#and it sounds gorgeous. love to hear it more often lmao

[gatsby-system-folks]

Petition to let 2d be loud and rude, as a treat.

[enhaven]

all night | pjs (m.)

pairing ⇢ jay x reader

genre/au ⇢ fluff, smut, established relationship

wc & rating ⇢ 2k+ | 18+ (minors gtfo)

summary ⇢ all Jongseong wanted was to put you to sleep but you're more than awake to play along with his melodies.

warnings ⇢ cursing • unprotected sex • riding • handjob • fellatio • pet names • praise kink kinda? • aftercare

song ⇢ i love you 3000 - stephanie poetri

a/n: happy national boyfriend day to my main man! i didn't realize that i had an est. rel wip whipped last feb lmao. it's been sitting in my drafts for too long so might as well ^^

the dim lights and the strums of guitar strings are lulling you to sleep.

that's what Jay's been hoping to accomplish anyway after noticing you getting fussy as soon as you arrived earlier. it happens when you’re very tired so he'd love for you to sleep right away after dinner.

now you're plastered on your shared bed, brows scrunching as you try to make yourself comfortable. you look so adorable, just like when you complain about how bright it is every time the lights are on due to your sensitive eyes. 

it's a good thing Jay knows just what you need. he turns off some lights but leaves a lamp on so he can still see around the room. walking towards his closet, he grabs his guitar from the inside which you didn't notice. then he sits beside your lying form before placing the body of the guitar on his propped leg. 

smiling at your sleepy state, Jay starts tuning the guitar, some random melody already emerging in his mind to play for you. he made it a goal to himself to help you sleep after finding out that it didn't come to you easily.

.

the sound of your boyfriend plucking the strings was making you sleepy until you looked up at him. the sight made you gasp inwardly, the sleepiness leaving your mind as you watched Jay playing his guitar.

he's always been gorgeous but the silhouette of his face looks so defined from your line of vision. the few loose strands of his hair provided some extra flair with his shadow that you'd love to sketch sometime.

but seriously, how the fuck is he this beautiful even with the lights are low?

"baby can you sing for me?" you ask him softly which brings his attention to you. the request made Jay pause in playing, his face now slightly confused which is so cute.

"sing? but i thought you were sleepy that's why i'm playing"

and this is why you fell in love with him. not because of his physical attributes but of his thoughtfulness and how sweet he is. your heart swells that he's trying to help you sleep this way. you’ve been more than grateful that he became a part in your life.

"i wanna hear your voice" you sluggishly reply, burying yourself further in the comforter while your legs nuzzle the huge pillow between your thighs.

since Jay loves you so much, he accepts your request. he chooses to sing an acoustic version of a song that you often play in the background when cuddling him sometimes.

he thought this was it, that you'll finally fall asleep but you’ve started humming along instead, adding harmonies to the song which he didn't really mind since he loves hearing you sing.

"baby" he paused his singing but not playing so it served as an instrumental to your melodies.

"hmmm?" you feigned ignorance with your eyes closed as your hand started to caress his thigh, syncing it with his strumming.

"what are you tryna do?" he queries though he knows what you're doing. if that small quirk in your lips should tell Jay otherwise. your eyes are back on his face when he nudges you, a wolfish smile forming on your lips as your hand creeps closer to his upper inner thigh.

it's out of nowhere but your man's too fucking fine and you're getting horny just by watching him playing his guitar. you can't be blamed for that though, anyone would be if they were in your place.

"can i actually suck you off?" you asked, looking at him sheepishly with those puppy eyes that he couldn't possibly say no to. even without those, he'd say yes, wanting to give you whatever you want.

"come 'ere" he beckons you with one hand after placing his precious guitar by his side. it's at a safe distance thanks to your boyfriend's spacious bed so you have nothing to worry about but still. it's one of his collections, an expensive one so you don't want your clumsiness to damage it. but even if that were to happen, he wouldn't mind really. he can always get it repaired or buy a new one instead.

carefully crawling closer to Jay's lap, you place an arm on the mattress to support your upper body. he's surprisingly hard when you start palming his clothed length, squeezing it briefly which earned a small groan from him.

"oh you are so cute" you giggle, doing it again to watch his reaction.

"don't tease" he huffs, a small pout on his lips.

you might not be able to see his face clearly this far but you know he's struggling to contain his moans. he's fisting the bedsheet so you pull down the hem of his sweats at once, happy to hear the sigh of relief escaping his lips.

his rigid cock slaps against his clothed tummy and you're salivating to have it in your mouth. pumping his dick for a bit, you eventually lowered your head to wrap your lips around its tip. you're thinking of teasing him like you always do but not tonight, it's you who wants his cock in every way possible.

you feel one of Jay's hands on your head once you take him all in, petting your hair and it prompts you to swallow him deeper until his tip hits the back of your throat.

"fuck i love your mouth" his deep groans are sending shivers through you, moaning around his dick which drives Jay insane. he gathers your hair while you continue to suck him off, bucking his hips up when you hollow your cheeks. he didn't mean to but he can't help it, you're just too good at this.

reaching the back of your nape, he pulls you closer as your hand pumps the rest of him that you couldn't fit in your mouth. the warmth of your mouth is pushing him closer to his orgasm but you release his dick all of a sudden, causing a small whimper that he didn't plan on making.

“shhh” you smile teasingly at Jay and he curses, moaning louder when your tongue starts licking the undersides of his cock down to the base.

although it was you who initially started this, he's the one desperate to fuck you right now. he’s been wanting to cum but he tries to hold it back, preferring to do so inside you.

“can you fuck me baby?” he rasps, his hand patting down your head as he closes his eyes. you look too hot sucking him off that he might burst his nut on your face, not like he didn't before but he's craving for your pussy this time.

“m’kay” another giggle escapes you after hearing Jay's request. you did plan on fucking him and you were excited as soon as he let you suck him but you didn’t think he’d beg first tonight.

lifting yourself up from the bed, you took the rest of your clothes off. nothing much since you were just wearing a loose shirt and matching thin sweats along with your underwear.

“these fucking tits” you hear Jay mumble quietly as he reaches for your bare breasts. one thing he loves secretly is how you’re always braless once you’re home. it's easier for him to play with them with his hands or mouth.

a needy moan escapes you when he pinches your nipples before you scramble to straddle him. he proceeds to rid his shirt as well, pulling off his sweats completely so now you’re both completely naked.

looking at each other fondly and you really couldn't stop your intrusive thoughts from coming out.

“you’re so fine what the hell how did i get so lucky”

you say softly as you start grinding against his slick cock, cupping his face with both your hands and you can feel his skin warming up at your words. he averts his eyes from yours once he sees that pretty smile on your face.

"i'm lucky to have you too baby" he responds before his hands hoist you up, grabbing his cock to align it in your soaking entrance.

“are you blushing? awe-ahh..”

yes, Jay is and he has no idea how you can even see it with this dim lighting and your uneven vision. he knew you were gonna tease him like you always and he usually doesn't mind. it's just that all he can think of right now is your pussy, fucking it a lot until you're all spent.

he hasn’t prepped you with his fingers but you love the stretch each time your pussy takes his cock. at first, he was hesitant since he’s always wanted to make sure you’re always ready before sex but you're determined and eventually, you managed to convince him.

“tight..fuck, i’ll never get used to this ugh” he hisses, spewing more praises at how good you feel around him and you’re leaving kisses around his handsome face in return.

“i think i can move now baby” you reassure him, circling your hips to test the waters.

his hands are on your waist, his grip tightening when you start bouncing on him.

"g-gorgeous.." he whispers. "you're so gorgeous my love" he adds quietly and you clenched around him as a result. watching your boyfriend struggle to hold himself because of you boosts your confidence.

the way he reacts to everything that you do encourages you to do it more, wanting to see how good you make him feel.

"j-jongseong.."

it's taking a toll on your legs but you can feel Jay so deep that it's overpowering it. he can feel it though, your waning energy so he sits up before laying you gently on your back without removing himself from you.

"fuck baby, i'm close" he speeds his thrusts once he feels your legs tighten around his waist.

"close, close, mhmm" you're slurring your words, dazedly looking at Jay that he falters in his pace. you're too pretty like this, sprawled under him while he's making you feel so good. there's nothing in this world that makes him happy aside from this.

it pushes him to reach his peak, filling you up like you always wanted.

"you good babe?" he prods, stroking your warm cheeks with the back of his fingers.

"yea..so good.." you're breathless when you respond but your boyfriend's looking at you lovingly. the subtle thrusts of his hips soothe your walls despite the sensitivity, always have been when you're both riding your high.

his deep chuckle reverberates in sync with your heavy breathing, whining when he pulls out of you. he urges you to stand up so you both can clean up at the bathroom, and comply reluctantly. being the caring person that he is, Jay solely cleans you up first even when you keep fighting him off.

you're clearly sleepy now so he helps you in putting on a fresh set of clothes. the entire time that he briefly left you, he was changing the sheets and put your clothes to the laundry so you'd be ready to sleep as soon as you're done.

lying down, you nuzzle the comforter while waiting for your boyfriend to join you in bed. you're dead tired though but he's still in the washroom so you're gonna close your eyes for a bit.

"i love you" you call out to him, the sleep waving over you but you're trying to stay conscious.

"i love you too baby" he responds as he finishes up, eager to join you since sleep's coming to him as well. however, when he came out of the door, he finds you already sleeping.

jay didn’t mean to fuck you to exhaustion but watching you sleep soundly tugs his heart a little. you finally look peaceful unlike the weariness in your face that you tried to hide earlier. all because of him and he's more than happy to do it again, anything for the person he loves the most.

.

e/n: it's been ages lmao and i realized i had this last min 💀. summer and september were so busy for me and i tried writing whenever i can. but now it's October and i'll be more busy? (i go out/party almost every day/week when i'm not working) so i'm gonna focus on my Halloween/scary fics since yk i can only post them this month.

[vacantgodling]

thank you @sergeantnarwhalwrites for tagging me to do this i looooove talking about myself PFF. i’ll leave this as an open tag for anyone else who wants to do it! tag me if u do i wanna hear ur responses 👀

about me

When did you first start writing?

i’ve been writing pretty much my entire life—making stories since i was like 3 with my grandmother and then transitioned to writing them down pretty soon after. i can’t think of a time in my life where i wasn’t story crafting tbh. but i think if you want a “traditional” start time, wherein i started writing anything that could resemble a Proper wip, then that was when i was 12 in 8th grade lol.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

nah, they pretty much go hand in hand. i love reading gothic lit nowadays and a lot of my recent wips have sort of dove in that direction. in general, you can tell what was really intriguing me or what i was reading based on the wips i made at the time. vdtrt was super inspired when i was in my percy jackson era, purple haze (started) when i was into more comic/slapstick kid humor (like captain underpants or diary of a wimpy kid or that one journal book with the girl with the purple pen… i can’t remember what it’s called tho), but then transitioned into what it is now when i started getting more into romantic dramas. etc etc.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you're often compared?

not one that i’m often compared to, but the great gatsby did a number on me beginning to take prose and description seriously. that book is gorgeous to me (prose wise) and i really think between that and the goth/1700-1900s books that i’ve read really influenced me to put more emphasis on prose than on dialogue, tbh. i used to be a more snazzy, ya style writer—and while there’s nothing wrong with that per se it never sparked as much joy as me nailing an overly complex description does nowadays.

in terms of comparing myself or wanting to emulate someone specifically i don’t really. i think my friends are all amazing writers but i’m pretty self centered when it comes to my writing (both positive and negative connotations besides) so i tend to try and focus being the best version of myself and what i’m trying to write. this isn’t to say i don’t get jealous of how some of my friends write occasionally lol. i just don’t particularly want to be like them when the inner demons aren’t being shit, if that makes sense.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

tbh, a lot of times i write at work. i tend to finish my tasks early and no one tends to bother me so i kind of write to keep myself from falling asleep. i need silence and no distractions to write lol so its easier for me when im there. so its at my work desk and on my work laptop a lot of the time LMAO. when it’s not there i tend to write on my phone when im out and about or on the bus or whatever—same principles of wanting to be by myself and have no one bug me so i can think lol.

What's your most effective way to muster up some muse?

ngl, and this is gonna sound kinda bad, i kinda force myself to. lmao. like when i write at work esp i kinda just decide “what am i gonna work on today” and i sort of do it. it doesn’t always work mind you, like if i’m not in the mood or im tired or distracted or whatever then i’ll just end up doing something else.

when it comes to making new ideas i don’t force those, they just kinda come. i’m always thinking about stories and ideas tbh so it’s a matter of if i get obsessed with an idea enough to make it into an actual thing.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

nah with 2 caveats. purple haze specifically is a more fictional retelling (split between 2 mcs) of when i was 18-20 years old. lots of details changed but some of the main bits are shit that happened to me then that really fucked me up at the time that i wanted someplace to work through. as i’ve gotten older and healed from things, or taken to poetry to talk about stuff, emphasis on that wip has taken less precedent bc it doesn’t hurt me as much as it used to. secondly, the town braebrooke, where jenna lives in jenna the reaper is actually named after a street name that drivers always get lost going down near where i grew up. but i don’t tend to like to live in reality and real life. it sucks and it’s boring. stories have always been an escape for me so i don’t like to base things on real life if i can avoid it.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

honestly i would say yes, i have recurring themes in my writing but no they don't really surprise me. i tend to write about things that are important to me and because i'm quite introspective i'm acutely aware of the things that i tend to gravitate towards. fucked up/complicated family dynamics where people care about each other (toxically in many ways) but express it horribly, queerness (as a whole, especially when it comes to the masculine), focus on the individual instead of the whole (in most cases) etc... it's all things i think about quite often. stories are just the vehicles to explore it.

my characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

because i have so many wips it should be "hard" to sit down and say that this (or these) are my favorite characters. but from every single wip i definitely have a brain rot character, and so from my "main wips" the brain rot characters are:

PARAMOUR (tfog) -> hyacinthus shrapnel, obviously. if i had to pick a favorite character of all my ocs its definitely him. he just DOES SOMETHING for me he is literally every obsession i have rolled up into one beautiful, piece of shit.

TCOL -> this one is more difficult because i have a few contendors bc the cast is ENORMOUS and still growing, but clear brightendale will always be my number one frfr. love of my life. my SON. i birthed him, and i'm obsessed with him. he would be followed closely and tied with lath, guardian of valor as well as MIZDARR in terms of other faves tbh.

VDTRT -> darren de leon, also somewhat obviously. he's my favorite guy. what a lad.

BTAF -> sjaak de witte. the first time i truly understood the appeal of a pathetic wet meow meow character archetype because he is all of that and i'm obsessed with him.

Which of your characters do you think you'd be friends with in real life?

conceptualizing being friends with my ocs is weird to me because i hate percieving myself, and i'm kinda weird about friendships. i think i would be actually genuine friends with either the friend group in vdtrt (consisting of: darren, olice, vlad, moonglend, gabe, demi, marco, and awilda) or the friend group in sixteen candles (consisting of: ranger, nanette, vani, roger, and tucker). but overall, i actually don't tend to make ocs with super similar interests to me a lot of the time and bc of the 'ism i have a hard time making friends?? so like take this with a grain of salt. i'd rather observe my ocs and play with them like dolls frfr.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

there are SEVERAL but if i go against the grain and i don't pick overt villainous characters (like tagetes, madja, silvano, etc)... probably the entire cast of btaf in some way or another tbh, like they just make decisions that while i (the creator) understand and think are fun in a "look at this shit" kind of way they would piss me off in a common sense kind of way. they are all dumb.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

characters kind of take a few basic routes for me. either: i like a preexisting character (or am fascinated by them cuz lbr i don't like twilight lmao) and i want to make 'my own version' in which i have control of them or i can amp up/explore other aspects of their personality with free reign bc they're mine now (ie: darren/percy jackson, sjaak/jacob from twilight, kirsi/magda from helix waltz, etc) OR i come up with a plot and i need a character to fill that plot so they start as a utility, then become their own character as i develop them more. (ie: jenna has a crush on someone in school, so i made chloe mathilders and now she has her own personality. the entirety of donut wip existed bc i wanted to make a horror wip and so they kind of came with the stereotypical horror archetypes; juls as the final girl etc).

it's actually not quite often that i have characters appear directly out of the aether for me to just have to deal with. jenna is honestly a rare exception to this because she is the ONE character i can think of who straight up manifested herself. i think that's why her power is manifestation bc she broke the grain of how i usually come up with ocs so. good on you girly lmao.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

yeah, i definitely have character types i gravitate towards, especially when it comes to characters who are my faves-though i do try my best to make it so all of my characters feel like distinct people, even though i do have 'archetypes' that i fall into with them. off the top of my head i can think of:

beautiful asshole (always masculine) -> hya, toph, dove, ranger, aenlin

masc femmes/adjacent that should break my neck -> nyseah, beki, piper, erecia, azelie, almine

"healing" characters, aka has never done anything wrong in their life ever -> aloe, karenza, vani, iole

resourceful underdog -> kirsi, julissa, darren, dagmar, nevaeh, chidori, noh, n

god just help them -> sjaak, di, clear, quill, prosper, hue, graves

i could go on but yeah like most of my characters can fall into some kind of archetype of some kind

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc)

honestly i don't have much of a visual imagination. the ocs that i can picture, i tend to draw out on my own characters so i picture them mostly in a more... stylized and what i wish i could draw version of my own art. otherwise i don't really picture them visually altogether. but this is mostly bc i can't visualize lmao.

my writing

What's your reason for writing?

i love stories, and i love story telling. there isn't really much beyond it. i've been doing it for so long, its literally just the fabric of who i am as a person. my literal first word was book lmao. like i just can't imagine existing without writing or storytelling in some form.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

honestly i'm greedy. i want to hear specific reactions and i love when people go into deep depth to react to what i've written and really take in every single detail and then kind of give me a play by play of how they felt and things they liked. it makes me want to write more to get that reaction <3

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who "gets" the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

um. idk if i want to be thought of in a particular way, but i guess i just want my stories to resonate with people. as long as they resonate and i can see how they do/the reaction people have to what i'm written then i'm happy. i think my stories should preceed me, if that makes sense. i don't necessarily need to be remembered for who i am but only for the stories i create. i guess?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

prose and description

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

pretty much the same thing. a lot of people tend to like my more poetic and winding prose which makes me happy lol. i've also been told i'm really good at depicting complex emotions.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

i love it, i think i'm talented asf. shame that the timeline and the state of the publishing industry won't let it be shown to more people but y'know. i would be lying if i said i didn't think that the only real talent i think i have is writing lol

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

YUUUUUP. writing is for me first and everyone else second. i like sharing bc i like validation, but i would be so hype to just be able to create stories on my own with zero interruption. tbh in that scenario i would probably make up so many stories that i would just die eventually bc i forgot to care for myself.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it's a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

if i wrote what others enjoyed, i would be publishable. i only write for my own interest.

