s shoulder and she felt some kind of unspoken understanding pass between them.

“Let’s take the day off tomorrow,” he said suddenly, a mischievous lilt to his voice.

Catra squinted at him, though it was a relief to see his cheerful demeanor returning.

“What? We have the reparations meeting--”

“I need a break from this political stuff,” Micah complained. "Whaddya say, be my partner in crime? Besides, you’re the only one who can translate for Melog--I’ve been dying to ask how they manipulate light waves with magic to--”

“Okay, okay! Fine,” Catra chuckled. “I guess… It could be nice to take a break from everyone.”

“That’s the spirit!” He mussed up her hair a little. “I’ll make a rebel out of you yet.”

Oh, man. Between Micah, George, Lance… Dads really were all the same.

“Now why don’t you get some rest, kiddo.”

He said it so gently, and Catra couldn't believe it. How far down into her darkness the light of one person’s forgiveness could reach.

“King--I mean, Micah… Thank you. For everything.”

Micah smiled fondly.

“You’re welcome.”

She glanced up at Angella one last time and could’ve sworn she saw a smile reflected in the stones.

Catra started to head back to her room, but something stopped her just after she turned the corner. She peeked around it and watched Micah step up to the mural of his wife.

He touched his forehead to the wall and let out a long, heavy sigh.

“I miss you, my love.”

When Catra returned to Adora’s arms, exhaustion nearly overtook her for the first time in weeks, but she fought it and stayed awake all night just to listen to the sound of her breathing.

2. mother

It was strange, being back in Mystacor. The place held nothing but terrifying memories.

Catra, she… distracts you. Confuses you. Haven’t you hurt each other enough?

Shadow Weaver is sacrificing you! Why can’t you see that?!

It doesn’t always have to be you!

Catra stood from the table abruptly. The other dinner guests stared at her with alarm and Adora met her eyes from across the hall.

“Are you okay?” she mouthed.

Catra plastered on a smile to address the room.

“Sorry!--I just... remembered something, you’ll have to excuse me.”

She rushed out of the banquet hall and leaned against the wall outside, heart pounding. She forced herself to take a deep breath in. Then out. In, out. Huh. Maybe Perfuma wasn’t as crazy as she thought. They’d been away from home for a couple weeks, traveling and attending parties and helping rebuild kingdoms. It wasn’t that Catra wasn’t enjoying herself, it’s just that she hadn’t had much time to process… well, everything.

She peered down the long corridor, thinking a walk might help clear her head--and that’s when she saw it.

The statue.

The likeness was so uncanny it sent her into fight or flight mode. But Catra had decided a while ago that she was done running.

Her footsteps echoed in the cavernous silence until she stood directly in front of it. The marble glistened in the warm moonlight streaming in through the windows, and it stood tall among its peers in the Hall of Sorcerers--prideful, stoic, severe, and far too much like the woman Catra had once known. A shiver ran down her spine and she struggled for breath as though the air near the statue was thin, all the oxygen around it sucked out. Lifeless eyes stared forward, her gaze passing indifferently over Catra’s head.

I’m so proud of you, Catra.

Her hands were shaking and she clenched them into fists. Blood trickled from her palms to the floor. She shut her eyes but couldn’t suppress it, the rage, the disgust, it burst out of her from some dark and emaciated fragment of her heart--

“I hate you! I will never forgive you!”

The threat fell on ears of stone. Her body slackened. Lips quivering, tasting metal, her voice shook with anger.

“I don’t care if you helped save her... I will never forgive you.”

It was the one thing Catra held over her, the one birthright she’d ever possessed--to deny her absolution. Even in death.

Especially in death.

At least you admit she’s evil.

You’re one to talk, aren’t you?

Catra gripped her head in her hands, trying to force the memory out, trying not to scream. But wasn’t there truth in it? Wasn’t she a hypocrite? How could she accept others’ forgiveness yet withhold her own?

You expect me to believe you had a change of heart in the end?! Catra wanted to scream at her. That you actually cared if we survived? If I survived?

She glared up at the statue’s face, the veil concealing her mouth.

ANSWER ME!

“Catra?”

All the fire drained out of her when she heard Adora call her name.

