#another quirk from an oc
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kaytaygayquirks · 14 days ago
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Musical: this quirk gives its user the ability to sing any song perfectly matching the voice of the original singer or shifting to any voice they wish. When the user sings they can use an ability that matches the lyrics or vibes of the song. Meaning with a song such as T-Rex by K.Flay the user could become a T-Rex or have the strength of one, or with a song such as Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land by Marina the user could go back in time as far as two hours ago or they could temporarily pause time. When the quirk is being used the users eyes glow. If other people join in singing the song it will out less strain on the user and strengthen the abilities of the quirk. The downsides of this quirk are, the user needs to have memorized the song in order to sing it and use their quirk, when the quirk is overused the user gains a sore throat and may be unable to speak for a day or more at most.
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robo-milky · 7 months ago
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…so what if I told you Cloche (not Yuu! Cloche (Jin) but the character she cosplays as) actually has an owner (personal OC) and I’ve been thinking of TWSTfying him for the funnies (as an AU)?? 👁️👁️
I just think it’d be a funny take on the “fan meets idol” dynamic, except it gets worse…
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vazaha-tya · 2 years ago
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it's funny because most people who write self-insert fics don't like that it's called SI and actually object to the name but we just kinda all adopted it to spite the snobs who think it's only about writing a mary sue who is loved by all the characters and has no flaws at all. the name was reclaimed very reluctantly but here we are
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lovieku · 22 days ago
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INTRO ⋆ 정국
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you’re jeongguk’s secret santa this year, so you give him the best gift he’ll ever receive.
⋆⁺₊❅. 1/6 from christmas & chill
pairing virgin!jk x fem reader
genre smut, fluff, friends to lovers, first time
warnings painfully oblivious jk, even more painfully oblivious oc, mutual pining unlike anything you’ve seen, jk being a hot nerd ceo who’s loaded rich and unaware of his potential, please imagine him as nam joohyuk in start up, oc just creaming her pants for jk, hand job, lowk strip tease, dry humping, nipple play (m&f), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, jk is so needy and impatient but also very polite, smut is kinda rushed because well… it’s his first time! sawrry! also i open gifts on xmas eve please don’t come for me and my traditions (it’s lich just because i’m impatient)
word count 8.3k
author’s note hello hello hello!!! i’m so nervy to post this because it’s what finally inaugurates c&c!!!! i hope it can be a pleasing (intro)duction to the series hehe… either way you’ll get something totally better from miss lyssa tomorrow so stay tuned Wink 🩷 luv u always
banner by the talented @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .
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Secret Santas have become the only way you’ve been able to deal with Christmas. When it comes to gift-giving, you’re embarrassed to admit that creativity in that department doesn’t exactly come naturally to you.
You try your best, truly. But you either end up going over budget, striving to please all your loved ones with unnecessarily expensive gifts which will only leave you with empty hands and an empty wallet, or having your brain completely stop working, if not to come up with the most basic and useless options that will get you forced smiles and polite nods in fake recognition.
It’s exhausting, demoralizing, and frankly, a recipe for holiday burnout.
So when two years ago, on the brink of giving up entirely and seriously contemplating hibernating through winter, your dear friend Jimin swooped in and suggested Secret Santa, it completely reshaped your next Christmases.
Exactly a month before Christmas Eve, you reunite over drinks and food at Jeongguk’s house to draw names. His place always ends up as the default spot for dinners, movie nights, or even football matches. Those don’t usually get the attention of everybody, especially of some of the girls, and it wouldn’t get yours either.
But you never skip game night. Correction, you never miss an excuse to be in Jeongguk’s space, even if it means sitting through 90 minutes of men chasing a ball on a screen. After all, you’re never truly paying attention, always stealing glances at the boy who seems almost even more uninterested than you.
It’s about witnessing him in his house— which, truthfully, is more of a mansion. The spacious, cozy interiors mirror a part of him that’s hard to miss: his perfectionist side, the one that likes to keep things understated but can’t help leaving subtle, telling marks of his presence on everything he touches, is woven into every corner.
Over time, you’ve naturally come to associate the place with holidays, laughter, and celebrations that fill you with a sense of belonging. Being here, surrounded by your closest friend, makes you feel profoundly grateful.
And there’s so many traces of you all, too. The faint wine stain on Jeongguk’s carpet that is only still noticeable if you squint, the one that spilled from your glass when Hoseok’s jokes had you laughing too hard; the long, slim scratch on the kitchen door, courtesy of Eunbi, who thought learning how to balance glasses on her forehead would get one of her coworkers to finally fall for her; the wobbly vase on the coffee table that was knocked over during one of Jimin’s overly enthusiastic attempts to kick a water bottle open.
Watching Jeongguk deal with the chaos you all force into his space might be another big reason why you love being here. It seems to squeeze out his most genuine reactions and quirks, and you can’t help biting your lips at those, almost pornographically so.
For someone who works so hard to appear composed, and who’s also extremely shy and reserved, Jeongguk is hilariously transparent when things don’t go his way. Brows furrowed, as if that’s where he keeps all his control. Although, no matter how flustered he gets, Jeongguk almost never gets choleric. His instinct is never to lash out but to scramble, a picture of barely contained stress insisting that everything is fine.
And the more he insists, the more you find yourself wishing it wasn’t fine. Sometimes, you want to see him lose it— especially at you.
You’ve tried, too. You’ve pushed boundaries, done little things to test the limits of his patience, all for the slim possibility of seeing him crack, just for you. But it never works. The best you get is an awkward smile, maybe a quiet laugh. It’s not nothing, but it’s not what you want, either.
You don’t think you’ve ever felt this crazy about someone before. Not in the way where everything he does sends your brain spinning with possibilities. It’s maddening. His obliviousness is maddening.
Chiefly tonight, when you’re trying extra hard to keep it under control, the whole group gathering in a circle around the bowl that holds all your names, each one carefully folded into a little square, waiting to be drawn.
But when your slim fingers brush against one of the many crumpled pieces of paper and decide your fate, you send a small prayer to whoever might be listening. Please, don’t let it be Jeongguk.
It doesn’t really come off as a coherent request, especially considering how much your body has betrayed you tonight. Your thighs have been pressing together most of the evening, a subconscious reaction every time your gaze wandered — lingered — on Jeongguk’s lower half. Those low, slouchy grey sweatpants, hanging effortlessly off his narrow hips, have been the source of many inappropriate thoughts that you wish would make you grow some shame within yourself. Instead, they only make you grow hotter in your seat.
No, you would love to be Jeongguk’s Secret Santa with the blatant, embarrassingly huge crush you have on him. You think you’d be happy about it in any other universe, except this one.
Jeongguk is difficult. And not because he’s ever been argumentative, looking to start quarrels, never willing to agree or see past his nose. He’s far from those. He’s one of the easiest people to be around, rarely judgmental, even when you were drunk off your mind and you jokingly grinded on very-gay Jimin to make up for your lack of sexual activity. On those occasions, you didn't exactly see judgement in his eyes. Just reticence. Maybe. It wasn’t clear.
What is clear is that Jeongguk is incredibly particular. He’s picky about what he likes and even more so about what he doesn’t, though dislike might be too soft a word. When he hates something, it’s impossible not to know. He doesn’t even try to mask his disappointment.
It’s not malicious, of course. He’s not the type to be spiteful. It’s just how he is, an open book, his expressions giving him away without fail.
It’s one of the many reasons you love watching him, other than hoping your eyes would telepathically convey your undying desire to fuck him and cuddle him close to your chest afterwards. But most of the time, studying the shifts in his features is a way for you to decipher what he’s thinking.
And that’s why this moment feels so high-stakes. The last thing you want is to be on the receiving end of one of Jeongguk’s polite smiles or barely-there nods of acknowledgment, the kind he gives when he’s unimpressed. It would crush you, the ultimate failure in your short-lived career as a gift-giver.
It’s not just that he’s hard to please. Jeongguk is also the last person who seems to need anything. He’s loaded, his success as a game developer has afforded him a life where anything he wants is within reach. And yet, despite his wealth, there’s no arrogance about him. If you didn’t know him so well, you might think he was just another college student scraping by.
Who else but Jeon Jeongguk could walk around in a hoodie and square glasses, looking like he just rolled out of bed, while being the CEO of his own company?
But, of course, none of this is important. Because as you unfold the piece of paper in your hand, it’s there. Jeongguk.
You don’t think you enjoy Secret Santa as much anymore.
With the bowl continuing its journey around the circle, you spend the rest of the game staring holes into the back of Jeongguk’s head, desperately trying to figure out what in the world you could possibly get him. Your monthly budget feels laughable in comparison to his lifestyle, but you’re already prepared to go way over it if that’s what it takes to impress him.
You wonder if he’s as insecure as you are when he quietly unfolds the small, paper square he picked up and scans the name. His bug eyed expression doesn’t hide an evident surprise, the twitch of his eyebrows managing to conceal a possible disappointment.
For someone who’s usually so easy to read, Jeongguk seems uncharacteristically guarded in this moment, and it drives you crazy. You squint at him, frowning as you try to decipher any small detail on his face. Is he annoyed? Or worse, completely indifferent?
Either way, it doesn’t look like a positive reaction. If it ends up being you, you’ll rethink back to this moment and cry yourself to sleep.
With the first step out of the way, the night goes on following its usual rhythm. Only by the end of it, Jeongguk’s space starting to empty, you quietly help him put some order to the mess left behind by a too drunk Hoseok paired with his too drunk best friend Taehyung.
You keep yourself busy with storing some leftover food, managing to keep your tone unbothered when you ask, “Hey, Gguk. Wanna help me with the party planning this year?”
Always obliging to your every request, he only stutters slightly in his movements, the glasses he was cleaning clinking together. He clears his throat, “S—sure. I’ll help you, goldie.” The stammer doesn’t seem to be caused by any kind of hesitation, just an usual consequence to his nature. Reserved, quiet.
You nod, gulping way too loudly at the special nickname he has for you, and both of you keep your focus on your doings instead of witnessing the faint blush dusting your cheeks, “Cool. I’ll text you the details tomorrow.”
Details texted, your efforts to divert the conversation into something remotely playful failed miserably. Jeongguk is painfully formal, methodical as ever, hyper-focused on the party. When you sent him a TikTok you deemed adorable enough to nudge him toward a different matter, maybe hint at the dog being the cutest thing he’s ever seen and that you two should definitely adopt three of them and move in together, he still doesn’t get it.
gguk🤍: Oh… I asked my brother to keep Bam for Christmas Eve. I thought he would be too much of a hassle, especially with Iseul not being fond of dogs.
You had stared at the ceiling for a long moment after reading that text. Jeongguk is endearingly dense, and you don’t mind it most of the time. But it’s starting to cause quiet bursts of frustration when it comes to whatever undefined thing you two have, and what is clearly simmering for the eyes of everybody to see, except his.
You’d thought giving him his first handjob when he quietly confessed he’s never been touched, his voice a tremble in the calm aftermath of a chaotic group sleepover, would be enough to make him see. His quiet whimpers were hypnotizing calls that only you were meant to hear, and your fist pumping his girthy length with intent was speaking all you were afraid to voice.
Jeongguk came hard and unannounced all over your hand, pleasured sounds muffled in the side of your neck, and you’d assured him it was okay; he did good; that you would get something to clean him up. You didn’t sleep that night, and he didn’t either, spending the rest of it next to each other on his couch talking pointless conversation.
If that hadn’t opened his eyes, you were beginning to wonder what would.
“So… Do you have any idea what to gift your person?”
Jeongguk stirs his latte for the fourth time. You’d decided to meet at a café halfway between your cramped flat and his mansion, because it was the easiest way you managed to make your busy schedules merge.
“No, Gguk,” you acknowledge his question without meeting his eyes, focusing on the grocery list on your laptop instead.
What would? You’re starting to think subtlety isn’t cutting it. Maybe it never has. Perhaps the only way to break through that frustratingly thick skull of his is to go full throttle, strip naked right here in the middle of this café and spell it out for him.
Your eye involuntary twitches at the thought in relation to his question. Crazy Christmas gift, you reason as you stare maniacally at your bright screen. Yeah. Totally crazy.
Shaking your head, you can’t resist glancing up at him. The idea doesn’t seem so irrational anymore, not when your insides twist at the sight of his absorbed expression, his brows furrowed as he scribbles out unheard-of maths on a piece of paper to figure out group expenses.
With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you abandon your pretense of being productive and let yourself watch him work. A teasing lilt slips into your voice as you prod him in your usual way, “Why should I believe you already don’t know who it is?”
He blinks up at you, promptly, like he always does when you speak to him, and he stumbles, “Huh— I don’t—”
“You so do. You probably already guessed it all with your nerdy brain.”
Despite looking mildly offended, his ears turn red anyway, “Nerdy brain—”
“Glasses look cute on you,” that shuts him up; his mouth, his brain. Completely unable to cater to any of their functions.
You smirk at the way he diverts his gaze, pointer finger unconsciously fixing the specs on the bridge of his nose, and you wonder how much longer it’ll take for him to notice that you don’t just go around calling everyone’s glasses cute.
Sighing, you continue, “Anyways. It’s not you.”
“W—what? Is it really not?” When he looks up at you with even wider eyes, you feel bad for lying to him but you still shake your head. He mutters, “Shoot. I was so sure I had it.”
A playful scoff escapes you, “See! You did sit in your nerdy room and tried to guess!”
“Stop calling me a nerd,” it’s a request grumbled in the most adorable way you’ve heard, and there’s no real heat behind it. Especially when he goes back to be exactly what he doesn’t want you to refer to him as, “Well, if it’s not me, it must be Taehyung.”
You pretend to busy yourself with your touchpad as you ponder on his eagerness. Then, you voice the result, “What’s the fun in knowing right now?”
Jeongguk hesitates for a moment too long before admitting, “I don’t know. I guess it makes me less anxious.”
It’s a raw kind of honesty, much like what he was painted all over with when he came from your touch, and it has you shifting your gaze back on him, now absorbed in doodling stylized portraits of Bam right next to numbers and additions.
You don’t know if it’s the hot chocolate still simmering in your tummy, the warmth from the coat laying on your legs, the café’s natural heat or Jeongguk’s proximity, but you buzz with something homely.
Ariana Grande’s version of Last Christmas replays for the third time in a row, and at this point you’re starting to believe it’s a conscious choice, but you don’t mind it.
Jeongguk belongs to the world the soft melody is building, hugged by a woolen white sweater, the wide glass window behind him giving the perfect view to a classic winter scenery, snow softly resting on any surface it finds and unconsciously bringing magic to dullness. Or maybe it’s just him adding that last bit.
You smile at his small confession, reassuring with your tone, almost drowning in the lively chatter of the place surrounding you, “You don’t have to be.”
Jeongguk only nods, tapping the pencil on his temple as he studies what he has so far with sudden doubt. He looks at your laptop, scanning the long forgotten visual board on your Pinterest, then back to his calculations.
Giving one more glance at the screen, he concludes, “By the way, I really don’t think that color would look good in my living room.”
Ugh.
You think you want to strangle him when he deflects so easily from these moments. And mostly, the burgundy he’s so easily refusing happens to be one of your favorite shades. Do your tastes ever match?
God, as much as you want him, you hope he’s not your Secret Santa.
────⋆。˚❆˚ 。⋆────
Jeongguk is your Secret Santa.
And on Christmas Eve, he’s pacing the length of his living room back and forth, his socks brushing against the polished wooden floor with each step. You’re supposed to arrive any minute now to help him with the final touches before the others come for dinner, and the idea of having you here alone is enough to make his hands clammy and his thoughts stumble.
The neatly wrapped gift with its shiny red paper sits tucked under the towering Christmas tree, the one adorned in messy decor that his friends jumbled up together. The item hidden inside the bag doesn’t share his anxieties, though he suspects his downstairs neighbour might have caught on to it with the incessant pacing.
When you ring the doorbell he’s jolted out of it and, practically tripping over his own feet, he rushes to the door and yanks it open. He would have let you in just as rapidly if his brain didn’t stop short at seeing you standing there.
You’re cladded in a soft sweater that looks two sizes larger, its beige tones complimenting the warm brown of his own jumper, and your short skirt peeks out beneath its hem, edged with lace ruffles. At your feet, a pair of chestnut Uggs that he can only hope are enough to make up for the cold shivers on your bare legs. Not that he’s staring, so intently he has to gulp down an impulsive thought. No, he’s just a naturally observing guy.
And that brings him to notice that your hands are empty, save for a small purse and a bottle of wine. No bag, no box, no sign of a gift.
When his gaze flickers back to your face, your eyes are wide and darting nervously between his own, narrowed by the frown that he can’t quite hide but bug sized the moment he catches a trace of insecurity in your shaky voice, “Hi.”
It could be the cold causing the brief greeting to tremble, small snowflakes laying on your neatly styled hair, shimmering for a brief moment before melting away. It pulls him out from his unabashed study of you, and he steps aside to let you into his much warmer space.
Your vanilla scent inebriating his senses has him forgetting all about your seemingly non existent gift, and how he suddenly finds himself wishing he truly did get something messed up in his calculations, that you’re not his Secret Santa.
But you are.
Many drinks later, filling up everyone’s stomachs along with shared food and belly laughter, it’s time to exchange gifts and the expression on your face is unlikely anything he’s caught on so far.
A huge contrast to the mellow Christmas tunes indistinctly playing in the background, your eyes are impassive as you word your excuses, “I’m sorry, Gguk. I forgot your gift at home.”
“Oh. It’s okay,” he says quickly, the words spilling out with genuine ease. And it really is okay. He’s not upset— far from it. The thought of you giving him anything at all, even belatedly, is enough to make him feel content.
But now, as the group’s attention turns toward him, his heart races for an entirely different reason. His gift for you, a lavish, over-the-top gesture that far exceeds the modest budget they all agreed on, sits waiting on his lap.
When it finds a new home atop your own crossed legs, you’re eager as you rip the paper, but your eyes don’t follow your movements. Instead, you focus on the nervous boy sitting across from you, your very own Secret Santa who’s monitoring your hands for you while subtly rocking from one side to the other.
His anxiety is endearingly soft, but you can see something more to it, almost an irrational fear of tripping on the wrong step, messing up something that’s supposed to be simple.
You hear it before you see it. The whole room inhales sharply in a collective surprise, with some gasps muffled behind hands pressed to mouths. You scramble for an explanation in their expressions, jumping from one face to the other, stopping on Jeongguk’s own, gaze glued to his fidgeting fingers, head bowed down to his lap.
When you slowly look down at what’s resting on yours, you almost wheeze. If they could, your eyes would leap out of their sockets.
Your palm instinctively presses on your lips as you look between the gift and the gifter in a frantic attempt to catch any sign that this is not what it is. With the music being the only sound eerily filling the sudden silence, you add to it, even if barely, with your voice a whisper, “What is this?”
Jeongguk gulps and finally meets you, “It’s m—my gift for you.”
It’s not like you even opened it yet. But the simple sight of the box had you grasping for support. On the pale, textured surface of the square box, the unmistakable gold lettering is what’s making your orbs shake in confusion: Dior.
You trace the sign with your pointed finger, tilting your head up to look at Jeongguk through your lashes, and you don’t know how else to put it, “Ggukkie… Were you there when we set the budget?”
Jimin butts in with a scoff, “Yeah, that’s like fifteen thousand won multiplied by another fifty thousand.”
Jeongguk doesn’t know what he should say. He’s scared of the deafening silence that follows, the way Jimin’s comment seems to linger in the air, the way you seem to struggle with finding something to say in response.
He begins, tries to, “I—”
“Fuck, Gguk,” the simple sound of your words has his mind spiralling, palms clammy with doubts that question his every choice leading up to this moment, feeling foolish for even thinking this could be right, a shot worth trying. What if you think he’s showing off? Or worse, overcompensating?
But what he fails to notice is the toothy grin that follows your shameless surprise, your fingers gingerly lifting the lid of the box, and really, if only he had the courage to look up at you he’d have avoided the worries.
He misses your reaction at the reveal: the prettiest earrings sit on a soft cushion, gleaming gold with delicate CD initials and cream pearls dangling gracefully beneath them.
“These are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I love them. You didn’t have to.”
Jeongguk’s head snaps up. He meets your face painted with the most beautiful grin he’s ever seen you wear, your cheeks burning with red and your nose scrunching as you carefully slip the earrings to take a better look at them. With you, everybody else around him seems in awe, too. Their soft, endeared whispers begin to fill the earlier suffocating silence, melting into a sweetness reserved entirely for Jeongguk.