[oceisastar]

surprise, it's kaveh,,,

,,, again!

a/n reader has some typa vision loll

the existence of mehrak makes me think so hard,,, like what else is kaveh capable of,,, i know he likely found her in the desert, and she's some ancient tech, but he's not an idiot... surely he has studied mehrak, knows what makes her tick,,,

just like how you know the best spots to touch him at and the right words to make him melt<33

nngh but kaveh is so smart!!,,, i know he could make himself his own toy!! maybe it's even almost it's own entity, kind of like mehrak but minus the sentience, where he can control if it vibrates or if it fucks him with only a flick of his wrist,,,

but ofc he can't make himself cum as well as you do!! no artifical object can call him your good boy like you do, or hold him hand as you fuck him, or kiss him as tenderly as you move your hips...

and oh imagine kaveh teaching you how to use the toy. he teaches you how to use your vision to make it float, to make it vibrate at different speeds and intensities, to even teleport from hand to hand,,,

but eventually he almost regrets teaching you,,,

keyword: almost.

you have learned to use kaveh's toy and you've learned to use it well. he melts beneath you, shivering and moaning and reaching out for you—hugs that you always, always return—when you run the vibe along his dick... the obscene sounds of the vibe fade away to the background as all kaveh can hear is you whispering sweet, loving things in his ear between each hickey you tenderly suck into his neck!! as you coax him to his orgasm, he pleads you to do the trick he showed you—one where you rhythmically tap the toy as it vibrates—,,,

except your beloved forgot to consider how your voice alone, often paired with love declarations and always tender love, could make him cum on the spot<33 so when you begin tapping the vibe between each syllable of "c'mon, come for me, songbird, my kaveh," he comes immediately and so intensely and beautifully<333

and if he looks at you after, a gorgeous wreck still shivering from aftershocks, and begs you, "one more?," one more time to say "my kaveh?," who are you to say no?;]

kaveh one chance pls

also out of morbid curiosity, are there any kinks beyond like praise or smth that ur into? thirst-wise. like uhhh tentacles. a/b/o stuff. bondage!! overstim. sensory deprivation. so on. it's rlly not that hard to make so many of these soft and tender lmao so it does upset me sometimes that there's so little like loving bandage or wtv 🤧

MDNI

I’m picturing reader w an anemo vision for this. like making the toy float in the air

I love this 😭😭 him needing u bc it’s u that makes him feel good. your presence and words and just you. not just the toy

hugging him 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I’m crying. I love this so much

cumming from someone’s voice alone 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥵

so much delightful softness. I enjoy this dynamic a lot. it’s refreshing. I love how loving it is. fills my heart with adoration.

~

tw ??? discussion of some intense kinks

I’m gonna be so straight w u I don’t really understand a/b/o but I do enjoy the concept of heat. I think it’s very sexy. (don’t explain a/b/o to me further I don’t want to know lmao) just the idea of not being in control of yourself and needing so badly is so hot to me. abt the desperation and need (and usually yearning) that ensues in the fics I’ve read w/ it. I don’t care much for the alpha/omega aspect of it tho. it’s more abt the need and desire than that power dynamic.

I’m into other stuff too but I won’t give too much away. bondage and tentacles etc aren’t my thing — I’m not a fan of restrictive stuff. I can see what u mean abt there not being enough tender stuff w it! it’s usually really centered around degradation etc which is not great.

I really have a strong fixation on tiddies tbh I want to suck on them soooooo bad (esp women <3). not bite them but suck on them bc didkskskal

this one is pretty specific but smth abt sniffing undies is so <3 it’s sooooo sexy and naughty to me. like the character just burying their face in a pair of mc’s underwear and getting off is soooooo hot to me.

I also (depending on my mood) like somnophilia. again, back to the desperation piece — just needing ur partner so bad u can’t wait to eat them out and they wake up moaning and grinding in ur face. even better if they cum while asleep 🤤

[kucho04]

ENOUGH!!!! I wanna hear your take on HimuKuro because now I think about them!!! And I blame your gorgeous drawings!!! (this is a request to unleash all the headcanons and thoughts and everything sorry i sound overexcited lmao)

Hello ❤️❤️ its so satisfying to see others liking it haha just according to keikaku...

I am still building out their dynamic and headcanons on my head, but I have a couple of things(also a sort of starting point). Kind of long post ahead

As I have mentioned in an older post(and I'm pretty sure you read it?) Himuro is a very emotional person, and Kuroko is a great support, chill to be with and listener. Not like harmful emotional dependence, its more a relationship of safe space and acceptance of each other.

Himuro has a tendency of being too harsh with himself and Kuroko could be a great influence changing that :)

I don't think Himuro would get in between Kuroko/Kagami, I see it happening if Kuroko feelings are unrequited therefore his heart got broken :'( Himuro heart got broken by Kagami once too so yeah. At first, he thought it would work between them, and surprisingly it didn't.

Kuroko in love gaze was still there, but with a pinch of sadness on it. On the few occasions they were all reunited, at some point Himuro noticed he was unconciously thinking about Kuroko in a different way, maybe seeing himself on it.

On a solidarity act 💔❤️‍🩹🤝 Himuro asked him to go eat something together without any particular reason(of course Kuroko figured out what was the reason behind). Although initial Himuro intentions were to comfort him a bit, as the conversation went on, and he knew Kuroko a bit more, he again empathized with him and did not wanted to see Kuroko so sad like himself were years back.

Not sure of what he was doing, feeling? compassion, love, friendship? asked Kuroko to hang out more often. Kuroko could get distracted doing activities with him + Murasakibara as a plus ^_^ "ooo muro-chin liking kuro-chin means I get to see kuro-chin more often..." haha

Occasional, though! Kuroko is still close to his Seirin friends and Kagami :D

Eventually Himuro acknowledges what he felt when seeing or talking with Kuroko, and asks him to have a date <3 in this field Himuro is more confident, if reciprocated. Kuroko is surprised, but happy to share this with someone like Himuro-kun ❤️ so cheesy forgive me.

Anyways... they could bond on similar past experiences. Also, I think they're breaking a pattern on the type of people they've liked before, and that's interesting for both. I like to believe that Himuro knows what he wants, and is an attentive, passionate lover in his own way. Kuroko is similar :)

In more headcanons, weekend visits are occasional, but very special! I think Himuro would visit Kuroko more often than the other way around, specially in surprise on fridays after class :) Kuroko at the beginning is still a bit shy in doing things like that but gains enough confidence to also appear from sudden in Akita :D the distance between them is big as hell but they do text a lot, when time is available.

Murasakibara is included, and invited into 85% of their plans. How could you not invite him

Himuro calls Kuroko by his name(Tetsuya), but for Kuroko it takes him longer and is difficult to do the same thing, forgetting it often. Tatsuya-kun is more fitting for him to say and uses it occasionally :)

That could be all for now! It can be longer, but I don't want to delay this ask more ahh

I think about them at least once or twice a day so more HimuKuro stuff to come :)c I am obsessed.

[yourtastefulcannibal]

[I wanted to write long, u don't have to write this long lmao DW]

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Was he still running? His legs had begun to numb after the first mile of sprinting, paired with the cold evening chill brushing pale skin with every move he made. Blood had crusted beneath his nails, crumbling from his palms as he clenched his fists.

Matthew swore he could still hear the sirens. The all-too-familiar sound, deafening to his ears, the sounds of guns being drawn.

Police, screaming at him to put his hands up. Drop to his knees.

But he couldn't let himself be caught. He had Hannibal and Will. Other people he deemed his 'fledglings.'

Matthew didn't want to rot away in some cell. Alone. Gone. Forever.

Not again.

Tears ran like ice down his cheeks, as he dashed to the one place he knew to be closest. Safe.

Were the remaining officers still after him?

--

It had been a jealous thing. The utter rage, bloodlust Matthew felt. A long-abandoned feeling, one he had almost forgotten. Because Will found a new dog.

Nigel.

But Matt knew he couldn't kill Nigel. Will wouldn't like it. Instead, Matthew hunted.

It only took minutes for him to spot his prey, the next rodent the hawk would pluck away and devour. Some man.

And so he lured. And stabbed. And sliced. And blood sprayed out like a faucet onto his face and clothes and hands, almost matching the bright red blinding his vision. The man had screamed and begged and jerked in vain.

And then the rat stopped.

But the hawk was still hungry.

Three more men died.

Someone called the cops. Not that Matthew knew, until his heart stopped cold. Shouts, sirens, blood, blood, blood. Panic stabbed into his chest and squeezed his lungs.

Matthew darted from the cooling body, gripping his knife and beginning to dash from the motel's backdoor-

Only to hit an officer. The cool metal barrel of a pistol met his forehead.

"DOWN ON YOUR KNEES! HANDS UP!"

The man had cried. The poor man's pupils were blown with adrenaline, his sweaty hands were too easy to disarm.

Matthew needed to escape.

When the officer hit the ground, Matthew ran.

He ran, and ran, and ran, and didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Shrubbery cut him as he brushed by, but he didn't notice. Didn't care.

--

Once the large, well-lit home of Hannibal was in his sights, there was no time to knock.

In Matthew's mind, the police were behind him. They had cars, and guns, and were going to execute him. He would die Will-less. He would die alone. Cold. Just like his victims.

No time to knock.

....

Matthew grunted as he hurdled himself through the window, glass shattering all around him like prickly rain as his body made contact with it. And, again alike him, it fell beside him as he met the ground.

Blood, sweat, tears, exhaustion. Cool wind quickly let itself in through the broken window.

Matthew curled into a ball on the warm carpet. His heart may have actually left his chest. His lungs felt sliced. Everything hurt.

Safe.

[hehehehe]

[a gorgeous intro, love]

It was, by all accounts, something of an unremarkable day. He'd been compelled to speak at a conference, which had taken up a large portion of his time; the endless small talk afterwards had been exhausting, but he'd collected a few business cards for his Rolodex and begun flipping through his recipe list to see if anything met his fancy. His hope was to go out hunting sometime within the week, craving something fresh, inspired by recent events, recent blood spilled, to perhaps even have a dinner party. It had been several months since his last larger event, so he was considering planning another, even if only to keep his name alive among his acquaintances.

Hannibal was sitting down at the kitchen island, sipping a glass of red wine and making an ingredient list for what such a party might require. Already he'd chosen a few dishes, but the main course had yet to be decided upon. Soft classical music played from the Bluetooth speaker positioned nearby, left in the kitchen as he often enjoyed listening to music as he cooked.

The sound of shattering glass was not one that paired particularly well with the music, and his first thought was annoyance and surely needing to replace the window, rather than alarm or concern at what, or who, had broken the window. Naturally he stood quickly, pen and notebook forgotten, to rush into the dining room where the source of the sound had been.

His second guess had been right, that it was a who rather than a what that had broken the window. Of course he recognized instantly that it was Matthew, bloodied far too much to be attributed to the broken glass alone. Concern flared up in his chest, unbidden. He did care for Matthew after all, despite his better judgement.

"Matthew," Hannibal offered lowly, dropping down onto a knee and touching his shoulder carefully, brows knit together and concern evident upon his features. "Matthew, are you hurt?" A foolish question, perhaps, but it was likely that at least some of this blood belonged to the man.

[waterfallofspace]

HI!! same anon who asked about vnc here. i feel like your answer is enough of a go-ahead for me to be a bit more unhinged so first of all PLEASE SHARE YOUR VNC THOUGHTS. at some point. you must be the change you want to see in the world and whatnot. ive been on a skk kick but my bimonthly vnc rewatch is my sanitys single saving grace. vanitas is such a pathetic worm and he deserved to get stomped painfully into the ground /aff

also just letting you know that a second season is unlikely bc the anime adapted 55 out of 61 chapter (WHICH ON THE BRIGHT SIDE easy to catch up!!! :"D) the only time ive seen an anime get THAT close is with... bsd. which. well. sure was something. but i doubt theyd go that route with vnc

i have... alot of opinions on the ships. but its ALOT. however i will disclose that vanoe <3 SO JUST KNOW THAT IF YOU DO POST ANYTHING VNC/VANOE RELATED.... there will be at least one person (ME!!) screaming about it FHDJDJSJ

Oh it's completely a go-ahead, I'd love the chance to be deranged about them!!! Gonna stick it under a cut because it's gonna be long ahahaha~ (possible V/anitas no Carte spoilers under cut, so be warned!)

Augh I know, I mean look at this man!!!! He deserves to be wrecked in the most gorgeously affectionate painful whumpening <3 I want to bite him (and we know he'd like it LMAO)

I adore skk and satosugu, but Vanoe will always have such a sweet place in my heart~ gah tragic beloveds (that are at times, not tragic) are my bread and butter.

Yeahhhh, I did hear about thatttt, but I'm still hopeful that after... idk... 5-6 years... we might get more.... I just!!! They can't end it like that!!!! I mean it's an ending I can live with, but god I crave so much more!!!!

Omg if you ever wanna discuss the opinions I'd be so happy to listen!!! I have some opinions about dif ships in there too (Olivier and Roland are In Love and you cannot convince me otherwise).

So I adore Vanitas like I mentioned, but um... Olivier also owns my heart. We don't get enough of him I love him- the way he gets a headache every time Roland is there???? ICONIC OF HIM <333

He's just... he's so gorgeous. He has the aethetics that I adore, and a personality I find intriguing and fun~ Gahhh now I need to rewatch again hahahaha~

(also love Roland but in the same way I love Noe, just lil sweethearts <3 also also Chloé and Jean-Jacques <3 are so precious <3 to me and each other <3 )

Aaaand a little snippet as a 'thank you' and 'congrats' for making it to the end of this way-too-long response, here's a lil taste of what I had headcanoned for Vanoe

Vanitas: Soft, little rapid ones, 'iHh'tchiew! hiH'tchhue!' and he is so. mad about it. Will often try to stifle so no one hears them, orrrr add a yell/growl to try and unsuccessfully make them sound more 'fitting'. Truth is, they fit him better than he'd ever admit~

Noe: Harsh and (fairly) Loud, and it surprises literally everyone, Vanitas most of all (despite hearing it however many times now). Think something like, 'hHRZShh'ieh! ah'yieASHhuh!' You'd think someone this soft-spoken and sweet would have a dainty little sound, but nope~

[piers-wifey]

I’m so sorry for bothering you again 😅😅😅

Can you do a headcanon for RE Boys x Reader where the reader is a polyglot/multilingual?

Gosh I'm really sorry that it took me so long to get to your request Ballo. Work and low motivation really kicked my butt here lmao. Anyway, thank you for your request my friend I hope you like them.

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

RE boys with a polyglot/multilingual s/o

Piers Nivans

Piers fucking loves that you speak multiple languages. He thinks it makes you even more attractive

He was baffled when he heard you say something in a different language for the first time. He wasn't even aware that you were polyglot

You asked him to close the bedroom windows and were surprised when he didn't move an inch and stared at you in confusion

At first you didn't even realized that you had said something to him in a different language and asked if something was wrong

Piers, still dumbfounded by the situation, tried to repeat what you've said to him. Needless to say that he failed miserably

Luckily you somehow managed to understand what he was babbling and couldn't help it but giggle at his attempt. Not in a mean, but adoring way

Piers will definitely learn at least one of the languages you speak, preferably your native language. But if your native language is English, then he'll learn the one you like the most to impress you

Finn Macauley

Finn is impressed by the amount of languages you know and thinks you're super smart and talented

He has always been fascinated by foreign languages. He even tried to learn Spanish a few years back, but had to stop when he joined the BSAA

He has a huge soft spot for people who are multilingual and it really shows

He will often ask you to speak and sing in another language. Simply because he adores the way your voice changes and how melodic and beautiful it sounds

You could tell him to write bread on the grocery list and he'd be a blushy mess

Secretly teaches himself words of endearment and sentences like: "I love you" or "Good morning/night my sweetheart" to surprise you

Chris Redfield

He was amazed when he found out that you speak more than one language

Will ask you all sorts of questions about it. When you started to learn them, how long it took you to become fluent, etc.

He's also interested in the culture and traditions of the country the language is from and wants to learn more about it

Since he's a bilingual himself, he knows about the struggles of switching languages mid-sentence or forgetting a certain word in English and replacing it with the one from another language

Offers you to teach you some terms of endearment and things like "I love you" in the language he knows in exchange for the ones from the languages you speak

Chris isn't really the kind of guy who would show off his partner like some sort of trophy, but if someone asked him where he learned how to speak *insert language here*, he will tell them with a proud smile that it was you who taught him

Leon S. Kennedy

Leon is in complete awe every time he hears you talk

It just amazes him that a person is able to speak in so many languages without a problem. He has met a lot of people who are bilingual and even some who speak a third language, but none of them was as impressive as you are

Leon will definitely ask you to translate a few things for him or help him with pronouncing a certain word or even a whole sentence. And it's not always because he wants to know what this word or the text means. He just loves to hear you talk. This man could listen to you for hours. But since he doesn't want to make it too obvious, he's trying to be sneaky. Spoiler alert: It's not working. You are aware of it, but you decided not to say anything and just play along

He also likes to show you off to his friends. Every time he translates a word they don't know, he tells them that it was you who taught him that. He's just so incredibly proud of you and happy to be the one by your side that he feels obliged to let the world know that you're a gorgeous and smart cookie

Leon may not be the best when it comes to learning a new language, but he's trying his best and very determined to impress you and make you blush. So please don't laugh too hard when he pronounces a word wrong or accidentally uses a wrong word. He really is trying his best

Albert Wesker

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but people who speak multiple languages are very attractive to him

He values intelligence a lot and being fluent in different languages requires both intelligence and skill. So, the more languages you speak, the more he finds himself drawn to you

The first time you called him Love or Darling in a language he didn't understand, he was confused and demanded to know what you were calling him

Over the time he got used to it and finds it even endearing when you call him all those nice names

Albert never asked you to teach him those cutesy names but that wasn't even necessary. I mean you're calling him that on a daily basis so it's no surprise that he memorized them and now calls you that too. His favourite pet name however is and always will be Dearheart

Carlos Oliveira

Carlos is straight up thrilled when he learns that you can speak more than one language

He'll beg you to talk in the other ones more often. It's not that he doesn't like it when he hears you speak English, but hearing you call him "Baby" or "Love" in other languages, preferably your native tongue, makes his heart flutter

Finds it super sweet when you accidentally switch languages or forget a word and, often without even realizing, replace it with the one you know from another language. It happens to him all the time so he's familiar with the struggle. But he'd never laugh at you. He may chuckle and tease you a little, but he'll stop immediately when you tell him or he notices that it makes you uncomfortable

This man is in total awe of you and will literally treat you like royalty every time you say or translate something for him. He just can't believe that he, out of all people, was lucky enough to win the heart of such a smart and gorgeous person

Carlos finds it incredibly hot and even a little scary when you switch languages mid-sentence when you're angry and calling rude or annoying people out on their bullshit

Nikolai Zinoviev

Only slightly impressed by your ability. At least that's what he tells you. You, however know damn well that he is very impressed by that and just too stubborn and prideful to admit it

Secretly hopes that you speak Russian. And if he's lucky and you do, Nikolai will be delighted. He'll talk to you in Russian all day. Not only does he feel more comfortable speaking in his native language, he can also be way more affectionate and naughty with you without having to worry that people are eavesdropping

If you call him something in another language, whether it's a cute pet name or a funny/harmless insult, he'll sternly demand to know what exactly that word means. And may the gods be with you should he ever find out you called him something embarrassing or straight up insulted him. Not, that you would ever think of doing such a thing

Will eventually get used to the different pet names and even have some favourites among them. He might even pick up on some of them and start calling you that too

But his interest in learning a new language is basically nonexistent. He's quite happy with being bilingual and has better things to do than wasting his time with such nonsense

Billy Coen

I'm going to be honest here. Billy loves it when you speak in another language. He doesn't even have to understand what you're saying. Your voice and the way your tone changes when you speak is already enough to make him feel things

Like, you could say utter nonsense or throw random words into the room and he would still find it hot

Of course he would ask you what you were saying and he would definitely feel like a complete idiot when you tell him that you were talking about how you used to steal your grandma's teeth from her nightstand when you were little. But fucking hell you made it sound so hot; I'm sure he won't be embarrassed by that for too long

Billy feels obliged to show you off to his friends/comrades. I mean hello?? You are fluent in a shit ton of languages, you can literally teach him how to cuss and mock in them and make it sound like the biggest compliment. So how can he not?