Hurried footsteps, then hands grabbing at her shoulders, her wrists.

“Catra!--What--You’re bleeding--”

Catra collapsed against her, sinking into the warmth of Adora’s embrace. Her chest burned but she had no tears left. Not for her. She could only gasp breathlessly against Adora’s shoulder.

“Shh, I’m here, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“It’s not fair,” was all she could get out. “It’s not fair!”

“You know, it used to be all dirty. Scratched up.”

Catra hummed, more focused on Adora playing with her fingers than on her words. They sat against the wall opposite the statue. Her skin was stained red from the blood on Catra’s hands.

“I guess Castaspella had it refurbished, after... well.”

“She should’ve thrown it out the window,” Catra said through gritted teeth. “Less effort.”

She could hear the disagreement in Adora’s responding sigh but she didn’t say anything.

“What? You think she deserves to be honored?” she snapped.

“No! Of course not. But... if it wasn’t for her…”

Catra pulled her hand away and rose to her feet. Adora followed after her.

“One good thing doesn’t make up for her ruining our lives!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Adora exclaimed. “I watched her hurt you over and over and couldn’t do anything about it!”

Catra started, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. She felt like she was a kid again, back in the Fright Zone, terrified and insecure and every stupid thing that ever happened to her was Adora’s fault, except it wasn’t. Not at all.

She knew Shadow Weaver had hurt Adora, too. They’d talked about it a lot. Why she was always chasing some destiny and throwing herself into danger with no hesitation. But Catra hadn’t told her everything from her perspective, not yet.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Catra mumbled, feeling contrite for some reason.

Adora’s eyes filled with torment and a darkness Catra hadn’t known she was capable of.

She reached out for her hesitantly and when Adora didn’t back away Catra drew her close and cradled her face with both hands.

“Hey. I love you,” she said softly.

Adora hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut but the tears leaked out anyway.

Running her thumbs along her cheeks to dry them, Catra brushed her mouth tenderly over Adora’s forehead. Steady arms slipped around her waist and held onto her tightly and Adora tilted her face back up, hopeless, longing. Catra felt something almost holy running in her veins as their lips met and Adora’s kiss was warm, slow--too slow, making Catra’s temperature rise, and she didn’t know how long she could hide the truth of how desperate she was for her. But then a gentle glow behind her eyelids turned blinding and suddenly an explosive crack echoed down the hall.

Catra jumped and opened her eyes to see both of them enveloped in magic.

“...Whoa,” she breathed, slightly lightheaded.

Adora was staring up at the statue in shock and she followed her gaze. As the dust settled, Catra saw the veil hiding its face had been violently ripped off, leaving nothing behind except vacant eyes and splintering cracks in the stone that ran from her hairline to her jaw.

They stood together in silence, Catra hanging with a hand on Adora’s shoulder.

Light Spinner, whoever she was, had been mangled, torn away… This was the woman who had raised them. The weaver of their shadows.

Catra coughed a little from the dust and laced her fingers with Adora’s again.

“Not sure Castaspella will like your remodel,” she tried to joke.

“Who cares,” Adora muttered. “Shadow Weaver chose her path. She wanted to be a hero... but she won’t be remembered as one.”

The set of her jaw was rigid, resolute.

“You can’t forgive her either, can you?”

“No. I--I don’t know. One day, maybe.”

One day seemed like a lofty goal to Catra. The unspeakable suffering she’d inflicted on her, on both of them... yet she always had some twisted justification. As if she believed her intentions were good.

I just wanted to prepare you for the world. I wanted you to be strong.

Tears filled Catra’s eyes as she observed the damaged sculpture, but they didn’t fall.

“Before she died… She said she was proud of me.”

She sensed Adora looking at her, analyzing. Like she was trying to decide how to respond. Catra could guess what was going through her head. I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself.

“For what?” she settled on instead.

“Who knows.” Catra thought for a moment. “For not ending up like her, probably.”

Adora brushed her hair back from her forehead. Her hand trailed down her neck and came to rest over her heart.

“You were never like her.”

“Come on, Adora,” Catra nearly begged. “The things I’ve done, I was so angry...”