He exhales quietly, the welcomed warmth in his chest replacing the cold. He admits, no stutter, no fear, just a sheepish smile, “I wanted to.”
Jeongguk really did want to. It felt like his one shot. A desperate, last-ditch attempt at making you see him the way he’s always seen you; a declaration wrapped in gold and pearls.
He wants you to see him as more than the shy, awkward boy who stumbles over his words and blushes too easily. More than the nerd who spends too much time working on equations and codes half the world doesn’t know about. More, just to have you look at him a bit closer.
He wants to be a man, one who badly wants you, in your eyes.
They’re gleaming with adorable excitement as they flicker back to his, sheepishly accompanying your quiet request, “Can you… put them on for me?”
Jeongguk is at your side in no time, handling the earrings with care while trying to keep his usual clumsiness at bay as he fastens the dainty jewels in place. He begins to understand why it’s hard to see him as anything else but gawky when he feels his heartbeat speed up from the simple way his skin is brushing against yours.
Namjoon’s voice cuts through the spell, playful, “Oh, what a pretty princess. Jeongguk truly has an eye for this stuff.”
With the group following with chuckles and mindless banter, Jeongguk feels uncharacteristically bold, gaze fixated entirely on you as he lets himself spill something meant for you only to hear, “I think it’s just you. You’re beautiful.”
You’re clearly caught off guard, and it stings a little when he realizes the only reason he doesn’t get to see you this flustered often is because he’s usually busy being the flustered one. Blinking up at him through your lashes, your laugh comes out a little breathless, and the sweet way you let your cheek rest on your shoulder has him daring to hope.
“Nerd.”
But no. There it is again.
That’s all he’ll ever be in your eyes.
He forces a smile that barely reaches his eyes, but you’re too engrossed with having your pearls admired by the rest of the group to notice. Those weren’t a waste; he would do it all the same. You deserve everything that makes your eyes shine, that brings the corners of your lips into that grin that shakes him, that can ever bring you joy. He just wishes it could bring you more than that; bring you to a bigger sentiment, a bigger realization.
Perhaps that’s why he can’t shake off the awful mood that pervades his senses throughout the rest of the night, the earrings hanging from your ears catching the twinkly, warm lights and mocking him with delighted amusement. There’s nothing else you can do, you nerdy boy.
Perhaps that’s also why, when the house starts to empty and you’re in his kitchen making yourself helpful with dishes, he slips on composure when you accidentally let a glass slide from your dainty hands.
It breaks the moment it meets the ground, and the sound penetrates his ears, both of you jumping at the impact. He hisses, “What— what the heck, ___!”
You’re startled, blinking up at him. It’s not the chaos from the glass, not its tiny pieces covering the floor and reaching your feet. It’s the deliberate frustration of his tone, one he’s never let free, especially with you.
You pant for apologies, but they can’t seem to be let out. Wide eyes jumping between his own bug ones, your brows draw up in shame. It has never been this easy to get him bothered. Hell, you’ve even struggled to.
Jeongguk only sighs, dragging a hand across his nape, and he regrets the quiet sharpness in his voice the second he lets it out, “God. Be more careful next time.”
He’s still quicker than you on his feet, moving to sweep the mess you’ve created before you can even react. You seem to move in slow, infinite motions, kneeling down to pick up the bigger pieces, all while keeping an unusual silence.
He steals a glance up at you, biting his lower pierced lip in sudden guilt, “Are you okay?”
Your hands pause, clutching a fragment of glass as your eyes flicker up to meet his. You nod, distant, and it does nothing to convince him.
He doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to your hesitant confirmation, rather he’s hyper-focused on your fingers, and before you realize the shift in his expression, he alarmedly blurts out, “Goldie. You’re bleeding.”
The sting barely registers for you until his words bring it to your attention. Looking down, you see a sharp, red line running across your finger, small but enough to make Jeongguk spring into action.
You’re lifted off the floor and ushered to the bathroom in fractions of seconds, letting yourself be handled like you don’t own your body. The only thing you want to be aware of is the switch in his behaviour. He’s back to normal once he’s in his quiet bubble of concentration, movements precise as he cleans the barely visible wound and carefully places a band aid over it.
All while he can’t stop apologizing, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. That was not your fault. But, this. This is my fa—”
“Jeongguk, it’s just a scratch.”
The way he meets your eyes with his face drawn tight and brows furrowed makes you rethink your statement. Maybe it’s more than a scratch. Maybe it’s the only thing that snapped him out of his frustrated daze.
“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve that.”
Your first instinct is to giggle; it’s a resonance of the butterflies childishly swarming in your belly from the proximity and his careful words. Both your gazes soften as you accept each other, even the faulted versions of tonight, and a timid smile stretches over his lips.
You hesitate before speaking again, your mouth opening only to close, reconsidering your words; but then you finally let out what you had foolishly planned as your next desperate attempt to cling to him.
“Can you… My car is… Can you take me home?”
What you’re now sure you like the most about Jeongguk is how he caters to your needs before you even have to voice them. The soft kindness in his eyes, the way his body instinctively shifts to act before his mind even fully processes the request. He’s already nodding, ready to make it happen for you.
“Yeah. Of course.”
The heat in his car fans over your cheeks, dusting them with a soft red that has his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he turns to steal glances at you at stoplights. You keep talking, filling the air with contentment about the night’s events, and it’s like that subtle slip of his never happened.
It’s almost too easy to surrender and pretend that everything is fine, that he doesn’t feel the ache of wanting more. If staying a nerd in your eyes means getting to be this close, to hear your laughter, to see the slight curve of your lips as you speak, then maybe it’s enough.
His subtle gestures — adjusting the temperature so you’re comfortable, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter when your giggles spill into the cabin — don’t go unnoticed. They settle into you and have your heart beating anticipatedly.
God, you won’t regret what you’re about to do.
By the time he pulls up in front of your place, you promptly turn to him before he can offer anything else, voice a bit too eager, “Would you like to come inside?”
“Huh—”
“I’ll show you my gift.”
Jeongguk sits on your couch, because you tell him to wait there. And of course, he’s a great listener. Very obedient, willing to follow your every order.
His fingertips drum restlessly on his thighs and he can only busy himself with his surroundings, every detail speaking for you. What’s definitely more prominent is the intoxicating scent of vanilla that clings in the air, of which he hopes his lungs inhale the entirety of, never getting enough of everything that is you.
When you come into his vision again, walking down the stairs in quiet steps, you’re tightly hugged in a trench coat, the textured belt cinched snugly around you and accentuating the small of your waist. Under it, your legs are bare. It has his mouth drying and his legs spreading stiffly on the couch.
He thought he got better at hiding his concerning infatuation. He hopes he did.
That’s why he initially manages to chuckle and attempt a joke, “Are you going somew—”
“Ta-da.”
Jeongguk doesn’t think he’s breathing. He doesn’t think he can even breathe anymore. His blinking fastens, brain stumbling over itself as it tries to make sense of what he’s sitting in front of.
You’ve loosened the coat just enough for the fabric to fall and reveal what you’ve carefully wrapped for him. You’re a gift coming in a red lingerie set clinging to your perfect curves, your boobs deliciously spilling out from the sides of your lace top and the line of your panties thin enough to leave little to the imagination.
He pants, scanning over your body once, twice, three times, questioning if the wine was perhaps laced with stronger substances, “What— What is this—”
“It’s my gift for you. Merry Christmas, Gguk.”
Meeting your face again, he nearly groans. You’re almost bare before him, yet you still sport a crimson blush and your teeth graze your bottom lip in a sheepish smile, in a way that is so achingly you. He can feel himself throbbing painfully in his pants. Thinks he could cum just from this view, tip over the edge without a single touch, no matter how bad he needs it.
“Fuck.”
You’ve barely ever heard Jeongguk curse throughout the time you’ve known him for. He only sometimes reserves that for his monitor, Overwatch games causing his composure to slip in adorable loud whispers.
But it’s like you’ve broken his dam, and he only lets more slip as you walk slowly but certainly closer to him, coat discarded on the floor, “Oh my, fuck. Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you. I— I don’t know what to do.”
It’s a quiet plea, the one that’s hidden in his strained words but clear in his full eyes glazed over with anticipation, his hands hovering uncertainly over his thighs, chest still heaving and struggling with manual breathing. He’s begging to feel deserving of this, to have you prove to him that it’s what you truly want for the both of you, to have you touching him and to be touching you.
He can’t help the moan that escapes him when you position yourself in between his spread legs, bodies close yet not touching, but he’s dying to feel you.
Now your turn to bend at his every request, your head tilts and your smile widens the more he’s forced to crane his neck up to keep your gazes connected, pending off your every syllable, “You don’t have to do anything. Will you let me take care of you?
“Yes, please,” the confirmation is immediate and empty of hesitance. Under you, Jeongguk nods promptly with his lips agape, watering with want when you straddle his lap to sit yourself on him.
He wails, throwing his head back and searching for all the strength it takes from holding back his instinct to snap up against your core, snuggled atop his raging hardness. At his shameless desperation, your giggles fill his ears, and when they’re followed by your cold hand on his cheek redirecting his gaze on yours, he feels feverish.
Delirious, eyes barely keeping from rolling back, his brain reduced to senseless blabbering, “My God. Thank you for this.”
With his brows adorably drawn up, he focuses on your dilated pupils now that your faces are mere centimetres apart, and you close the distance with small pecks that trace his jaw, up to his ear lobe, whispering against the skin, “Are you seriously thanking God while I’m about to take your virginity?
Jeongguk hisses in a frenzied surge, his hands still unsurely keeping from touching you, and your sarcastic pun has him full on rambling, “Shit, sorry. I don’t even believe in God. This just feels too good to be true. You look like a fucking angel.”
“Ggukkie, language!” Your seductive tone along with your chuckle reverberates right against his chest, your hands moving to lead your own palms up and down his broad front, and when you subtly roll your hips against his clothed length, he breaks into a cry.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ll come so soon,” you don’t know if it’s the adrenaline of the moment, but you’ve never witnessed such a bold Jeongguk. It only spurs you further, your hand traveling down, and down, until it sneaks under his sweater.
When you find his nipple, you playfully roll it between your pointer and thumb, his trembling body bucking up in an unstoppable urge, quiet whimpers working to keep his tone down. But you want to hear him scream under you, just as loud as you can feel his heart beating.
You bite your lip as your eyes drift downward, watching where your bodies meet in slow, teasing drags. His wide palms press into the cushions on either side of you, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip, and when you lift your gaze to meet his face again the delicious buzz pooling low in your stomach intensifies, your lips parting instinctively. A pretty blush creeps up his neck, painting his sharp jaw and cheekbones in shades of red, and his eyes, clouded, desperate, and burning with unfiltered need, lock onto you with a gaze that makes your knees weak even as you straddle him.
The simple grinding through the layers of clothing you still have on has you releasing whiny gasps in the air, his cock sliding torturously between your folds, and if you’re so affected by every shift you can hardly fathom what he must be feeling under you.
So you wonder out loud, voice rough the more you feel his stiff nipple under your fingertips, “How long since you’ve been touched properly, hm?”
His body hiccups, shaking with the barely contained lust, “Since— Since you last did, goldie.”
You coo, slowing down your movements and bringing your fingers to the hem of his jumper only to lift it and toss it behind you carelessly, “You’re so sensitive, aren't you?” At the view of his exposed chest, you can’t help roaming the expanse of it and feeling the tensing muscles under your skin, and by now you’re sure your panties must be ruined.
“Puh— please,” the plea is barely coherent, whispered out messily through high-pitched moans, but he begs again, “I wanna touch you too.”
“Then…” You let your hands speak for you, moving them to lead his own big ones to rest at your thighs, letting them drag up the curve of your ass. You’re impossibly close to his lips now, fanning against them, “Feel me, Gguk.”
Unable to resist, you fall forward and catch his mouth with yours in a kiss that struggles to find a rhythm, that has your tongues tangled in an uncoordinated dance, but that inevitably has you both humming loudly in an effort to almost devour each other, and his hands digging in your bare skin only force a gasp out of you.
In an impatient rush, you urge him to unclasp your bra, his unpractised and shaky fingers being joined by your experienced ones to finally free you from the tight confines, and as much as he wants to make kissing you a sport just to win every gold medal and break record after record, he can’t help separating from your lips with a wet sound to look down at your exposed breasts.
Jeongguk groans, and this time he doesn’t need you guiding him. It’s his own palms moving to cup you, and the innocent, light feather touch causes you to throw your head back and resume your slow grinding on top of him.
Both of you are panting messes, his moans significantly louder the more he gets to knead at your softness only to slice his thumb over your hardened nipples, the contrast making his brows furrow in hazed need, and when you arch your back into him he squeezes your tit to his mouth, eliciting a surprised wail from you.
Even when he gets closer, your sensitive nub engulfed by his swollen lips, he keeps looking up at you for approval with wide, teary eyes that beg for you to praise him. And with a hand gripping his wavy locks, you nod repeatedly for him to keep going, “Fuck, baby. Just like that, oh my God.”
He hums lowly with his mouth stuffed, his fingers digging in your flesh the more you drag your cunt mercilessly over the outline of his thickness, and he has to release you with a pop and rest his head on the couch behind him, palms keeping you somewhat still by the waist, panting out a desperate request when he feels himself throb dangerously close to his high, “G—Goldie, I can’t. Don’t— Don’t wanna cum like this.”
You lift your hips just enough for the both of you to whimper at the loss of friction, and you murmur through a string of kisses along his exposed neck, “How do you want to cum then, huh?”
He only whines, cheeks flushed with want and eyes glossy, forehead creasing with the way his brows are stressing, “Please.”
You show no mercy, flashing him with a wicked smirk and a teasing tilt of your head, “Ah-ah. Say it.”
Gulping with effort, his waist twitches up unconsciously to seek for your touch once again, and with his face turned to the side he admits in the smallest voice, “‘Nside of you.”
“Good boy. Gonna give you exactly what you want.”
He voices a loud cry just from the sound of your promise, only echoing more intensely when you hastily work at his zipper. It’s messy, uncertain, and it elicits breathy giggles from the two of you, drunk on adoration and high on desire.
Eventually, he’s stripped free from his confines, and his cock stands proud and hard, veins pumping the blood that has it throbbing against his toned stomach.
Jeongguk can feel your hooded eyes on him, can sense his tip wettening with the simple way you seem starved and eager to taste him, your hand coming too close to where he needs you the most before he gently grabs your wrist to stop it.
Automatically, your head snaps up, and the look on his face is one of nervous desperation, “Wan’ you to kiss me, please.”
You’re ready to comply to his every demand, and this one is as easy as it gets. You want to give him everything— whatever he wants, however he wants it.
Your lips mold with his in worldless acceptance, absorbing all you were afraid to voice to each other, making up for all the time you wasted, devoting to a sealed promise, the one that dances between your connected tongues, saliva making it wet and breathless.
Even more when your slim fingers trail down his torso before wrapping around his length, your wrist expertly flicking in a teasing touch, and his moan is unrestrained as it tears through the kiss. You swallow the sound greedily, steadying you against his chest rising and falling in frantic pants.
Before he can protest, his own hips bucking up in a silent beg for more, you steal the air from his lungs when you move your panties to the side and align your entrance with his tip, just to sink down on it.
The drag is slow and it has both of your eyes rolling back, pleased groans filling the air and straining against your throat when you fully sit yourself wrapped around his dick. You search for him, “You okay?”
“Shit,” Jeongguk seems hypnotised by the view of his thickness wrecking you in half, and his palms come to rest at your waist where his fingers dig into the skin. Your own playing with the hair on his nape only seem to make him more vulnerable, “This is perfect. You feel so good and warm, fuck.”
You’re not used to hearing him curse so openly and so often, and it naturally makes you giggle, the sound tickling his ears and leading his dilated pupils to look up at you through his lashes. Your sweet laughter fades into a lasting smile, one he can’t help but kiss, even if it’s all teeth, the contagious sight of your happiness getting to him too.
The moment is sickeningly sweet, bodies connected in more ways than one. With your kiss only deepening and your chest melting against his, you pull him impossibly closer by the back of his neck and start attempting slow motions on top of him.
You hear him through his thundering heartbeat, “Goldie… I— I don’t think I can last any longer, I’m so sorry, I—”
“Oh, shit, baby,” one particular shift has his length, deeply stuffed in your tight walls, finding your spot and teasing it with an electric buzz that travels through your body, “It’s okay. I’m so close too.”
The moment you try a firmier bounce and feel him find you again, you can’t help the way your movements fasten, your moans thick and low against your throat, his own louder and ricocheting through the walls.
You steady yourself with one of you palms on his thigh, leaning your weight back and finding a new angle to fuck yourself on him. He watches in awe as you work your fingers on your clit, rapid circling movements causing his mouth to hang open at the squelching sounds.
He pants, his wide hands guiding your riding, pushing you up and down, “Can— Can I touch you?”
You hum, but it sounds more like a whine, “Hm, of course, pretty boy,” the hand that was stimulating your sensitive nub now comes behind you to help support yourself on both of his muscular thighs, flexing under every shift.
Jeongguk is unpracticed as he leads his thumb to rest at your clit, applying a soft pressure and mimicking the same pattern he observed from you. He only seems to be focusing on his doing for the first few moments before he searches up for the reaction on your face, and he whimpers when he finds your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, your brows drawn up in pleasure.
You smile at the unconscious twitch of his chin, and give him just what you know he wants, “Always seeking my approval. You’re so good.”
The simple praise only has him working on you with more confidence, collecting some of your wetness and sliding it up along your lips. He learns fast, listening to your every sound and centering on your pleasure, as best as he can with his own knot getting closer to bursting.
You’re clearly affected by the simulations, your hips stuttering and riding around him, but you still make sure to concentrate on him first, “I’ll tell you when to cum, hm? You’ll listen to me, right?”
Jeongguk nods before he even knows what he’s agreeing to, “Y—yes. Yes, yes, fuck. I’ll be good. Wanna be so, so good for you. Wanna c—cum for you.”
“You’re so filthy, baby. Naughty boy. Fuck me.”
His hips meet you up with harsh thrusts that have you lose your balance on him, and you can only throw yourself with your arms around his broad shoulders, face hidden in the crook of his neck as he lets his desire take over, fucking up into you with a desperate need for release.
You think you see stars with the way he relentlessly pounds your hole, wet folds sliding along his length and causing a mess between you, his own slickness mixed with yours trailing down and pooling at the base. The sounds are inglorious, and they merge perfectly with your wails.
Breathing in his scent, you know he’s close from the way his thrusts are stammering sloppily, and his moans are closer to strained whines. You concede, “F—Fucking cum, Gguk. Cum inside me, fuck.”
He nods, slamming you down to meet his movements, desperate to feel you before he can stop himself, “Cum with me, pleas— Oh.”
When your walls spasm around him with your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, causing you to shake in his embrace around you, he feels himself cum unannounced, hard and thick, sprouts of white liquid relentlessly pumping inside your warmth.
You milk him dry, both your wails drained with the effort and fading into breathless gasps, his arms around you falling limply at his sides. You’re sprawled on his chest, emptied from any energy, and he is just as spent with his head lolling against the back of the couch.
But you feel it in your heartbeats syncing, the realization of what happened, what finally happened. You feel it in his face moving down to find your lips and catch them in a sweet peck, his fingers trailing up again to trace lazy patterns on your back before tangling in your hair, grounding himself in you.
It’s your own smiles breaking through the kiss, lashes tickling, and both of you laugh senselessly as you come down from the moment.
“Fuck,” Jeongguk breathes out, voice raspy, “This was the best Christmas gift ever.”
You snicker, biting your lip to hold back your amusement, “Oh, baby. It was just an excuse to fuck you. I actually did forget your gift at home.”
“W—What?” His brows shoot up, his post-orgasm haze momentarily replaced with incredulity as his cheeks redden even more.
When Jeongguk straightens on the couch, so do you, steadying your weak frame with your hands splayed against his chest. Sheepishly, you confess, “Yeah. Bought you that Mario game yo—“
“Princess Peach: Showtime?”
“Yea—”
Jeongguk gasps dramatically, his excitement so pure it’s almost jarring considering what just transpired, and that he’s no longer a virgin, “God, I fucking love— that game. That is the best Christmas gift ever.”
You can’t hold back your laughter this time, shaking your head at how easily he slips back into his usual self, the one that had you buying a Victoria’s Secret set in that shade of burgundy he said he didn’t like just to attempt a crazy chance at having him.
Leaning forward, you press a lingering kiss to his lips that brings you back to the realization that you finally did get to have him, before murmuring against them, “Well, that and a second round. What do you say?”