Lets you teach him some terms of endearment (deep down this man is a hopeless romantic and wants to show you how special you are to him)

Richard Aiken

Precious boy Richard is head over heals for you and your ability to talk in more than one language

He doesn't even try to hide it

Though he isn't known to brag a lot, Richard just can't resist the urge to show you off to his fellow teammates at least a little bit. Is it endearing? Yes. Does the rest of S.T.A.R.S. tease him for being a little fanboy? Absolutely. But you're just so cool and talented and smart. How can he not fanboying over you?

He will ask you to teach him a little bit of each language you speak. It's both a great way to spend time with you and to learn more about different countries and their cultures and traditions

As S.T.A.R.S communications expert, Richard learned to communicate in both sign language and morse code; which he will gladly teach you in return. But only if you're interested

Masterlist

Tag list: @thatgoblin @bsaa-bitch @dorkyratqueen @finnmacauleys @ravenrune @simpforabba @myangeldustisaesthetic

[carlosfruitsnacks]

"sixteen going on seventeen"

summary:

— you've always had your eyes set on Camilo for a very long time, it was impossible not to. Camilo found you pretty too so why not take the chance? being a tad younger than he doesn't mean you're incapable of the things he says.

genre:

— songfic

notes:

— female reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me if I got something wrong though I will refrain from using too much Spanish.

warning/s:

— none

I watched this scene from the sound of music and it screams Camilo and reader energy so I had to write a fic lmao. Enjoy!

It really began with the townsfolk when you heard of Camilo Madrigal. You were only eight when you saw the shapeshifter, shining brightly in the crowd with his yellow ruana under the sunlight. There was a glimmer in your doe eyes as he twirled and made the entire town cheer with delight. He was like a dream, a blazing beam. The brightest star you have ever seen. Since that day, you never learned how to take your eyes away from Camilo.

The young Madrigal only heard of you after his 12th birthday. Camilo saw you among the crowd with a beautiful dress and eyes he can easily get lost in. You were the prettiest thing he has ever laid his eyes on. He would purposely seek you out in the crowd, your eyes will meet him and he'll melt inside. The way you look at him like that made him feel so bare like you can see his soul and he loved it.

Years roll by, there were opportunities for you two to get close, and you both did. Always chasing each other around town, often relentlessly teasing each other. It was a matter of time did you both developed feelings for each other that are more than friendship. Both of you wanted to stay with each other forever.

Eventually, your 16th birthday arrives. It wasn't much of a big deal except that you're growing aware of the world around you. First, there's puberty then self-consciousness. It bothered you sometimes how you present yourself outside, you wished you didn't care but you did. But you learned how to explore how the world works around you, therefore, you weren't naive. You're perfectly capable by yourself.

Camilo was older than you, he acted in a way like he was the boss and you were just a little girl when in actuality there's only a one-year age gap between you and him. He did age excellently, Camilo was more handsome and it's driving you loca when he parades around town and spares you a playful wink. It was no secret that he was a natural performer, always catching people's attention and setting them on fire. He's charismatic, fun, and everything a girl would swoon for.

After you blow out your birthday candles, you head outside your house and let the guests enjoy your birthday party. Life has been awfully slow for you. You were pretty and all dolled up for being sweet sixteen. You huffed and sat outside by the garden.

"BOO!"

You screamed. You hear a loud cackle and your face relaxes. Camilo makes an appearance, dashingly handsome as always. He takes a seat beside you with a teasing grin on his lips, you roll your eyes at him.

"What are you doing out here, cumpleañera?"

He asks. You shrug and dust off the nonexistent dust on your dress. Every time Camilo comes around, your self-consciousness goes off the roof. You wanted him to see that you're beautiful and deserving of his attention. He raises a brow and whistles.

"What? Is being sixteen that boring for you?"

"Not gonna lie, it is"

Camilo scoots closer to you, almost making you tense up. It's hard trying not to admit that you're in love with him, it almost feels as if he's pushing you to your limit every time. Now, after many years, did you decide to change the situation.

"I wanna know what's out there, 'Milo"

You say. Camilo runs a hand through his gorgeous hair and scoffs at you. He gives you a look as if you said a funny joke.

"I think you're not ready to see what the world is like, princesa"

Your face turns sour at his words. Did he really think you're a vulnerable little thing that won't last a day out there in the real world? Ha! The jokes on him. Camilo places a hand on your knee and gives you a shit-eating grin.

"Why, you're such a baby!"

"I'm sixteen. What's such a baby about that?"

You rebut at him. Camilo tilts his head with mild bewilderment, amusement in his eyes. He crosses his legs and then rests his arm on his thigh, slowly leaning close to you with a playful smile. You gazed at him, confused.

"You wait, little girl, on an empty stage. For fate to turn the light on"

Camilo begins to sing and nods as he looks into your eyes. He tugs your heartstrings with his melodious voice and you had to prevent yourself from swooning.

"Your life, little girl, is an empty page that men will want to write on"

He nods his head with each word he sings, not breaking eye contact. Camilo had to be purposely pushing you to the edge, so you smiled and decided to finally cross the line you made.

"To write on..."

You start to sing. Your eyes glance down to his lips then back to his eyes, and your body starts to lean forward towards him. Camilo gulps, his eyes growing wide as he leans back, avoiding you. He watched you with sheer surprise while you inch your face closer to his.

"You are sixteen going on seventeen. Baby, it's time to think"

Camilo interrupts, pointing at you to stop yet his eyes remain wide and waiting for what was actually going to happen. You bite off a large grin as you watch him lose his cool.

"Better beware, be canny and careful"

He regains his signature smile and composure as he continues to sing. You lean back and stopped towering over him, knowing you just made him nervous which rarely happens.

"Baby, you're on a brink"

The tone of his voice was heavenly but teasing, he softly pats your shoulder like a pal and you had to tilt your head then roll your eyes at him. Camilo stands up, avoiding your watchful gaze.

"You are sixteen going on seventeen. Fellows will fall in line"

He makes his way to your other side and looks at you. His hand gestures in front of you, singing about how a lot of lads will fall in line to get to you.

"Eager young lads and rogues and cads Will offer you food and wine"

Camilo continues and motions to you. He sees the look of excitement in your eyes when he mentioned food and wine, it was adorable. He smirks then walks behind you.

"Totally unprepared are you to face a world of men"

He looks forward, taunting you as he sang. You turn your head with a cheeky smile and slowly moved your face close to his, your noses brushing. But Camilo abruptly pulls his face away, ignoring the nervous pounding of his heart.

"Timid and shy and scared are you"

You raised a brow at him as he sings teasingly at you like you were a little child. You copy the playful look on his face, you lean forward eager to get close to his again. Camilo raises a finger at you and then keeps his distance away.

"Of things beyond your ken"

Camilo keeps his eyes on you when he sings. He was baffled to see you so set on getting close to him, he almost believed you were going to kiss him if he gets too close, maybe he'll let it happen but first, he has to continue playing.

"You need someone older and wiser. Telling you what to do"

You gaze at him as he pointed at you. Camilo marches, facing away from you as he sang. You can tell that he wanted to play with you, so you take the bait. He swiftly turns around with a charming smile.

"I am seventeen going on eighteen. I'll take care of you"

He winks with a hand on his chest and proudly sings, successfully making your knees feel like jelly. You couldn't take what he was doing to you, so you open your arms wide and then ran into his arms as you twirl him around with glee. Camilo's breath hitches at the sudden contact, he halts you with a serious look on his features. He gestures his finger at you to stop, your smile purposely drops as you pretended to become upset at him. You held your chin up and walked away.

Camilo sighs in slight regret, not knowing if you were even joking or not. He gently touches your arm, taking his hand out for you to take. You look at him for seconds then took his hand only to give it a firm handshake. You start to walk away and he chased after you, Camilo's hand slides down from your shoulder to your hand as you immediately take it. Your smile returns and you gracefully lead him back to take a seat, thinking victory is yours.

Suddenly, thunder roars in the sky. Camilo feels the raindrops, he glances around and finds a cover. He stands and runs toward the dry shade, leading you with him to avoid getting soaked in the rain. Surely, it starts to pour and he clicks his tongue now that he has to wait until the rain passes. You grin, knowing you have him all to yourself. You walk up to him and tapped his shoulder.

"I am sixteen going on seventeen. I know that I'm naive"

You sing. You reached to touch his forearm as you slide to take his hand and pull him closer to you. Camilo reluctantly watches, your voice sounds so sweet in his ears.

"Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet. And willingly I believe"

You let go of his hand and let your arms open wide, you cutely twirled in front of him. Camilo can't stop the toothy smile appearing on his face as he laughed.

"I am sixteen going on seventeen. Innocent as a rose"

You lock your eyes on him and teasingly swayed from side to side, the fake innocent look on your face morphs into a sly grin as you twirl and sat down on a vacant seat.

"Bachelor dandies, drinkers of brandies. What do I know of those?"

Camilo sees your shrug and extends your hands. As the rain begins to pour hard outside and thunder continues to roar, he finds himself in a bit of a tricky situation.

"Totally unprepared am I. To face a world of men"

You stand up nodding your head, he keeps his eye on you as you walked towards his side with your hands behind your back. Camilo swallowed with disbelief, you take a huge step next to him as he feels your fingers slowly tracing upwards towards his shoulder. He shuddered.

"Timid and shy and scared am I. Of things beyond my ken"

Your fingers reach to tickle him on the ear as he recoils and tries to walk away. You swiftly stop him by standing on a small platform, boosting yourself up making you taller than him. You look down at Camilo and caught him by his shoulders.

"I need someone older and wiser. Telling me what to do"

Camilo listens to you sing as you wagged your finger at him. He starts to be short-circuited because of how angelic you are singing. With unblinking eyes, he gazed at you dreamily.

"You are seventeen going on eighteen..."

You smirk at the lovestruck look on Camilo's face. You reach and twirled one of the curly strands of his hair around your finger. He melts by your touch and blissfully closes his eyes as he feels your other hand caressing his hair.

"I depend on you"

You sing with a victorious look on your features now that you got him where you wanted. You stroked his face. Camilo slowly opens his eyes and sees your face silently inching closer to his, he almost gasped. So he grabs you by the waist and dips you, making sure his face is away from yours. You peek through your lashes and noticed the evident blush on Camilo's cheeks as he gazes at you.

Camilo immediately pulls you back up and raises both of his hands telling you to wait with a flat look on his face. When he spins and then held out his hand for you, the smile on your face is as big as ever. You gladly take his hand as you two dance together. He grins as he spins you around, unable to believe if his feelings for you were getting reciprocated. You continue to dance with him, your hand remaining in his with his other resting carefully on your waist.

The two of you looked at each other with identical smiles on your faces as you danced around. The hard rain outside was ignored as you and Camilo moved in sync like you were the remaining people in the world. One more spin with your hands on each other's waists and a free hand extended. Your hands meet again and spun together as you both performed your choreography, deep at the moment. Eventually, you both pull away, spin, and sat opposite, and face each other.

You were panting, there was an unsure look on your face. Camilo was the same, looking like he was questioning what you two were doing was alright. You both gently rise, not breaking your gazes on each other. The sound of the pouring rain was loud but not louder than the pounding of your heartbeat. You deliberately tried to spin away from him, slowly becoming nervous. However, when your spinning comes to a stop, you meet face-to-face with Camilo. He was breathing loudly as he peered down on you with uncertainty.

The moment you spun again, you didn't know he was doing it too and it happens again. You end up facing each other, forcing you both to realize that this wasn't some game anymore. It repeats one more time, without a word being exchanged after all the dancing, singing, and teasing.

Soon, you spin one last time and meet him. Camilo couldn't resist it anymore. As you were about to resort to running away and hiding forever. Camilo grabs your shoulders and then firmly placed a kiss on your lips. Your pupils were as wide as the moon when you felt his lips on yours, a warm feeling within you bloomed, and your entire body feels so fuzzy. But when you were about to return the kiss, he pulls away and then looks at you for a second before sprinting away towards the pouring rain with a relieved smile on his face leaving you.

You stood frozen until a smile of disbelief formed on your face, you couldn't believe it, Camilo just kissed you and he feels the same! The amount of happiness you were experiencing was bubbling inside of you and it overflows so you had you let out a huge squeal in the open. Maybe being sixteen wasn't that bad at all.

taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu , @julbees17 , @tyyneyswasgone , @hugsforvarian , @gi-hun-girlfriend , @rinuyi , @try-cry-why-try , @camiloslvr , @tigreost , @tinyherringdreameclipse , @ahslangdxns , @imjustasimplesimp , @cupidsmatch , @skylermoyer , @pepamadrigalthinker , @niallerhere , @iwnttokllmyslf , @camilos-mivida , @hugsforvarian

masterlist

[inkykeiji]

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao  uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

        ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰          ✰          ✰          

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰          ✰          ✰          

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”  

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

[yslkook]

TiO (8)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook is a man of mystery and you take him on a date.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, a shitty relationship, unprotected sex (pls use protection, these two are being foolish) , some choking, grinding, making out, oral

word count: ~6.3k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. a big thank you to @cutechim for creating the texts for me lmao<33

***

Jungkook remains tight-lipped about what it was he had done over the weekend, when he had gone with Jin and Mina to a tattoo convention a few hours away. They had ended up staying the night there, and while Jungkook wanted to ask you to come with him, he wondered if it was too soon to ask. After all, you were both still enjoying each other’s company at your own sweet pace.

Eventually his little secret gets put on the back burner for the rest of the week. You were supposed to get bubble tea with him on Tuesday, but unfortunately a last minute work issue with your client and your application came up. You’d ended up working late, your eyes screaming in fatigue and went straight to bed that evening. He had understood, of course he did.

On Thursday, he was supposed to grab lunch with you at a cafe that he thought you might like, but this time it was him who had a conflict. His older sister had showed up to the tattoo parlor without any prior notice. She does this every so often, when things aren’t going well with her on again, off again shitty “boyfriend”.

Jungkook had sighed, cancelling on lunch with you to spend time with Jooyeon and comfort her with fried chicken and ice cream. You had sent an understanding thumbs up and a promise to call him later and end up having lunch with your work wife, Kira instead.

Kira who doesn’t fail to point out the glow in your cheeks and your general aura, even though it’s been nearly a week and a half since you saw Jungkook last. You roll your eyes and ignore the flames in your cheeks (and her laughter), and change the subject to your work projects. She tells you about some of the coding issues and compliance issues she’s been having with her software, and you tell her about the hours you’ve been pouring into your application for your client.

It doesn’t bother you that Jungkook hadn’t asked if you wanted to meet his sister. After all, he’d told you bits and pieces about her and her relationship. And in the last few weeks, your relationship has blossomed so beautifully. There was no reason to rush, you think. You’ll meet her hopefully under better circumstances for her.

Jungkook spends most of the evening with Jooyeon, letting her cry herself to sleep in his bed. His sister hardly ever cries like this, with sobs full of pain and hurt because of another man. But it’s been happening too much lately, too many fights and too much of Joo losing herself. It makes Jungkook see red more often than not. He knows what you’d say- that she needs him more than anything else and to not be so impulsive.

He makes sure Joo eats a warm meal before she falls asleep and he shoots you a text:

Jungkook: baby

You: hi

You: everything ok?

Jungkook: no, joo’s bf is a fkin asshole

Jungkook: she’s sleeping

Jungkook: miss u

You: im sorry baby :( can i call you?

He jumps at the chance, the sound of your voice and sight of your pretty face on video call instantly calming him. Jungkook is sure to wear a beanie to hide his surprise for you (but you don’t question it. After all, you’ve seen him in beanies plenty of times before and it’s dim in the apartment.) He moves to the couch, asking softly for you to tell him about your day. You recount every single detail from memory, shifting under your covers to tell him about how you had nearly stumbled down the stairs in front of your manager’s manager because you had missed a step.

It pulls a soft laugh from him.

“Jungkook,” You say quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Jungkook sighs, “She’s just… Byung-woo and her have had this on and off thing for years now. He won’t commit to her and she just refuses to see him for what he is. Like, when it’s good, it’s really good. But when it’s bad, it’s awful. I wish she’d fucking see it for herself. I don’t know what to do anymore, baby.”

“Oh, baby,” You murmur, wishing you could hug him, “All you can do is be there for her but be honest with her. She’ll come around soon, hopefully. It’s hard to see past a shitty person sometimes, when all you want is for them to love you.”

“I hope so, too,” Jungkook says, “She’d love you, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Don’t get a big head,” Jungkook chuckles, “Maybe you can meet her someday. Under better circumstances, I mean.”

“Really? You want me to meet your older sister?” You ask softly, feeling a little flustered, “That’s serious.”

“I told you, baby,” Jungkook soothes, “I’m serious about you.”

“Yeah. Seriously crazy about me,” You giggle to yourself. You know if Jungkook was with you, he’d flick your forehead.

“It’s true,” He murmurs, “Maybe I can see you this weekend?”

“Yeah, you still have to show me what you did over the weekend! Take care of Jooyeon first,” You reply, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll drop stuff off, just tell me.”

“I will,” Jungkook promises, “Sleep well, I miss you.”

“Sleep well. I miss you.”

***

Jooyeon ends up leaving on Saturday morning after a lecture from Jungkook and with determined resolve in her eyes. You jump at the chance to take him out tonight, knowing how stressed he’s been the last few days.