“Because you were hurting--because you cared, so much, and people just threw it away, I--” she stopped, misery etched on her face. Catra looked down, wincing. “But Shadow Weaver? She was just selfish. How could there have been room in her heart for anyone when she took up so much space herself.”

Catra let out a shaky breath. This day, this whole trip had been so draining. She leaned into Adora for support who wrapped an arm around her.

“If she hadn’t teleported me to the Heart...” her voice fell to a whisper. “I would’ve lost you forever.”

“I know... When I heard you scream, fighting that monster…”

Catra shivered from the memory.

The sculpture towered over them, unhearing, uncaring.

“Adora?”

“Hm?”

“Do you... Do you think the only reason she went back to save me was to make sure you set the magic free?”

Adora frowned like she had already thought about it.

“I think… I want to believe… there was some part of her that wanted us both to be happy.”

The image flickered in her mind of Shadow Weaver removing her mask, allowing them a glimpse of her face for the first time since they were kids. Her scars, her sins laid bare for them to see.

It’s too late for me. But you… this is only the beginning for you.

Catra gazed upon the marred face of her abuser, her mentor--her mother, for all intents and purposes, though she couldn’t bring herself to actually associate her with the word--and something restful settled in her heart. Not peace, not exactly. Just a sense of calm.

Because her and Adora, they were finally free.

She held Adora closer and nuzzled her ear.

“Well, whatever she wanted from us… it doesn’t matter. We get to write our own happy ending now.”

A smile blossomed across Adora’s face.

“You think you’re my happy ending, huh?”

“Whatever,” Catra scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t come back from the dead just to kiss me.”

She grinned and started to lean in, but Adora pushed her off with a groan.

“Are you ever gonna let it go? That was one time!”

“And for some reason, it’s always funny--”

Adora cut her off with a kiss and yeah, Catra had the feeling that everything was going to be okay. She laughed breathlessly and leaned her forehead against Adora’s.

“Can we go home now?” she pleaded.

“Ugh, I thought you’d never ask.”

#bc i had too many feelings after season 5 😭😭#she ra #catradora #angella #yes i did listen to sufjan stevens while writing this.. the song from the title and wallowa lake monster were on repeat #the lyrics ''she gave us one last feature; the fullness of her face'' rly get to me...#also praying by kesha #ALWAYS praying by kesha #my-fics

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jiaraendgame · 4 years ago

Text

Manipulation — Part One

Summary: Why Rafe Cameron took an interest in a Pogue is unknown, but a year later a bad decision has a good outcome when a golden boy from the Cut makes an unwavering impression on this lost girl.

Warnings: Angst, sad, drug use/abuse, swearing, underage drinking, peer pressure. (I think that’s it?? If I missed anything for the warnings let me know)

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: This is a song fic based on Manipulation by Beartooth.

***Part one is all Rafe x Reader flashback. Part two is where JJ comes in. Oh and there is like a 2.2 second scene with Platonic!JB x Reader in this part.***

This is my first time writing for OBX and in general posting fanfiction for the world to see. So apologies cause it’s definitely trash. I just want to say a BIG thank you for the few people here who encouraged me to write and have fun. Also a BIG thanks to my best friend and beta reader @john-benderr for hyping me up and always supporting me and my silly antics. Hope you guys don’t hate it, I tried my best. Let me know what you think???

Gif credit: @toesure

I hesitated, got lost again

You saw me as wounded prey

I was a wreck, I was a bloody mess

And you couldn't look away

The Boneyard designated party destination here in the Outer Banks. The ultimate summer hang-out spot for some guaranteed wild moments. Even if you could point out every Kook, Touron, or us Pogues from the Cut, it was usually a good time. You never know what’s gonna happen on any given night, but you are sure to find people from all walks of life on this island congregating and partying. This is where you found yourself tonight, at a kegger ready to forget the responsibilities you held at least just for the night. The air was warm, and the party's noise swam through your ears, drowning out any reservation you usually have for yourself. You wanted to drown in this wave of overwhelming senses. The crackles from the fire, the music you swayed to, the sounds of people mingling and cheering, it swallowed you whole as you finished off another cup of bitter liquid. Was this your third or fourth cup from the keg? You don’t really remember anymore, but nor do you care. All that mattered is you were loosening the jaw you had tightened all day and was forgetting about the pressures you were facing at home. Nothing here mattered more than being free.