“Please.”
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girlygguk · 10 days ago
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such an asshole ⋆ jjk
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popular jock jk x popular cheerleader fem reader
draft dump, drabble, fluff, 1328 words, jungkook is oc's #1 bff and #1 protector, jk is cold to others, except her, bitchy queen bee oc, brief lil taekook squabble, tae's situationship makes a comment toward oc, jk doesn't like that, cute read
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the cafeteria was loud. hobi’s laugh was louder.
he was in the middle of one of his laughing fits—the kind that had him slapping his knees, the table, and unfortunately, anyone sitting too close. today’s victim was taehyung, who rubbed his arm with a wince but couldn’t help laughing along even through the pain.
“hobi, you’re going to bruise the poor boy,” you hummed, stabbing a green grape from your tray with your fork before popping it into your mouth.
“deserves it,” your best friend muttered, reaching over to steal two grapes off your tray like the menace he was. his long fingers twirled one in his hand before casually tossing it into his mouth.
you turned to jungkook, narrowing your eyes, but he was already watching, his lips quirked as if waiting for you to say something. you opened your mouth to do exactly that, call out his audacity to take your grapes when his own tray of untouched food sat right in front of him, when taehyung interrupted.
“uh, fuck off, kook,” tae scoffed through a laugh, still rubbing his arm. “there wasn’t enough time to make that pass, and you know it.”
you blinked amusedly, chewing slowly with another grape speared on your fork as you watched the scene.
“there was enough time for your grandma to make that fuckin’ pass, hyung,” jungkook rolled his eyes before reaching for your vitamin water.
he unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp, passing it to you when your hand reached out for your own sip. when you were done, he took the bottle back and re-lidded it while taehyung's annoyed grumble cut through the air.
“my grandma’s in a wheelchair, you assh—”
“exactly,” jungkook deadpanned, placing the drink back on the table and reaching for another grape from your tray.
you gasped through a laugh, wrapping both hands around his larger one to keep it away from your food. “no, j! you wanted pizza, so eat your nasty ass cardboard—”
“there wasn’t enough time!” taehyung whined while you were in fits of giggles, paying little attention to his protest as you swatted jungkook away when he tried to dodge your hands and sneak more grapes.
when tae didn’t get the response he wanted from jungkook, he turned to the rest of the group with a dramatic frown. “guys?? don’t you think there wasn’t enough time?”
jungkook finally gave up wrestling you, letting his hand rest on your thigh as he glanced down at your tray with the most pitiful look. “just one, please?” he murmured softly. “don’t want pizza anymore…”
you rolled your eyes, sliding the tray toward him, a small smile tugging at your lips. you didn’t actually care; you just liked making him work for it.
as he picked at the grapes, you unwrapped a muesli bar, leaning your head on his shoulder while taehyung continued his tirade, searching the table for backup. “guys, seriously—don’t you think there wasn’t enough time?”
“i don’t know how to play football,” jimin shrugged, biting into a chicken finger. “and i wouldn’t care even if i did, taehyungie.”
you snickered at his response while taehyung groaned dramatically, clearly growing more frustrated. jungkook just watched him with a dull expression, almost finished with the fruit on your tray.
hobi agreed with taehyung, saying there wasn’t enough time, while namjoon shook his head, disagreeing. growing more desperate, taehyung turned to lia who sat beside him. “li, what about you? you know how to play, right?”
lia perked up, blinking prettily at him. “uh, yeah. definitely enough time,” she nodded confidently, making tae jut his chin out triumphantly at jungkook.
jungkook’s only response was a mocking nod as he finished off the last grape before taking the rest of the muesli bar you held out for him. “and you, y/n?” taehyung asked, turning to you with big, hopeful eyes. “what d’you think?”
you finished chewing your mouthful before meeting his expectant look with alittle shrug. “i think there was enough time, tae.” when you saw his shoulders droop slightly, you added lightly, “but it doesn’t matter. it was just a practice rally. who even cares—”
“course you’d say that,” lia muttered under her breath, popping a fry into her mouth.
your brows lifted slightly, tilting your head a little in amusement. “hm?”
the table fell silent. lia blinked up, pursing her lips before awkwardly laughing. “i just mean, like, of course you’d say that… you’d agree with jungkook no matter what, right? that’s, like… your thing?”
you bit back a laugh, very happily about to respond. but before you could, jungkook cut in, his voice cold and bored. “who even are you again?”
hobi’s strangled gasp cut through the air at his words. jimin buried his face in hobi’s chest to muffle his snickers while namjoon stared wide-eyed at his tray, hand pressed tightly over his mouth to cover his grin.
“aish… come on, kook,” taehyung winced lightly, glancing between the three of you awkwardly.
you didn’t blame tae for not really knowing how to react. you were all friends, had been for a long time. but lia was his latest link, and he seemed to like her a lot. you didn’t actually care about what she had to say anyway. she was new to cheer, and you knew from the moment you met her there was no substance to anything that came out of her mouth, so she didn’t bother you in the slightest.
your best friend, on the other hand? bothered.
“no, really,” jungkook said, tossing the empty wrapper onto the tray and sliding his hand back onto your thigh. “i mean, i know your name is ‘lee’ because taehyung just said it, but i honestly don’t even remember you sitting down…”
you absentmindedly fiddled with his fingers in your lap, head tilted curiously as you waited for lia’s response. but all she could do was open and close her mouth, clearly at a loss for words. “wh- i-” she stammered, looking to taehyung for help before scoffing lightly, “i’ve been sitting here, like, every day for the last week…”
jungkook just blinked slowly. he turned his head to you with a confused look, as if he was genuinely trying to figure out if what she said was true. you nodded slightly, your lips twitching as you confirmed she had, in fact, been sitting there. lia’s jaw dropped in disbelief as jungkook simply turned back to her, pursing his lips.
“oh,” he muttered, not sparing her a second glance as he picked up his phone with his free hand, swiping through it like the conversation had never even happened.
the table fell silent for a beat before jimin finally lost it, bursting into laughter that had him clutching hobi tighter. taehyung groaned, burying his face in his hands as you quietly laughed, your head leaning back against jungkook’s shoulder.
lia swallowed harshly in humiliation before muttering something about class, hastily gathering her things and leaving the table. you watched her walk off, your mind already wondering if she’d show up to practice tonight. you hoped she would.
“that was mean, kookie…” you said, turning to him with a pout. there wasn’t a hint of sincerity in your voice, though, and he knew it.
jungkook locked his phone, his gaze trailing over your pretty face before humming lowly, “meaner than what you would’ve said?”
your lips pursed as you pretended to think it over before nodding. “uh-huh. i’m an angel.”
“mhm,” he hummed, though the smile tugging at his lips told you he knew better. his hand tightened around your thigh, sliding you closer to him on the bench.
you chuckled softly, looping your arm through his and resting your cheek against his bicep. he opened his instagram to show you a reel he thought you’d find funny, as if he’d already completely forgotten about the last five minutes.
such an asshole, you thought amusedly. god, it was hot.
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perm taglist @elinaki92 @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @vantaebearr @crazy-eight17 @aalisiyahxstar @lovieku @apobangpogirlyyy @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @whoa-jo @kooeuphoria @junecat18 @fr0ggieth1nk @joonwater @myjungkookthighs @nikidream24 @whothefuckisthishoe @4noirre @gaebestie @lllucere @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @granataepfelchen @yoonstaar
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yandere-daydreams · 10 months ago
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Title: Intoxicated.
Pairing: Yandere!Fae King x Reader (OC).
Word Count: 1.0k.
TW: Non/Con -> Dub/Con, AFAB!Reader, Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, Orgasm Denial, and Obsessive Behavior.
[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]
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His chambers reeked of honey and lavender.
A stark improvement when compared to the raw stench of sweating bodies and animal fervor that’d hung over the celebrations still raging on in his banquet hall, but strong thick enough to turn your stomach, still choking enough to leave your head spinning, your vision distorted and dark around the edges. A thick, lilac smoke clouded the air, courtesy of the herbs smoldering in jars of stained glass on a nearby windowsill – only adding to your current haziness. It went without saying that none of it, of course, was aided by the clever, slender fingers slowly drawing lazy circles into your clit, the stimulation too much to block out entirely but not nearly enough to bring you any real satisfaction. It was hard to be frustrated, though, when you considered who that stimulation was coming from.
Aisling had positioned himself behind you, propped against the ornate headboard of his almost comically oversized bed. Two long, hoofed legs stretched out on either side of you – flecks of golden pollen still dusted over his dark fur. His chest was bear and cool where it pressed into your back, and his unoccupied hand alternated between wrapping snuggly around your midriff and prying your thighs apart when they attempted in-vain to shut. His touch, like most other things about him, left much to be desired. You’d lost track of how long you’d spent here, how much time had passed since he carried you out of those wretched rituals his kind called revelries, but couldn’t have been any longer than a few minutes, even if it felt like a small eternity lapsed by every time you let your eyes droop shut. He prided himself on his adeptness in all things frivolous and pleasurable, and you couldn’t imagine him taking this long to bring you to climax.
“I’ve grown quite fond of your meekness, you know.” His voice was a deep rumble, less a string of words and more a prolonged, inflected purr. Cold lips ghosted over the curve of your ear, and his fingers found a new pattern; one with enough force behind to it make your head lull forward, a slight whimper slipping past your grit teeth as the loose knot in your core began to tighten. “At first, it was rather irking to realize I would never be able to make love to you under the light of the full moon to the accompaniment of my finest bards, but I think I’ve come to like how—” A quirk of his wrist, a strange crescent-like motion. You withered against him, your hips bucking stiltedly into his hand. “—reserved your kin tend to be. It feels more intimate, locking ourselves away like this. Like we share a common secret.”
That fucking smell. The sickening sweetness of it seemed to claw and tear at your lungs, to lodge itself in the hollows of your skull and send a warm, steady pulsing down the length of your spine with every slight movement of Aisling’s fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, your hands kneading at the silk of his sheets as the knot sitting in your core coiled ever-tighter, as you came so, so close to that—
As Aisling pulled away, his touch skirting over the inside of your thigh before forcing two fingers into the dripping entrance of your cunt. You couldn’t bite back the fractured whine that bubbled past your lips, arching your back as he spread and curled his digits inside of you. “Still,” he went on, sighing in mock-disappointment. “I feel like our relationship has been far from reciprocal, as of late. I do adore taking care of you, and I don’t mean to sound unthankful, but—” Another pause, another sigh. “I am beloved to all folks of the land and air, worshiped by the valleys and mountains alike, and dearest to all beings with the wisdom necessary to appreciate true beauty. Why is it that the one I cherish most so evidently detests my very existence?”
“Be—” A broken moan cut you off, draw out by a particular scissoring motion of his fingers. It was a fight to find your voice again. “Because you’re a fucking prick.”
“Your honeyed praises will have to wait, for now.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, but the friction was too soft, too half-hearted to do anything. His lilac smoke seemed to claw its way down your throat and dislodge a pathetic string of whimpers and mewls, filling the new vacancy with a sort of… a sort of liquid heat, strong enough to leave you panting and hot enough to have you squirming against him, eager to get that much closer to his frigid body. Your desperation earned a melodic laugh from Aisling, a tender nuzzling of his cheek against yours. “Oh? Do you have something you’d like to ask for, little fawn?”
He forced a third finger into your terribly empty cunt, and something inside of you seemed to break open. “Please, Aisling, I—” You paused, gasped as his fingers curved against the clenching walls of your pussy. “I need to cum. I can’t take another—”
Whatever you might’ve said dissolved into a broken, pained moan as he drew back entirely, his slick-stained hand moving to your chin and tilting your head back, his lips finding your own before your shock could fade into hurt. Pointed, cat-like fangs burrowed into your bottom lip as his rough tongue laved over your own, the gesture less of a kiss and more of an attempt to permanently attach a part of him to a part of you. His taste was one of fresh fruit and sugared cream, and by the time he pulled away, you were panting, heaving, clambering to stay as close as him as you possibly could, to get as much from him as you possible could. Aisling only laughed as you rushed to straddle him, taking your face in both hands and pulling you into another long, lingering kiss – his mouth just as sweet as his poisons.
“Such a beautiful song,” he muttered, pulling back far enough to speak, but not leaving quite enough distance to disguise the crooked smile spread across his lips.
“Perhaps, by the time we’re finished, you’ll love me enough to deserve to.”
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lyssasdrafts · 3 months ago
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the alchemy — azriel x reader
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description: your friend just broke up with her boyfriend, asher. when you visit his house to ask for her things back, and to give him a piece of your mind, you run into his much better younger brother, azriel.
includes: modern au, azriel’s older brother (oc), mentions of cheating (not with azriel or y/n)
notes: i wrote this for @starsand 🤭🤭 go get your man girl 💕
(i also made up a male character for azriel’s brother since i didn’t wanna make cassian or rhysand a cheater 💔)
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you stared at the house in front of you. you were definitely in one of the richer neighborhoods judging by your commute there. the house was larger than your friend had even described, with a gate and fountain blocking your full view. as beautiful as it was to look at, you still dreaded going in.
your friend had recently broken up with her first boyfriend, asher. unfortunately, you were currently standing in front of his house, waiting to talk to him. your friend had forced you to go back for her to ask asher to return her things she’d left behind. you already anticipated the awkward conversation that would arise, and how asher probably was not going to agree with you easily.
you slowly walked up to the gates of the house, noticing the security camera they had flashing its red light at you, before ringing the doorbell. you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for someone to answer. you realized the possibility that nobody was home, and while it would be great to not see asher today, you really didn’t want to return.
you could hear the sound of another car parking next to the house, turning around to see a small black car next to yours. in the distance, you watch someone step out of the car and walk up to you.
you prepare yourself to face your friends ex-boyfriend, but instead find yourself being approached by a taller man. he had the same eyes as asher, but he was different, he was handsomer. the first thing you noticed about him was his broad shoulders, with a book bag slung across his chest. he had dark hair that nearly brushed against his eyes, his hazel eyes stared at you while he looked down to reach your height.
“can i help you?” he raised an eyebrow, and you began wondering if you had been to the wrong house. this was definetly not asher.
“is asher shadowsinger here?” you ask, trying not to embarrass yourself. the man in front of you lets out a deep laugh, one that you didn’t even know he was capable of with such a cold demeanor.
“don’t tell me you’re here to see that asshole,” the man chuckles, “he’s my older brother.”
“oh,” you say. your friend had mentioned her boyfriend had a younger brother, but you’d never expected him to look like he came out of one of your romance books.
“he’s not home right now, but i can let you inside and you can wait,” asher’s brother steps closer to you, and for a moment you can feel your heart beating faster. he quirks an eyebrow at you, as he reaches for the wall behind you. he uncovers the security panel, pressing in the numbers to the passcode.
“i just unlocked the door,” he steps away from you as the gates automatically moved apart for you. “and you can call me azriel.”
you nod your head, thanking him as you walk past their front entrance. he follows a little behind you, leading you to their living room with a sleek couch with a large tv screen. you can’t help but notice the line of trophies on the shelf above that say “azriel shadowsinger” instead of his brother’s name. you wonder what they could’ve been for. the room is an open space connected to a large family room with a large dining table set. quite frankly, you were grateful that azriel had led you in since you likely would’ve gotten lost in this house that was more of a mansion. you sit down on the couch after he offers, and a look of concern flashed across azriel’s face.
“what are you really here for? and how long were you standing out there alone?” azriel asks while he takes off his bag, and you can’t help but notice how his shirt accidentally lifts a bit.
“i’m here because my friend walked in on her boyfriend, asher, kissing another girl.” you fold your arms, clenching your teeth unknowingly when you began to think about it. “and don’t worry, i just got here when you found me.”
azriel’s gaze shifts back to you, making your heart race once again. you look up at him, waiting for a response. would he take his brothers side? was he just as bad?
“asher told me his girlfriend broke up with him but he never talked about why,” azriel looked down. “he’s fucking dead when i get him.”
you chuckle, putting your arms up, “i don’t like him either. my friend sent me here to get her stuff back.”
“i can find it for you, it’s probably in his room,” azriel explains. “just stay here, okay? i’ll get whatever you need.”
you can’t help but give azriel a soft smile. he was nothing like his brother from what you could tell. asher had treated your friend like an asshole, and when she caught him cheating on her, that was the final straw. you hadn’t expected azriel to go against his brother’s actions. and honestly, you would’ve never even expected someone related to asher to be this attractive and caring.
azriel comes back, your friend’s hoodie and necklace in his hands. “i assume this is isn’t asher’s.”
you nod, taking it from azriel’s hands. he seems flustered at the contact, his eyes looking away when you brush hands. he sits next to you on the couch, keeping a pillow’s distance between the both of you.
“can i ask you something?” azriel says. you nod your head with a “yes”. he turns to face you, his hazel eyes staring down at your lips. you blink at him as he reaches for your hand again.
“if you’re not here for asher, does that mean i can have you?”
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petri-dinner · 6 months ago
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Pressure OC, z-14. He He used to be a man but they put his sentience into a goldfish. His quirk is he holds off your anxiety in closets for a bit longer, and you can buy him from Sebastian for 5 files.
Him and Sebastian do not get along, and if you or another player dies, your entire party loses him. He is kept in a plastic baggy like a carnival prize.
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yiichan · 1 month ago
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I'd love to see an almost inverse version of effortlessly- where chan (feels odd to say his name in this context lol) is a submissive stalker- almost pathetic and desperate for the reader to pay attention to him, and by extension, be claimed/posessed by the reader. Think limerence. I'm excited to see what you write next!
😶‍🌫️
pairings. yandere!sub!chan x top!m!reader (ft. jeonghan & vernon). word count. 2.7k genre. yandere, request, smut.
warnings. obsessive behaviour, manipulation, the (in)famous drunk dino and kneeling jeonghan story, stalking, drunk sex, no protection (pull out game, sorry. please use a condom, people, ik mpreg doesn't happen in reality but you might never know), anal fingering, biting, chan is feral, reader is younger (idk but i feel like lee chan should be a hyung here), oral sex (chan receiving), use of drugs.
writer's notes. it took me a long time to figure out how i should write this. i might have went out of the theme im sorry hehe. normally im all down for bottom chan (esp wonchan or allchan) but i prefer uke male readers (rip my current and future ocs' and readers' asses). i hope that you are satisfied with this, though. let me know about your thoughts through my inbox, the anon who sent this in!
mentioning my imperial beta reader, @sousydive
network: @mansaenetwork
masterlist | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3
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Chan needs you like a fish needs water.
You are his air, his world, his everything. His heart races wildly every time he catches a glimpse of you walking down the lecture hall.
But his love—no, his obsession—runs far deeper than simple admiration. He knows everything about you: your schedule, your favorite seat in the lecture hall, the snacks you nibble on between classes. He’s memorized the little quirks that make you you—the way you twist your pen between your fingers when lost in thought, the slight tilt of your head as you read, the soft furrow of your brows when something puzzles you.
Before he even realizes it, his phone is in his hand, snapping another photo of you. A snapshot of you deep in thought. Another of you sitting alone at the cafeteria. One of you walking home.
And then, there’s the one that sends his pulse racing the most—a picture of you standing by your window, reaching out to close it.
The pictures are printed and carefully pinned across the walls of his room, a shrine dedicated to you. Chan has convinced himself it isn’t wrong. He’s not hurting anyone, after all. He just wants to keep a part of you close, something to hold onto during the hours you’re out of reach.
But it isn’t enough.
The pictures, the fleeting glimpses of you, the stolen moments he captures through his camera lens—they only feed the growing void inside him. He needs more. He craves more.
He doesn’t just want to watch from the shadows anymore. He wants you to see him. To look at him the way he looks at you. To need him the way he needs you.
You were looking at your phone when you bumped into someone.
“I’m so sorry!” you quickly apologized, boxes tumbling to the ground as papers scattered everywhere. The man you knocked onto the floor coughed, peering up at you with narrowed eyes.
“It’s okay. Could you help me find my glasses, please?” His voice was soft and warm—and your heart skipped a beat. You bent down, quickly retrieving a pair of golden-rimmed glasses from the floor, gathering his scattered papers in the process.
You recognized him.
Lee Chan, from the finance department. He was a popular student—quiet, yet effortlessly attractive.
You held out your hand, and Lee Chan grabbed it, using you to pull himself up from the floor. “Thanks.”
“No worries, I wasn’t looking my way…” You passed the papers back to him, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment. You were slightly taller than him, and as he stood close, you couldn’t help but notice a faint, sweet strawberry-like scent coming from him.
Your ears burned. What were you thinking?