You: be ready at 6:30 tn, im taking u out. and dress slutty

Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret your text when he reads it. He considers asking Mina and Mei what this means, but ultimately leaves it alone. Replying to your message with a quick thumbs up, he busies himself with getting ready to see you (and surprising you, finally after a full week of wanting to show you what he had done.)

Once you parallel park your car (which takes far too long than you’d like to admit), you grab the small bouquet of purple roses that you had gotten for Jungkook and text him saying that you’ll be up in a few minutes.

Taehyung had caught you struggling to parallel park, and had told Jungkook with a snicker. Which earned him a punch to the arm.

There wasn’t a particular reason that you had chosen to get purple roses for him, other than the fact that they reminded you of him. You hope he likes them.

Jungkook hears a soft knock at the door, and can already envision you behind it. He hopes you like his surprise, the one he’s been teasing you for a week about. You had given no hints of what you would be wearing- you had only sent him one selfie that didn’t give much of a hint into your outfit. He has no doubt that you’ll look gorgeous, but still.

Maybe Jungkook’s nerves shouldn’t be this intense, but he can’t help it. He swings the front door open, only to be greeted by you swaying on your feet with your hands held behind your back. His heart throbs when you pull your hands apart and present him with a beautiful bouquet of purple roses.

How ironic.

“Hello,” You say with a small smile, suddenly feeling a little shy and gasping when your eyes land on his hair, “Wow. You weren’t kidding…”

His hair is tied back into a ponytail, but it’s unmistakably elegant and so violet. Two neat pieces of his newly dyed hair fall into his face effortlessly, but then your gaze reaches the piercing on his left eyebrow. Your lips remain parted in surprise and without thinking, you reach up to touch his hair. It’s still soft, as it always is.

“Come in, baby,” Jungkook says, taking the roses from you, “You must really like me, huh? Got me flowers and everything?”

“Shut up,” You mutter, cheeks heating up, “Don’t get a big head.”

Jungkook only grins wolfishly at you and winks at you, eyes unashamedly glued to your ass. You roll your eyes, and swat his shoulder as you watch him put the rose in a vase and place it in the center of the dining table.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been in his shared apartment (that he lives with Taehyung and Jimin in) but you somehow feel shy in his presence again, as if it was the first time. The first time you had been here with him had been the first time you had spent the night at his apartment several weeks ago, after a night out with your friends.

You let your gaze wander, curious eyes settling on the subtle matching of the furniture and the cleanliness of the apartment. There’s not a stray speck of dust in sight, but maybe you’re distracting yourself from addressing the pretty purple of his hair. Your mouth is dry, and you’re probably drooling a little. You wonder if Jungkook prepared for this, the same way you did (in that you had washed your car, cleaned every inch of it and gotten a new car freshener).

A faint scent of fresh laundry and lavender sits in the spaces of his home. It calms you and gives you the boost to turn your eyes to him.

“Thanks for the roses, baby,” Jungkook says, giving you a smile and starry eyes. He pulls you into his arms, your back against the counter. “Surprise. Do you like it?”

“Uh,” You mumble, brain deciding to short-circuit with the way he looks at you. His smile turns into a smirk, deciding to further render you speechless by pressing himself closer to you and cradling your neck. He’s careful not to touch your face. He doesn’t want to mess your makeup up terribly, at least not yet.

“I know you like my hair. Your face says it all, baby,” Jungkook continues and ducks his head for a quick kiss, “You’re pretty.” He does quite like this dress, light blue and dotted in small flowers with thin straps. His eyes are instantly drawn to the drawstring at the center of your chest and he quells the urge to pull at it.

Jungkook’s mouth waters when he sees the side split of the dress but you want more from him immediately, but he pulls away to your chagrin. Even with the simple kiss, the burgundy color of your lipstick stains his plump bottom lip.

You shiver. It appears that he tried to take your words via text to heart- to dress slutty. He’s wearing a loose animal print button up, with the top three buttons undone. It gives you a delectable view of his pecs, his collarbones and a hint of the tattoo on his right side. As if you weren’t already weak in the knees for him as it was, he wears a black coat and tight, leather pants.

Jungkook pulls it off, like he pulls everything off and the purple hair blends seamlessly with his look. Tonight, he’d opted for two silver hoops in each ear and a thin silver necklace to match.

Your knees are weak, they’ve been weak since you had seen him in this offensive outfit and his hair, his new piercing that was clearly an attack on your entire existence.

The purple hair. The piercing. He’ll be the death of you tonight, you know it. Your legs are wobbly, panties already probably a little wet just from seeing him and from a few of his kisses. But you can’t help it. Without thinking, you press your lips to his, drawing your tongue into his mouth eagerly. You are so hungry, so eager to devour him and drink up anything that he offers you. Jungkook tugs you closer to him lightly by your waist but-

“Seriously? Right in front of my dinner?” Comes an amused voice from behind Jungkook and you nearly screech at the familiar sound of Jimin’s voice.

“I- I didn’t-You-” You stammer, feeling your face heat up to a degree that it’s definitely never heated up to before. You hide behind Jungkook to fix your surely wrecked lipstick. You’re certain his own lips are probably comically smudged with your lipstick as well. “Sorry Jimin, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know, we’ll leave-”

Jungkook only rolls his eyes at Jimin’s wide smirk and knowing eyes. He hears you scolding Jungkook for not telling him that anyone was home, to which he promptly responds “well, you didn’t ask!”

Despite the very natural and easy flow of conversation between you and Jungkook in your car, you still feel overheated and jumpy, your fingers incessantly tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not Jungkook, it’s you and your own nerves. It’s not the first time you’ve gone out to dinner with him and it’s certainly not the first time you’ve had him in your car. If Jungkook notices, he says nothing.

“Where are we going, baby?” Jungkook asks, looking at you. You don’t meet his eyes, choosing instead to focus on the road despite being at a red light.

“Umm, that place you mentioned the other day. The one we talked about trying together,” You say softly. Jungkook can only wonder why you’re a little quiet, but he thinks he knows. You slip into your head so easily and he doesn’t mind gently tugging you out of your thought cloud and into reality with him.

“Can you help me park,” You mumble sheepishly, “I get nervous parking in such tight spaces.”

“Yeah, pull over here before it’s impossible to,” Jungkook murmurs. You nod and do so, hopping out of the driver’s seat to switch places with him. But before you can get in the passenger’s seat, Jungkook grips your wrist loosely. You look at him curiously, with wide eyes and he drops a kiss to your lips, swallowing your surprise.

“You’re so pretty,” Jungkook murmurs, “So fucking pretty, baby. I love this dress on you.” You preen at his praise, leaning forward for another kiss with a shy smile. He subtly squeezes your left tit before letting his hand travel downward.

“You look really good, Jungkook,” You murmur before he kisses you, “I-I really, really like it. A lot.”

He gently caresses your thigh from under your dress, the heat of his hand shooting straight up your core. Jungkook slips his tongue into your mouth quickly, coaxing your endearing nervousness away. As if you both aren’t pulled over to the side of the street where cars are passing you by (and surely wondering why you both were making out like this in public).

“Are we gonna be those people who have a roadside quickie,” You laugh, gently pushing his shoulder when you pull away.

“Roadside quickie? Get your mind out of the gutter,” Jungkook says but his lips twist into a wicked smirk, “But hey, if you wanna give me road head, I’m not going to complain about it-”

“Ha, you would be so lucky,” You scoff, feeling your nerves beginning to ease out of you, “C’mon, our reservation is soon. And then we can talk about road head.”

Dinner goes perfectly and after a glass of wine you feel those inexplicable nerves wash away. What did you have to be nervous for anyway? It was Jungkook- Jungkook who you’ve known for years. Your friend before any of this. He asks you about work, how your application is going-

“Your client sounds pretty demanding,” Jungkook muses, “You keeping up with it okay?”

“Yeah, but I’m not even an application engineer so I’m just learning as I go. My true roots are data and data science but I get to see all of it. Which is cool. But also time consuming, like the other evening, I had to read up on the compliance regulations. But my favorite thing is creating modeling and programs for this app, it’s really cool because it’s healthcare specific. So I’m learning about that sector as well, it’s mostly python but we’ve been doing testing with different healthcare providers in the area and they’re all responding really well to it-” You’re rambling, you know it, but your passion for your career knows no bounds and Jungkook makes no move to stop you. He only smiles at you, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching, gesturing for you to continue.

It’s funny. Not even a few months ago, you would have cut yourself off from your own rambling. In an attempt to convince yourself that the other person didn’t need to hear about it. Maybe that was Sora’s subconscious influence on you. Today, you don’t think twice about it, glowing and shimmering under the dim, blue lights of the restaurant as you tell Jungkook more about your job.

He makes your heart race and he’s sitting right in front of you. Your chin is in your hands as you listen to the pretty words slipping out of his lips. He’s so dreamy, and you struggle to not let your gaze stray from his eyes and linger on his exposed tattoos and chest. You don’t even know where to look, deciding to settle on the way his newly purple locks fall to his forehead just perfectly.

“What do you wanna eat for dessert?” You murmur, looking at the menu and cautiously allowing your foot to brush against his.

In hindsight, you should’ve seen it coming-

“You,” Jungkook says easily, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“Corny,” You roll your eyes, but nudge his foot again. You end up deciding on sharing a slice of decadent, chocolate mousse cake. Which Jungkook ends up finishing off when you satisfy your sweet tooth after a few big bites.

He leans over without a second thought, thumbing away stray cream from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick the tip of his thumb and he looks at you with wide eyes before grinning roguishly.

“Wanna get outta here, baby?”

“Should I take you home, Jungkook?” You ask, finding the courage somewhere in the remnants of the glass of wine currently evaporating from your system to take his hand in your lap once you’re both settled in your car.

“Do you want to take me home?” Jungkook asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“I have some wine I think you’d like at my place. I just got it,” You say a little breathlessly, “And I have to inspect something, I might need your help.” Jungkook laughs, a little derisively and you pout.

“You don’t have to bribe me with wine, baby. You know I would’ve been down regardless,” Jungkook says, squeezing your hand, “What do you need to inspect? Do you have a leak or something?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a leak alright,” You say under your breath, thinking about the growing wetness in your panties, “My man just showed up here with purple hair and an eyebrow piercing, looking like a damn model after one whole week. I have to inspect him.”

“Oh, is that so? In that case, I would love to be your lab rat. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen the inside of your bedroom before-”

“Who said you’d get that far?”

“I already did, baby. Did you forget?” Jungkook’s smirk widens, eyes sparkling with mischief. He gently cups your face, thumb on your chin and hovers just over your lips. You think he’s about to kiss you, so you close your eyes in anticipation of his lips on yours.

But it never comes. Instead, his breath fans over your cheeks and he lets out a low laugh. “I sure didn’t forget, and I know you didn’t either.”

You roll your eyes and swat his hand away, ignoring (but letting out a smile) when he chuckles. You decide to hold his hand for as much of the drive back home you can.

Jungkook’s hands are on your hips even as you’re fumbling with the keys to your front door. He’s a distraction, his warm heat plastered against your back and the simple act of opening your damn door feels like too much of a chore. When Jungkook’s lips glaze over the back of your neck, his fingers roaming your waist, it’s difficult for you to focus.

So Jungkook scoffs and turns the key for you. “Can’t open the door, baby?” Jungkook taunts and you level him with a glare.

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself in front of my door!”

“You like it,” Jungkook says, shutting the door behind him and hugging you as you try to walk away from him to wash up. You escape his grip with a giggle and lock yourself in your bathroom, while Jungkook waits with a disgruntled pout.

When you come out, you head into the kitchen to pour out two glasses of wine and bring some snacks out. You’re not particularly hungry, though you wouldn’t mind eating and you’re sure Jungkook wouldn’t mind either.

Your train of thought is of course interrupted by the man himself and he wraps his arms around you from behind, pushing you into the counter. One might say that Jungkook is being clingy, but you know this is how he shows his affections. Through physical touch more than anything else. And you quite like it, you like the reassurance of his body close to yours. It’s what you’ve always wanted and never known that you needed.

“Missed you,” He breathes into your hair. Even if he’s been with you for the last few hours… You understand him. It feels like you’re both making up for lost time. For time that you could’ve spent together, rather than apart.

“Me too,” You murmur, “Can you take this to the couch, honey? I’ll bring the glasses and the wine.”

Jungkook hums and kisses your temple, squeezing your ass before heeding your soft demand. You sit next to him, thighs touching, and pour out a glass for both of you to enjoy. You lean against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his bicep and turn the television on. But neither of you are really paying attention.

“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs, “I had a good time tonight, baby.”

“Don’t I know it,” You say smugly, “It’s not everyday a pretty girl takes you out for din-” He cuts your words off by pulling you into his lap, somehow not spilling even a single drop of wine in the movement. You would’ve killed him if even a hint of a wine stain appeared on your velvet couch.

You press your hand into his shoulder, the hint of his tattoo and the glint of his piercing catching your eye. You swirl your glass of wine with your other hand. “What a precarious position to be in,” You say dryly, even grinding your hips into his playfully. He gives you a look, and stills your movements with one hand on your waist. Jungkook sets his glass on the coffee table behind you and cradles your neck, pulling you down for a sharp kiss. It’s almost desperate and needy, nothing like his kisses from before.

You slip your tongue into his honeyed mouth, tasting seeds of his desperation with your tongue. But then, you remember your wine glass and pull away from his lips with a lewd smack to reach behind you and place it on the coffee table as well.

“So pretty,” Jungkook moans, pushing the straps of your dress to the side and dotting your shoulders in wine-stained kisses, “Pretty girl, my pretty baby-”

You tilt his cheek towards you for a kiss, whining into his mouth at his praise. It shoots down your spine in a delicious hum and his hands roaming the expanse of your back makes you feel warm and powerful.

The way your hips move in time with his, the way you fit into the crevices of his thighs and his chest- he just wants to give you everything. He wants to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Jungkook will give you everything, if you let him.

“And what about you?” You rasp with swollen lips and wild eyes when you finally pull away. You press your fingers into the exposed, inky part of his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned for your eyes. “You look so fucking good all the time, but-but I told you to dress slutty and you did this for me, huh? You did this for me, bunny?”

Jungkook’s cock jumps in his tight pants and his throat goes dry. Your eyes are devious, filled with mischief and sin and he gives himself to you fully and wholly.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods eagerly, “Yeah, I wanted to look nice for you, baby.”

“A-and your hair,” You mumble, feeling a little lovesick, “I love it, I love it, I love it-I just wanna- wanna make you feel good. Can I do that, bunny? Make you feel good?”

Jungkook nods with wide, doe eyes, wondering how the tables were turned so quickly.

“Take me to my bedroom,” You demand softly. The glasses of wine and snacks on the tray are left forgotten as Jungkook easily scoops you up in his arms. Even with your lips soft and slow against his neck, he somehow makes it to your bed.

It’s definitely not the first time you’ve had Jungkook in your bed (or that you’ve been in his bed). It’s not the first time you’ve peeled his shirt off meticulously and licked your way down his chest, to unbutton his tight pants. It’s not the first time he’s seen you on your knees on your bed (to alleviate the strain on your knees if you were on the floor).

By now, the shock of your impatience has worn off. Jungkook frequently reminds you to slow down, that you both have nowhere to be except with each other.

It looks like his pants are glued to his legs, and while you can appreciate the visual, you want to appreciate the real thing. You groan in frustration and Jungkook does the work for you, pushing the offending fabric away and breathing a sigh of relief. You crawl closer to him, nails featherlight against his taut thighs.

He’s golden, his body taut and spilling with swirls of color in the divots of his muscles. Your mouth waters.

But Jungkook moves your hands away when you start inching closer, wanting to palm his cock. He joins you on the bed, pushing your back to the bed and hiking the skirt of your dress up to your hips. His hands are tight and warm and welcome on your hips, a flare of desire shooting down your spine and straight to your pussy. You buck your hips up towards him with a pout but he only squeezes.

“What did I tell you,” Jungkook murmurs, swatting your thigh lightly.

“You’ll have to remind me,” You breathe.

“Told you to slow down, baby,” Jungkook says, letting his fingers trail up your thighs and slip under your panties. His hand is warm in contrast to the rings on his fingers. They do little to cool your skin, though. “Impatient girl.”

“You say that like a bad thing-”

“And you talk so fucking much,” Jungkook drawls, hovering over you and dropping his weight on top of you, nudging your cheek to kiss you. You reach upwards to thread your hands through his hair but he’s quick, so much quicker than you. Jungkook pins your wrists with just one hand, and the mere action, the mere display of strength has you sighing and your pussy fluttering.

“Lift your hips,” Jungkook says thickly, and you do so immediately. It’s easy for him to pull your black lace panties off to the side. But before he does so he gives you a small smile of approval, knowing that you wore them specifically for him to see.

“I really do love this dress, baby,” He says, “Makes your tits and your ass look amazing.”

“Take it off, then. And see the goods up close,” You say, wiggling against his grip.

“I will,” Jungkook says lazily, “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” Without a single warning, he lifts you up easily into his lap. Your bare pussy brushes against his bare cock deliciously, your hips moving of their own accord. He stills you again, and carefully unzips your dress and pulls it off of you. His fingers on you are soft but firm, leaving your head spinning and hazy.

You haven’t even had his cock yet, and you’re about ready to combust. Jungkook pushes you on the bed, your tits bouncing with the force of your back hitting the mattress and hovers over you. You pull at his hair a little impatiently and he groans, the sound reverberating across the walls only to ring in your head. You want to hear it again, and again and again.

“Jungkook,” You whine, “Please, bunny, do something. Look at me, look at my pussy, come clean me up-”

“So needy,” Jungkook murmurs and ignores you in favor of kissing your tits, rubbing your nipples with his fingers, “‘M needy for you too, baby.”

“You’re so hard, so big,” You babble, “Please, want your cock, baby.”

Impatient. Jungkook kisses your chest, your belly, your hips and makes you cum on his tongue twice (while you tear up and cry a little bit, gripping his purple locks fiercely and holding onto his shoulder) before letting you stroke his cock. You’re about to push him on his back to blow him with determined eyes, but he stops you.

It appears he’s impatient too, and he wants to see you cream his cock before cumming all over your tits (which has become his favorite place to).

“Jungkook,” You breathe sharply, “There, baby, right there-” You cut yourself off with a groan, stilling your hips and pushing his face into your chest. Jungkook’s groans are muffled against your tits, but you feel the wetness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue over your nipples.

“Shit,” You mumble, “Feels so good-”

“So pretty, baby,” Jungkook coos, pulling away from your tits to look up at you with lust in his eyes, “I’m yours, all yours-”

You groan, bouncing on his cock even harder as a flare of possessiveness flashes across your belly. “Move back,” You say softly, “Lay down. I’m gonna ride you so good, baby.”

Jungkook barely has a chance to catch his breath before your nails are on his chest, trying to hold yourself steady as you push yourself down onto his cock, pulling a deep moan of your name from his lips. His hands are tight on your hips, watching with wide eyes- he doesn’t know where to look, what to do.