At this point, you had more than a buzz going on, but nothing was stopping your fun just yet. You clumsily weaved in and out of people working your way back to the keg ready for another round. You usually never drank alone, but tonight you weren’t in the mood for friends. At least that’s what you told yourself. In actuality, everyone you hit up to come tonight ghosted you or had some lame excuse as to why they couldn’t come. So you bravely chose to go as a one-woman show ready to conquer the party on your own. Never thinking that this night would lead you down a rabbit hole, you would never be prepared for. Stumbling forward lost in your thoughts, you slur your words to the tall and tan brown-haired boy with his button down shirt half-open handing out drinks from the keg.

“Hey man, hand me a refill, yeah?” Your sloppy words spill out of your mouth, letters all jumbled together barely coherent to the untrained ear.

The brown-haired boy looked at you a tinge of concern in his eyes as you were visibly wasted and clearly on your own tonight. You don’t know why it mattered. It’s not like everyone else wasn’t just as sloshed as you were.

“Uh, you sure you can handle another one, you look… well, you look pretty faded.”

The boy’s sentiment meant well, but it did nothing but annoy you. Why did everyone think they had to take care of you? Don’t they know you are beyond capable of doing so yourself? You work your ass off to keep everything in line, you can cut loose every once and awhile. Your inner voice of reason started to rear its ugly head, briefly reminding you how utterly irresponsible you were being. Listen to the boy, go home. You don’t need this. Stop acting so tough you aren’t that strong. It’s okay to feel the way you do. Quit while you’re ahead.

Quickly shoving the paranoia that began to rise in your chest, you knew if you could still feel the panic, then you weren’t drunk enough. Looking back at the boy, he was still eyeing you hesitantly when you finally sharpened your tongue and spoke again.

“Please, I know how to handle myself, pretty boy. I’m just living a little is all.” The attitude in your voice is far from pleasant.

Why were you so rude to the kind boy who clearly was watching out for your well-being? You should have listened to him. You shouldn’t have drunk this next cup. Maybe it was just the catalyst for the events that proceeded to perspire.

“Listen just… just gimme a refill, and I’ll be on my way. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me. I can handle myself, I swear.” While you wanted to sound sure of yourself and maybe even a bit assertive, you could tell he didn’t take you seriously at all.

Your amplified brash persona needed work clearly as it fooled no one while you were blurring the lines of reality and fantasy with each drink you took. The boy looks at you, and the small line starting to form behind you. He sighs to the side as he fills a cup with the amber liquid, finally obliging to your commands to avoid further conflict. While handing you the cup, he speaks once more before you swivel on your heels.

“ Hey, listen... if you need someone to bring you home later or whatever, just come find me. The names John B.”

You stood there bewildered for a moment, unsure why someone would have concern over you. You were just a drunk partygoer at the beach for some fun, why did it seem like you were so different than the others around you? You could take care of yourself you always have, but regardless it was a kind gesture. You felt a pit in your gut for being rude to him moments ago. You couldn’t answer him, you just looked in his eyes and shook your head with a softened smile. Hoping he would understand, you appreciated his offer.

New drink in hand, you stumbled to a clear spot on the beach and plopped yourself down into the ground. Removing your sandals, you buried your toes in the soft sand closing your eyes, taking a swig of your drink. You felt the air on your skin as you leaned your head back. A new sense of calm washed over your body as you faded into the scenery. Sip by sip, you felt all your grievances escape your mind. Nothing would stop you from releasing your mind tonight even if it tried to crawl it’s way back up the hole you shoved it down. If each sip of liquid kept the beasts at bay for just a moment, the tranquility you felt was worth every bit of hell you’d wake up to tomorrow.

You broke me down

So you could take me out

Lost in thought, you lay your body back into the sand, staring up at the stars in a dazed state. Not noticing the pair of eyes that have been watching you for quite some time. From a distance, a seemingly put-together boy traced his eyes along your body. Staring at every curve, every feature, watching every action you took, he knew he had to talk to you. What better time to make a move when you were finally alone, away from the hustle and bustle of the kegger and laying out on the beach staring up at the sky.