“It’s fine. I wasn’t paying attention either.” Lee Chan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh, I know you. You’re from the sports department, right?”
“Yeah. You’re Lee Chan, right?” You made a quick bow, which he returned. “I didn’t know someone famous in this college would know someone like me, haha.” You tilted your head, scratching at the back of your neck again.
Lee Chan raised a brow, his tone surprised. “Are you trying to brag or something? You’re famous for that baseball match, you know?”
“Am I?” You laughed. Lee Chan nodded.
“Anyway, I should be on my way.” He glanced at his watch, ready to leave. You eyed the boxes and papers still scattered around, feeling guilty about knocking into him.
“Actually, I can help you, you know?” you said, flexing your toned arms with a grin. Before Lee Chan could protest, you quickly grabbed the heavy boxes from his hands. Seeing that you’d left no room for argument, Lee Chan reluctantly allowed you to carry the boxes for him.
By the time you reached the finance department, you had already started calling him "Chan hyung"—a natural transition since you two were now exchanging phone numbers. The walk had been brief, but there was something about the way Chan kept glancing at you, his lips curling into a small smile every time you caught his gaze, that made the air feel charged, even in the mundanity of it all.
"Thanks for helping me out," Chan said once you reached the door. He paused, the corners of his mouth still lifted in that soft, almost shy smile.
You grinned. "No problem, hyung. I’ll see you around, then?"
He nodded, and you gave him a quick wave before heading back towards the sports department.
From that day onward, Chan was always on your mind. You could almost always smell that intoxicating scent of sweet strawberries whenever you walked down the corridors. You found yourself checking Chan’s social media, or searching for his figure when you passed the finance department.
Chan texted you from time to time—sometimes to congratulate you on a game, other times to ask if you'd be up for a casual coffee. You would invite him to watch your games, eagerly looking for his familiar figure among the crowds. 
Until one day, when you got a phone call from him.
You had just finished practice and were washing up at the dorm when your phone rang. Stepping out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around your waist, you quickly checked the caller ID. Your eyes widened when you saw who was calling.
Without hesitation, you answered, putting the phone on loudspeaker as you grabbed another towel to dry your hair. "Chan hyung?" you asked, your voice slightly breathless.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the phone was unfamiliar. You frowned, pausing in your actions as you glanced at the screen. The background noise was chaotic—loud music and indistinct chatter. “Sorry, are you Chan’s friend? Could you come pick him up? He’s, uh, really drunk—VERNON! HOLD HIM!—sorry, he’s very, very drunk right now.”
You blinked, your pulse quickening. “Oh.” The unexpected turn of events threw you off balance.
There was a brief pause, and you could hear muffled voices in the background. Whoever was on the phone sounded frazzled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out... but he’s not really making any sense right now. He keeps asking for you. Can you come?”
Your hand tightened around the towel at your waist. Chan, drunk? And asking for you? It was a lot to process in a moment. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be there. Just... send me the address.”
The call ended abruptly, and the address was quickly sent to you. You threw on a casual shirt and black pants, grabbed your jacket and wallet, and headed out of the dorm. You hailed a cab and gave the driver the address.
As you neared your destination, you saw three figures standing at the roadside outside a nightclub. You instructed the cab driver to stop and wait for you, then quickly opened the door and rushed over.
Chan was holding onto a lamppost while one man supported him. The other man was kneeling before him, almost as if begging him to let go of the poor pole. You rushed forward, calling out, “Chan hyung!”
Your heart pounded as you neared the scene. The man who had been kneeling quickly stood up, pointing toward you. “He’s here! Chan-ah, please, let go of the lamppost—”
Chan’s head snapped up, his glassy eyes locking onto yours. A small, drunken smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it seemed distant and unfocused. His grip on the lamppost tightened for a moment before he slowly, shakily let go and staggered toward you. “You... You came,” he slurred, his voice slow and heavy with alcohol.
You instinctively reached out to support him as he wobbled toward you. His breath smelled faintly of alcohol and something else—something sweet, like strawberries. He tried to stand on his own but swayed dangerously, his body pressing too heavily against yours.
The man who had been kneeling sighed in relief, a slight smile on his face. “Thanks for coming. He’s been asking for you for the past half hour. We thought he might knock himself out with the pole at some point.” He sighed, while the other man nodded coolly. You recognized them as Yoon Jeonghan and Vernon Chwe from the marketing department. As Chan leaned heavily on your shoulder, you gave a quick bow to them. “Nice to meet you, sunbaes. I’m—”
“We know you.” Jeonghan gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re the rising star of the baseball team, Cheolie’s most reliable striker. Besides, Channie told us a lot about you.” He sighed at the man currently trying to hide his face in your neck. You quickly wrapped your jacket around him as he tightened his arms around your waist. “I see. Do you have the address to his dorm?”
“About that,” Vernon spoke up. “Chan’s dorm room is undergoing renovations. He’s been crashing at Jeonghan hyung’s place, but since he got drunk, he refused to leave with him. If you don’t mind, could you bring him back to your dorm instead?”
“Sure.” You nodded. Jeonghan looked relieved. “Great, I’ll leave Channie in your hands.” He said, before dragging Vernon off in the opposite direction. You gently guided Chan’s hands off you and led him back to the cab. 
By the time the cab reached your dorm, Chan had already fallen asleep. The driver, kind enough to assist, helped you carry Chan onto your back, and you left him a generous tip. Once inside, you laid Chan gently on your bed.
As you straightened up to grab a warm towel, a hand gripped your shirt tightly. You looked down to see Chan staring up at you, a faint blush across his face. “Where are you going?”
“I’m just getting a towel for you, hyung,” you replied, taking in his appearance. Chan wasn’t wearing his usual glasses—his eyes were wide, pupils dark, pulling you in like a siren. You swallowed, suddenly aware of the sweet scent of strawberries filling the room.
“Stay,” Chan insisted, his head tilting slightly to the side. You nodded, a bit dazed, and before you could fully process what was happening, he pulled you onto the bed, positioning himself to straddle you.
When your lips crashed, you froze, your hands laying helplessly at either side of your hips. You could feel Chan grinding on you, his hands gripping your shirt as his lips moulded with yours. When Chan finally pulled away from you to gasp for air, you quickly held him by the waist, stopping his movements. “Hyung… You’re drunk-”
“‘M not drunk,” Chan replied, his hands snaking down your chest. Your face burnt as he reached the hem of your pants, teasingly pulling at the band. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Hyung…” You swallowed. The air thickens as Chan frowned, leaning so close that your noses touched. “You want me to beg you? Please, fuck me?” He growled, grinding harshly at the tent in your pants. You let out a groan, your grip around his waist tightening. “I-”
“I’m giving you permission to put your cock in my ass right now. I like you.” Your eardrums ringed as Chan confesses, one hand pulling up his shirt while the other working on your pants. You choked on your own saliva at the sight of his body, quickly turning your head to the side. “Hyung, sl-slow down.”
Articles of clothing were soon removed, pooling at the ground of your bed. Chan is now lying beneath you, one hand grabbing the sheets as he moaned loudly, his other hand now tightening around your hair. You hollowed your mouth, your tongue flicking against his tip as you gave a harsh suck. 
Chan whimpered, arching his back off your sheets as his thighs clamped around your head. You ignored the tightness around your head, your finger working relentlessly on his hole as he thrashed around the sheets, wailing loudly before spilling into your mouth. “Ah…ha…”
The taste of salty musk and sweet strawberries filled your tongue as you lolled them out, letting them spill onto your fingers. Using Chan’s cum and your saliva as lube, you continued to venture in him, earning a loud cry from the older man. “Wait- T-too mu-”
“You were impatient just now, hyung.” You replied, forcing his knees to open for you again. Chan panted, looking at you through his hooded lids and wet hair. His upper body was littered with hickeys and bite marks, his nipples red and swollen. “I’m just giving you what you want.”
You added another finger into him, stretching him out as he moaned your name in earnest. A particular sharp jab of your fingers caused him to arch his back yet again, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You poked around that soft muscle for a few more times, before pulling your fingers out. 
“You…” Chan looked down at you, a confused yet fucked out expression on his face. You stood between his legs, your expression suddenly mortified. “Um, hyung, I don’t have condoms…”
“Just do it raw.” Chan deadpanned, rolling his eyes. He raised his knees up, hanging them over your shoulder and hooking you closer to him. “It’s not like I would get pregnant.”
Your cock twitches at his words and you hummed in reply. “You do know the colour system-”
“Green, now hurry up and fuck m- ah, shit,” You guided your hardness towards his hole, burying in Chan’s warmth with one slow thrust. You could feel him sucking you in as you groaned, pushing gently so as to not hurt him. 
Once you bottomed out, Chan’s eyes were unfocused. You leaned downwards to nibble at his swollen lips, and his hand quickly wrapped around your neck, supporting himself. You took this as a sign to continue, and your hips started to move. 
Moans and groans bounced off the walls as you rammed Chan into the sheets. Chan felt like a drug, his addictive scent filling your nose and brain as you continued to plant hickeys along the sides of his neck. It didn’t take long for Chan to arch his back again, and so you stopped. 
“Wha- Y-” Before Chan could say anything, you flipped him around, still impaled in him. Your hips moved at an unforgiving speed, as Chan could only cry your name out in both pleasure and mercy. “Can’t… Please- close…”
“I’m close too, hyung.” You pressed a gentle kiss on his shoulder, your hand reaching down to grab at his cock. A few lazy tugs and Chan was cumming, his head on your shoulder as he sobbed, falling to the bed. You groaned at the sudden tightness, pulling out before tight ropes of your cum spurt over Chan’s back and ass. 
“I’ll clean you up, hyung,” you whispered softly as Chan’s heavy eyelids fluttered with exhaustion. Carefully, you lifted him off the bed, guiding him toward the bathroom.
With patience and gentle coaxing, you managed to shower him with warm water, wash away the remnants of the night, and dry him off. By the time you were done, Chan looked peaceful, dressed in clean clothes, and already half-asleep. You laid him gently on your bed, now fresh with newly changed sheets.
Sliding in beside him, you couldn’t resist wrapping your arms around his resting form. His familiar strawberry-like scent lingered, soothing you as you nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck.
Contentment swelled in your chest. Tomorrow, you would ask him out on an official date. For now, though, holding him close was more than enough.
bonus:
02:23 a.m.
hannie hyung🐰: so... how did it go? did you get cheol’s favourite junior?
hannie hyung🐰: judging from your lack of response, i guess you got what you want. i really need that strawberry perfume back, you know. besides, if he smells it too often he might get really, like really addicted to it.
hannie hyung🐰: and bononie just cleared out the stash of photos in your dorm, you can bring him back any time.
hannie hyung🐰: we didn't throw it away though, it's at shua's.
hannie hyung🐰: and text me back when you're awake. i can't believe i had to kneel down to you in public, you little freak. do we really have to go all out to that extend?
hannie hyung🐰: hyung loves you, anyway.
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© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider
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kaytaygayquirks · 14 days ago
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Laser beams: this quirk gives its user the ability to shoot laser beams from their hands. The users hands are immune to their own quirk however the rest of their body is not. The laser beams that the user can shoot are able to burn through metal, even ones with high melting points. The laser will continue in a straight line for twenty feet before fading out. The laser will stay until it becomes twenty feet long, then it will fade out and the user can make another. The laser moves fairly fast and the user can make two at a time. The downsides of the quirk are, only the users hands are immune to the quirk the rest of their body is not, when the quirk is overused the users hands becomes sore and the skin feels thin, the user also suffers from quirk exhaustion.
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drysdalesworld · 11 months ago
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PHASE ONE — always trust the match maker (jamie’s version)
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part two
pairing(s): jamie drysdale x fem!reader, platonic!trevor zegras x fem!reader (besties), fem!oc (georgie) x fem!reader (roommates)
genre: a smidge of angst (like talks of breakup/dates gone wrong + reader feeling like she’s not good enough for love), tons of fluff (jamie is a lovesick fool let’s be real), & comfort (in regards to hugs, etc.)
word count: 5.1k+
warning(s): trev thinking he’s cupid, bickering, trevor recruiting readers roommate into his “master plan”, mentions of familial teasing & making reader feel bad about her dating life, drinking + mentions of drinking, mentions of a party, cursing, lowkey moon!reader & sun!jamie, this is literally mostly filler lol
note(s): please remember that this is a work of fiction & nothing the characters in this work say or do is a reflection of them or what they do. i always try to make the reader as racially ambiguous as possible so please let me know if i did not achieve that in this work! :) reader’s job is also mentioned as a journalist. please ignore the numerous amount of times i say painted 😭
It was an ongoing joke between your loved ones that you had bad taste in romantic partners. It somehow always being brought up during family gatherings, giggles gracing their lips as they recalled your past failed relationships and the kinds of people you had brought home throughout the years. You knew that they never truly meant to hurt you with their words but you couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop and frown at their teasing everytime it happened. This was something that followed you from your hometown to your new place of residence in Anaheim, California, even during your near four years of living there. Especially when your good friend of those four years, Trevor Zegras, noticed the pattern one night and the world of your shitty past relationships were revealed to him.
( Trevor glanced at your approaching figure from the corner of his eye as you walked into his and Jamie’s small apartment, having just come back from somewhere as you paused by the doorway to take off your shoes. The man was in the kitchen making himself a bowl of cereal when he had heard the lock and door knob turn.
“What’s up?” He’d asked.
A sigh was the only thing he heard as a response, the sound of your shoes hitting the floor barely a thud on the rugged portion of the entrance, something you had insisted on getting Trevor and Jamie as you had wanted to give their dull and barely decorated apartment some life.
“Alright, I know that sigh. What’s wrong?”.
It creeped you out at first at how well Trevor knew you when you first became friends. He was able to read you like a book, as clear as day. You never met someone like that before. Who took their time in memorizing your little habits and quirks, being able to immediately clock them and check in on you if needed. You had eventually found comfort in that. It was something that you had appreciated about your friend.
“Just a bad date s’all,” you replied, eyes still downturned towards the floor as you make your way to the kitchen, laying your warm and sweaty face onto the cool granite of the counter.
Trevor had turned his body towards you the minute you sighed, concerned laced in his facial features. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you lay against the cold surface.
“A bad date? I didn’t know you went on a date tonight. What happened?” He softly asked.
Another thing you were grateful for was that Trevor wouldn’t immediately start teasing you about something if he saw you in a state like this, upset and flustered. It was something you had addressed to him very early on in your friendship and he respected that.
You briefly contemplated lying to the boy. But you told the truth anyway, deciding that this was something you needed to get off your chest.
“He was just such a…dick, to put it nicely. He was late by nearly an hour and talked about his ex the entire time. He even expected me to get the bill, which I wouldn’t have minded doing but he practically insulted me about my job saying how the only thing journalists do is gossip and shove rumors down everyone's throat. I literally couldn’t wait to leave and get back here”.
Trevor had a frown painted on his lips once you finished explaining. He didn’t know much of your dating history. Only that most of the people you dated were exes for a reason. Hearing about someone treating you like that made him sad and think how you most definitely deserved better.
The brunet didn’t respond to your explanation, only handing you his bowl of cereal and going to pour himself a new one as he lead you to the couch afterwards, eager to take your mind off of the lackluster night. )
You are forever grateful to have someone like Trevor within your life. He treated you like family and never failed to make you feel welcomed within his presence. Something that you very rarely felt with anyone.
And just as you felt a smile spread across your face at the memory of Trevor giving you his last bit of favorite cereal from that night in an effort to make you feel better, your roommate, Georgie, had pulled you out of your thoughts with the wave of her hand passing over your eyes.
“Hello? Earth to (Y/N)”.
You hummed out in acknowledgment, eyes shifting from their glazed over position to the figure of your roommate. She huffed in response.
“Where were you just now, babe? Wait – no. Don’t tell me. I know exactly who you were thinking of,” she smiled, bright teeth on full display as a teasing look spread across her face. “Was it a certain roommate of the Anaheim Ducks player number 11? Or a darked haired man that absolutely cannot play guitar for the life of him?”.
Her words caused you to groan out and roll your eyes, “No. I was not thinking of Jamie, for your information”.
Georgie didn’t seem to believe you, eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher whether or not you were lying to her.
The woman across from you knew of the ‘crush’ you had on the dark haired man. It seemed to be quite obvious to everyone but the man in question. Georgie had commented one too many times on the kind of look you give him when he walks into the room or the kind of smile that subconsciously spreads across your lips when he makes conversation with you, something that Jamie rarely ever does to other people. You always insisted that he must’ve felt comfortable with you to engage in talk with you, but your roommate never failed to point out that he never talks to people first and he always approached you first to talk.
( “Babe, he practically gets excited when he sees you. I mean, dude, he has the biggest smile ever and willingly makes conversation with you first. I don’t see him do that to Trevor every time he sees him”. )
But regardless of the confirmations and signs that Jamie Drysdale may like you the way you like him, you always denied it. He felt too real. Too soft to be tainted and touched by your scarred heart. Too loving to have to put up with you. With the kind of dating history you had, it was hard to believe that you weren’t a problem or a burden to others when in a relationship. Many of your exes had stupid excuses to leave you, all which left you heartbroken. It was hard to not believe the kinds of things they said after every relationship you had ended in a disaster one way or another. You completely believed that it was something you did that made them all leave and you did not want that for Jamie. You didn’t think you’d be able to do that to him nor would you be able to recover from the inevitable heartbreak that awaits you on the other side. It was better to admire him from afar you had decided.
( You did not deserve someone so soft, so loving, and so kind. He looked at the world through rose tinted glasses and you forever had cracked lenses that were barely hanging on the frame of your face. It would never work out. )
Georgie licked her lips as she saw you begin to spiral back into your own head, sighing as she let out a breathy fine and left it at that. She returned to the topic she was discussing with you before she noticed you weren’t even paying attention to the words she was speaking. She wasn’t even entirely sure you were currently listening to her as your eyes began to glaze over once again.
Maybe I should take up Z on his offer, she thought to herself, fingers beginning to twirl around a strand of hair as she continued. Getting J and (Y/N) together is something that definitely needs to happen.
————
“Ah! There she is! The girl of the hour!”.
You wanted to crawl in on yourself and never come out when Trevor’s loud voice reached your ears upon entering his full and cramped apartment. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, raising the box of beers you had picked up at the last minute above your head. More cheers erupted upon your gesture.
Trevor had informed you of his ‘little’ get together approximately an hour before it was planned to start. It was nearing the beginning of the hockey season and he wanted to party and celebrate before his days were filled with hockey and nothing but hockey. He practically pleaded with you to come over when you had declined his offer, comfortably in bed with your comfort movie playing as you got ready to have an early night in. You only caved when Georgie bursted through the door and dragged you out of bed, demanding you accompany her to Trevor’s party. And that’s how you ended up nearly two hours late to his party with beer in hand as an apology with Georgie trailing behind you.
“God bless you sweets,” Trevor mumbled as he engulfed you in a hug, brushing his lips against your hairline, snatching the box of beers from your hands and setting it on the table upon pulling away.
You muttered a yeah yeah before making a beeline for the kitchen fridge, dead set on getting your usual drink. You weren’t a big drinker nor were you able to handle hard alcohol so Trevor always made sure to get you more flavored drinks so you wouldn’t feel left out on the ‘buzz’ of the party.
The cool air of the fridge felt nice on your face compared to the warm heat that began to cling onto your skin from the amount of bodies around you. But as your eyes scanned the fridge and its compartments, you realized Trevor must’ve forgotten to stock up as you couldn’t find a single drink of yours in sight. A frown quickly made its way onto your lips as you realized, already defeated.
“Some people were taking them so I hid them in my room. They might be a little warm if you still want them,” a soft and familiar voice spoke from the right of you, behind the shelter of the silver fridge door.
You slightly stilled upon hearing his voice. But that didn’t stop a smile from making its way onto your face.
“Hey, Jamie,” you spoke, gently closing the door of the fridge, fingers still lightly wrapped around the handle. “That’s nice of you to do. You didn’t have to do that y’know”.
He flashed you his infamous smile, making that warm and fuzzy feeling crawl up your stomach and settle in your chest. “I know. I wanted to. Plus, I know you would’ve given Trevor shit for it and he seems too occupied right now to make a trip to the store for more”.
A giggle left your mouth in response to the man's observation. He wasn’t wrong though. You would've definitely given Trevor shit for not putting the drinks in a safer place, making him feel bad to the point that he would be grabbing his keys and muttering a I’ll be back before exiting through the front door.
“It’s the least I could do for the amount of shit he’s put me through,” you joked, leisurely following Jamie as he led you to his room, weaving through the numerous bodies littered throughout the apartment.