He squeezes when one of your hands drifts over his and rests on top of his hand.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Jungkook mumbles, “Whatever you want baby, I’m yours-”

“You talk so much,” You say hoarsely, with a wicked smile, “It’s cute.” Your free hand floats upward, resting loosely at the base of his neck. His chain is cold against his heated skin but all he can focus on is the glide of your hand over his neck.

His cock twitches inside you and your smile widens. “Is this okay?” You whisper, “This okay, bunny?”

“Harder,” Jungkook groans, “Fuck, harder, baby.”

“Like this?” You ask innocently, closing your hand around the sensitive spots of his neck. His pretty eyes flutter as he nods, a quiet moan slipping out into the air.

“You’re pretty like this,” You say softly, “Shit, you’re pretty like this…”

He lets out a choked laugh at that. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his hastily. Jungkook thrusts upward, hips meeting your ass but your hand doesn’t leave his neck. Not just yet. You breathe into his mouth, allowing him to swallow your soft whimpers.

You wet your lips with a loud smack and cradle his cheek gently. Jungkook is mesmerized by the heat in your eyes, smoldering and burning through his skin. You let your fingers glide over your clit, gathering wetness and before Jungkook can ask what you're doing-

“Open,” You mumble hoarsely, “Open, bunny.”

Pushing a finger past his chapped lips, you gasp at the sight of him below you with your fingers in his mouth.

You could cum just from watching him. His tongue swirls over your finger before sucking lightly with a pretty flush covering his cheeks. Your eyes widen, another gasp brushing over his cheeks.

“Fuck,” You mumble dreamily, “You’re so good, bunny.”

Your body is burning, jaw slack and the feeling of Jungkook’s bare cock inside of you almost too much to handle. It was wildly irresponsible- he wasn’t wearing a condom and you weren’t on birth control, and it was a conversation for later. But you can’t think, not when it feels this good, not when you’ve had a taste of his cock in this way. Besides, he always pulls out just in time. But still, you both should know better.

“Oh, Jungkook,” You whine, “‘m close, I’m so fucking close, make me cum, bunny-”

“Baby,” Jungkook rasps, “My pretty baby looks so good on my cock like this. My smart, kind, b-beautiful girl, my angel-”

Tears prick your eyes- it’s easy for you to become overwhelmed like this. You tug your hands away and thread your fingers through his, dipping your head for a kiss.

“You like that, angel? You like being mine?” Jungkook murmurs, slowing your hips so he can take over. But he knows you’re close.

“Only yours,” You mumble. Jungkook pulls you into his chest swiftly and flips you so that you’re on your back. He places your legs over his shoulders and brackets your head with his forearms, his necklace just above your nose and his hair tickling your face. But you're mesmerized by the determination and adoration in his eyes.

“Jungkook,” You murmur brokenly, “O-oh, y-yeah, baby, there, mmmf-” You squeeze his biceps with a gasp, watching his face closely. Pushing his hair behind his ears, you cradle his cheek and pull him down for a sweet, long kiss.

His fingers dance across your thighs and rub your clit in slow circles and murmuring soft words of praise in your ear. You’re vaguely aware that your body erupts in a tidal wave of flames, warming you from inside out. You don’t hear anything except for your cries of his name, you don’t see anything but him through your blurry eyes.

“Baby,” Jungkook says through clenched teeth, “O-open your mouth, baby. Fuck, baby, this pussy- I’m gonna cum, baby, fuck-”

You open your mouth with hooded eyes and your tongue lolling out and Jungkook pulls out of you abruptly with a series of curses. He’s not fast enough to get all of his cum in your mouth, some of it landing on your cheek. You swallow his cum with a dopey smile and open your arms for him to bury his face in your tits.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook says breathlessly, rolling off of you and pulling you into his side, “This pussy’s gonna be the death of me. Where’d you learn to ride dick like that, huh?”

“I’ll never tell,” You mumble, “Gimme a kiss.”

And so he does, tasting himself on your lips. He kisses you nice and slow, just how you both like after a night like this. Eventually he cleans you up and you do the same for him.

Under the covers with only the shared warmth between your sheets to keep you company, you rest your head on Jungkook’s bicep and look up at him. Your fingers continue tracing patterns on his chest, tracing the swirls and curves of ink as they appear.

Jungkook dips his head to nudge your nose and you softly laugh as his hair falls into your face. “What are you thinking about, baby?” He murmurs, lazily draping an arm over you. By now, you’ve realized that Jungkook is possibly the most vulnerable with you in moments like this. When you’re both bare and basking in a post-sex haze.

That’s not to say that he’s not vulnerable at other times. But it’s just different like this.

You take his hand and thread your fingers through his. His fingers are bare, as you had taken his rings off and they’re currently sitting in your jewelry dish on your dresser.

“We just,” You murmur, “We spent so long being apart. When we should’ve been together. All because I…”

“Stop,” Jungkook says firmly but gently, “Don’t do that. You’re where you’re supposed to be. We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

“But we wasted so much time not being together because of me,” You mumble forlornly, feeling your throat getting a little dry, “Because I listened to Sora and didn’t-”

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook says, pulling you in for a hug and a forehead kiss, “That’s not true at all. We’re together now, and we both had some growing to do. That’s what matters.”

“Okay,” You reply in a strained voice. You don’t quite sound like you believe him, and Jungkook makes a mental note of that. “Do you feel like… we have lost time to make up for?”

“Do you feel like that?” Jungkook counters, making your heart skip a beat, “Because I don’t. I know it’s hard, baby, but you can’t beat yourself up for that. It’s in the past, baby. Forgive yourself. There’s nothing to race against, it’s just me and you.”

“I’ll try,” You say a little meekly. Jungkook nods and pulls you in for a soft kiss, one that has your toes curling and your belly flipping. He shifts so that you’re tucked into his side, surrounded by him and his hands on your skin. He kisses you until your previous thoughts don’t feel so loud in your head, he whispers to you and pulls sweet laughs from your throat until you can detach from the strange cloud that had suddenly appeared.

He’s your safe place.

*********

MoM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ULTRAANONYMOUSEY @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[idy-ll-ique]

Things I Like About You.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, fluff, fluff

Warnings: mentions of nightmares

Requested: nope

Summary: Bucky makes a list of 18 things that he likes about Y/N, starting with her voice.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! idk how this idea came to me but I decided to proceed with it anyway lmao. enjoy!

---

The first thing he liked about her was her voice. Just smooth, soft, a little raspy but it made his heart flutter as he walked to the communal area with Steve, his best friend. As they neared the room her voice became louder, turned more melodic. Singing, she was singing a song. A wave of pleasure washed over him when he heard her but he concealed it easily.

The second thing he liked about her was her face. When he and Steve walked into the communal area her back was to them, and she was still singing. For a minute they just listened as Y/N hit all the notes correctly; only then did Steve cut her off by clearing his throat. She whirled around and his breath caught in his lungs.

She had the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen on anyone. They were simply perfect and when they narrowed as she smiled widely, he was done for. Her nose was perfect, her pretty lips were perfect, her teeth were perfect, her hair was perfect and literally everything else about her was just perfect. "Hi Steve, Mr Barnes!" She greeted them enthusiastically.

That was the third thing he liked about her, her personality. She was not too loud, not too quiet, not too brazen, not too prude… simply marvellous. "Hey, Y/N! You can call him Bucky, you know." She glanced at him and his eyes went wide on their own accord as he nodded, agreeing with Steve. Then she gave him another smile.

Oh boy, I'm in trouble. "Fine, Bucky. It's very nice to meet you." She held her hand out and that was the fourth thing he liked about her; the feel of her skin. Just like her voice, her skin was smooth and buttery, so soft that for a moment, he almost didn't want to blemish her beautiful skin by touching her. But he still gingerly took her hand, shaking it.

He did not trust his voice; he knew that if he tried to speak, he'd just squeak out some nonsense. Where is my 40s charm?! Just when you need it… He gave her a polite nod as they shook hands and Steve sighed on his right. "Sorry, it takes him a while to, you know, speak in front of the others…" Y/N waved him off easily.

"I understand, Steve. Let him take his time, no rush." She gave him another smile and this time, he found himself smiling back. "Your smile is wonderful," she told him, which caused his smile to widen involuntarily. "So is yours," he rasped and there it was: the fifth thing he liked about her. Her blush. She went red and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Thank you, Bucky." He had never liked his name more. "Well, now that you two have been introduced, I guess I can go. Think you can take it from here, Buck?" He nodded but the truth was that no, no he couldn't take it. Alone with her? What if he did something embarrassing and drove her off? "Shall we sit?"

She gestured to the couches and he nodded, both of them sitting next to each other. The sixth thing he liked about her, her posture. Back straight, ankles crossed, hands folded neatly on her lap, she looked like a Royal. There were no words spoken in the first five minutes but Y/N didn't get up, she knew it always took him some time. She'd be there for him.

"You sing wonderfully," he blurted out and she turned to look at him with the smile he was quickly getting obsessed with. I'm gonna have to make her smile more often. "Oh, thank you so much!" He gave her a smile of his own and looked down at his lap. "How are you doing today?" He looked back up. "I'm doing well, you?" She nodded and giggled.

"Sorry, didn't know what else to ask." The seventh thing he liked about her, her giggle. Her laugh, in general. "It's okay, darling," he grinned lazily and watched as she blushed again at the nickname. Maybe he won't embarrass himself after all. "So, are you new on the team?" he asked her and she shook her head.

"I'm not on the team, actually. I'm just good friends with the Avengers, I don't fight. I own a bakery down the street," she told him and he hummed. "A bakery? Sounds just as sweet as you," he flirted easily and watched how she went red again. "You're too flattering," she mumbled and he shook his head. "You deserve it."

"I was actually wondering when I'd get to meet you, but Steve told me I'd have to wait before you were ready," she blurted out, suddenly nervous. He cleared his throat and looked away. "Sorry." She placed a hand on his shoulder and his head snapped towards her, making her drop her hand. But he gently took it and returned it to his shoulder, giving her a shy smile.

"Hey, no, don't apologize. I have a PhD in Psychology, you know, I know you needed time. I was willing to wait longer," she told him and he felt his heart flutter. Mama, I found my wife. "You have a PhD and yet you opened a bakery?" She flushed deeper. "I just like baking. I have had my bakery before I even started my first year at the university."

"That's wonderful. So, uh, the Avengers, they visit often?"

"Yes, oh my God! After every damn mission. Steve and Sam were there the last time, yesterday, when they came back. Finished two dozen of my muffins, had to bake more in the middle of the night to restock." The eighth thing he liked about her, the way she complained, how her nose scrunched and she pulled a face.

He couldn't help but laugh. "They do have a sweet tooth," he pointed out and there it was; the ninth thing he liked about her— her pout. "Still! I lost a lot of sleep," she huffed. "I'd like to visit your bakery too, doll. Have an address?" She immediately reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out a slightly crumpled business card.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry!" she hissed, noticing the state her card was in but he didn't care in the least. I'm going to keep this paper with me till the end of my life. "It's not a problem at all, doll." Then he examined the card, smirking at the name of the bakery. "The Sweet Spot, huh? Wonder where yours is," he spoke effortlessly, eyes still on the card.

He heard a choking noise and turned to see Y/N laughing behind her hands, barely able to contain herself. "Aren't you just smooth, Barnes," she replied evenly and all he wanted to do at the moment was haul her over his shoulder, take her to his bedroom and never leave. "I was known to be quite charming in the 40s," he winked and she giggled more.

"I would've loved to see that." Soon, she checked her watch and clicked her tongue, standing up. "My bakery opens in 15 minutes, I have to go. It was nice to meet you, Bucky." She simply stood there, fidgeting and that worried him. "Doll?" Her eyes met his. "Sorry, um, I was thinking… should I hug him or shake his hand? Probably should've—"

Without another word he pulled her in his arms and the tenth thing he liked about her? Her hugs. She easily slid her arms around his torso, pressed her face into his chest— being shorter than him— and squeezed. His vibranium hand cradled her head and the flesh one went around her shoulder, returning the squeeze.

The hug was longer than necessary, not that either of them complained. When she pulled away, both of them exchanged huge smiles. He felt lighter and happier than he had in years, even though he was attending therapy now. "Bye, Bucky! See you later!" Oh see you later alright, he visited the bakery just an hour later.

---

A sharp knock on the door to her apartment startled her. She checked the time; it was 2 am. Dread filled her entire body as she slowly made her way to the living room, peeking out of the peephole. The dread washed away entirely as she opened the door and swiftly pulled the man inside, shutting the door behind him.

"Bucky?"

"I needed you," he spoke hoarsely. Y/N noticed the dark circles under his eyes, his bloodshot eyes, his tousled hair and his dirty clothes. He had been gone on a mission for the past 5 months; they met 7 months ago. 5 months? Who has a mission that long? The Avengers, that's who. Bucky and Y/N had bonded quite well in the small amount of time.

There were many more things he realized he liked about her; her dancing, her cooking, her apartment, the smell of her laundry detergent, her caring nature, her jokes, her— "Bucky? Bubba, did you hear me?" He blinked a few times and offered her a sheepish smile, shaking his head. "I said, take a bath. I'll leave you some clothes outside."

He agreed instantly and went to her bathroom, hopping in for a quick wash. He cleaned himself with her body wash; it smelled like lavender that calmed him. He had missed her a lot. On the way back home all he could think about was her. He wanted— no, he needed to hold her as he slept to ensure he didn't wake up screaming.

After the shower as he put on the clothes she left for him, he realized something. Walking into the only bedroom in the apartment he saw her looking up from her phone. "Yes, Buck?" He hadn't permitted Sam to call him that, even though he had known the man longer than he had Y/N. "Are these Steve's clothes?"

She went pink and stammered. Bucky's brows furrowed. "Are you dating Steve?" he blurted out and her eyes went wide. "No, I've never dated Steve. It's just that… one time he was on a mission and he needed some place to hide and live for a few days. He lived with me. He left his bag behind and I kept the clothes, for situations like these."

He could tell she was telling the truth. The seventeenth thing he liked about her was her honesty. "Oh, okay." Suddenly a smirk came over her face, which made him nervous. "Were you jealous, Barnes?" It was his turn to blush and he went 10 shades darker than she had. "I— I mean, I— I wasn't, I— I was—" he stammered and she laughed.

"I was kidding! Get in the bed, we're going to sleep." He felt nervous again. "I, um, actually had a… favour, if it's not much, uh, if you don't agree I'll take the couch I promise, but I—" She shushed him. "Spit it out." He exhaled. "Can I… maybe… snuggle with you? While we sleep? Please?" He sounded so soft that all Y/N wanted to do was tell him how much she liked him and cuddle him to death.

"Of course! If it makes you feel better, sure, we can do that. Get in." He took off his t-shirt, hurriedly explaining that he couldn't sleep in them but she brushed him off. He got into the bed next to her and tentatively held his hand out, grinning to himself when she snuggled into his side with a soft sigh.

"You're so warm. It's perfect," she breathed out. Bucky never wanted to let go. "Goodnight, doll," he whispered and pressed a soft kiss to her head as both of them drifted off to dreamland. Bucky dreamt of her. The seventeen things he liked about her as of yet, with many more to come. Like maybe the way she tasted.

The way she would feel under him, around him… He gulped and rid himself of the thoughts; he didn't want a boner right now. You've known this woman for 7 months! Calm down, horny. That night, he slept like a baby, his firm hold on Y/N never wavering. Somewhere during the night her face had pushed itself in the crook of his neck, not that he cared.

One of his hands had landed on her butt while the other cradled her head again. Not that she cared. The next morning, Y/N was the first one up. She tried to get up from the bed but Bucky whined, actually whined underneath her. "Don't go." She giggled and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "I need to use the bathroom."

Blinking a bit at the unexpected kiss (not that it wasn't welcome), it took him a few minutes to process her words. He let her go then, falling back asleep. He was tired; if he could, he wouldn't wake up for another 2 weeks. Y/N smiled softly when she came out of the bathroom, he looked so peaceful. Let him stay a while longer. She went to make herself some breakfast.

15 minutes into the process Bucky showed up, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

He buried his face in the side of her neck, leaving tiny kisses. "I thought you'd like to sleep longer," Y/N offered, one hand squeezing his arm. "It wasn't the same without you." She giggled as he pulled away, giving him another kiss on the cheek. "You sure know how to flatter women," she snorted and he grinned.

"Not just any woman, you in particular," he winked, sitting down at the dining table as Y/N brought over 2 plates of pancakes. "Consider me impressed, James," she teased back. "When does the bakery close?" he questioned as they both ate. "5 pm, why?" "I'm taking you out on a date," he said confidently.

"What time?"

"6:30?"

"Cool."

After they finished eating, they cleaned up for the day and left her apartment. Bucky offered to drop her to her bakery and she readily agreed, both of them walking down the street hand-in-hand. "I've been wanting to ask you out ever since we met," he confessed and she turned to him. "So have I," she chuckled and he looked at her, another grin forming on his face.

Soon, they reached the bakery and stood outside, simply staring at each other. "So, uh, I guess I'll—" The rest of the sentence caught in her throat as Bucky leaned forward and kissed her deeply. He couldn't hold himself back any longer. Y/N kissed back, smiling when he pulled away. "Can't wait for 6:30," she whispered.

"Neither can I."

And as he walked back towards the Compound, he thought about her, the eighteenth thing he liked about her (her kisses) and the many more things he was sure he was going to like about her in the upcoming months.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[duskholland]

The Box || Tom Holland

summary ↠ you feel a mysterious object in tom’s pocket... word count ↠ 4.2k. warnings ↠ mildly suggestive, but this is just some very easy domestic fluff :’) a/n ↠ this is a rewrite of a fic I wrote back in 2018! I sat down just to edit it, but I ended up adding 2.5k and changing most of it. lmao. it’s very cute though. very gentle. I was in a proper state after watching cherry, and working on this soothed my soul <3 hope you like it!

if you want to read the original version of this fic, you can find the link for it here <3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up to an empty bed and immediately get the suspicion that something is amiss. The sheets are pulled down, the duvet crumpled, and the mattress cool. As you draw your tired fingers over the space beside you, a soft pout finds your lips.

Tom’s away so often that he rarely skips out on the opportunity to cuddle you in the morning, and if he does, he’s always attentive in the way he pulls the duvet to your chin and tucks you in. He knows you hate to be cold, so he’d never usually jump out of bed so recklessly, leaving behind his uncovered side and your leg sticking out the duvet.

Perplexed, you yawn as you sit up. A quick glance at your phone confirms that it’s still early, and you find your confusion about your boyfriend’s disappearance quickly turning into concern. With a furrow to your brow, you slowly get out of bed, groaning softly as your tired limbs stretch and click. There’s an ache between your legs that makes you bite your lip, memories of the night before flittering through your mind like polaroids. You see flashes of a rose-tinted Tom, kissing up your thighs, panting into your shoulder, moaning sweet words of praise against your lips. He’d made you dinner, then laid you down, and you’d felt like the only person in the world as he’d cupped your cheeks and shown how much he loved you.