He’s been keeping an eye on you all night, watching you get more faded with each sip of every drink you took. Alone at a party, you don’t see that often around here. Everyone always pairs up fast, even if you did arrive alone. You well, you were different. Something about you drew this clean-cut boy to you, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Something about your solitude reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place a finger on. Or maybe it was how he watched you spiral, falling with no safety net beneath you. He decided tonight he would be the safety net, he would catch you, even if you didn’t ask.

“Hello, beautiful…” A voice speaks out, startling you as your eyes crash open. A light chuckle passes the boy’s lips at your shock.

“Sorry, darling, didn’t mean to startle you.” He smiles, flashing his gorgeous white teeth at you. “I saw you over here alone and thought you could use some company.”

You blink a few times, trying to focus your blurred vision. A boy whose outline was hazy hovers over you, still smiling that bright smile. However, something felt underlying off about his sheer confidence. It wasn’t much longer until you put two and two together. The boy in the salmon-colored polo shirt and the khaki shorts that stared into your eyes was the infamous Kook prince himself, Rafe Cameron.

Any other day of the week, you’d loathe the boy in front of you, he always caused trouble for anyone who came from the Cut. He bathed in his arrogance and condescending words. So why has the prince of Kooks wandered his way over to you was the million-dollar question. One that you’re not sure you’ll ever get the answer to.

You lifted yourself into a sitting position and still have yet to speak a word to the polished boy in front of you. He speaks once more, trying to pry words from your mouth with every smooth sentence he spoke.

“Aw come now, a gorgeous face like that shouldn’t be scowling by her lonesome. Let me join you, they always say misery loves company.” The tip of the boy’s tongue brushes his top lip as a sly smirk pricks the side of his mouth.

You cock your eyebrow up, but still, motion for the boy to sit next to you. You didn’t think you were scowling, but the more you focused your mind, it became clear you weren’t suppressing any of the facial expressions you thought you were. The alcohol tore down your mask a little more than you would have liked.

You finally spoke to the boy poised next to you, studying the side of your face. “Who says I’m miserable, what if I just want the company?”

A chuckle passes his lips, he knew he had his hooks in you now. You turn and face Rafe, knowing full well that engaging with him is a terrible idea, but sometimes you craved a little danger in your life. Danger, like getting involved with a Kook named Rafe Cameron, would entail. If it distracted you even just for the night then why not go all out, he was looking rather charming tonight.

“Ah, well, aren’t we all a little miserable? I mean, no one’s perfect, right?” His breathy words cause the curiosity inside you to rise.

Was the always well kept and confident Rafe Cameron telling you he and his Kook lifestyle wasn’t perfect?

It had to be the alcohol talking. It’s burning through your veins, making you actually consider speaking to someone so deviously pristine. Part of you believed it was to forget your troubles, the other part wondered what lies beneath the surface of the self-proclaimed prince. The more you gazed at him, the more sweetness you saw, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else about Rafe that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but maybe you two had more in common than you thought.

“Please, Rafe, don’t give me your pity party parade. People like you don’t know real misery.”

“On the contrary little dove, he who you see before you has many layers, my rips, and tears, however, are patched up and easily hidden. Yours, however… well, yours are prominent and hanging by threads.”

Ouch. There is the haughty personality that you knew would peek out eventually. The sting of his words appeared on your face as he tries to console the wounds he inflicted.

“Everyone is tattered and worn little dove; it’s how you patch those tears that matter.”

“What are you getting at here, Rafe? Cause it seems to me, despite how sweet you think your sentiment is, you just don’t know how to truly console someone you see as lesser than you.” You want to keep your annoyance you have with Rafe, but with each comment and... and that nickname, he cracks your shell a little bit more.

“I don’t believe you are less than me beautiful, I just…” He sighs. “You’re right, I’m not good at consoling others.” He pauses briefly before he continues, knowing he has to bring himself down a level or he won’t get anywhere with you.