You faintly heard the man chuckle, his head shaking as the fluffy ends of his hair followed the motion of his head. You found yourself smiling harder at the fact that you made Jamie Drysdale laugh, even if it was for a brief moment.
“Well, he definitely deserves it,” he responded, slightly turning towards you as he twisted the door knob of his bedroom door and opened it, revealing his half haphazardly clean room and the brightly colored alcoholic canned beverages on his night stand. “That’s all of what was left. I tried to get more but nobody would budge”.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, eyes trained on the cans. He truly did try to convince those who had the same cans in their hands if they would be willing to trade it for another kind of drink. But they all just looked at him weirdly and declined, practically chugging the liquid in front of him to put more emphasis on their decision. Jamie knew they were one of the only alcoholic drinks that you would consume on nights like these and he didn’t want you to miss out on the fun, if there was even any to start with, just because Trevor wasn’t diligent enough to hide them somewhere else.
Your heart began to swell at the sweet gesture from the boy next to you. It was probably one of the sweetest things someone has done for you in a very long time. It made the warm feeling in your chest grow and spread up into your cheeks.
“Thank you so much, Jimmy. I really appreciate it. This is more than enough, trust me,” you spoke, a gentle smile on your lips as you did so.
Jamie only nodded in reply to your words, copying your smile as he turned his head towards you and away from the condensating cans. The tips of his pale ears tinted pink.
He watched you as you made your way to his night stand and grab a can, promptly opening it before taking a sip. His blue eyes stayed on your figure as you tipped your head back to drink the beverage, lukewarm liquid filling your mouth before sliding down your throat as you swallowed. Jamie found himself copying you subconsciously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed too. Everything about you seemed to enchant him, never able to take his eyes off of you as you did whatever or talked about whatever. There was just something about you that pulled him in. And he began to find himself addicted to it at times. Always itching for a new fix.
“You want one?” you asked, nodding your head towards the cool cans, effectively pulling Jamie out of his stupor.
“Oh, uh, no. It’s okay. I already had, like, three beers anyway. I think I’m done for the night,” he responded.
He was lying. He only had one. He was too nervous to drink. Trevor had informed him that you were going to be attending the party and he suddenly couldn’t stomach anymore alcohol. It’s not that you made him nervous in a bad way necessarily. The kinds of nerves he experienced around you was hard to put into words but the only thing he could describe it as was something akin to having an elementary school crush. Those excited nerves to see the new kid in school that you found cute. The kind that made him want to pull the flowers from the elderly lady’s garden in his neighborhood and gift them to you as a token of his love. The kind that made him see you everywhere, even in the littlest things.
You narrowed your bright eyes at him, not being able to accurately tell if he was lying. A simple nod of your head was your only response as you took another sip of your drink and sat down on his neatly made bed covers.
You stared at the pictures tapped to his wall. Pictures of his family to his idols scattered the plain white walls of his room. It made you smile that he displayed those he adored and loved on his bedroom walls. You began to wonder what it would look like if he had you on there amongst the pictures of his loved ones. But as quickly as the thought popped into your head, it went away just as fast.
“I must’ve been like, six or something in that picture,” he spoke, gently making his way towards you, pointer finger brushing up against the printed picture of him as a child surrounded by both of his parents and brother, Pre-K graduation certificate tightly grasped in both hands as he brightly and widely smiled at the camera, his freckles danced across the bridge of his nose and apples of his cheeks. “Had just graduated Pre-K. My parents made such a big deal out of it. I thought it was the best day of my life back then”.
The softness of voice managed to catch you off guard a little, seeing a side of him you never really got the chance to see.
“You look extremely proud of yourself, Drysdale. Very cute too. Your parents look proud too,” you said, tone matched in the same gentleness as his.
A grin made its way onto his face as he angled his head towards yours, eyes gleaming in something you weren’t able to recognize as he sat next to you.
“Oh, I know. Had all the older moms fawning over me and my adorably cute looks,” he joked, chuckling to himself.
You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as well, gently pushing the thigh pressed against yours, shaking your head to yourself. “Of course. I wouldn’t’ve expected anything less, Jamie. Bet you had all the Pre-K girls chasing after you on the blacktop too, huh?”.
“Nah, they had cooties. I couldn’t catch that!” he exclaimed in response, a hearty laugh escaping his soft lips as he gently pushed you with his shoulder, causing you to tip over a bit onto his pillow.
You had only gotten a small whiff of the smell but that was enough to make your insides twist and warmth in your body to completely engulf you. His pillow carried a small smell of his normal scent, something that made your mind entirely short circuit and mouth slightly water. You knew Jamie took well care of himself and smelled good. But getting more than just a quick sniff of it as he leaned in to listen to what you had to say while in a busy, buzzing bar or brushed past you made you slightly freeze in your tracks and just want to drown yourself in whatever he used as cologne.
Geez, get yourself together girl, the voice in your head scolded, shaking its head at your behavior and thoughts.
Jamie had opened his mouth to say something else when the door swung open, bouncing off the wall it had made contact with. A couple had stumbled into the room shortly after, lips and arms entangled with each other as they obviously wanted to find a vacant room for some privacy.
Your jaw dropped open in shock at the sight in front of you, a creeping smile beginning to spread on your lips as you tried not to laugh out loud. A couple just barged into Jamie’s room to try to have a fun time without realizing they were occupying the room.
“Uh,” Jamie coughed, springing up from his seated position to stand up, silence and awkwardness filling the air of the room as the couple halted their movements and quickly pulled away from each other.
Apologizes began spewing from their lips, blushes evident on both of their skins as they back up and out of the room, leaving the door wide open as they left in a hurry.
The laugh you were keeping in finally escaped your mouth as you doubled over, clutching your stomach as you found the entire situation hilarious.
Jamie only looked at you like a wounded puppy, frowning as he whined about the couple trying to hook up in his room and how gross that was especially since the two of you were currently in the room. But he eventually gave in and joined in on your laughing fit, just happy to have had spent some time with you before the both of you were so rudely interrupted.
( “What do you mean some couple barged into his room? Did they think it was empty?” Trevor exclaimed, the tone of it whiny. “Does that mean they didn’t do it?”.
Georgie rolled her eyes at the six foot something man. She shouldn’t’ve even agreed to this stupid plan in the first place. Getting you there was a hassle within itself and then to have Trevor’s ‘spectacular’ idea fall to shit not even an hour and a half into the two of you being there was evidence enough that Trevor Zegras was indeed not a match maker.
“I don’t know, Trev! They just came out of his room like two minutes ago. I was watching the door when I saw the couple approach it. I don’t think (Y/N) and Jamie were able to do anything. Your plan sucked, dude. Major time”.
Trevor only groaned in defeat. The first phase of his plan failed. Big time. And now he had to come up with something else to try to get his roommate and best friend together. And God knows that Trevor Zegras will do anything in his power to make it happen. )
————
You didn’t know why you kept doing this to yourself. Kept going on dates with people who just simply didn’t care for you or cared for what you had to say and just wanted a quick succession for the week. It truly boggled your mind on how you managed to attract these kinds of people and had you wondering if you did anything to deserve this kind of treatment.
As you walked in the pouring rain from another horrible date, you found yourself walking the familiar path to Trevor and Jamie’s apartment. Something you always found yourself doing after a particularly hard day, or awful date in this case. It was like your legs had a mind of their own as you appeared in front of the wood door, knuckles rapping at the hard surface before you could think twice about it.
A barely audible coming! and shuffling came from the other side of the door, it swinging open once the owner of the voice finally managed to get to the wooden door.
“Hey! – Oh. What happened? Why are you soaked?”.
Jamie had stood before you, hair slightly disheveled as he probably was gaming or getting ready for a nap before you had interrupted it with your presence. A frown also made its way onto his lips, the corners of his mouth drooping. He looked legitimately concerned as to why you had shown up at his apartment at seven-thirty at night soaked to the bone with your heels in hand.
You must really look like a mess right now, you whispered to yourself in your head, mentally scolding yourself for disturbing whatever he was doing before you had shown up.
“Are you okay?” He softly asked, ushering you inside the warm apartment with the same amount of gentleness his voice carried. God, that made you want to cry on the spot.
Your wet and cold hand quickly slipped out of his warm calloused ones as you pulled it back, stepping back into the hallway, shaking your head as you went to open your mouth. “It’s not that big of a deal anyway. I don’t know why I stopped by. I’m sorry for disturbing your night”.
Your words seemed to have an effect on Jamie as his frown deepened and hand went out to grasp yours back into his own. Eyes filled with concern as he tried to decipher why you would say that.
It must’ve been a big enough deal for her to end up here, Jamie thought to himself as he knew that his and Trevor’s apartment was often a safe place for you. More like the people renting the space we’re the comfort than the home itself.
“Please,” he pleaded, “Come inside. You don’t have to tell me what happened but at least wait until the rain stops to go back home”.
When you had looked up, Jamie’s blue eyes held such concern that you wanted to comfort him, ignoring your own hurt to make him feel better. Maybe that’s why your relationships always ended badly. You put others needs and feelings before your own, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care with Jamie.
You simply nodded your head to his request, allowing him to gently drag you into the warmer apartment as he took your discarded heels from your hands and dropped them onto the floor, other hand still in your own.
“I can get some of Trevor clothes for you to wear if you’d like. He’s out with Mason and the boys tonight, but he’ll be back soon,” he whispered as if he was scared you’d crack and crumble to the ground in a thousand pieces if he spoke any louder.
“Please,” you muttered, now shaking from the rain you endured only minutes prior. Droplets of water still dropped from the soaked end of your dress and hair.
Jamie mumbled a quick okay before urging you to follow him, your soft hand still grasped in his rough one before he gently dropped it to retrieve some clothes for you.
Upon entering the apartment, its warmth settled itself into your skin, causing a shiver to run through your body, dress still dripping from your walk in the rain. Wrapping your arms around your shaking torso, you shook your head at yourself and began to mumble about how stupid it was to go to Trevor and Jamie’s instead of yours. You didn’t want him seeing you like this. You felt pathetic enough already and didn’t need him judging you for your lackluster of a dating life.
“I couldn’t find anything of Trevor’s that was clean, or that didn’t look suspiciously dirty. So I hope you don’t mind wearing some of mine,” Jamie spoke up, a large sweatshirt and some gray sweatpants in hand. An awkward smile painted his lips as he nervously held out the pieces of clothing for you, heart beating rapidly in his chest as you grabbed the clothes from his grasp.
“Thank you,” you shuttered, lips a paler color as your teeth knocked themselves together.
Your eyes avoided Jamie’s as you made your way to the guest bathroom, stripping yourself of your sopping clothes and quickly changing into the dry ones of Jamie’s. Albeit him not being a very tall man, the ends of his sweater sleeves still managed to cover the entirety of your hands and engulf you in a comforting way.
The feeling of wearing Jamie’s clothes was very different from wearing Trevor’s. You never felt warm or giddy wearing Trevor’s stuff. It was always something normal between the two of you that neither of you thought twice about. But with Jamie, it felt different. A good different. Like there was more to it than just wearing his clothes. It comforted you in a way that Trevor’s wasn’t able to.
A soft knock came from the other side of the door as you wiped the remnants of your makeup away, “Do you want some hot chocolate? I could make some for you if you’d like. Warm you up a bit”.
A pang of guilt erupted within your chest, feeling bad for having Jamie do all of this for you when he didn’t even know why you had showed up at his front door upset and wet from the rain. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. With you.
Your hesitation and lack of an answer allowed Jamie to believe that you weren’t in the mood for one. But he’d make you a cup anyway. Just in case.
Minutes had passed before you exited the bathroom, hair thrown up in a towel to dry and body now warm and skin back to its original hue. Jamie was propped up against the counter, elbows on the cool surface as he hurriedly typed away on his phone, thick eyebrows drawn slightly together as he focused on the screen in front of him. You assumed he was texting Trevor and updating him on your presence in their apartment. Another pang of guilt struck.
“If you need, I can leave. Don’t want to be too much trouble,” you spoke up, nervously picking at the nail beds of your fingers from where you stood.
The dark haired man slightly jumped, surprised to have not heard you exit the bathroom. He turned to face you, placing his phone onto the counter as it continued to buzz. “No,” he spoke, “You don’t need to. I want to help you and it is not any trouble at all. You were in need and I want to be there for you”.
The words he spoke to you made you want to cry all over again. No one’s ever made it a point to you that they genuinely wanted to help you. Jamie seemed honest enough in what he said and the concern painted on his face was enough to convince you that this was alright. That it was alright for him to help you and be there for you, even if you didn’t believe it yourself.
You gently smiled, “Is the hot chocolate still an offer?”.
“When is it not,” he smiled back, reaching for the tucked away microwave in the corner, opening it to reveal a still steaming cup of hot cocoa.
————
“Hey! So sorry for not getting here fast enough. Traffic was literally the worst. And Mason! Don’t get me started on – Oh”.
Trevor stopped in his tracks, jaw open in shock as he began to properly process the scene in front of him. The poor boy had to rush from the bar he was at with Mason and the others once he was sober enough to drive back. But the LA traffic had gotten the best of him and caused him to come back home more than an hour later than intended. He was utterly disheveled once he managed to unlock the door of his apartment and squeeze through the opening, apologizing for being late. When Jamie had texted him about you showing up at their door soaked and barefoot and that he probably should come back to the apartment, he nearly choked on the beer that was making its way down his throat. He read and responded to the text at seven-forty-five but had now just gotten back home, which was at nine o’clock.
“Looks like she didn’t need much of my comforting after all,” he whispered to himself as his eyes danced from you and Jamie’s intertwined bodies.
Trevor could only assume that Jamie had offered to watch your favorite comfort movie in an attempt to cheer you up, the end credits of Coraline on pause as the screen displayed the director and producer of the movie. Another thing he could most definitely assume was that halfway through the movie, you fell asleep on Jamie, which caused him to try to shift you into a more comfortable position only for you to cling onto him for his warmth, forcing yourself closer to his body heat as he gave up and just settled into the position he was currently in.
The brunet only snorted and shook his head at the two peacefully sleeping. There’s absolutely no way he was going to allow either of them to forget this moment. Even when the both of you would deny and deny the fact. Perhaps his plan was working, slowly but surely.
Now, he thought, onto phase two.
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artethyst · 9 months ago
Text
~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~
Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister!Reader/OC
Eris had never seen his Mate so nervous- to talk to him, anyway.
Even when they had first met she had been nothing but a pain in his backside- a beautiful one no less.
“I have…news.” Came her voice, wavering as she played with her fingers, sliding the grand, shimmering ruby across her ceremonially ringed digit to soothe her.
“I suspect it is bad.” His teased, taking in her soft appearance, taught chest blossoming at the sight of his beloved.
She grinned, but there was a strange sadness to her eye which sent his own heart racing.
“It depends how you feel about it.”
He quirked a brow as she moved to him, perching herself over his thigh, her skirts brushing against his riding boots that were caked in mud.
“My Love, I am filthy-“
“When are you not?” She mocked lightly and he could only roll his eyes in return, gathering her trembling fingers in his own, warming them as he knew she liked.
Without a word she guided one of his calloused hands away from her own, placing it on her lower stomach as she remained perched on his lap.
He was perplexed until he felt it.
Their life force thrumming as one.
He looked at her incredulously and she bit her lip.
He couldn’t breathe.
“A-Another?” He swallowed thickly. “So…So soon?”
“Eri, he is almost four,” she tried to smile, but his gaze was too piercing, focused on her stomach- where their babe guiltlessly lay.
She knew what was wrong.
“He is hardly three,”
His resolve quickly diminished as he felt her disappointment through the bond, her sweet face falling at his words- ones he vowed to never hurt her with.
He heard her breath hitch and that was enough to break him.
“It…It is a blessing.” He breathed out, unconvincingly- but she knew better. “My Love, any child you give me is a greater gift than I could ever ask for-“
“Then why are you so scared?” Her voice was low as she traced his jaw, eyes glassy as he took a deep breath and counted.
One.
His father was dead. He couldn’t hurt her or the child- children.
Two.
She hadn’t died in childbirth. Madja had saved her. She was alive. Her and his firstborn son were okay.
Three-
“Eri…Talk to me…”
He hated this.
Himself.
His own anxieties self sabotaging his relationships with the only people- person he really cared about.
He swallowed thickly before replying, the feel of her delicate skin against his own dragging him back to surface from his suffocating fears. Ones he might have drowned in if not for her addictive salvation.
“Last time.” Was all he could say, jaw taught. “I almost lost you- the both of you.”
“Eri-“
“I am not my father. You…You are more than what your womb can give me- one was enough. More than enough. You are more precious to me than the heirs you may provide.”
“You…You do not want more children?”
She knew her husband was wary about the first, but had hoped he might have been convinced to have more. She was happy to compromise with his darkest fears and stop at two if it meant she could have at least one of each.
“My Love, I would have as many as you would be happy to give me, but…But it is dangerous. The Healers said-“
“Eris.” She was firm, pushing his hand further against her slightly raised stomach. “You have no reason to be afraid. You are High Lord- we have the best Healers at our disposal. After last time-“
She felt him still at the memory, a chilling sense of fear scattering its way down the bond.
“It was a miracle you both survived.” His voice was cold as she ran a hand through his choppy auburn locks, knowing that his reaction was not one of disappointment, but rather sheer unadulterated terror.
Worry for both his Mate and unborn child.
“Eri, we are both okay- we will be okay.”
And then he nodded.
A shaky breath with it, no less.
“Another, then?” Came a breathy half-laugh, his amber eyes glinting in the soft light of the room.
“Another,” she replied, eyes just as glassy, an incredulous smile on her face as he nuzzled his face against her womb, fresh tears of his own gathering against her gown.
If only the first time they had found out had been as simple.
-
“Must you leave me?” Eris drawled against the crown of your head, inhaling the scent as if it were his last drop of water in the vast, dry plains of Summer.
“It is all but only for a few hours you fiery baby,” you teased as he grinned against your silky hair, revelling in its softness against his cheek. “I would extend the invitation to you, though, I am certain you would not be interested in having tea with-“
“If by tea you mean talking about your sinful novels and eating pastries-“
“I’ll have you know we have distinguished talks-“
“About Sellyn Drake?”
“How do you know about Sellyn Drake?”
It was then he went quiet, which made you giggle, leaning into him for support as his hold on you tightened.
“Will you take the guards I have assigned to you? Perhaps too at least three of the hounds-“
“It is my birthplace Eris,” you wanted to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness but knew it only came from love. “No guards. No hounds.”
It was then the eldest hound gave a high pitched whine, the very same one that had taken to curling up protectively over your stomach and defying Eris for the first time ever in her meticulously reared existence.
You were lucky he hadn’t caught on.
“How will I survive these awful meetings without knowing you’ll be right behind those doors to greet me once they have ceased?
Your smile became wicked.
“Perhaps I will have a greater surprise for you this evening-“
You barely finished your sentence before his hands had found themselves desperately grabbing at your rear, you smiled into his needy mouth as he pulled you into a tender kiss, laughing wildly as he squeezed the cheeks to slip his tongue right through your lips.
He would be in for a surprise alright.
-
You breathed in the air of Velaris with a melancholic peacefulness, whilst Autumn was your new home- the Court in which you presided over, nothing could ever beat the place in which you had grown.
Only two days prior, you had discovered you were pregnant- a miracle in itself. You knew of Eris’ remaining self doubts, ones that failed to be distinguished even after snuffing out Beron. How he had assured you that it wasn’t necessary to provide him heirs, that the risk of childbirth was not worth losing you.
You knew he was nothing like his father, and had often caught yourself daydreaming of what you could have- what your brother had.
It wasn’t until the Healers excitedly told you of your newfound condition that you thought it could ever be a reality.
You wanted to make it special. As special as Fae pregnancies were, and so you decided you would visit your long time favourite bakery and have them ice a celebration cake in such a way that would reveal the surprise.
One you hoped your husband would take well if not for his ridiculous overbearing attitude.
“Gods, you reek of Eris,” your cousin grimaced, nose scrunching as she pulled you into a hug. “No…Wait. What is that?” She pulled away perplexed, her pouty mouth falling open in disbelief as she suddenly recognised the sickly, sweet aroma- one also tinged with your husband’s delicate spice.
“Mor-“
“OH MY GOD! MOTHER’S TITS!” She squealed, loud enough for all of Prythian to hear. “You’re pregnant with that asshole’s child!”
You frowned.
“That asshole is still my Mate you know.”