After pulling on a pair of leggings and a jumper, you find your curious feet taking you off in the direction of the living room. You hear Tom before you see him—the sounds of socks dragging over plush carpet filling the air. He’s pacing, half-naked, thick arms crossed over his bare chest as a few fingers stroke his chin. He’s in a thick pair of fuzzy purple socks, and rounding off the ensemble are some simple grey sweats.

When your boyfriend reaches the other side of the living room, he pivots and starts to walk back towards you, gaze vacant and fixed on the floor. There’s a tenseness to his jaw that you haven’t seen in a while, the valley between his brows pronounced and deep. Stress is obvious in every single part of his person, and it makes you so concerned that you decide to shatter his reverie.

With a gentle clear of your throat, you step forwards.

“Tom?” you say, voice soft. Your eyes widen as he startles, head snapping up, loose brown curls springing through the air. “Baby, are you okay?”

He blinks at you for a few moments, seeming to shake off the daydream as his lips pull into an instinctive smile. When he meets your eyes, the nerves on Tom’s face start to melt. He gives you a tight nod as he walks towards you, folding into your outstretched arms and immediately burying his face in the crook of your neck.  

“I’m fine,” he vibrates, voice dark and husky like it always is in the morning. “Are you?”

You cup the back of his head with your palm, dragging your fingers through his curls in a way that soothes him. He’s so warm, his arms strong as they wind around your waist and hold you in a tight hug. Your heart beats a little faster at his question. He’s always been so attentive, even in times like these where it’s clear that he’s significantly worse off than you.

“I’m okay,” you respond. You press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he releases a quiet sound of approval, snuggling closer. “You weren’t there when I woke up.” You pause for a few moments, hesitating. “Is something wrong? Is this about last night?”

You know that Tom loves you. He shows you every single day that he adores you. He leaves your special mug out by the kettle, brings home your favourite snacks from the shops, does your dreaded household tasks unprompted. He looks after you when you’re ill, has all the names of your extended family memorised, and always does his best to coax a smile onto your face. His love for you is as obvious as the stars that twinkle in the sky.

Yet, he left you alone, and he’s stressed, and even as you’re voicing your concerns, you can feel him tug himself free from your embrace. It’s hard not to focus on the loosening of his arms and think about his odd behaviour from the last few days. Tom’s been on his phone more, acting scatter-brained and nervous. You don’t doubt his love, but with his life as hectic as it is, you worry about him.

“Last night?” Tom says. He pulls back, warm hands falling to your waist as he peers at you, shaking his head. “Darling.” He frowns. “Last night was amazing.” His lips pull into a slight smirk as he squeezes your hips, eyes glinting a shade darker. “I had fun. Didn’t you?”

You press a light kiss to his cheek, shifting both of your hands to cup his face. His skin is so soft beneath your fingertips. “I had a nice time,” you agree, pushing back the memories before you can get too lost in them. “You’ve been stressed recently,” you observe, treading gently. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

Tom closes his eyes, inhaling a quick breath. “Yeah... I know. I… Yeah. I’m fine.”

You play with a few strands of his hair, trying not to frown too much. “Are you sure?”

He pries open an eye, the honeyed hues of brown bringing you a sense of comfort. “I’m a little stressed at the moment. I have to do something today, and I… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, love… A lot.” He breaks into a breathless chuckle, swallowing nervously. “It’ll be fine. I know it will, but I… I can’t stop thinking about it.” Tom’s gaze shadows a little, and he swallows. “You do… You do love me, don’t you?”

“You have to know how much of a silly question that is.”

Tom bites at his lip as he sheepishly averts his gaze. “Yeah…” He’s sly as he gently pushes forwards to kiss your cheek. “‘Know you really loved me last night,” he rasps into your ear.

You roll your eyes, but you’re glad to see there’s some colour coming back to his cheeks. “What are you doing that’s got you so nervous?”

“Oh… Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Tom looks a little perkier now as he glances at you. “Nothing,” he repeats. “Well, a secret,” he clarifies. “I can’t tell you yet.”

Immediately you pout. “But why?” you whine, pulling your hands away from his face. “You can’t say all that and then not tell me what you’re doing.”

“Yes, I can.” He grins as he steps back, only leaving you once he’s kissed your lips. He hesitates for a moment before adding, “I love you. So much, darling.”

“I know,” you respond, tilting your head to the side as you look at him curiously. “I love you too.”

“Good. Good…” Tom steps back, briefly glancing behind you to the living room wall. His eyes widen as he looks at the clock. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I need to go.”

Tom runs away before you have a chance to catch him, stumbling back into the bedroom as he mutters something about finding some clothes. You decide to leave him to it, a yawn reminding you of how early it still is. You wonder for a moment why he hadn’t mentioned he had an early call time last night, but he’s been so all over the place recently that it doesn’t surprise you.

As you wait for Tom to re-emerge, you walk over into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. You can hear him whistling to himself through all the open doors, and the melody mixes with the sound of your teaspoon bumping against the ceramic of your mug. It’s your favourite one—Tom had brought it back from Paris for you.

You’ve just settled at the kitchen table when Tom bursts back into the room, properly clothed and considerably more at ease. His hair is a little wild, but he’s in a pair of jeans and a lilac hoodie, and he wears his smile with confidence.

“Did I tell you that you look gorgeous this morning, darling?” Tom murmurs. He springs across to you, grabbing his keys from the bowl on the counter as he goes. When he reaches you, he tightly cups your cheeks and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Because you are, y’know? The most beautiful woman in the world.”

You chuckle as you sit back in your chair, cheeks aching from your dopey smile. “Thank you,” you respond. “You’re looking very handsome yourself.”

Tom pulls on his jacket and then reaches down, stealing your mug of tea and taking a long sip before you have time to warn him about how hot it still is. You watch as he splutters, cheeks burning red as he releases a yelp of pain.

“Fucking hell!” he yells, cursing a little more as he puts the mug back down. Tom sticks out his tongue, tenderly reaching up to poke at the tip as he winces. “Ow,” he whines, the word garbled around his open mouth. “It hurts.”

He looks very sweet standing there, and for a moment, you wonder how it’s possible to love someone so much. Your affections smother your chest, and you almost choke up as you’re briefly overcome with a sensation of utter adoration. It’s so intense that it almost hurts, but it aches in the most wonderful way.

You stand quickly and press a soft kiss to the tip of Tom’s tongue. He smiles and retracts it, chasing after your lips until he’s able to kiss you.

“It’s Harrison’s birthday party tonight,” Tom says as he steps back, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I’ll be back from set at 9, then we can go. Is that still okay?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you reply. “Have a good day doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

He smirks elusively, then presses a final peck to your cheek before turning towards the porch. “Bye!” Tom pauses in the doorway to look back and send you a few air kisses, and you pucker your lips and send a couple back. The front door closes with a gentle click, and your smile lingers on.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You think about Tom’s behaviour all day, flipping between confusion and adoration as easily as the wind changes its mind. When 5pm rolls around, you find your way back home, and you spend a few hours milling around before you get ready for the event.

With your dress on and your bag slung over your shoulder, you wait in the porch for Tom to pull up, scrolling through your phone with a crease between your brows. Time is ticking, and with every second your boyfriend fails to show, the nearer you get to being late for the party.

When there’s a bright burst of light and the crunching of gravel, you glance up to see Tom’s headlights douse the driveway to your house. You’re surprised when he clambers from the car instead of jauntily honking the horn as he’s taken such an irritating liking to doing. You watch him mess around with his jeans before hurrying along the front path, pushing open the front door a moment later and startling when he sees you waiting.

“Oh!” he exclaims wide-eyed. His hand drifts down to rest over the left pocket of his jeans. “You’re here?”

You pull a face. “Yes? Hello to you too.”

Tom grunts as he moves forward to kiss you hastily, jumping back when you try to pull at his waist and bring him nearer. As you’re left baffled by his behaviour again, he seems to swallow down a lump in his throat.

“Hi,” he corrects, smiling nervously. “I, uh… I’m going to go and change.”

You wince. “We don’t have time,” you point out, reaching out to gently tug on his sleeve. You turn around, reaching back to pluck one of Tom’s stylish jackets from a peg. You offer it to him with a smile. “Try this,” you suggest. “We really need to go, though, Tom. Haz won’t let us live it down if we’re late to another one of his parties.”

Tom hesitates. You watch as he digs his hand into his left pocket, clucking his tongue. “I… Yeah. Okay. You’re right.” His eyes flutter back to the main body of your house, but his reluctance fades when you nod and peck him on the cheek. He easily pulls off his hoodie before replacing it with the jacket, the red of the smart coat complementing his black t-shirt.

“C’mon,” you urge. “Do you want me to drive?”

He begrudgingly follows you out of the house, locking up behind you both before slipping into the passenger seat. As you navigate the roads, Tom keeps you company, nurturing a constant dialogue as he chats to you. He avoids all of your questions about his day and his mysterious engagement, redirecting everything you say into a comment about you and your activities. It’s cute how much he cares, but you get a distinct feeling that he’s trying to distract you.

Harrison’s birthday party is being held in a bar in central London, and you find him easily amongst the throes of people. Tom’s holding onto your hand, standing back, quieter, as you pass over your gift to his best friend with a smile on your face.

“Happy birthday, Haz!” you exclaim, beaming at the man. Harrison kisses your cheek as he grins, cheeks flushed from the booze and warm atmosphere. When Tom is noticeably quiet beside you, you squeeze his hand and glance back at him, raising a brow.

“Oh,” Tom mutters, blinking a few times. “Sorry,” he adds. “Happy birthday, Harrison.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “‘S alright, mate. You already passed on your congratulations earlier. Thanks, though.”

Your friend is pulled away by his sister a few moments later, leaving you with a confused furrow to your brow. You turn around to look at Tom, tilting your head to the side.

“Wait, when did you see Harrison?” you ask. “Weren’t you at work today?”

Tom reels you in by the hands, knocking his lips up against yours and disrupting your words. “Doesn’t matter,” he soothes, rolling his fingers gently across the sides of your face. “Let’s just have a good party, yeah?”

You melt into him with ease. “Okay,” you agree. His lips are warm and seductive as he kisses you again, deeper, harder, stronger.

Something is in the air. As a pair, you make a few rounds of the party, but somehow, you always end up huddled in a back corner together. As the alcohol flows and your friends around you get less and less observant, it happens more often. It isn’t long until Tom’s tugging you down onto a secluded armchair in the corner of the artsy bar. Your lips find home in his, slotting together as they always do.

As you shift in his lap, part of you feels guilty for blowing off Harrison’s birthday, but another part—a darker, hungrier part—demands you stay exactly where you are. You’re awfully comfortable with Tom’s hands on your hips and your legs spread over his thighs, content with the shadowy lighting leaving you secluded from the rest of them.

“Oh god,” Tom moans, speaking against your lips as he kisses you between laboured breaths. “Fuckin’ perfect woman, eh?”

You suck on his lower lip, smirking as you feel him whine. He discreetly grinds up into you, and you bite back a whimper. “Tom,” you whisper. You move your mouth to his ear, stroking your fingers through his curls as you brush your lips over his tender skin. “We shouldn’t do this here. We can’t go home just yet.”

He groans, head dropping down to your collarbones. When you expect him to agree and help you up, Tom instead seems to decide that his time would be better spent marking up your neck. Your pulse roars through your ears as he takes time licking and sucking and biting your skin, stretching from the base of your neck all the way up, up, up, soft lips suckling below your ear. By the time he reaches your face, you’re squirming, heat pounding in your body as desire replaces any wish to stay at the party.

“We should just go home,” Tom pants, lips red and inflamed. Your fingers drag over them until he uses his tongue to lick over the pad of your thumb. “I can’t take being here.” His voice drops down to a low grumble as he shifts in the chair, “‘m so hard, sweetheart.”

Wanting to feel for yourself, you shuffle up his lap, eyebrows furrowing together when instead of feeling his hardness, your knee knocks against something firm lodged where his pocket is. Confusion replaces lust as you tilt your head to the side. “Wait, what’s that?” you muse, unable to believe that his arousal has manifested itself in his jean pocket. Intrigued, you poke the object, pressing harder as your brows furrow.

Tom’s eyes widen. “O-Oh, no, that’s something else.” His hands go down to your waist as he tries to gently push you off his lap. “Just ignore it.”

But your curiosity has been piqued, and before you can stop yourself, you’ve reached up and dug your fingers into his tight jean pocket. It’s dim and dark in your secluded corner, and you find yourself squinting as you bring the small object closer. Too focused on your task to hear Tom’s noises of panic, you pull it up into the air. As the first dredges of realisation wash over you, you’ve got it half-open, and it’s too late to stop yourself.

There is a glistening engagement ring embedded inside the silky black box, glinting magnificently.

Your jaw drops.

A few moments pass in silence, the air between you being filled by the songs coming from the bar. Your thumb wanders absently over the edge of the jewel as you peer at it, heart throbbing in the back of your throat. Guilt twists into you, mixing with your excitement and your shock, and you look up at Tom, tears pooling in your eyes.

He’s looking at you, nerves written all over his face. His teeth are bared, and his eyes are wide with shock, every inch of him seized up and tense. When Tom sees your tearful expression, he blinks a few times, clearing his throat as he tenderly reaches up to cup your face in a hand.

“Darling…” he starts, voice softer than before. He drums his index finger over your temple as he manages a tense smile. “What’s going on up here?”

You open and shut your mouth a few times before finally finding the words.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, voice thick. “I…” You take a breath, looking away. Your mind starts to spin, suddenly kicking back to life as you recover yourself. “Wait… Why have you got this in your pocket? Did… Oh. Did you get this today?”

Everything makes sense. His nerves all week, his pacing this morning. The fact he’d left suspiciously early and met up with Harrison without you. Tom’s conflict when you’d pushed him out the door instead of letting him enter your house and stash the little black box before leaving for the party.

“Yeah,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. His chest is rising and falling quickly, his jaw still tense. “What do you think? Do… Do you like it?”

You nod wordlessly before looking up at him, lower lip wobbling. “I ruined it,” you lament. You fall forward, groaning as you rest your forehead on Tom’s shoulder. He chuckles, dusting the top of your head with light kisses as he hums.

“You didn’t,” he assures you. “I’m just a twat and didn’t hide it properly.” He falls silent for a few moments, warm hands wandering your back. “Y/N, darling… You… You would want to get married though, yeah?” His voice is light and high-pitched and full of so much uncertainty it makes you bolt upright.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. You balance the box between you and reach up to take his face in your hands, admiring his handsome features with your fingers. “I would love to marry you,” you whisper. You feel yourself well with emotions again, but you let them build. You don’t mind if he sees you vulnerable.  

Tom releases a deep breath, his own face twitching as relief ripples across his eyes in the form of light tears. He leans closer and kisses you very gently, his mouth soft and tender as if he’s savouring it. When Tom pulls away, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, the tip of his nose cool against yours.

“I love you so much,” he says slowly. “Every day, I wake up beside you, and I wonder what I did right to deserve being loved by someone as wonderful as you. I hate being away from you, and I think about you all the time.” Tom cracks a soft smile, his voice quivering. With trembling fingers, he reaches between you both and picks the box from between you both.

You gasp softly as he pulls back, squeezing your hip softly before holding the box out in front of you. The diamonds sparkle, blurred by your tears.

“Y/N… I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and I know this is sudden, and I know you deserve a proposal a thousand times more romantic than… than at Harrison’s fucking party, but I can’t wait another moment.” He swallows as he pulls the ring from the bed of silk. Tom’s gaze is unwavering as he looks back to you, speaking passionately. “There’s nothing else I want in life apart from you. I promise that I will love you for the rest of my life, darling, if only you’ll let me. So…” Tom’s lips pull into a small smile. “Would you do me the honour of marrying me?”

The world stops, and everything fades until it’s just you and Tom and the ring held between you. Without hesitation, you nod your head, two stray tears dripping down your face.

“Tom… You could ask me to marry you anywhere, and I’d say the same thing.” Your heart pounds in your ears. “Yes. I would love to be your wife.”

Tom releases a strangled sound of relief, and you both look down as he hurries to push the ring down your finger. It’s cool against your skin, but before looking at it, you find yourself leaning in to kiss him. Both of you are smiling, and you think he’s crying too. His hand shakes as he holds yours, and when you pull away to admire the ring, Tom loops both arms around your waist.

“It’s so pretty,” you muse. You roll your thumb across the glittering gem. You feel so warm inside your chest. “Did you pick this out yourself?”

Tom makes a noise of disagreement. He cuddles in closer, burying his face in your neck and leaving a few soft kisses to your skin.

“Haz helped, and so did mum. Thought she’d have better ideas than him.” Tom pauses, and you feel him smirk against your neck. “I was right.”

Your heart softens a little at the revelation. “Do you think he’ll be upset that we’ve upstaged him at his party?”

Tom peels back from your neck, pressing his lips to your jaw as he chuckles. “Let’s...maybe not mention it tonight.”

You run your hand through his hair, eyes catching on the way the diamond cascades with shards of light. “Okay,” you agree. You lean closer to kiss the tip of his nose. “Are you sure you’re not mad I ruined this?”

Tom shakes his head. “Absolutely not, love. If anything, this just makes it more special.” He shoots you a toothy grin. “Don’t know what I’ll do with all the stuff I bought to use in the proposal, though.”

You smirk softly. “Well, who says you can’t do two proposals?” you say, intending for it to be a tease, only to widen your eyes when Tom’s entire face lights up. “Wait— babe, I was kidding, you don’t need to do another—”

“Shhh.” Tom cuts you off with a kiss. “Pretend that this conversation never happened.”  

“What, even the proposal—”

“No.” He’s grinning, eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re marrying me.”

Your lips twitch as you give him a slight nod. “Yeah. And you’re marrying me.” Tom kisses you again, and you fall back into his lap with ease. For a few moments, you make out with him, the temperature in your body rising until you remember what started off the conversation, an eternity ago. “Can we go home now, Tom?”

He’s a little slow to respond as he chases your lips, but the smile you share feels like dawn breaking for the first time.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll take you home, fiancé.”

And you like the sound of that. You really like the sound of that.

“Okay, fiancé.”

Judging by the unstoppable grin that finds Tom’s face as he hears you speak, you have a feeling that he likes the sound of it too.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

:’))) im going to be rewriting/reworking a few of my older fics! if there are any in particular you’d like to see refreshed, lmk? 

lmk what you thiiiiink !!! <3<3<3<3

masterlist + taglist through the link in my bio wahey :D

[stuckysdaughter]

I just watched Disenchanted for the second time, thoughts (and spoilers!) below the cut.

