#but for real maybe it would help me stop fiddling and just get it out there and try the next one. thats the only way to improve after all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 17 days ago

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omg omg your work is so good oml. quick request: anything for logan sargeant because i CRAVE that man in my bones frfr

Late for Logan | LS²

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Sorry in advance, but it's your fault for giving me that type of freedom 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── After being dropped mid-season, Logan returns home overwhelmed with frustration and self-doubt. Luckily, he has her, and they manage to find solace in each other, reminding him that it’s never too late to rebuild.

𐙚 pairing ──── Logan Sargeant x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, emotional distress, mentions of career challenges, vulnerability & emotional support, fluff & smut, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.2k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 5, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── If you miss Logan say I ☝🏻😔

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THE AIR IS tinged with the faint aroma of Logan’s favorite cheat meal sitting under its foil wrapper. She’s set everything up exactly as he’d like it: snacks in a tidy line on the table, his favorite series queued on the TV, and a stack of games ready in case he wants to lose himself in a familiar world, just to escape the real one.

She tried her best to bring him some comfort, though it also helped her keep her mind occupied. After Logan dropped the bomb on her, her blood has been boiling ever since. She knows there is no point in being angry, because as he said, what's done is done. But that won't stop her from cursing the name of that entire garage of snakes.

The clock creeps toward 2 a.m. She's tired, but she doesn’t let herself drift. Not tonight.

Tonight is for Logan.

She perches on the edge of the couch, fiddling with the edge of a blanket, waiting for the sound of his key in the lock, while aimlessly scrolling through her feed.

When the door finally clicks open and Logan steps inside, his movements are heavy, yet cautious.

His bag slung low on one shoulder, all the lights are low, and he doesn’t seem to notice the setup she’s spent hours on. He doesn’t call out, either. Doesn’t move toward the living room. He simply heads toward the kitchen, thinking she's been asleep for hours now.

Her stomach twists when she hears the noisy thud of his bag hitting the floor. She expects him to walk back, to see the small effort she’s made to make him feel loved, seen, and appreciated, but the silence is louder than ever. Then, there’s the crash of something — a plate or maybe a glass — and a muffled curse.

Quietly, she stands up from the couch, stepping toward the doorway.

She finds Logan on the kitchen floor, his knees pulled to his chest, and his head in his hands. His frame trembles, wracked with uneven breaths that she realizes, with a sinking feeling, are sobs.

His frustration spills into his voice, sharp and broken, as he tries to keep quiet. “A failure… such a fucking failure.”

Tears burn behind her eyes as she watches him fall apart. She hadn’t imagined it would be this bad — she knew his season so far sacked, but it wasn't always his fault, and he seemed okay for the most part. Although, Logan had always been good at pretending he was fine. Tonight, though, there’s no mask. Just raw pain and anger and exhaustion and frustration.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft, yet slightly shaking.

His head snaps up, his red-rimmed eyes locking with hers. “Shit. Did I wake you, baby?” his voice cracks, the words rushed, as though he’s trying to cover the vulnerability she’s already seen.

She steps closer the moment she sees him trying to get up, her bare feet cool against the tiles. “No, I wasn't… I wanted to surprise you,” her voice falters, and she kneels beside him, reaching for his hand. “I'm so sorry, Lo. I didn’t know you were hurting this much.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I’m supposed to—” his words choke off, hitting his head with the bridge of his palm, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

“Oh, pretty,” she grips his hand tightly, pulling it away from his self-inflicted punishment. “It's going to be okay. You're home now.”

“I’ve worked so hard for this,” he whispers, ignoring her pitiful look. “And now it all went to shit, because I couldn't get it together. Everything… gone.”

Her heart breaks for him. At the same time, she's offended by his statement. After all, she's still here; there's still something. But it's not about her, so she pulls him into her arms, without thinking about the technicalities of his affirmation. His body folds into hers like a little child, his head pressing into the crook of her neck.