“How’s this then… how about instead of talking we just keep each other company? You don’t even have to speak to me if you don’t want to, though I’d prefer it if you did.” A small wink is shot your way.

“We aren’t just gonna sit here in silence Rafe, I don’t want that kind of company.”

“Well… then how about we ditch the sand and trade it in for something a little more… luxurious?”

There it was, the danger you felt. An offer from Rafe Cameron to go, god, knows where to do god knows what. It excited you, the unknown world of Rafe. You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to fully plunge yourself into forbidden territory, but there it was again. The panic rising in your chest, the thoughts and stress you wanted to escape creeping up again, threatening to attack if you let them linger too long. With that, you took your red cup and downed the remainder of its contents, pushing back your burdens once more.

Looking into Rafe’s eyes, there was a sparkle of chaos hidden deep within his soft gaze. It made you weak, it made you yearn for something more than this party at the Boneyard. With that, your decision was made. You gave him a smile and shook your head, trying to contain the eagerness you suddenly felt.

This is isolation

Kept in the dark and waiting

You're wearing the crown of kingdoms I created

Now I can't escape it

All of the light is fading

Rafe was up in seconds, extending his hand down to you; an almost menacing smirk overtook his face. As you clasp your hand into his and you’re brought to your feet, you stumble into his side, gripping tighter to keep your balance. Rafe was quick to slide his free arm around your waist, steadying you.

“I got you little dove, lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

His sweet like honey words swallowed you now. A flush of red kisses your cheeks. Was it his promise to not let you fall or was it the nickname he spoke to you that made your head swirl more than the alcohol ever could, you weren’t sure, but you wished the feeling wouldn’t stop.

It wasn’t long before you were in Rafe’s car and driving who knows where, but what you did know was the excitement you felt was overwhelming your fear.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to show you what a real party is like, beautiful.”

The compliments he kept spewing towards you, a simple Pogue girl, was astonishing. You never believed a Kook like Rafe would see you as anything but a “dirty Pogue.”

“Can I ask a question?” You turn your head towards the boy.

“Of course, little dove. Anything.” He places his free hand on your bare thigh and a light squeeze follows it.

The shiver sent down your spine, tantalized your thoughts. You no longer could think straight. He glances over to you, a smirk once more gracing his lips.

“Why little dove? I- I mean, why are you calling me that?”

“Well, I thought that was obvious, darling? You know my name, but I still have yet to learn yours.”

Your face drops at the realization that you never indeed introduced yourself to Rafe. Of course, you knew who he was, everyone knew who he was, but you? You were no one. Of course, he didn’t know your name.

“O-oh my god, I’m sorry I didn’t even realize I didn’t... uhh,” you chuckle nervously at your idiocy. “The names (Y/N).” You spit out between nervous breaths and awkward giggles. The alcohol was still strong in your system.

A light, almost innocent laugh passes his lips, looking over to you. “It’s okay (Y/N), I don’t mind giving a beautiful girl a nickname that suits her.” He winks. “In fact, I think you’re stuck with little dove from now on… if you don’t mind, of course.”

You hadn’t realized the car had come to a stop in front of a vast mansion. The architecture was beautiful and symmetric with white pillars on the outside. Perfectly kept flowered hedges and trimmed grass graces the front yard. It was like a picture, pristine and undamaged.

“I-I don’t mind no… not at all.” You smile sheepishly towards the boy as he turns the key and shuts the ignition off.

“Well, here we are… are you ready for a real party?” He asks, stepping out and quickly meeting you at the passenger side. Opening the door, he offers you his hand once more.

Taking his hand, you lean once more on his side, steadying your balance. Unsure where the night is about to guide you. Despite the pristine image outside the house once in the door, the whole feeling has changed. There were Kooks everywhere, and to say you felt a little out of place was an understatement. Loud music blared through the open rooms filled with people drinking, smoking, laughing, and smiling. Much like at the Boneyard, but the atmosphere was entirely different.

Rafe sensed your new-found hesitation, but he wasn’t about to let you slip away. Not when he finally had you where he wanted. Pulling you closer to his side, he whispers into your ear—his warm breath causing you to gasp slightly at his now lower smooth tone.

“Relax… you can trust me.”