“Cauldron boil you I suppose,” she retorted, a grin on her joyous face as you rolled your eyes with a half smile, knowing her jests were all in good humour- despite everything.
Despite the truth. Despite the truth and what you knew of Eris, the very truth your family now did too, there was still a long way to go for them to truly accept him.
“That is why I enlisted your help,” you continued, her arm now looped through yours. “I have been glamouring my scent so he wouldn’t find out until I had planned something special.”
“He has turned you soppy, Cousin,” she mocked as you giggled, knowing it was very much the other way around. “But who am I to say no to free pastries?”
After you and Mor had sufficiently stuffed yourself with cakes, you especially savouring the taste having suffered without it for far too long. It wasn’t that Autumn desserts were bad, you just missed the sweets of your childhood.
That and you were growing sick of spices and apple.
You had felt a pair of eyes trailing you but presumed it was due to the fact you were still Princess of the Night Court, your presence was greatly missed in those parts of Velaris you seldom frequented since being appointed High Lady Of Autumn.
After you thanked your favourite baker, receiving the delicate cake and had practically forced the money into her hands, making sure to visit again soon, it was almost time for you to leave the City of Starlight.
“Why can’t you stay for dinner?” Your cousin whined, still hanging off of your arm like she did when you both were teens. “I’m sure your husband can manage those few hours-“
“We will visit again when I reveal the news to everyone. I swear on the Mother Mor…You better keep it a secret- especially from Rhys!”
She raised her hands in mock surrender.
“Besides,” you continued, blissfully unaware of the presence gaining on you from behind the narrow alley. “Eris-“
It was Mor who screamed first.
You felt the dagger pierce your side, but the sharp pain in your stomach that followed was worse than whatever the assailant had set out to do. A dull ache that had stolen your voice away as you fell to the floor, helpless.
You felt yourself waning as Mor’s loud voice became faint, the last thing you saw were her shaking hands, covered in blood, as she removed the Autumn Court dagger from your marred flesh.
-
Eris jolted when the bond was flooded with pain, his hands scouring burn marks into his ornate chair at the head of the meeting he had been called to at the sudden intensity of it.
He hardly had time to react before the large oak doors swung open, revealing Lucien who, to anyone else, looked normal, but the most disheveled Eris had seen him in years.
The Advisors quickly bowed and deserted the room before Eris had the chance to send them away, Lucien’s shallow breaths enough to warn them of the severity of the situation their ears were not Privy to.
“Someone was sent to kill her,” was all the Emissary said. He knew Eris would understand and was never one for pleasantries. “Rhysand has her in the Town House-“
And that was all he needed to winnow straight to where his Mate was being held.
“Brother,” Lucien called out, only steps behind the High Lord, jogging to catch up to the man barrelling through the doors adorned with Night’s symbology. “Rhysand has her room guarded, I warn you-“
“She is my Mate,” he growled, animalistic. “I shall do as I please.”
“High Lord,” Rhysand greeted sarcastically as Eris stormed his way into view, heart beating so fast he was sure he might have a heart attack if he didn’t reach you in the next few seconds.
“Rhysand if you do not step your ridiculously shoed foot aside-“
“She is safe. Our Healers do not need another High Lord breathing down their necks-“
“Safe? Someone tried to kill her. I think you and I have very different definitions of ‘safe’, High Lord.” The title was spat with venom, not respect.
“It was an Autumn Court Soldier.” Rhysand’s tone was pointed, “if she hadn’t been with Morrigan, perhaps nobody would have found her in time.”
Eris’ face paled.
“Autumn?” His jaw became taught. “Where-“
“Azriel took him to the dungeons. I assured him to leave the bastard to you, that you would most certainly provide the deserved punishment.”
Eris couldn’t thank him.
The horrible lump in his throat stopping him.
The one that had never left since his cursed birth- the one that had remained even when you had entered his life, the one that only shrunk, but never ceased to exist.
You had been hurt because of him.
Targeted.
Almost killed because he had been unaware- unable to stop it.
He knew he didn’t deserve you, but this was enough proof for him to make that very lump increase tenfold. Increase to the point where he felt he was going to suffocate.
He was drowning. He was erratic and his salvation- his only respite, was laying unresponsive in next the room over.
Whenever he got like this, which was rare as of late, you were the one to soothe him.
Kiss away his fears- quash the traumas his father had so lovingly provided him.
He felt like he was going to die.
He wanted to.
A life without you in it was not worth living.
He felt a familiar claws scraping at his mental shields and could only blame his lack of response for their intrusion, sending his brother a sharp glare in return regardless.
“Get out of my head Rhysand!”
“Let him see her, Rhys,” came Feyre’s gentle voice as she emerged from the chamber in which you were being held, and Eris might have thanked her if not for the red tainting his vision. “You would act just the same if it were me.”
Rhysand looked torn for a moment- as if he had only just remembered his little sister, now his only sister, belonged to another male.
That someone else now held her heart.
“Try keeping your emotions in check High Lord,” came his suave voice, though Feyre knew he was masking his own fears. “Wouldn’t want to exasperate her further through your…Unfortunate bond, would we?”
And with that, the High Lord of Night made his exit.
A silent acceptance that Eris was the one now entrusted to look over you.
Feyre sent Eris an apologetic smile before catching up with her own Mate, lightly berating him before they could turn the corner.
He didn’t even bother to listen.
You were more important than any domestic material he could have on Rhysand to poke fun at him for later.
You were more important than anything.
He thought he had prepared himself for the worst, but he would never forget the way your face looked in that moment.
Pale.
Sickeningly pale.
Not the delicate, moonlit expanse he spent his nights caressing- worshipping, wondering how he got so lucky, but a pallid shade that almost brought him to his knees.
You were the only one who could ever bring him to.
He knew he had memorised the shade of your eyes- an ethereal violet, the only place he’d allow himself to get lost in, but was horrified as they remained shut.
Perhaps to never open again.
Because of him.
Or so he told himself.
He wished then he had spent every breath- every fleeting second of his centuries of living looking into those eyes if it meant never having to forget the way they looked.
The way you gazed upon him- with love.
Not with fear, disappointment nor disgust, but the way his mother did.
Even when you had wanted nothing to do with him, before you had accepted the bond and would refuse to meet his gaze, forced to trail behind your father and brother as a well-bred female should- or so was told.
Even when he knew he was the only one in love- would do anything for you regardless, he would rather go back to that moment, see those eyes narrowed at him in fury, than never see them again.
“The dagger was laced with Fae bane,” came the voice of Madja, he knew that because you had forced him to be attended to by her when he had suffered a particularly nasty thrashing at the hands of his father.
One you didn’t trust the Healers of his own court to remedy.
“By the Mother child, sit before you faint on me.” His face might have been have been paler than yours- blood colder and far more disheveled. “She is alive. After she wakes, Mother knows she will, I must warn you, she will still require an extensive recovery period- especially because of the baby.”
Especially because of the baby.
The baby.
The baby. The baby. The baby.
“T-The what?”
Madja breathed sharply through her nostrils.
“I see.” She sighed, adjusting the pillows beneath your limp neck. “I was under the impression you were aware. Do not fret, I have not informed anyone else-“
“She…She’s pregnant?”
It was then any semblance he was gripping onto fell through his hands like the tears threatened to from his piercing eyes.
His chest felt like it was on fire- consumed by the same flames that rested within him, his ribcage screaming out with each wavered breath as he used the wall for support.
He was having a panic attack.
He was having a panic attack and you were not there to save him.
“Leave,” he gritted out when he felt Madja inch towards him. “It will resolve itself in a minute- go.”
She was in no mood to argue with a High Lord- a temperamental one at that, and, deep down, trusted him enough to be left alone with you. He might’ve been the only one she would’ve taken that order from.
She knew that you loved him- that he loved you more. Perhaps even deeper than her own High Lord loved his own mate. She had practically raised you, it was not hard to tell. It was a palpable love.
A fiery, all consuming love.
When the woman had finally left, he let himself fall to your bedside, one hand clutching his chest, the other trembling and taking a firm hold of your much smaller, much softer one.
One that was ice cold.
He gasped through his tears, so foreign against his skin- his skin that had become so hot, his Magic uncontrollable, that they evaporated as soon as they fell upon his freckled cheeks.
The words came tumbling out before he could even rationalise- process what they meant. Apologising- for everything.
Apologising for being your Mate, for cursing you to be bound to such a fool as he, one that had broken his promise to protect you- to keep you safe.
He sobbed unabashedly- unashamedly into your hands, the frail digits slowly becoming warmed by his powers as he continued praying the hardest he’d ever prayed- the only time of three that he had ever put his wavering faith into the Mother, to keep you and his unborn child steady.
Steady and awake.
He wasn’t sure if Madja had been vague to comfort him or simply because she too was unaware when you would come to.
Or if you would ever.
He hadn’t even become a father and he had already failed his one duty.
If he felt worthless before, it was nothing to what he felt now- kneeling on the cold stone, his head against your womb with his fractured cries ricocheting off of the bloodied material.
He would burn it.
Buy you 1000 dresses to make up for the one he destroyed- never wanting to smell the scent of your blood, the one which made him gag and tears gather ever more strongly at the corner of his russet eyes.
He would burn it alongside the very man had done this to you.
Burn him slowly.
He would burn everything for you, the entirety of Prythian- himself to ensure your safety.
And now his child’s.
“E-Eri?”
And that’s when he really did properly cry.
You couldn’t understand what he was saying, his hoarse voice muffled by the fresh linen Madja had given you after attending to your wound.
Then you realised he wasn’t saying anything at all.
He was crying.
He was crying and trying to hide it.
“I-I’m sorry-“ your voice was weak, and it was your turn to cry. “I-I should’ve listened to you, I-I should never have come, I put our baby in danger-“
You spoke without thinking, but it was then you gasped.
Your baby.
“The baby is okay-“ Eris let out, his own voice breaking, finally lifting his head and allowing his watery gaze meeting your own as if saying it out loud finally made him accept it.
Realise what truly lay ahead.
“T-The baby- our baby,” he choked out, and you let him bring you into his arms, as you hiccuped against his shoulder as he held you. “My star, I can never apologise enough if I made you feel you couldn’t tell me-“
“No,” you sniffled, wincing as you shifted, “I-I came here to surprise you, I-I had someone bake a cake- I-“ you burst into tears again. “I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen…I just wanted to make you happy!”
You were still thinking about him.
He was supposed to be the one comforting you and yet all you could do was apologise- apologise for wanting him to be happy.
“My Love, you make me happy. With every breath I take knowing you are my Mate fills me with more joy than anything tangible- anything else the Mother could ever gift me,” his words were sincere as he delicately held you, mindful of your wound. “There is nothing in all of Prythian that matters to me apart from you.”
He felt himself becoming tense as his fingers brushed against your cut- the one he refused to look at because it turned him feral.
“Are…Are you happy then?” Your voice was so small it almost broke him. The fact you even had to ask. “I know how you feel-“
“My Light, that news alone leaves me the happiest I have ever been,” he was struggling to maintain his composure with his Mate so weak- trembling in his strong arms. “A child is a blessing, one I am honoured you would ever give me…” His amber gaze became crescent shaped as he smiled, still in disbelief. “I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought possible.”
You didn’t know why you were crying anymore.
The pain, the fear, the love you felt oozing from the bond or your husband’s words.
The confessions that spilled from him so readily- easily after years of coaxing him from his shell, that hard exterior even you had to work through.
“Our baby,” you echoed, the only words you could find as you revelled in your Mate’s tears.
A rare sight if any.
“Our baby,” he affirmed shakily, his free hand remaining protectively splayed on your flat stomach, swearing there and then he’d keep you safe- the both of you safe, no matter the cost.
The same cost that later that evening, when you had spent enough time wrapped up in Eris, Madja shooing him away exasperatedly, the man who had dared do this to you paid for.
The cost he paid for when Eris knew you were amply surrounded by people- family who loved you, people at your beck and call by your bedside, giving him enough time to deal with the very scum that had once been part of his- your Court.
The very cost that was hours of torture- brutal torture lovingly provided by the very blade that had harmed you- a hundred fold.
The man couldn’t even scream his last words, his tongue cut from his mouth as he was burned alive.
Eris, with a snarl on his powerful face at the memory of you so helpless.
And with the blood of his enemy covering his shaking hands, all he could think of was you.
You and his child.
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untoldstar · 1 year ago
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male yandere psychologist x fem patient reader [introduction]
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warnings: heavily implied that the reader is a patient at a psych ward, obsessive behaviors and tendencies, abuse of power, toxic environment, yandere themes, might not show in this part but for the future Ivan takes advantage of the readers vulnerable mental state.
There aren’t intense scenes in this at all (as I see it) BUT as for the coming parts of this OC it still has to do with a character who struggles with mental illness, an extremely toxic psychologist who abuses his position and being in a psyche ward so if you feel like any of that sounds triggering or there’s a possibility it could be triggering I would urge you not to read this or other parts of this OC.
pls be careful what you read guys and stay safe mwah🫶
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Tick..
Tick..
Tick..
Ivan taps his foot impatiently and pushes up his sleeve for the millionth time to reveal his wristwatch.
2:59 PM
Just a few more seconds..
Tick..
3:00 PM
Ivan smiles, his stiff body finally relaxing and just like everyday a knock is heard on his office door and in walks the nurse pushing you forward like a criminal into his office. He only spares the nurse and nod and a polite smile before his attention is directed at you, focusing on your every move anticipating what you’ll do next. You huff and plop down in the chair in front of his desk rolling your eyes "Ah [name], how are we doing today?" he clasps his hands Infront of him and stares at you expectantly.
Just like everyday.
‘Why does he ask the same question every day? What could possibly change in the matter of a single day? They should've made these cheek-up's weekly instead. This is becoming such a pain.’
"Fine. Just like always." you answer curtly. He hums nodding "Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut to the chase today there’s something I must discuss with you.” You quirk a brow. You have to admit seeing the serious expression instead of the easy going one he usually has is a bit unnerving “I'm sure you already know that your..leave is to be expected soon." his lips twist in displeasure as if merely saying that has left a bitter taste in his mouth. You nod "Yes..what about that?" he sighs "Well, I'm afraid I've come to the decision that you'll have to stay a while longer, just to be safe." Your heart plummets. Sure you haven't been kissing Dr.Ivan's ass or being necessarily..nice to him but that shouldn’t have anything to do with your treatment. You know you've been getting better so what possible reason could have you stay here "Just to be safe? What is that supposed to mean?" you shoot daggers at him but he doesn't seem the least bit bothered by it "We’ve witnessed many patients show signs of improvement and seem like they’re ready to leave but there were also many instances where patients leave our facility and end up..falling into old patterns. Not that I expect that from you but I would like to guarantee your safety." You swallow the lump in your throat. Can they even do that? Is that even legal? "..How long?" a few beats of silence passes by while he blankly stares at you before answering "A month." Your shoulders drop down exasperatedly. Another month??
You feel frustration bubble up inside your chest. You feel hopeless as if you’re never getting out of here. You can’t take it you can’t take seeing the same hallways the same people this same fucking office everyday.
You don't say anything when you get up from your chair and start charging for the door "Our daily check up isn't quite done, my dear." His voice booms behind you "I don't fucking care." You spit back and go to reach for the door when his hands suddenly slam the door on either side of you, trapping you against it "Why are you always trying to leave me?" he whispers his shaky breath fanning against the side of your neck "..What are you talking about..Doc-" his hand clenches into a fist "Don't call me that!" You flinch trembling slightly "..I'm sorry I raised my voice, but I've told you countless times before you don't have to call me 'Doctor' my dear. Ivan is fine." You stay quite and he sighs "You won't even say my name.." he leans his head on your shoulder his body slumping almost exhausted from the interaction.
You hold your breath eyeing the door handle inches away from you "Why do you hate me so much?" his voice almost breaks "You roll your eyes at me, you barely say a few words in our daily sessions, You can't stand it when I go to visit you in your room.." he steps closer, his body now flush against your back "You throw a fit and almost walk out on me.." he moves his head to the side sniffing your hair and you hear him let out a groan “God I thought you’d be happy about staying here. All I want is for you to love me. Why won’t you love me? hm?” his arms slide down for the door to wrap around you squeezing tightly “Am I just the annoying psychologist your forced to talk to? Is that all I am to you?” he keeps talking almost in his own world too intoxicated by you, having you in his arms body flush against his your scent enveloping him “Damnit why won’t you-“ you take advantage of his vulnerability and decide to make a run for it, using the door to push back all of your body weight to at least have his arms off of you immediately taking a hold of the door handle and leaping out of his office, you run down the hall never looking back. You’re surprised he didn’t pull you back in maybe he was shocked maybe he wasn’t and he just..let you go. Whatever the case was you had to get as far away from him as possible.
Ivan’s left alone in his office panting, cheeks flushed and an obvious tent in his pants. He lets out a low chuckle looking far off into the hallway ‘Soon..instead of running away from me you’ll be running to me. I’ll make sure of it darling.’
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kookslastbutton · 2 years ago
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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) II ch. II
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✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.
Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader
AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series
Rating: M, 18+
Word Count: 5,044
Warnings: 8-year age gap, flashbacks of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, mentions of therapy, kookie trying to be a good husband, cute coupley stuff that idk anyone will like but 🥺 👉👈, jk says cawk , idk why this is a warning
Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+
A/N: Hi guys! I'm back! I thought I'd start off with a little flashback and then diving back into the story. Also, big thing–I decided not to make jk a complete butt. I don't want this story to be about "jk finally coming around after treating oc like garbage for wanting a kid". It's more of a we'll figure-it-out-together kinda thing though there will be bumps in the road. Anyway, enjoy 🥰
<< ch.I ༓ ch. III >> | series masterlist
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To say falling in love with Jungkook was an effortless, butterflies-in-your-tummy, love-at-first-sight, you-know-it-when-you-see-it sort of affair is far from the truth. In actuality, you and Jungkook met on a very normal basis and had very normal rapport…well, somewhat normal.
Jungkook was your economics professor in grad school and you were merely one out of eighty of his students during the first semester. Surely you'd be walking out with no more than a barely scrimmaged 'A' and remnants of stupid economics jokes he and his colleagues found slapstick funny.
Jungkook always had an interesting sense of humor.
Bottom line? Your life wasn't a drama and you certainly didn't plan on living like it was–especially when your parents were on your tail, making sure their hard-earned money was well spent.
As if being bonked on the head by something called fate, however, Jungkook sent you away with far more than odd jokes and good grades.
Hey, hindsight is 20/20.
four years ago
“Oh, good morning.” A soft, yet hoarse voice strides past you. You view the man, estimating that he be in his early 30s though could easily pass for 25 by his youthful appearance. His hair is black, a bit shaggy but well-kept nonetheless. Silver piercings dangle from his ears and a pair of rectangular glasses rest on his perfectly symmetrical face. This is your professor?
Undoubtedly, what mesmerizes you the most is the striking arm tattoo partially displayed under the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt. You remember temporarily considering tattoo artistry in high school but studio arts appealed to you more.
Not like you got to do either though, seeing as you’ve been stuck in econ for the fifth year in a row. You’re parents insisted you get your master’s immediately after undergrad…how wonderful for you.
But back to the man at the front of the room. You weren’t expecting someone so hip and attractive–very, very attractive.
Your stomach churns but you brush the feeling away.
He's your professor for god sake.
The man, coincidentally your professor, quirks a small smile your way and sets his bag on the podium at the front. “Didn’t expect anyone to be here for another twenty minutes.”
“I just got out of another class a couple of rooms down so I’m here early.” You straighten in your seat and return a smile of your own. “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Jeon. I’m Y/N.” You start bouncing your leg up and down, clicking the pen in your hand. Please be right, please be right, you chant silently, hoping you remembered the name correctly.
Jungkook notices your slightly restless state but he doesn’t say anything about it.
“Just to be sure, you are here for ECON 602 right? Macroeconomic Theory?” He unzips his bag and sets his laptop on the podium. Making brief eye contact, he catches sight of the piece of paper directly below your nose. “That’s a beautiful sketch.”
You glance down, moving the paper to the side as if embarrassed. Not many people see your work beyond close friends, and even then you like to keep it to yourself. “Yes, absolutely,” you reply. “ECON 602, 12:15 pm. And thanks, I draw as a hobby.”
Your professor hums, nodding as he connects the HDMI cable to his laptop and lowers the presentation board.“ Dr. Kim is going to be quite jealous when he hears such artistic talent is in my economics class.” He lets out a slight chuckle. “You don’t mind if I tell him, do you? A little competition we have going on.”
You snort at the comment.