He tries not to cry, but it's been months since he's been suppressing those tears, thinking he wasn't allowed to lash out, because that's not what strong people do.

It doesn't matter.

She's still here, and she is holding him together when he feels like he’s falling apart.

“It’s not gone,” she whispers, her hand stroking through his hair. “Baby, it was a shitty team, anyway. You’ve still got so much ahead of you.”

“Not in F1, I don't,” he reminds her bitterly.

She pulls back enough to look into his eyes, her thumb brushing away the tears on his cheek. “So what? At least you can say you've been there. You did great things. Things that other people can only dream of. And no matter what happens, you'll always have that. Isn't that amazing?”

His lip quivers, looking at her as if he sees her for the first time. Again. As if he's falling in love. Again.

“You deserve someone who’s not falling apart at the moment.”

The girl frowns. “Shut up. I choose you, Logan. All of you. Every single day,” she says with so much conviction in her voice that he almost believes her.

He exhales shakily, his shoulders slumping. “I might need you more than you need me.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” she asks, raising her eyebrows in confusion. “If anything, we'll have more time. More time to figure things out. More time to put everything in order. More time for us.”

Logan nods, realizing she's not entirely wrong. Though it sucks, maybe all the bad happened now to make more room for the good that is about to come.

They stay like that for a long time, tangled on the cold kitchen floor, until his breathing steadies and the tension in his body ebbs. He feels sorry she had to see him like that, but at least all the shame subsided. For now.

Next, she pulls him to his feet, their hands still entwined, and finally leads Logan into the living room.

His eyes widen when he sees the setup. “Baby, this looks amazing. You shouldn't have…”

“I wanted to,” she admits softly.

He pulls her into a tight hug, burying his face in her shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop with that already,” she whispers. “Or else, I'll eat all your food in front of you.”

THE CLOCK ON the bedside table reads 3:34 a.m. when they finally settle in bed, under the blanket. The TV hums softly in the background, playing Logan's favorite series, though neither of them is paying much attention.

He's still deep in thought, and she's still worried of how is all this going to actually affect him in the long run.

Logan is lying across her, his head resting on her stomach, one arm draped over her thighs. His body feels heavier than usual, burdened by the weight of the day. Her fingers move lazily through his hair, a repetitive, soothing motion that almost puts him to sleep.

No one says anything; they don't need to. She knows Logan. Knows the storm raging inside his mind despite the quiet exterior. And he knows her — patient, calm, and supportive.

Everything he's not, at the moment.

Suddenly, he tightens his grip on her thigh, his knuckles brushing the soft skin. The motion is unconscious, but the pressure betrays the frustration that's still boiling inside him. She inhales sharply under the force of his hand, the pressure taking her by surprise, a little sound slipping from her lips before she can stop it. It’s enough to make his head lift slightly, enough to draw his attention.

Logan freezes for a moment, but then something in him snaps. His heart starts racing, his blood travels faster throughout his body, and his mouth goes dry. He shifts, sliding his head beneath her oversized shirt — his shirt, that she chose to sleep in for the night. His lips find the soft plane of her stomach, planting warm, deliberate kisses against her skin.

“Logan,” she whispers his name, half a question and half a plea.

He doesn’t respond, not with words. Instead, his hands trail upward, gripping her waist firmly, his thumbs brushing just beneath the curve of her breasts. When his mouth moves higher, kissing just beneath her ribs, his hand slides under the shirt, fully cupping her flesh. The touch is possessive, almost reverent.

“My everything,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice raw. It gives her goosebumps, but she doesn't have time to process his words too in depth, because feeling him like that occupies her entire brain capacity. “The perfect design. Smooth, precise, so responsive, baby. I should’ve been able to handle you better.”

Her breath catches in her throat. She understands pretty quick that he’s not just talking about her body, and knows he’s still thinking about everything he feels he’s failed at. “Logan, stop—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice an octave deeper. “No one gets it, but you. If I’d just had the right tools, the right… Fuck. If I’d been allowed to drive you the way I wanted to, I could’ve done it. I could’ve taken you further than anyone else ever could.”