Ok, ok. I freaking love this movie! My family and I have been waiting 15 years for this sequel and it did not disappoint!! I was so little when Enchanted came out, and it was my absolute favorite. So much so that I still have the soundtrack memorized and watch the movie almost religiously every year. I think Disenchanted will also be a comfort movie too, since it is quickly rising in the ranks of my favorites.

The first thing I want to mention is the little nods to original Disney tales even from the opening credits. It uses the old style where the choir opens the film (stopped right around the 60’s/70’s but started all the way back with Snow White and I miss that so much can we bring that back?). It really got me in the mood, like i was small and watching my other favorite Sleeping Beauty. You can start seeing where the town already looks like a fairy tale with small hints at what will change when Giselle makes the wish. The three women who offer to help with Sofia are color coded to be Flora, Fauna, and Meriweather. There’s a freaking wishing well in the backyard that looks exactly like Snow White’s! The clock tower of course, and Melvina right away you pinpoint as the Evil Queen (that one wasn’t subtle). You have the two dumb henchmen, and the meet-cute for Morgan and Tyson (that's like my one thing, who names their kid tyson?!). So right away it feels like a classic Disney film from the 40's or 50's which honestly were some of my favorites (but that's another discussion post for another day lmao).

Next, the soundtrack. My family and I are music nerds, and we were hoping for any nod to the original. We appreciated the small “how does she know” in the beginning. You have to listen a little bit, but you hear it. “Nice” was heard from both my dad and I. I was a bit sad that nothing else made the cut, but I'm more glad that the new soundtrack was allowed to shine as it deserves. Alan Menken is the king of good Disney soundtracks (Tangled, Aladdin, Hunchback of Notre Dame, Beauty and the Beast, etc) and boy did he deliver. The new songs are so good, and they finally got the good sense to utilize Idina Menzel in a style where she really shines (Frozen didn’t quite hit this like Menken did. Here she sounds more like she did in Wicked 19/20 years ago just before Enchanted came out and the endings are much bigger than Frozen II or even Let it Go). James Marsden didn’t get as much singing attention in this one, but he was so good when he did. It made me want to rewatch him in Hairspray so I can listen to him some more. Maya Rudolph surprised me a bit, I'll admit. I didn't peg her as a singer, but she proved me wrong. Badder is such a good song. "Every good movie (musical) should have a tango" is also heard in my house often. These two women blend so well I almost can't tell who's singing what part when they're together. Amy Adams of course is a Goddess! Who I love!! I think she really found her sound in this (can you tell i go to music school lmao) and obviously she wouldn't sound the same as 15 years ago, but this fits her better in a way. She sounds more comfortable, and was able to show off more in Even More Enchanted (After the Wish). That's another Snow White nod, by the way, it mirrors pretty closely what she sings to the birds at the wishing well. All this to say, I instantly added all the songs to my Spotify, they have now become part of my walks to class. And no, I'm not ashamed of that. (continue later)

I don't know much about film and how it works, but my god there were some gorgeous shots and set design. You can tell there was a pretty big budget for this, and it shows. It was all just so beautiful to look at, and it seemed to flow along really well. There are always those camera angles or transitions you wish were smoother but I didn't see any. It was all very aesthetically pleasing, and I love that you can see Giselle's transformation into a wicked stepmother through her dresses and her hair. She starts the tale with a dress almost identical to her dress for "That's How You Know", and eventually goes full on Lady Tremaine. (I want that red dress so much holy shit) "My hair's so high! And my dress is so low, oh!" I love you Giselle never change please. And Pip's "I feel like the most superior being in the whole world". I have cats and that is so true, we laughed far too much at that line...

The plot!!!! I love this idea so so much! I remember throughout the years hearing rumors of what the plot was (well before we ever had a real announcement from Disney). From what I can recall, the plot was originally (or supposedly, anyway) that they all were living happily in NYC, but Morgan's biological mom came back into the picture and was trying to muck things up. I don't know how that would've worked, which is probably why it didn't go that way lmao. Anyway, this plot is so cool! And I wish that i could watch it again for the first time! I don't think I will ever react as genuinely as I did that first time with my parents. The acting is top notch, and Amy Adams really pulled out all the stops to convince us that there's two of her inside fighting for control. I like that even when the wish occurs, there's still a lot of nods to other tales. Morgan has a whole "Belle"-esque number while dressed like her, and they even have her plot match Cinderella (mostly). Disney definitely did the same thing here with Morgan that they did with Andy in Toy Story 3. The kids who were roughly Morgan's age (like me) who have grown up with Enchanted are now adults in their late teens or twenties, and are maybe struggling to find themselves and what that means. My mom and I were definitely not crying (and by that, I mean, we bawled like children) at the end where Giselle reassures Morgan that she is her daughter, and that her love for her has power. That's something that I (and I'm assuming just about everyone else my age) needed to hear. Even if it wasn't from my own mother, I know the sentiment was shared. And even Robert's feelings of time slipping away from him and his hopelessness resonated with me and I'm guessing others too.

In conclusion, this was a fantastic movie, and the sequel Enchanted deserves. An amazing plot, excellent soundtrack, and beautiful design. I couldn't have asked for a better way to suitably sate my nostalgia while giving me a whole new movie to love. People can criticize me all they want, but it won't change the fact that this movie is brilliant and one of my new absolute favorites.

(what my family sees sometimes when they look at me and my cats)

[tetsuwhore]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨, 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮, 𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢)

Description: general NSFW headcanons with Kuroo, Osamu and Goshiki

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader, Miya Osamu x Reader, Goshiki Tsutomu x Reader

Warning: explicit nsfw (duh), mentions corruption kink and degradation

he’d likely be into having friends with benefits arrangements - Kuroo enjoys the casual nature of the sex, and is very much capable of keeping his emotions in check so he doesn’t develop romantic feelings

though, he’d prefer it being with someone he’s actually good friends with rather than a mere acquaintance or a random hookup, simply because that’d make him feel more comfortable

this dude would probably text them to come over, do the Do™️, and then end up getting some takeout afterwards while they just chill and watch a movie or something lmao

Kuroo will frustrate you to no end - trailing his fingers just near the waistband of your panties, or planting kisses along your inner thighs while deliberately avoiding your core

he’s a tease - it’s just in his nature. he’ll keep up the dirty talk and deny you to the point where it’s maddening 

if you want to cum, you’ll have to either a) beg hard enough until he’s satisfied, or b) pull his head to your core and grind your hips into his face. he loves when you toss out all inhibitions and shamelessly decide to take matters into your own hands

when he wants to really mess with you, he’ll start grinding into you while you’re in his lap during a makeout session. he’ll make you ride his thigh and simply chuckle, doing a fat load of nothing when you whine about how it’s not enough stimulation to get you to cum

definitely uses sex as a form of stress relief. not only is he the Nekoma volleyball team captain, he’s also in college prep classes - a whole lotta stress equates to a whole lotta sex

for instance, say you’re studying together for an exam and he’s getting restless after having sat at a desk for hours. he’ll lead you to the bed, fuck you senseless to the point where you’re teary-eyed, kiss your forehead after you’re both satisfied, and then get right tf back to his textbook lmao

since you both have such tight schedules, there will be a lot of quickies. storage closet quickie, study session quickie, late night before a game quickie.

still, he’ll feel bad because he knows it’s not as satisfying or intimate, so when he has more time to spare, he’ll focus completely on spoiling you

Kuroo is a very giving partner in general - he gets off on making you squirm and cry out for him. he’ll seize every opportunity given to go down on you. he doesn’t care if he dislocates his jaw while making you feel good, he’ll ignore the ache and keep going until you’re satisfied

he’s an observant one, and will read your body language to learn what you like or dislike. he wants nothing more than to be the partner you need him to be, so he’ll change his approach according to what you respond well to

he notices you squirming more when he’s manhandling and degrading you? he’ll call you a dirty slut and tighten his grip on your hips

he feels your nails dig just a little deeper into his back when he’s being nicer and gentler? he’ll whisper sweet praises about how you’re such a good girl for him

ok im gonna stop now ffsfsfsfs can you tell how hard i simp for him

Osamu and Atsumu are always being compared to each other, with Atsumu being labelled the ‘wilder one’ and Osamu, the opposite

people who aren’t very familiar with him often make the assumption that he’s squeaky clean, and therefore, pretty vanilla in bed… right?

wrong. 

Osamu is into kink exploration, and is very much interested in discovering the various facets of sex

plus, he gets a little kick out of being so unsuspecting -everytime he’s in public and feels a mild sting from the scratches on his back, he smirks to himself, reveling in the feeling of having this dirty little secret

definitely one with a bit of a corruption kink. he finds it amusing how he’s perceived as a vanilla person, when in actuality, he’s the one who relishes the feeling of taking away someone else’s innocence

he gets such a hard-on for responsive partners, ones who can’t control themselves when they squirm around and whimper sharply at even the lightest touch. it’s a way for him to tell whether he’s doing a good job at pleasing his partner. plus, the little boost to his ego certainly doesn’t hurt

such a sucker for domesticity. there’s just something about watch you move around the house (the house you share with him), doing the laundry or cooking at the stove. it may seem odd, but it turns him on because it simply reiterates the fact that you’re all his

on several occasions, he’s found himself sneaking up behind you and gently wrapping his arms around your waist while you’re doing something. when you turn your head back slightly to smile at him, he’ll lightly press his lips against yours before trailing soft kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders

the moment never remains soft for long - soon, he’ll have his fingers in your panties, rubbing tight circles on your clit while you cling on to his arm for support. he’ll hold you in place all the way until you tense up and reach your orgasm

then this bitch innocently kisses your cheek and leaves like he didn’t just turn your legs into jelly lmao

during arguments, Osamu does have a tendency to get frustrated, and he sometimes gets up in your face, hissing at you over something he disagrees with. the tension in the room, paired with you two being pressed up so close to each other often leads to angry sex

he’ll push you up against a wall and pull you into a vicious kiss that escalates to him thrusting into you at a punishing pace. as the tension dissipates though, he’ll be less rough, going softer on you while whispering apologies and promising that he’d make it up to you

Goshiki probably gets a little blushy thinking about a lot of people, many of which tend to be strangers that he’s seen from afar and found attractive. he ends up having these little fantasies in his head sometimes - nothing too intense, and he probably wouldn’t even act on them

but while jerking off, his mind tends to… wander, and he begins fantasizing about these little crushes. he always feels bad afterwards, feeling like he was being disrespectful

lmao one time, he even felt compelled to go outright apologize to one of his senpais for having a ‘dream’ about her. she laughed when she deciphered what his stuttering words meant and brushed it off as something that happens to everyone

even if Goshiki’s dating someone by his third year, he may still be pretty nervous when it comes to sex. though, by the time you two actually start becoming sexually active, his drive to be ‘the best’ (yes, even at sex) is simply stronger than his nervousness

at first, you’ll likely suggest mutual masturbation so you can learn how the other likes being touched - he may not be 100% on-board at first, being impatient to jump right in and learn first-hand what you like, but he eventually realizes that it’s a good first step and agrees

he’ll need you to guide him yourself the first few times he touches you. gently grip his hair and guide his mouth where you want him, talk him through how you want him to finger you, give him verbal instructions if you want it “harder”, “slower” or “right there”, etc

as he learns, he’ll pick up on your non-verbal cues as well. he’ll start to observe your body language, or realize how your moans get louder when he does something that you like, and he’ll adapt his technique accordingly

he’s very eager to please in general, and will absolutely apply the saying “practice makes perfect” here, working hard at honing his technique to improve his skills. boy just wants to do his best to make you feel as good as possible

Goshiki always wants to be as close to your face as he can be because he loves hearing your pretty voice right up in his ear. as smug as it makes him, he still can’t help the blush on his face everytime he hears you cry out and whimper for him

for him.

you’ll actually make this boy short circuit if you moan his name while he’s touching you. he’ll tense up for a second, and then immediately go feral, working his tongue or fingers harder until you forget everything else but his name

he’s such a sucker for eating you out - he’s grown addicted to having your thighs wrapped around his head while he’s lapping his tongue at your clit and reveling in the gorgeous sounds of you sobbing his name

now everyone and their grandmother already headcanons this, but c’mon - praise kink. Goshiki fucking devours any praise you throw at him, be it about his physique or skill

it’s a way to boost his ego and bring out the more smug, dom side to him that makes him want to fuck you until you cry

[the7thcrow]

a train, her lips, the music

~

pairing: violinist!hyunjin x (fem) reader

summary: hyunjin is a struggling violinist, and with you, the gorgeous young pianist new to their city’s orchestra, who could be a better muse?

word count: 5.5k

genre: orchestra au. I'm not sure if this is fluff or angst (or either) so i’m just going to say romance lmao. suggestive.

warnings: a very poetic make-out session. possible musical term inaccuracies (i played the violin when i was like eight, and don’t remember a thing.)

rating: 14+

a/n: hi everyone! here’s a new hyunjin one-shot yayy. i'm really happy with this one tbh :) if you like it, or have any thoughts, don’t be shy to send an ask or message! I love hearing what you guys think. anyway, enjoy the fic!

...

..

.

Hyunjin loved you before he saw you. Well, perhaps not you yourself, exactly. But your sound. The way with every note you played, that with every piano key that was blessed with the grace of your fingertips the empty theatre seemed to come to life. Your music would dance through the absent audience with the footsteps of an angel, soft and melodic. Hauntingly beautiful. Perfect.

It made something within his chest stir. An inkling of admiration, perhaps. Of inspiration. A small hint of movement within the ancient machine of his heart that had long since rusted over.

He stood there stunned, as your music filled his ears. As he leaned with his back against the theatre door, not daring to take a step inside. Not wanting to break the spell that you had casted over him.

He was shocked, stunned. Almost scared.

All for the reason that when he now stared at his violin case, your melody flooding his thoughts, he actually wanted to play. He wanted to stand on stage and join you. To feel his fingertips rest against the violin’s strings, the bow his weapon of choice within his hand. He wanted to be a part of the music, to let it run through his veins once more, to let the ghost of song possess him for just a moment longer.