Dr. Kim Taehyung was the art department’s most talked about professor. Everyone knew him for his extremely unique perspective, classy personality, as well as his breathtaking artwork. You’ve passed him in the hallways a number of times, wishing you could study under him and dare you say, in more ways than one.
“I don’t mind.” You shake your head. “Are you and Dr. Kim close?” Maybe you shouldn’t be this curious but it was now fifteen minutes until the start of class and no one else had shown. What else were you going to fill time with? Awkward silence while you watch your professor fumble and tap on his keyboard?
“We were colleagues if you can believe that.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Only two years ahead of me in undergrad. When I first started teaching here I had no idea he was here too. But you know what they say __, it’s a small world.”
“Smaller,” you retort. “I feel like everywhere I go I run into someone I’ve known or seen at some point in my life. You just never really know I guess.” When you first entered university, you were counting your lucky stars that most of your high school peers were attending college nearby your hometown. You on the other hand were a good five to six hours from home. Last you checked, however, half of those peers were now getting married or on their second kid. Crazy how some people’s lives change on a dime.
You watch as your professor shuffles a few sheets of paper in his hands, scanning them briefly. “I can relate to that,” he mutters. “Pretty sure we haven’t met before though. Could be a bigger world than we think. Now where’s everyone else? Didn’t all drop last minute did they?” The man lifts his head, flashing a big gorgeous grin. His eyes are playful and dance with mirth.“Not that I would mind if it were just you and I this whole semester.“
“uh–“ is embarrassingly, all you say. He isn’t implying anything by that right? Oh god __, don’t be stupid. As you've established, this isn’t a romance novel and you’re most definitely not the main character.
“You seem attentive is what I mean,” the man says, breaking you out of your daze. “And beyond punctual. Two qualities that I hold in high esteem.” You’d say he had a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth but it was likely an illusion. Your professor has bigger fish to fry than worry about any possible scenarios you’ve concocted in your silly head.
Still, in a moment of sheer thoughtlessness, you say something you regret being unable to retract. “Thank you, I like you too.” As soon as the words fly out you feel the need to run out and bang your head against the wall. Thinking on your feet wasn’t your specialty.
Little to your knowledge, Jungkook finds your mannerisms cute and stifles the temptation to tease. You’re his student, after all, a little professionally please, he repeats to himself.
“So are you from here?” Jungkook asks, choosing to switch the topic before both of you get swallowed into a messy situation.
You shake your head in denial. “I live here temporarily but I grew up about five hours north of here. My parents are still there.”
“Ah, well that’s a bit away. I imagine you miss them?”
You ponder the question for a second, eyes rolling up in contemplation. “From time to time.” Jungkook gives a knowing look. He’s had his share of familial drama and the need for space.
“I understand,” he says. “I grew up ten hours south myself.”
“Wow, that’s…far.” You’re surprised by the distance and can’t imagine it’s an easy commute. You wonder how long he’s been here and more so, if he’s here alone.
“Yeah.” He rests his palms on the edge of the podium, leaning on them gently. The protruding veins in his forearms catch your attention but you pry yourself from lingering. After what you said earlier, the last thing you want is for Dr. Jeon to think you're coming on to him. “Gets a little quiet sometimes but I’ve learned to live with it.”
As if immune to learning from your mistakes you blurt exactly what’s in your head.“So you’re not–“
“Married? Dating? Seeing someone?” Jungkook finishes your sentence like it’s nothing he hasn’t done tenfold times before. “No. I’m not.”
You give a small “Ah,” nodding in understanding before another classmate walks in, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. Jungkook is quick to greet the young man who’s joined but he’s certain he won’t be forgetting your name anytime soon.
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present
You tilt your head back, allowing beads of hot water to run down your bare skin. The sound of steady pattering combined with heavy steam relaxes your muscles.
You can't believe you actually told him.
Blurting out to Jungkook that you wanted a baby in the middle of a fight is not how you intended to open up to your husband. But everything escalated so fast that it just came out.
You think back to last night’s events.
Once the movie's credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.
"There's no face."
"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!"
"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.
"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks.
"I–I want…I want to be a mom. I want a baby."
"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" You see the panic settling in his eyes. Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you."
You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.
You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.”
It was a blatant lie but just look at your situation. Married for two years, still on birth control, and had no plans to change that. Suddenly one party diverts from the plan fully aware that the other is perfectly comfortable with the current plan.
Yes, you hoped he'd have a slightly better reaction but you don't blame him for his stunned look.
Plus, did you even have enough time to realize what you were saying? Feeling? It could easily be written off that you were simply impulsive, emotionally vulnerable, and so on with the track record you had regarding kids and parenting.
You sigh, bitter aftertaste in your mouth.
Not much else happened after the fight. Jungkook apologized again with his arms wrapped around your waist. He snuggled his nose in the crook of your neck and kissed your cheek too.
It was the usual, it felt familiar and warm but the pang in your head put a roadblock to that. No marriage is perfect. You know that. But you have a feeling you and Jungkook are headed for a steep valley, both on opposing sides.
"Hi.” You’re taken out of your thoughts when you hear the shower door pop open. Your husband steps in, with messy hair and half-open lids. Evidently, still sleepy.
You spare him a glance and quickly reach for your body wash on the shelf. “Hi,” you reply back, voice monotone.
Jungkook moves closer behind you and curves an arm around you. He grabs the bottle out of your hand and squirts some of the soap into his palm. “How did you sleep?”
A small shiver runs up your spine when his cool hand rubs circles against your upper back and shoulder. It still feels nice, you admit. You see some of the soap drip down and hit the shower floor.
“I slept okay. You?”
“I’m about the same.” Jungkook moves his hand a little lower, making sure to cover your whole backside. “I’m really sorry about how I handled things last night. What I said and how I said it was inexcusable.”
“Please, Jungkook you don’t have to keep apologizing about it. I know…and I’m sorry I spurred it on you so suddenly. It’s not how I wanted you to find out.” if at all, you add to yourself.
“Is it still true?” he asks, stopping his movements. “Do you really want to start a family?”
You feel queasy all over again. His tone is serious and if you turn around you’ll likely see the fire in his eyes. So you remain in your position, facing towards the shower head.
“I don’t know…” you finally say after thirty seconds of eerie silence. “But I think I do, I really do. Seeing our friends and other people our age have kids makes me wonder if we’d ever have that. I can’t explain why right now. I know it’s unexpected after we’ve been living a sort of way for so long.” After another pause you continue. “But I know it’s not a mutual thing and that’s…okay.”
“Sweetheart, even if we were to have kids…where would we find the time? The school year’s starting soon and I’m gonna be running ragged at the university next week. You know my schedule. I teach Monday through Friday, leaving at 7:15 am and returning around 4 p.m. You leave for work a little later in the morning but get back at 5 p.m. All our week consists of will be eating a quick dinner together, then I have to squirrel away to my office for the night to review class notes and grade stacks of assignments.”
Though you’re aware of how crazy busy Jungkook gets during the school year, you’re not foolish enough to believe that is the root of his argument.
“Maybe you’re right that we don’t have much time now but Jungkook, we can figure it out. You only teach 9 months out of the year and I can–I can stay at home or we can hire a nanny. And we don’t have to do it right away but–“
“__.” Jungkook turns you around so you’re looking eye to eye. He hesitates to say his next words, fearing a replay of yesterday. But he can’t bring himself to pretend with you. Not on something this serious. “I understand and I want more than anything to tell you I want the same, but I can't lie to you. Being a father, and having a kid, I think it’s wonderful but I just never saw that for myself. I’m so sorry I–”
Your heart concaves into your chest. You absolutely want him to be honest but it pains you to hear. Where do you go from here?
Slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck. Jungkook jolts a bit, surprised by your sudden gesture but welcomes the embrace.
“It’s okay Jungkook.” You settle your head into his shoulder, simply wanting to be close. One tear spills out, then another. “It’s okay.”
“No, look at me __. You didn’t let me finish.” You lift your head from his shoulder. Jungkook strokes your back soothingly before continuing. “If this is what you want, then I’m not going to stand here and be the asshole husband that just dismisses it. But this is a big step.”
You shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t say what I think you are. Jungkook you don’t have to do anything.”
“I’m not saying I change my mind.” Of course, that would be unrealistic, you talk yourself through, preparing for his next words. “However, I am–I am willing to seriously consider this whole thing, babies, diapers, strollers, all of it. But I need you to be sure that this is what you want. And the only way I think that can happen is if we start this slow. Sounds like I’m making some sappy speech huh?”
Jungkook cracks a faint smile.
You look like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop or for him to yell psyche and flick your forehead or something.
But none of that happens.
Instead, Jungkook unwraps one of your arms from around your neck, places a light kiss on your knuckles, and stares deep into your eyes as if making a promise. “I know this isn’t exactly heaven to your ears but I’m just trying to say, let’s not rush to a decision yet, okay? All of this did just get revealed yesterday and I think it’d be unfair to both of us if we scurry past it without thinking.”
Shocked. You’re utterly shocked. You were expecting him to give you a flat-out no or attempt to cover up the issue somehow. While, this isn’t your ideal outcome, if Jungkook is willing to take this seriously, no bullshit necessary, then so are you.
“Thank you, Jungkook.” You smile at him, feeling a tad lighter than you did before. Your heart beats again, slow and steady. “I love you.”
“I love you more than anything __. I married you and I intend to keep it that way.” Jungkook sneaks a wink and you press a kiss to his lips.
“Hey,” you pipe up. “It’s Sunday isn’t it?”
Jungkook nods in confusion. “It is..?”
“You have somewhere to be this morning don’t you?” You wait a moment before an oh-shit expression forms on Jungkook’s face.
As you remember your husband was supposed to be at some fancy gold club today. Like Jimin, a certain Kim Taehyung had his weekly “thing” too. Being close friends, Jungkook was supposed to be there, along with Hoseok.
“‘You're so right. 'M sorry honey I gotta go. They’re gonna kill me." Jungkook gives you one last kiss before slipping out of the shower. "I’ll be back for dinner.”
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“Jungkook! Where the fuck have you been? We tried calling you!” Taehyung is the first to speak as soon as he catches sight of the younger man. He has his usual blush pink polo shirt on paired with well-pressed beige shorts.
He looks a little too handsome for golf.
Jungkook’s secretly glad his wife stayed home this time, as he’s fully aware of her mini crush on Taehyung in school. When she first found out they were colleagues he could tell she had borderline stars in her eyes.
“Sorry sorry,” Jungkook says. “I was doing stuff and time escaped me. Plus, I didn’t have my phone near me for a bit. But I’m here now, so let’s get going!” Jungkook walks in front of the two men, heading for the first stage of the golf course. “You guys coming?” He turns around and lifts both arms up.
Taehyung and Hoseok exchange looks before following his lead. It’s unlike Jungkook to be this eager for golf. In fact, he hates golf. And his explanation is a bit…questionable.
As much as Hoseok is a friend, he is also just as much of a psychologist who can't stop himself from practicing his craft when given the chance. “You doing alright?” Hoseok waits for Jungkook to answer, one hand clings around the top of his golf club while the other settles around his hip. "Haven't seen you since Jimin's last dinner.”
"Yeah, I'm good," Jungkook barely replies, watching Taehyung practice and few swings before taking the shot. Like a prodigy, it sinks right in. "Hole in one again man? I thought you painted."
Taehyung glances over his shoulder with a smug expression, cocky smirk, and sunglasses behind his head. "Don't be too jealous of hyung, Jungkookie."
"Fuck off Tae," Jungkook quips back. "I'm not 22 anymore. I have a good job, nice house, and a gorgeous wife waiting for me at home. What do you have? A bunch of golf balls in your pants.”
Hmm, a little more defensive than usual, Hoseok notes. And guarded too, something’s up.
"About that wife of yours Kook," Hoseok drawls. "How she doing?" Jungkook turns towards the man, slight distaste on his face.
“Uh, she’s fine. Thanks for asking. Also, I know what you’re doing and I’m not in the mood.”
"Ah Jungkook, you act like I'm being so malicious.” Smiling, Hoseok continues. “Can't I care about my friend of ten years without such accusations?"
Jungkook sighs and kicks the grass. Hoseok has been one of his closest friends for a long time so if there's anyone worth talking to about his current situation and who'd understand, I'd be him. "Well, I’m not saying much right now but.....__ recently told me she wants a baby. I’m still–I'm having trouble processing it. But I’m trying.”
Hoseok throws a hand behind the younger's shoulder. “That’s big news Jungkook and it’s completely fine that you’re still working through it. Don’t feel like you have to speed up the process either. I’ve known you both long enough to know that parenting hasn’t really been in the cards until now so I’m surprised myself.”
“I think she’s still a little unsure, but something happened the other day and it struck a cord inside her. She wants a family and,” Jungkook steps to the side, and Hoseok's hand slips from his shoulder. “I wish I could tell her I want it too. But I can't lie to her like that. I also don’t want her to bury that desire for my sake, so I told her we could consider it. I don’t know man, I feel like I’m trying to do the right thing but I don’t know if I can do this. Will I ever change my mind? I want to, for her.”
Hoseok looks at his friend with soft eyes, compassion in them. “Unfortunately, this is not something you can foresee nor force. At least not this early. But you’re definitely doing the right thing by not brushing her off. As real as your feelings are about not wanting a child right now, so are __'s feelings. It’s best you listen to both sides.”
Jungkook tousles his hair around. “I just–fuck.”
Hoseok doesn’t need further explanation to understand Jungkook’s predicament. He’s frustrated, blames himself, and is struggling to come to terms with reality. The unknown scares him and he doesn’t want to lose control of what little he has. “I’m sorry, Kook…it’s a heavy load. Why don't you come in for a session sometime? I think this might be something worth talking through."
“You mean therapy? I don't know, I’m about to have a pretty tight with school starting.”
"One hour, forty minutes at least," Hoseok insists. "Why not try it once and if you don't like it, you don't have to do it again. I love you both and as a friend, I want to be here for you. Beats standing around and watching Taehyung kick our ass at golf. Just think about it and let me know. As I said, I'm always here for you bro."
Jungkook nods and reaches a hand out to gently squeeze Hoseok's shoulder. "I'll think about it. Thanks."
"Hey!" Taehyung waves from afar. "What you guys doing still up there? I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes! Don’t forget that last place buys lunch.”
“He’s referring to you Kook.” Hoseok chuckles, slaps Jungkook on the back, and walks down the golf course toward Taehyung. “You suck at golf.”
Jungkook grunts, following close behind. If this were a benching competition he’d be taking home the whole damn meal.
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With Jungkook still gone doing who knows what with his buddies you decide to blast your very wide array of music. It’s a good thing you and Jungkook live in your own house or else your poor neighbors would be knocking down the door with the landlord by now. Yes, that may or may not have happened once with you were in college.
Along with the music you stick true to your character and spread your art supplies on your drawing table. You had your own mini studio, thanks to your wonderful relator who helped find you the house. You reach for a pencil, spinning it between your fingers. Maybe you should finish the drawing of the park’s pond.
Mm, you don’t really feel like packing all your supplies and driving over right now.
Deciding to save it for another day, you ponder ideas of what to do instead. Should you try out your new watercolors? You bought them last week and while you weren’t exactly in low supply, if your husband can have a hundred scented candles you can have your paints.
bling–
You snatch your phone hearing the notification bell.
Jungkook: the rest of your morning going well? [sent at 11:03 a.m]
You smile faintly and type out a reply. Sweet to check in you suppose.
__: Fine. How are the guys? [sent at 11:04 a.m]
Jungkook: Whooping my ass but it’s alright. [sent at 11:07 a.m]
Good, you smirk. Jungkook is awful at golf. And he can stand to lose at something like the rest of you.
__: When are you coming home? [sent at 11:10 a.m]
Jungkook: Looking to wrap things up around 4 pm. I think we’re having a late lunch. Miss you. [sent at 11:13 a.m]
__: Okay, sounds good because I was thinking maybe we could go for ice cream when you get back. After dinner? miss you too [sent at 11:14 a.m]
You stare at the screen, waiting for a reply.
One minute goes by…
Two minutes…
Three…
Jungkook: Okay, sounds amazing. But why not before dinner? The place we like closes early on Sundays. I love you! [sent at 11:17 a.m]
Oh shoot, that’s right. You and Junkook have gone to the same ice cream shake since you first started dating. The couple who run it are super sweet, only a decade older. How could you forget?
__: I’m a dummy, yes we’ll go before dinner. I love you too [sent at 11:18 a.m]
Jungkook: Noo, you’re not a dummy! But okay, I’ll see you soon! [sent at 11:19 a.m]
Rejuvenated, you turn off your phone, jump off your art stool and crank the current song up–Runaway by Bon Jovi. Let’s see, you think, tearing a piece of watercolor paper from your drawing pad, what to do.
When the idea strikes you prepare water, paintbrushes, your palette, and anything else you may need for the next five hours give or take. You snatch your phone again and scroll through your photo gallery, hoping to get a good reference photo.
Your best friend’s birthday was two weeks away and she’s been subtly hinting for a painting of her, her fiancee’, and her dog Bear. As her closest friend and well-practiced artist, you think it is best to appease her request.
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Jungkook comes home at 4 pm on the dot. Not a minute later. He looks happy, you conclude. Genuinely happy. It looks good on him.
“__!” Jungkook runs through the front door and lifts you up in his arms. He spins you around and you place your hands on his shoulders. This is so unexpected but nice.
“Jungkook,” you struggle to catch your breath. “What’s going on?”
“I just love coming home to you.” He places you back down and grabs your wrist. “Come on, I wanna stuff you full with ice cream.”
“That sounds so weird,” you laugh.
“Why?” Jungkook opens the front door, ushering you to go ahead of him.
“Because…it sounds like you want to stuff me. Like in a weird way.”
“Woman, that cleared nothing up for me.” You hop into the car with stupid grins on your face. You don’t even know what you mean let alone having to explain to your husband. What can you say, Jungkook makes you a little braindead.
“I just mean that you wanting to stuff me with ice cream sounds like the witch from Hanzel and Gretel. You wanna fatten me up to eat me. Or taxidermy,….or Build a Bear.”
“What the fuck honey,” Jungkook curses, backing out of your drive. “Did you get into something funky while I was gone?”
“No what–ugh never mind.” You stare out the window, arms crossed and biting back the need to giggle uncontrollably. Why were you so giddy right now?
Jungkook glances over with amusement. He knows you’re inches away from balling over with laughter. “You know what honey?”
“Hmm?”
“I think instead of stuffing you full of ice cream, I’m gonna stuff you full with something just as good.”
“Don’t say it Kook, don’t. I’m going to bust a gut.” You beg fully aware he’s not about to back down.
“My fucking cawk,” he says, making sure to exaggerate the last part.
You throw a hand over your mouth, tears well up in your eyes and this time, they’re not sad ones.
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You pull up at the small, but charming ice cream stand at around 4:20 pm. It’s a decent crowd tonight.
You and Jungkook get out of the car with laced hands. You’ve managed to calm down now, thankfully. As you make your way to the line a small voice catches both your attention.
“Appa!” A little girl with blue ribbons in her hair runs past you. She looks between eight to ten years old. You and Jungkook follow her movement as she leaps up into her father’s arms.
You smile at the interaction. Her father kisses her cheek and chuckles as she shows him her ribbons. She looks like she’s telling a very eventful story.
Beside you, Jungkook stiffens. His eyes set on the pair but you’re unsure what he’s thinking. “Kook?” you say, but he doesn’t respond. You shake his hand, the one laced in yours, but still no response. It’s when you step in front of his view that you get him back.
“Hey,” you say. “Are you okay?”
Jungkook blinks at you and shakes his head a bit. “I’m good, sorry. Not sure what happened there. Must be a bit out of it today. Let’s go get some ice cream.”
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A/N: I like this series vv much...thank you to anyone reading :) Lmk your thoughts and if you wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!
Taglist:
@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper
Masterlist
no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton
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peggyao3 · 6 months ago
Text
Night Crawler - Pt. 3
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PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x f!reader / can be read as OC
SUMMARY: When Feyd badly hurts his companion's feelings, she knows which levers to pull to let him know how deeply he wounded her.
WORD COUNT: 3,8k
TAGS: 18+, smut, lactation kink 🍼‼️, pseudo pregnancy, breastfeeding (no baby involved only a big sexy egg man), mommy Issues, subby Feyd, she/her reader, AFAB reader, ambiguous relationship status, non-consenting drug use, dark undertones, stockholm syndrome-ish, dubious consent, angst, jealousy, handjobs, implied death of minor side characters
Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️
Divider by @saradika-graphics
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 ↓
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Blinking slowly, she makes the crossing from dreamland to reality. Something has woken her. At first she sighs, then groans with discomfort. A suffocating weight is on her, too hot when she's already a little overheated from sleep. Her hands grope the weight that's on her and find a smooth head and round shoulders. Feyd is in his sleeveless sleep shirt and must have snuck in some time at night.