On one hand, it's hard for her to hear him talking like that — as if he's gone mad. But Logan is right about one thing: she understands. She does, because she's been a first row witness since day one. So, even if it hurts, she lets his words sink in, lets him vent the pent-up frustration in his own way. It's the least she can do.

His hands tug her shirt over her head, leaving her bare before him. His gaze darkens as he looks at her, his lips parting slightly.

“You’re so beautiful,” Logan whispers, acting like it's the first time he sees her naked. His hands run over her sides, mapping her curves as if committing them to memory. “The perfect design,” he repeats, “And I’m the only one who gets to race you. Is that right, baby?”

She feels the weight of his words in her chest, the underlying desperation beneath his need for control. She nods, because there's truth behind them — they belong to each other, a silent pact they made right at the beginning of their relationship. Besides, he needs it — not just her body, but her trust, her willingness to let him take the lead. It’s his way of clawing back the confidence that’s been stripped from him so prematurely.

“I’m here,” she whispers, her voice steady. “I love you. I’m proud of you. I'm with you.”

She would stop talking, but Logan moves with a hunger she’s never seen before, his lips tracing a path down her body; it makes her head spin with things she should've told him sooner. His hands grip her thighs, spreading them wide as if he’s opening the doors to a new track, one only he has the right to drive on.

“You feel like silk,” he mutters, mostly to himself, gently tracing his palms over her skin. “So warm, so smooth… God, the handling is unreal.”

She arches into his touch, her fingers finding his hair again as his mouth moves lower, claiming her inch by inch. He’s precise, knowing exactly where to push, where to pull back, where to accelerate — he's so good at it. Why did they think he wasn't?

“It’s like you’re built for me, my love.”

She’s lost in him, in the way he talks, and the way he makes her feel like the most coveted machine in the world.

Logan’s frame hovers over hers, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he captures her lips in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s raw and unrestrained, his need pouring into every brush of his mouth against hers. She doesn’t fight it, doesn’t hold anything back. She lets him take her in every way he wants, surrendering completely because she knows he needs this.

His hands are firm on her, no longer tentative as they roam over her body. Her breath hitches when his fingers curl into her hips, holding her so tightly she knows she’ll find faint bruises by the time they're done. But she doesn’t mind — she loves the unfiltered and unapologetic Logan, the fire in his touch telling her everything he hasn’t said.

“I'm glad you finally see it,” she whispers against his lips, her voice soft but encouraging. ��Who you truly are.”

Logan pulls back just enough to look at her, his chest heaving, his blue eyes darkened with intensity. “Yeah? Who am I, then?”

Her fingers trace along his jaw, tender even as her words cut straight to the heart of him. “My strong, beautiful boy,” she says without hesitation, “You’re everything I’ve always seen in you.”

It's her honesty that gets to him, making him tightening his grip on her thighs and pulling her legs around his waist as if to anchor himself. He peels off her panties, discarding them on the floor, and she wastes no time helping him get rid of his sweatpants. His skin burns as their bare chests touch again, making her moan softly at the contact with his hard muscles.

She feels his hand traveling down between their bodies, so she breaks the kiss to look at him. Logan hesitates, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second as he shifts his weight.

“What's wrong, baby?” he asks, confusion evident in his voice.

In response, she reaches out to grab his cock, pumping it deftly before guiding it to her entrance. She lets out a short whine at the initial contact, feeling him hard and leaking at the tip, as she helps him sink in slowly, savoring every inch.

“No foreplay tonight. Please,” she whimpers the words out, wrapping her legs tighter around him.

“Are you su—fuck,” he breathes against her shoulder, his body suddenly on fire.

“Promise,” she moans, feeling him stretching her pussy wide in ways she didn't experience before.