All you could do was shake your head. You weren't quite sure how this boy made you so weak at the knees, but you wanted to believe him, so you did.

He paraded you through the party, introducing you to the skeptical Kooks whose eyeballs felt like daggers in your chest. Their disdain and judgment of you unspoken with you wrapped around Rafe’s side.

Finally, on the last stop of the tour de la Cameron, he brought you through a room that outlooked towards the pool area. He brings you up towards a smaller group of people. Two of which you recognized as Rafe’s loyal posse. Topper and Kelce.

“Hey what’s up my man, where have you been all night?”

They exchange greetings and eyeball his new hip attachment IE you. They look over to Rafe with enigmatic smiles spread across their face, but before they could say anything to you, the boy spoke.

“Boys this is (Y/N), she came to experience what real luxury is like. So I expect her to be treated like the best guest of honor she is.”

Topper and Kelce share a glance and shrug off the ideas of Rafe, bringing a Pogue to their side of the island. They figured he had other intentions behind his new side piece.

“Right well welcome (Y/N) I hope you’re ready for some real fun.” The boys gleamed their fakest grins towards you.

Rafe pulls you over and sits you down next to him, a clear glass table in front of you. The other two boys sit across from you. After a seemingly relaxed conversation, he claps his hands together and lets out an excited laugh.

“Alright, boys, the real fun begins.” Looking over to you, he releases your hand that you’ve been holding and pulls out a small plastic baggy with a white substance inside. He makes quick work of the substance cutting out four clean and tight lines onto the table. Rolling a dollar bill into a cylinder, he passes it over to Kelce.

The muscular boy leans towards the table cylinder in hand against one nostril while he plugs the other. In one swift movement, the white powder was gone, and he passed the bill over to Topper. He quickly follows suit. Both the boys cheer out a sudden burst of euphoria that rattles their bodies. Looking on to Rafe as he was up next.

You pulled at his arm in shock at the site you’re seeing unravel in front of your eyes. He could see the worry written all over you.

“Don’t worry darling, a little blow never hurt anyone.” He pats your head, running his hand down your hair, and leans over and plants a kiss onto your cheek.

The sudden physical affection made you swoon as you bite your lower lip, still looking at him with concern in your eyes.

“I-I don’t know about this, Rafe.”

“Shhh, just watch it’ll be fine.”

He lowers his abdomen down with haste cleaner and faster than the previous boys; the powder is gone. Almost as if he’s done this regularly. Maybe Rafe Cameron wasn’t lying to you earlier. Perhaps he really was hiding an unseen misery. Your heart suddenly ached for the boy as he leaned up and pinched his nostrils a few times, sniffing back the remnants of the content he just consumed.

“It’s your turn beautiful. This will clear out all that misery from earlier, I promise.” He extends the rolled-up bill to you, his eyes darting down your body, trying to read your response.

You don’t speak. You just stare at him, and the boys across from you obnoxiously chuckle.

“Come on (Y/N) you’re a Pogue you should be used to this shit on the Cut.”

“Where’s your courage, girl?”

The boys tease as Rafe shoots them a glare, silencing them immediately. You reach out your hand shakily towards the rolled-up bill. Questioning why you’re even considering this. His words from earlier echo in your head, ‘you can trust me.’

“It’s easy, I promise I’ll even help you. Trust me, you’ll feel like you’re on top of the world. Once you’re there, the real party begins.”

“I-I’m scared.” You whisper to Rafe as he pulls you closer.

“No reason to be scared sweetheart, I got you. Remember, I won’t let you fall.” His hand cups the side of your face. His eyes looking deep into yours so soft and sweet as he's gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself you wanted to live a little. You wanted this freedom, this danger. So it was now or never. You leaned down as Rafe bends to help you. The boy pressed one of your nostrils closed and instructed you to snort in fast and move down the line. You shake your head, confirming to him you were ready.

“Come on, little dove… let’s fly.” These were the last words you remember hearing as you snorted your first line of blow. Rafe cooing to you as you faded out.

This isn't trust

This is manipulation

Taglist: @pit-zuh

(Tbh I wanted to tag a few other mututals but I’m nervous so sorry!)

Part Two coming soon-ish?

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