She shuffles, pushes the covers away and Feyd's head emerges. He has pushed her nightgown down, lips wrapped around her left nipple. She utters another noise of complaint that is answered by a content hum and a twitch of pale, calloused fingers around her other breast.
Her nipples feel tender and her breasts uncomfortably full after a full night of sleeping, so she should be happy about the relief, if the memory of what she had walked in on yesterday wasn't still so fresh and piercing like a shard into her awakened mind.
Roughy, she shoves at Feyd's shoulders and his mouth pops off her nipple with a surprised grunt. Annoyed, he raises himself on his forearms, peeking up at her. She rolls  him off her like a sack of potatoes and he slumps down on his back, still glaring.
"Morning?" He purrs, already making an effort to unlace his pants. She's always a little more petulant in the mornings.
"You don't get to sleep around while keeping me as your pseudo broodmare for entertainment!" She snaps, yanking the straps of her nightgown back over her shoulders.
Feyd can only wonder if this is one of her hormonal moods. "You'd rather be my real broodmare?" He rumbles, brows quirked up. His eyes are still fixated mainly on her breasts.
The real answer is no, but she also doesn't want anyone else to be. So, she just keeps her mouth shut.
Feyd doesn't accept her silence and probes: "I didn't know you could be so jealous."
She lets out a humorless little laugh, holding his gaze. "You're right, you don't deserve my jealousy."
Feyd's eyes widen noticeably. This is more than just her morning petulance. It isn't his fault that she walked in on him and his darlings yesterday! He should have known something was up when she didn't show up for dinner, claiming to be sick.
"You don't enjoy being my pseudo broodmare? You get all of my special attention." Feyd-Rautha leers, folding himself back over her, one arm around her waist in a way that could be intimate, chest on her tummy.
"Don't," she warns him. Her eyes sparkle like ice shards and Feyd laughs away the little ball of unease in his guts.
"How do you think you can stop me?" Inky teeth catch the satin of her gown, tugging it down so her breasts spring free again. The nipple he's suckled on is still hard.
"Try it and you'll find out."
Oh, Feyd knows she will calm down in a moment. She won't admit it, but she likes it when he drinks from her. It makes her drowsy and content!
Chuckling at her strange threat, Feyd resumes what she's interrupted, lips wrapping carefully around the puffy bud, eyes closed. His free hand massages her right breast, subconsciously preparing it. Feyd is enthusiastic at first, a little flattered even that she'd be so jealous, but his elation quickly falters. She lies as stiff as a board, not moving a muscle, her lips pressed into a thin line. She doesn't stir when Feyd purposely tugs on her nipple with his teeth which would usually draw a squeak from her.
Not even when he bites her does she stir. He only feels the clenching of her muscles, but there is no push against his shoulders, no scolding.
At her breasts, he is vulnerable and today she leaves him floundering. There is no affection, no arms around his back, no gentle scraping of her nails over his head.
Feyd is palpably distraught, hands sliding over her flesh to get her attention, body shifting against hers. He breathes noisily through his nose, staring at her with beady, black eyes, but she stares at the ceiling, counting the tiles there. Her fingers are twisted into the sheets beneath her to mitigate the sting of Feyd's teeth.
Her left breast is empty and he tries to be more tactical about her right one, softly licking the hardened nub, kissing the surrounding flesh, squeezing slightly with his hand until a droplet of milk beads. Hopefully, he looks up but only finds indifference. Scowling, he begins to suckle on her nipple, trying to lull himself into the same kind of relaxed trance that she manages to induce with her gentle arms and fingers, but the only thing he can focus on is the absence of her. 
Her breast is empty and Feyd feels thoroughly unsatisfied even though he has a belly full of milk. He wonders if he should crawl between her legs and shove his head under her nightgown, because there's absolutely no way he wouldn't draw noises from her throat with his tongue on and in her cunt. But her icy tone cuts off the thought like a blade slicing through a thread.
"Are you finished?" 
Feyd glares. He has many things to say but none of them fit the turbulent unease that occupies his chest. When he says nothing, she pulls up her gown and slides off the bed.
"Where are you going?" 
"To the bathroom to throw up."
And so she does, throwing up noisily into the toilet. If she can get her hands on the Doctor who came up with the concoction that induces this faux pregnancy including morning sickness, she will throttle them with her bare hands. Feyd sometimes holds her hair, if he's present. Today he doesn't.
With her face cleaned and mouth rinsed with water, wearing a bathrobe over the gown, she returns to the bedroom and finds Feyd is still just where she left him. Sitting on the bed in an awkward half kneeling pose, torso twisted her way. He looks so frail right now, despite the lithe, rippling muscles running down his arms.
"You've had your milk, why are you still here?"
Feyd blinks, then his shoulders stiffen and he turns and  leaves without another word.
-
"What are you doing?" Feyd asks later that day. The glow orbs in her room simulate the warm reds and oranges of the evening hours on her home world.
"Pumping." As anyone with eyes or ears can tell, she is tempted to add.
She doesn't ask him what he is doing here when the answer is just as clear. Loitering in her room when he should be having better things to do than watching her relieve the ache from her breasts while sitting in front of the large hexagonal window that is actually a screen, showing a pleasant scenery of green slopes and valleys.
"I can do it for you."
"You want to pump for me?"
"No." Feyd glares. Of course, she knows exactly what he is suggesting. Staring across the lush hills and valleys, she can still only think of Feyd-Rautha's naked body being swarmed by three equally naked, equally hairless, slim women. Certainly slimmer than her. The artificially induced distension of her belly isn't drastic, but whenever the fabric of her gown brushes over her stomach where there shouldn't be one, her brain cringes.
"Fine." Ungently, she pops the cup off her breast. A few droplets spatter on her skirts. Feyd worries his bottom lip between his teeth, irritated to see her still so agitated when she's had a full day to calm down.
"But I don't want it in the bed," he declares.
She can tell from the way his veins bulge on his forearms and the way he carries himself that he must have spent a lot of time in the training ring today, probably sharpening his weapons on slave warriors to the point of exhaustion.
"Fine, where do you want it?" 
"There, on the couch." Feyd points at the black leather couch and waits for her to sit. She has requested a soft cover some time ago because the leather is uncomfortable to sit on, especially with bare skin, but her request hasn't been granted yet.
The na-Baron sits beside her, leather creaking. Maybe he waits for an invitation but since he usually takes what he wants, she's not going to give him one. Feyd hesitates for a second, then leans over her, bringing his legs on the couch so his chest is facing her and his back faces the room. Usually, she props her legs up so he can lean his back against her thighs. Usually, she holds him, supporting his weight with her arms, so he doesn't even have to strain a single muscle. Maybe a comical image, regarding his height.
But today her knees are down and her arms rest on either side of her body, so he awkwardly  has to hold himself up with one forearm reaching over her lap. This isn't how he envisioned it.
Her breasts are still out, a light imprint of the suction cups still on them. Feyd has the urge to kiss the imprints but he thinks she might laugh at him if he did. So he only carefully takes her left nipple in his mouth and begins to suckle. He feels that a good portion of milk must have already been removed and he is disappointed that he wasn't here earlier.
Sad eyes peek up at her from her breast, pupils large and vulnerable. He has such pretty lashes and she would have appreciated them any other day.
He is baring so much of himself to her, desperate to get back the soft hands on his scalp and to be held close, it doesn't even have to be sexual! But she gives him nothing, he might as well be a child she's never wanted at her breast. Feyd wants to cry, pressing his nose into her flesh to stifle the sniffling. 
He could just ask for her arms around his back or make her do it with a blade pressed against her throat, but it wouldn't be the same.
So much milk in a day probably isn't good for him but he knows no other way to be close to her, so he will do it, even if it gives him a tummy ache. Feyd gulps down the creamy liquid, drinking slowly so it lasts longer, softly massaging and twisting her other nipple with his free hand, striving for her attention, but her eyes are transfixed on the faux window, an angry scowl to her brows as if she sees something that isn't there.
When her breasts stop giving, Feyd carefully pulls back, missing her knees and thighs that he would have usually slumped against.
"Better now?" He rasps, meaning the aching fullness of her breasts that requires her to pump or request his help.
"Yes," she curtly confirms and slides her dress back over her chest, then determinedly pushes Feyd's arm away so she can stand.
Flabbergasted, he stares after her as she walks away. They always take a nap after she nursed him on the couch! He should beat her with the spiked whip for acting like this, but he doesn't usually beat her when she's indulging him in this fantasy, which is most of the time.
It hurts in a way he can't explain and the milk suddenly feels way too heavy in his stomach and he finds he has not much appetite at all.
-
Two nights later, the na-Baron's tall frame motionlessly occupies her doorway, lithe muscles covered by a suit. One sleeve is rolled up and the fabric is crumpled around where the belt with his blades sits. He looks like a child lost and searching for his mother.
"I killed my darlings," he declares and uses that as his entrance card to her chambers, lips frozen in an expectant pout. The door whirs shut behind him.
She, seated on the couch, tries to accept the news as gracefully as someone who is now Feyd-Rautha's only companion should. She tries to contain the wild beat of elation within her body where it is invisible to Feyd's dark, yearning eyes.
"Really? What compelled you to do so? I'm sure they have plenty to offer."
"They had, but… They were just pets, after all. Meaningless pets."
"And am I not just a meaningless pet too?" She bites, though her heart throbs excitedly against her ribs. It shouldn't, considering the needless death of three people in her name. Perhaps with every drop of milk he takes, he replaces her morals with rot.
"You're not meaningless." His raspy voice sends a shiver down her spine.
"But a pet?"
"Well… Yes." Feyd hesitates, having crossed about half the distance to her. Today he approaches her like a panther with a broken paw or a snake with freshly shed scales, all soft and vulnerable. She knows she expects too much from him in too little time. He's killed them for her.
"Come here," she finally says, uncrossing her legs.
"Have you pumped already?"
"No, not yet." She pointedly slips the bookmark between the pages of her book and puts it aside. Feyd's right foot twitches, moving an inch forward. His hairless brows shoot up hopefully, wondering if this is an invitation.
"Take off your belt first," she says, slipping the straps of her gown off her shoulder, though her chest is full enough to keep the gown up by itself. She doesn't want any knives near her when she nurses him, her mind still drilled into anxiety from the time when he left so many scars on her breasts, which have now faded into silvery lines.
Feyd obeys, dropping not only the belt but also the suit jacket and tunic. "Want it off," he mumbles and slinks closer, muscles moving like coiled snakes under milky skin. She sees the rise and fall of his chest and belly, clearly excited, clearly scared. Hesitantly, he sits next to hear, leather creaking. She looks at his stomach where a tiny fold of skin rolls over the waistband of his trousers. Spotting any signs of softness and humanness always excites her.
Feyd looks at her, jaws working nervously, shuffling an inch closer, then back. "Do you still…?" Like me, love me, care for me?
Finally, she smiles, leans over to him and wraps her arm around his muscled shoulders, pulling him down to her chest. She props her knees up so he can rest his back against them. With his height and muscles, Feyd is as heavy as one would expect, but she manages to hold him, even when he fully throws himself in her arms. His pale head is supported by the crook of her arm and her hand is sprawled over his shoulder blade.
He is waiting for her to pull down the dress, so she does and finds herself immediately wincing from how greedily he drinks. At least this means he desires her. Yes, he must be desiring her, despite how undesirably she's felt since seeing him with his 'darlings'. 
"Sorry!" He blurts around her nipple, spilling milk all over himself and her. Peeking up, he must have seen the bitter memories and self doubts swirling in her eyes.
"Don't talk now." She nudges his head closer to her breast, slipping her hard nipple back between his plush, parted lips and the black teeth that gleam there.
"But I-" 
"Sshhh." Nails gently scrape over his scalp and Feyd fully succumbs. Softly moaning, he returns his attention to suckling the warm, creamy liquid from her chest, finding peace there. His free hand comes up to cup her other breast. Tentatively, he rubs his fingertips over the plump flesh and lightly tugs on her nipple, elated to find her responsive. Her chest jumps with a little moan, legs shifting behind him..
"You're so pretty," she truthfully mumbles, regarding his softened features and the bone structure of his forehead, brows and cheeks. She is blushing from the gentle fondling of her breast and he is blushing from the unexpected compliment. Just for this, killing his darlings was worth it.
When he is almost done with her first breast, she reaches between his legs, finding his cock timidly half-hard. He moans the moment she pushes inside his trousers and wraps her hand around his shaft, stroking him to full hardness within a few moments. The imposing size and girth of his manhood doesn't want to fit the image of softness he is at her breast right now, but it matches his potential for violence. When he is with her, he is somehow man and boy at once.
Feyd's hips buck against her palm, mindless little thrusts which she attempts to soothe by squeezing the plump head, finding pre cum at the slit. Softly rubbing, she massages the inky beads over the slit with her thumb, teasing along the edge of the tiny opening with her fingernail. Feyd gutturally groans against her flesh, momentarily forgetting to drink.
Once his cock head is slicked up, her hand deftly slides back down the shaft, tracing the familiar veins. She smiles at his visceral reaction, biting her nipple when she rubs over his frenulum, the tender little patch of skin on the underside just below the head where he is especially sensitive. His hips greedily buck again, hand clawing at her tit, yet he makes no move to pin her on her back and have his way.
What a good boy he can be, she thinks while cradling his head and stroking his cock with quicker growing tugs. Feyd's breath is hot and labored against her breast which is empty but he still occasionally suckles.
"Take my pants off," he whines, but she only nudges him to her other breast and lets go of his cock which peaks past the waistband, the flushed, swollen head pressing against his navel. The pants stay on and her hand slides down to cup his balls which feel plump and full and it pleases her greatly to think that he probably hasn't cum since she denied him her affection.
Feyd softly groans, thighs parting wider to make room for her hand. His sac sits hot and smooth against her palm, vulnerable to her touch as she squishes and squeezes the tender flesh, feeling the weight of it. Pressing her thumb against the middle, she parts the two globes inside, squeezing the right one, then the left one before cupping all of him again. He is so smooth there. Somehow, she finds it so oddly pleasant and calming to fondle him there, and the area is similarly tender as her breasts, so they are quits.
A needy groan and a twitch of Feyd's pelvis reminds her of his neglected cock and she dutifully slides her hand back up, stroking up and down the plump head.
"Kiss me," she suddenly requests, which would require him to remove his mouth from her breast.
But he obeys, eyes darkening. Perhaps he is growing aware of how vulnerably he presents himself right now, how pitifully he's been moaning. He licks his lips slowly before slotting them against hers, lashes fluttering when their tongues meet, his tasting like milk. His head is still cradled by her, securely tucked against her clavicles as he kisses her - or she kisses him - and does it really matter if he sounds pitiful?
His hand reaches up to cup her head, feeling the comforting texture of her hair under his palm Maybe, maybe this is even better than drinking from her.
"My pants off~" He tries again, raspy voice mingling with her soft breath that fans his mouth. This time she acquiesces, whispering okay against his lips. Feyd's hand flies down, untying the cords and hastily pushing his trousers down to his thighs. Finally, he can see himself and how her smaller hand works the pre-cum up and down his glistening shaft. His head is flushed with blood and balls plump at the apex of his thighs.
With greater range of motion, she can stroke him more fiercely, squishing the blushing head with every downwards tug. He wants- He wants to cum. He wants milk. He wants more kisses.
"Thank you for killing them," she whispers against Feyd's mouth, then kisses him harder, whining when his fingers lock like vises around her skull, tethering her into the forceful kiss.
His pelvis jumps against her hand, his thighs are parted, one leg lying down, the other propped up for leverage. A low throbbing spreads from the pit of his stomach and reaches his balls. He is ready to spill when she suddenly stops stroking him and mumbles: "And there will be no new darlings?"
Feyd snarls an animal noise against her mouth, clutching the nape of her neck. "No new darlings," he confirms before assaulting her mouth and neck with spit-wet teeth. He's growing a bit too temperamental for her liking, so she urges him back down to her breast, wincing when he bites her nipple, but his raging fades as soon as he starts drinking. The ache between her thighs is fueled by the tender pain in her breasts.
Satisfied, she resumes tugging on his cock, gaze switching from how peaceful his head is at her chest, brows furrowed and twitching, and how needily his pelvis jumps into her hand. When his climax is nigh, he whimpers around her teat, spine curling into a ball. His cock throbs against her palm and she strokes him over the edge, letting hot, inky liquid spill over her hand, his stomach and trousers and the leather of the couch.
Panting, Feyd's head rolls back against her arm, being held by her. He regards the glistening mess on the leather cushions, knowing he should be more ashamed of himself for cumming all over himself and having nothing to say, nothing to restore the manly image he has of himself in front of her. But he feels so relieved and so raw, he only crawls over and pushes her down on the couch, covering her with his body.
"Feyd, you're getting me all dirty," she softly complains, trying to shuffle away from the cum, but Feyd smothers her with his weight. "You're too heavy! Wait, let me just - ouch, my stomach - go clean this up real quick."
"No," Feyd insists, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. "We're sleeping now. I'm tired. And when I wake up, I will, I will~" He yawns, hot breath tickling her neck and she wraps his arms around him. He mumbles contentedly, not finishing his sentence. When he wakes up, it could be anything from punishing her or crawling between her legs to pleasure her and all of that is quite alright with her.
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directdogman · 8 months ago
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Commenting on DT fan OCs!
Alright, I'mma take a look at some DT fan OCs! I've been sent quite a few, so I'll try to keep my comments for each one short 'n' sweet!
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great name, snappy dresser. diggin' the bowtie! the pins are also a fun accessory!
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Another snappy dresser! Tied well to an existing location in-game and the idea to explain the stickers is cute! attire is unique/memorable and the blues/browns compliment each other well. solid design. I do appreciate him!
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Yo, this guy was in the last one! what is this, a crossover episode???
the bandage on side of face is a nice touch! digging the pinstripe pants too! graveyard shift at a convenience store is also quite an authentic job for a DT side character to have too! very nicely done.
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Solid OC! well-drawn, unique job and her fit's stylish (it probably goes without saying that i'm a sucker for TV heads with dogs on them. that's gotta be a given, right?) The stickers on the back of the head are also a nice addition! well done!
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Stanley's a real cad, huh? pizza delivery guy with a novelty pizza phone head is genius - making him flirt with milves on the job is just inspired though. i almost wish i'd come up with this guy, as i can totally imagine people around town talking about him. excellent job!!!
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he's aptly named for an arcade dude! dig the fit too, especially the black + purple fingerless long sleeve gloves! the decals on the phone are neat too!
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I approve of his activities but the lack of a visible mouth threw me off, since i've seen these old toy phones before, ofc.
i was about to ask "how does he drink ocean water without a mouth", before realizing that id been bamboozled into asking the fandom-favourite question of: 'how does he eat without a mouth?', only to then remember that practically no DT characters have visible mouths.
i hope you know that you've strained my weary brain today. cool OC, though.
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banana phone's a fun concept! also, i must say your username's quite fitting. crept up on me from my peripheral as I gazed upon the banana phone, like a bizarre centipede of some sort. well, i'd assume so. in hindsight, most centipedes i've encountered have been pretty straightforward with me. i guess i should be grateful for that.
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i like mary's fuzzy phone matching the trim of her dress but martin's really got my attention. cool name, neat quirk (he kills people, that takes moxie. hell, even pizzaz too, dare i say?) The dial being a lil clock is a neat touch since it ties his interest into the design. also quite like the cord tail matching the phone head's colour. solid design!
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i like his head-type and the attire/pale skin gives a nice bit of contrast!
hard to say how randy'd feel about him, as someone who's only seen his design and 2 lines of dialogue (as someone's personality dictates randy's opinion on them far more than their appearance.) if you feel they'd get on though, you're probably correct! (randy isn't too picky, after all!)
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Funnily enough, one of the earliest sketches for crown has a similar bolted plate stuck to a mostly intact phone head. it was even sticking from one of the sides. or corners. i'd have to dig up the notebook, as it's been like 4 years since I came up with the character. Sorry, just made me remember since the earliest sketches had one too.
Copper phone head's a neat idea. Contrasts well with his attire as well (nice and complimentary.) if only his attempts to deter jesse from the za worked out as well, eh?
Alright, that's it for me! thanks for the submissions, these were real creative! good job, everyone!
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