And that desire to play terrified Hyunjin, because it wasn’t something he had felt in years.

~~~~

There wasn’t anything Hyunjin despised more than Thursday’s. After all, Thursday’s were the days the orchestra would get up at 6:00 am for morning rehearsal. Thursday’s were the days he’d perform to an audience all afternoon, only to go home on the late train because that was the only time it would run by the station near his apartment complex.

He’d spend all of every Thursday with his violin, which was why he couldn’t very well stand them.

Because God, did Hyunjin despise that bloody violin.

Of course, he hadn’t always felt this way. In fact, there was a time that his violin was all he could think about. His mind would constantly swim in the melodies he could craft, the songs he could master. Every jingle on the subway would spark an idea, his knee bouncing in anticipation for him to get home, hardly even able to wait.

He’d made it his life’s work. His entire being and soul entwined with those familiar strings and wood.

So why was he so fucking unhappy?

It was a good question, and one he didn’t quite know the answer to himself. It wasn’t like it happened all at once. He didn’t simply pick up his violin one day and decide he wanted to set it on fire. No, it happened slowly, over a long period of time, as dying passion so often does.

It had started with days in which he found himself stuck. The morning practices were beginning to drag, the audience’s enthusiasm not quite as motivating with each coming performance. At the end of the day, he no longer wanted to pick up his bow and train, but rather sink down in bed and sleep until sunrise.

Playing had begun to feel like a chore. Like overbearing work, rather than passionate bliss. As Hyunjin began to realize this, it was like the spark of discontent had caught flame, and his unhappiness grew to resentment.

Here he was, putting all his time into his music, and what was he getting from it? The rush of performing on stage had melted away, the hunger for the melody and rhythm no longer consumed him. He was bored of it all. Tired. So what was he doing, why should he continue?

The answer was because he couldn’t let go. He knew that some past version of himself loved this damn instrument, and he just wanted to understand why. Why had the music left him, and was it even possible to get it back?

Hyunjin didn’t know, but with every passing day he began to doubt himself more and more.

Today was a Thursday. Which of course meant Hyunjin was in a terrible mood. However, the evening had finally broken through, early morning practice and today’s show having passed by in that blurry, tiresome way they always seemed to.

Which meant Hyunjin could leave the auditorium in an hour and go home. Finally, practice tomorrow wasn’t until the afternoon, which would give him a break from this god awful theatre.

“Great performance today, huh?” Seungmin asked, gently placing his cello in its case. Seungmin was the first friend Hyunjin made when joining the orchestra three years ago, back when he was the naive energetic kid he used to be.

Which meant that Seungmin had been there to see Hyunjin’s spark die out. And although Seungmin wouldn’t admit it, Hyunjin knew that he’d been trying to reignite it, in any way he possibly could.

Most days, it was like this. Words of encouragement and enthusiasm after a performance.

“Yeah, it was great,” Hyunjin replied, at least trying to feign some excitement. It fell flat however, as Seungmin sighed, his smile fading.

“It really was, Hyunjin. You did great. You always do.”

Hyunjin knew this. Not in a cocky, prideful way. No, in fact, he took absolutely no pride in his success. He didn’t care. Sure, he did well. Of course he did, he trained his whole life to do well after all.

It was nothing to be proud of. Frankly, he would only be embarrassed if he didn’t.

“Thank you,” he said, giving Seungmin a small pat on the shoulder. “You did too.”

“I’m happy you think so,” Seungmin returned, taking his case and heading towards the building exit. “I really am. And Hyunjin?” Seungmin called, causing the boy to truly look in his eyes, which were full of something he could only recognize as pity.

“I hope that one day you’ll genuinely be happy you played well too,” Seungmin said, disappearing out through the glass doors without another word.

Hyunjin stood silently as he watched Seungmin through the glass, hauling his large cello case across the street and heading towards the train station. He let out a sigh. If only Seungmin knew he felt the exact same way.

Hyunjin glanced down at his watch. He had about an hour to kill before he’d have to head to the station to catch the night train. He used to spend the time practicing, perfecting his craft. Now he’d sit in one of the many empty chairs of the auditorium, mindlessly scrolling through his phone as the hour slowly trailed by.

However, today was different.

You were there.

As Hyunjin approached the auditorium doors, he heard the sound of piano keys echoing through. He stopped in his tracks, surprised he wasn’t alone. Nobody ever was here at this time, all of their apartments located near the auditorium, in the nicer area of town. No one else took the night train.

Until now, that is.

Hyunjin was about to open the door to check who it was, when suddenly he stopped. This tune, this melody you were playing… It was beautiful. It was gorgeous. Heavenly.

“This would be a lovely duet,” he thought, a surprise to even himself.

The song took hold of his soul, clenched his heart in its firm, powerful grip. So he sat there and listened. And listened. And listened some more. Until it eventually stopped, the hour having trickled by, gone with what felt like a blink of the eye.

Hyunjin, who had been entranced by the sound, rose to his feet, having sunk to the floor at some point. He blinked out of the trance that had enveloped him, shaking his mind of the hazy fog. Quickly, he opened the door a crack, peeking inside.

There you were, sitting at the piano’s bench. Right, you were new, the previous orchestra pianist having just retired. He’d noticed you at today’s show, acknowledging that you were quite talented. Yet, somehow, it was different when you played alone. Not overshadowed by the hundreds of other instruments occupying the theatre.

Frankly, you could entrance an entire audience all on your own, Hyunjin was sure.

If not with your song, then your beauty, no doubt.

Hyunjin watched you for a moment, as you closed the piano lid over the keys, a content smile on your face. He found himself smiling too. He once had that expression on his face as well. So happy to be on stage, to be playing.

Then, to his surprise, you turned to look at him. He didn’t think you could see him, peeking through the theatre door, but as your eyes locked with his this was clearly proven false. You had determined eyes, even in your surprise, as you began to make your way off stage and towards him.

Now, looking back, Hyunjin still isn’t sure what was going through his head at the time, but overwhelmed by your firm gaze and confident stride, he did the only thing he could think to do.

He ran.

Quickly scurrying outside the theatre, away from that curious imploring glint in your eyes, and towards the train station. The night train would arrive in 10 minutes. He was simply being cautious not to miss it, and talking to you would have only made him late.

Right. Yeah. That’s why he left. Not to be late, that’s all.

So why, when you walked on the train a minute after him, did his heart leap into his throat?

He watched you sit down a few seats over to his right, not yet casting him a glance. You had your headphones in, swaying your head back and forth to a silent melody. At first, he thought you didn’t recognize him. He let out a sigh of relief, which was quickly cut short as your eyes shifted over to him, a look of recognition taking hold of your features.

You pull out one of your headphones. “You,” you say, tilting your head to the side. “You were watching me in the theatre, no?”

Hyunjin, both surprised and a little affronted by your directness, sighed. “Yeah, I was.”

“Well, did it sound any good?”

Now that wasn’t what he expected you to say.

He blinked. “Well, yeah? It was brilliant, actually.”

You smiled, letting out a relieved sigh. You shuffled over a couple seats, sitting yourself beside him. “You really think so? Because I’ve been composing it for a while, and I still think the tempo might be a little off near the end. I don’t know what-”

“Wait,” Hyunjin cut you off, raising his eyebrows. “You’re the one who wrote that?”

“Well, yeah,” you laughed. “Why, did it sound like something you’ve heard before, or?”

“No,” Hyunjin replied, unable to hide the pure awe in his voice. “No, I’ve never heard anything like it, actually.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” you said shyly, the faintest hint of a blush cascading over your cheeks.

You glanced away from him, a silence passing between the two of you. Hyunjin continued to watch you, the way your mouth remained curved upwards in glee from his compliment. It was obvious you were thrilled by this. He understood why, while he had never written his own music, nothing used to make him beam like someone complimenting his own personal style. His own flare.

The thought cast over him sullenly. He didn’t care when people told him that now, didn’t brighten the way you did.

“You’re very talented too, you know,” you said, still looking ahead of you. “I enjoyed your performance today.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin said, but even he could hear the hollowness of it. He didn’t want to talk about his violin, he was off schedule. He was free, for now. “Did you just move here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah I did. It’s still a little crazy, being in such a big city,” you say, gesturing towards the window in front of you. “I’ve talked about it my whole life, since I was a little girl, but now that I’m actually here… It doesn’t quite feel real.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Hyunjin replied, causing you to shift your focus over to him. “I was like that too, when I first moved here.”

“Really?” You laugh. “That surprises me.”

“Why?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Well to be fair, I don’t really know you,” you began. “But you don’t strike me as the jittery type.”

Hyunjin didn’t know why this hurt. It was true, he wasn’t the jittery type, not anymore at least. But was it really that obvious? So much so that you could tell from what, watching him play once?

“I used to be,” he said quietly. “But things change, I guess.” The conversation died quickly after that, a firm quiet nestling between the two of you. You continued to stare out the train car window, the city blurring by in the fallen darkness. Hyunjin looked down at your shoes, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by staring, but not ready to disregard you either.

For a reason he couldn’t quite understand, he didn’t want you to see him that way. You were this passionate brightness filling the dingy train car, and what was he?

Nothing. He was just a man. A man who happened to play the violin, not a musician. Not the way you were.

“You never told me your name,” he spoke softly, shifting his focus to the window as well. Trying to take in the world as you saw it, in a way.

“It’s Y/N,” you returned. Y/N. He liked it, it held a pretty sound, especially when you said it. “And yourself?”

“Hyunjin,” he replied. You turned to face him, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Well, Hyunjin, it was nice meeting you,” you said, rising to your feet as the train came to a stop. “But this is my stop. And hey,” you began, a glint of mischief flashing in your eyes.

“Next Thursday, if you want to hear me play, you can just come into the auditorium. No need to be so stalker-ish about it.”

He felt his cheeks heat up, frantically opening his mouth to retort, to explain he wasn’t trying to be a creep or anything. However, you had already stepped off the train, disappearing into the near empty station.

He sighed, his heart beating quickly in his chest. He glanced at his violin, that gorgeous melody of yours ringing in his ears. One thing had become clear.

You were trouble, certainly. But maybe you were just the kind of trouble he needed.

 ~~~~

The next few weeks passed by quickly. While Hyunjin continued to despise morning practices, he slowly began to not resent the performances quite as much. Mostly because, well, you were there. Sometimes he’d catch your eye from across the theatre. He’d give you a wink and you’d flush slightly, before rolling your eyes and granting him a smirk of your own.

Sometimes when he glanced over, you wouldn’t notice him at all, but he didn’t mind. No, in fact, he enjoyed this just as much, actually. Seeing you entirely focused on the piece you were playing, chewing on your bottom lip slightly, your eyes completely zoned in.

You were just so damn passionate, and he came to see this more and more with each passing day. He saw this the most so on Thursdays, which had become his favourite day of the week, thanks to you.

Today was a Thursday, and so he found himself sitting in the first row of the auditorium, looking up at you as you worked on your music, that determined look on your face.

“Come play with me,” you said suddenly, glancing down at him from your spot on the stage. This was a regular occurrence. You asked him to play every Thursday, and his answer was always the same.

“No, I’d rather watch you play,” he spoke softly. You sighed, the light fading from your eyes momentarily. He hated that look, that undeniable disappointment. Yet, without fail, he made it appear every Thursday.

Why? Couldn’t he have just sucked it up, played a song or two, just to make you happy?

Sure. He probably could have, but he didn’t want to ruin this. If this became another day in which he was forced to play, he’d begin to resent them.

And that was the last thing he wanted to happen.

However, he couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that was curious. Curious of how it would feel to stand next to you on that stage, to pick up his bow and join you. The curiosity tickled under his skin, beckoning for attention.

But he ignored it. For now.

“The song is really coming together,” he said, trying to heighten the mood.

“I think so too,” you smiled, that brightness lighting up your eyes once more. “But it’s still not quite perfect.”

Hyunjin thought it was perfect. He thought it was perfect the first time he heard it, but he’d learned that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You were always striving to be better, to improve, and comments like that simply didn’t help you do so.

“You’ll get it, don’t worry,” he reassured you, grabbing his jacket from the chair beside him and rising to his feet. “Art takes time.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, closing the piano lid and stretching out your arms. “I’m just too excited, I guess. I love writing pieces, don’t get me wrong, but there’s nothing more satisfying than the finished product.”

You walk off stage, picking up your coat from next to his.

“Hmm,” he hummed, grabbing his violin case. “I get that, I was always like that too. Always anxious for success.”

“You always say that,” you acknowledged, glancing up at him. “You always say “was,” as if you’re not that way anymore.” The two of you exited the theatre, heading out the building doors towards the train station.

“I… I know I do,” Hyunjin sighed, pulling up the collar of his jacket, trying to shield himself from the winds crisp chill. Autumn had arrived in the city, and while gorgeous in it’s smell and colours, it held a bitter cold. “I’m just not so much like that anymore, I guess.”

You frowned at this. “Why not?”

Hyunjin shrugged, he wanted to know what exactly happened to him just as much as you did. “Maybe it’s just something that happens with time, you can’t hold onto passion forever.”

As the two of you approached the train station, you shook your head. “I don’t think so,” you said, your voice firm. “I don’t think people can completely lose something like that. If you held that passion once, you can harness it again. You just have to try.”

Hyunjin, unsure of what to say, remained quiet.

“And you know, a good way of doing that would be coming up on stage and playing with me.”

Hyunjin sighed. Maybe you were right, but then again, he’d  tried this before. He’d went home and played off the clock. He’s spent hours in the dead of the night with nobody but his violin and bow. It didn’t seem to help then, why would it now?

“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” you said, watching patiently as your train entered the station.

“I will,” Hyunjin murmured, and he meant it. “I promise.”

“Good,” you smiled, that pure and genuine grin of yours shining. “You’ll get there, don’t worry. Art takes time after all.”

~~~~

That night, as Hyunjin arrived home from your time on the train, his violin case felt a little less heavy. A little less of a burden. He stood at his window, drinking in both the moonlight and the memory of your laugh. Your song. Your sound.

That’s when he felt it, like an itch nestled under his skin. That hunger. That need.

It spread through him like wildfire. A new melody echoing in his ears at the thought of you, of your passion, of your love for music.

Of everything he himself had lost.

He opened his violin case, picking up his bow, murmuring to himself.

He sighed, placing the violin beneath his chin. “I must be out of my mind.”

~~~~

The week passed by slower than it ever had before, as Hyunjin anxiously awaited Thursday evening.

It was strange, how in just a few weeks everything had seemed to change. Never did Hyunjin think he would find himself here again, violin case in hand, jittery with nerves and anticipation.

He was going to play for you today. He’d decided it himself, and there was no backing out of it now.

No, because in some strange, yet undeniably intense way that Hyunjin didn’t quite understand, he wanted to play with you. Perhaps it was to see you smile, to have your eyes light up in surprise. Maybe it was to show you a glimpse of who he used to be, before this strange stagnant fog washed over him. To see the part of himself he knew you’d admire, far more than the Hyunjin you knew now.

Or maybe, just maybe, a part of him was doing this for himself too. For the first time in years, he finally felt a semblance of love towards the music again, and he’d be damned if he let it slip from his grasp so easy.

So he’d fight to keep the melody at his fingertips, as hard as he very well could. Which is why he found himself standing in front of the auditorium door, violin case in hand, knee bouncing nervously as he could hear you playing the piano inside.

He opened the door, and you glanced up at him, casting a small smile before returning your gaze back to the score in front of you. This is how it always was. Normally he’d find a seat within the theatre, and the two of you would spend majority of the time without talking. There would be time to chat later on the train, but now it was the music’s turn to speak.

Only today was different. Today Hyunjin didn’t take a seat. Instead he walked up on stage, removing his violin from its case. You stumbled over a few keys.

“What are you doing?” You asked, stopping your playing altogether.

“I told you last week that I’d think about it,” Hyunjin said, rosining his violin bow. “I’ve thought about it. I’ll play with you.”

The look on your face slowly shifted from that of pure confusion, to utter delight. “Well, it took you damn well long enough.”

The two of you chuckled. As the laughter died out, however, the room filled with a charged silence. You watched him carefully, hesitantly opening your mouth to speak.

“What made you change your mind?”

Hyunjin, eyes still trained on his violin, took in a deep breath. “I don’t really know myself, but…” At this, he finally looks up at you, his lips drawing into a warm smile. “I do know that it’s thanks to you.”

A blush laces your cheeks, as you shyly look away from him. “I’m glad,” you said quietly, which made Hyunjin’s heart beat slightly faster.

You cleared your throat, tidying the assortment of music sheets on your piano stand. “So, what do you want to play?”

Hyunjin thought for a moment. “People always like when I play Beethoven.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, chewing on your bottom lip the way you always did when you were thinking hard about something. “I didn’t ask what other people want you to play, I asked what you wanted to play.”

Hyunjin blinked, surprised by your response. What did he want to play? He didn’t even know what he liked anymore.

Then a melody entered his ears, a familiar sound of moonlight and laughter. Of train stations and cold autumn air. Of hope.

Of you.

No. It wasn’t ready. It was hardly coherent sound, he’d only been working on it for a week. Yet, the song called out to him like a beacon, unable to ignore. That was what he wanted to play. That was what he would play.

“I’ve been working on something,” he spoke quietly, daring himself to commit to it.

“Really?” You asked, both surprised and ecstatic. “Can I hear it?”

Hyunjin sighed. He was really doing this. “It’s not very good, I haven’t been working on it long.”

“I’m sure it’s better than you think,” you reassured him. “You’re always your toughest critic.”

He couldn’t argue with that, and so he raised his bow and began to play.

The song began slow. Poised. Controlled. A careful rhythm, steady in its entirety. Hyunjin closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully dive into the essence of the song. Even now, images of you flashed into his mind, of that first day he saw you in the theatre. The beginning of it all.

Slowly, the song began to escalate. It’s tempo increasing. Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows, sweat beading at his temple with concentration. The intensity of it all was overwhelming. With each new note, he sawnot only you, but himself. He saw the change in his aura, a softness peeking through in the cold exterior he’d created around himself.

He saw the city passing him by on the train. His life passing him by these last couple years. He hadn’t been appreciating it. No, he’d resented it all, and that was time he’d never get back. Never.

But he wasn’t a fool. He knew he wouldn’t let something like this happen again, to let his passion fizzle out so greatly. To resent this instrument in his hand so damn much.

Because why should he? This violin brought him from his small home town to this grand city before him. It carried him on stage, with an audience eager to hear every note. It filled his life with sound, and brought him every opportunity he could dream of. And now, it had brought him you.

He was still playing, but his mind was no longer running in the mechanical, lifeless way it had been. He was no longer calculating every note, his mind now living in the current chord, rather than existing in the one that came next.

Hyunjin had become a part of the music once again. Finally.

The song came to an end. He let out a shaky breath, opening his eyes to look at you. Your face was foggy, blurred, and he realized that he was crying. He blinked quickly, bringing a hand to wipe the tears from his cheek.

You rose off the piano bench, carefully making your way over to him. There was something behind your eyes, something more. Gently, you brought your hand to his cheek, wiping the remaining wetness from his cheekbone.

He laughed quietly, glancing away from you, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be,” you replied, in all sincerity. “Thank you, for playing that… It was beautiful.”

“You think so?” He said, looking back at you, a smile forming at the corners of his lips. “Because I still think the tempo might be a little off near the beginning,” he said, mimicking what you had told him that first day on the train. You laughed, rolling your eyes as you began to pull your hand away from his face.

However, he stopped you. Gently taking your hand in midair, holding it between you two.

“It’s about you, you know. The song,” Hyunjin said softly, watching as a surprised blush dusted your cheeks. “About everything you’ve done for me.”

“What-what do you mean?” You choked.

“I was just about ready to give up, before you got here,” Hyunjin admitted, squeezing your had a little tighter. “I’d lost any taste I’d had for music, and wanted to just quit. I didn’t think I had any possible chance of finding love for this thing again,” he chuckled, raising the violin in his free hand.

“But then you came here with this passion and excitement. Exactly who I once was, and you made me want to try again. For real this time, because as much as I told myself I’d tried before, I hadn’t. Not truly. Without you, I never would have come on stage and played. I never would have written this song. I never would have changed. And while I’m still not quite there, I’m still not quite the excitable kid I once was when I first came here, I’m something. And that something is all I need to start anew. So thank you, Y/N. Thank you.”

You stared at him for a moment, your eyes wandering across his delicate features. There was a newfound brightness to his expression that wasn’t there before. You could see it in the lines of his smile, the crinkles of his eyes. It was there, undeniably so.

Then, without an apparent second thought, you leaned in, connecting his lips with your own. Your lips were soft, but held an undeniable sense of determination. There was no sign of hesitance in the way you kissed him, which made him smile against you. Even now, you didn’t have a reluctant bone in your body.

He ran his hands up along your figure, pulling you closer. He needed you close, to feel the heat radiating from your body. To smell the fragrance of your perfume, of spring flowers and falling rain. It was fitting, he thought, that you smelt of new beginnings.

Your fingers danced along the skin of his collarbone, peaking through his button up. The action sent a shiver through him, at the faintest hint of your touch. It didn’t go unnoticed, as you drifted your lips away from his own, making your way down his neck, earning yourself another sharp inhale.

You laughed lightly, your breath hot against his skin. “Eager?”

Hyunjin laughed, gently lifting your chin up to look at him. “You have no idea.”

He collided your lips together once more, this time with far more vigour. He was burning for you, his entire body set alight. He wanted you, and he could feel how you wanted him too. With the way your hand now clutched his shoulder tightly, your other trailing down his abdomen.

He redirected the two of you, shifted you over towards the piano. Careful not to break his lips away from your own, he laid you down against the bench, the wood cool against your back. He hovered over you, lifting your shirt up as he planted a trail of slow, sultry kisses down your abdomen, making his way down to your core.

You looked down at him, your eyes meeting. A smile grazed your lips at the intensity swimming in his eyes. He moved further down.

And so the two of you made music of your own.

   ~~~~

One year later...

“Amazing performance today, Hyunjin,” Seungmin said, giving the taller boy a pat on the back. The auditorium was still bustling with people, the audience exclaiming their appreciation to all of the musicians. A year ago, Hyunjin had always left the theatre immediately, if not to go home then to hide away until all the clamour and excitement died down.

Now, however, he found himself directly in the center of it all. Thanking everyone who paid him a compliment, and meaning it. There was no longer a hallowness to his voice when he received praise, but rather a genuine gratitude.

“Thanks man,” Hyunjin smiled warmly, “you did great too.”

“Thank you. Oh, hey Y/N!” Seungmin called as you appeared beside Hyunjin, who took your hand, intwining your fingers in his own.

“Hi, Seungmin. Great job today,” you complimented, nodding towards his cello case. Seungmin thanked you, chatting politely for a moment before wandering off to talk to some curious audience members.

“You ready to go home?” Hyunjin asked, gently rubbing his thumb along yours.

“Of course,” you replied, picking up his violin case from the ground and handing it to him. It may have been Thursday, but there was no longer the worry of taking the night train, as the two of you didn’t live in that city district anymore.

No, instead you shared an apartment. Close enough to the theatre that you no longer needed to take the train, unless the day was extra chilly and you couldn’t bare to walk.

That was the routine you had settled into, but Hyunjin didn’t mind. No, in fact, he loved it. How everyday he’d wake up with you in his arms, and finish the day the same. How he’d spend his waking hours surrounded by beautiful sound, sometimes by his own craft or sometimes by anothers.

He loved it all. Stagnancy was no longer a fear of his, but something he’d learned to appreciate, so long as it was filled with passion, care and intimacy.

He remembered the day that Seungmin asked him what had happened. What made him throw away that sullen aura he’d developed and fall in love with the orchestra once again.

Hyunjin smiled at the thought of you.

And so he told a story.

One that involved a train, her lips, and the music.

~~~

thanks for reading loves <3