Logan grunts, pushing deep inside her, full and heavy, exhaling in gasps the moment he's all in. He feels her so tight around him that he can't help but thrust a couple of times, pulling only halfway out, just to spread her wetness all over his length. The thickness of his cock takes her breath away while it keeps her open for him, and she makes a mental note to let him take her like this more often from now on, even though she expects to be sore in the morning.

“You're so good to me, baby,” he chokes out. “So tight, I just…” his words die in his throat when she raises her hips to meet his.

Logan needs tremendous self-control, but that doesn't translate into how his slow, hard thrust make her body slide against the sheets. The image displayed under him is rather obscene, his eyes following her breasts bouncing up and down as a result of his powerful movements. It makes his mouth water, so he attaches it on one of her nipples, taking the other one between his fingers.

“Lo…” she exhales sharply, arching her back against the mattress.

His thrusts grow rougher, more insistent, his hips snapping against hers with a force that sends shocks of pure pleasure through their bodies.

She cries out, but it’s not in protest. Her nails dig into his back, her head falling back against the pillows as she lets herself drown in him. “That’s it,” she gasps, her voice shaky but full of want. “Don’t hold back, baby, yes. I want all of you.”

Her praise spurs him on, his pace quickening as if he’s trying to make up for every moment he’s spent doubting himself, every ounce of self-restraint he’s forced upon himself this season. Each thrust is deliberate, punishing in the best way, and she meets him halfway, giving herself over completely.

“Shit, you like this, don't you?” he growls, his voice rough as his hand slides up her body, gripping her breast more firmly.

“Mhm, yes... yes, you feel so good,” she moans, tracing her palms over his back. “I love every part of you, Lo. Every damn part.”

Her words push him further, and he leans down, capturing her lips in a kiss so fierce it leaves her breathless. His hand moves to tangle in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her whimper, and he groans at the sound.

“And I love your pretty noises, baby. Keep making them for me, and I won't last much longer,” says Logan, breathing wetly against her skin, his cock dragging against her walls, and thrusting back in full force to show her that he means it.

She squeezes her eyes in pleasure, the pressure building rapidly inside her stomach.

His pace becomes erratic, every movement driven by pure emotion — frustration, need, love — all colliding in a chaotic duet of moans and whimpers. He’s rough, but not careless, every touch and thrust a declaration of everything he feels but can’t put into words.

That just makes her clench her involuntarily around him, dripping wet every time he pulls out only to shove himself back in. The slick sound is accompanied by their heavy breaths blending together, and the final result almost pushes both of them over the edge.

Except Logan's movements are getting restrained, his grip on her hips tight but trembling as if he's holding himself back. She feels it in the way his body hesitates, the tension coiling in his muscles but never fully released. It’s like he’s afraid to lose the last ounce of control, afraid to let go of the last thread of composure he’s clinging to.

“Lo,” she whispers, her voice cutting through the haze between them. He doesn’t stop fucking into her, but his eyes flicker up to hers, confusion mingling with the intensity in his gaze.

She cups his face with both hands, her thumbs gently brushing against his cheekbones. “It’s okay,” she says softly, her voice laced with reassurance.

His brows furrow, his thrusts stalling for a heartbeat. “No, baby.”

She tilts her head, holding his gaze steady. “Please. Whatever you’re feeling, let it out. I can take it, love. You know I can.”

He buries his face in her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her skin as he drives into her harder, rougher, with an urgency that leaves her gasping.

Her fingers slide down his back, nails scraping lightly against his skin as she holds him closer. “My perfect boy,” she murmurs, her voice small but encouraging. “I’ve got you.”

The sound he makes is guttural, almost pained, as if her words are the final push he needed. He drives inside her with a desperation that’s raw and unfiltered, pouring every ounce of frustration, anger, and self-doubt into fucking his girl. His girl, who was always there. His girl, who loves him, needs him, trusts him enough to let him ruin her.

No questions asked.

Suddenly, it's too much. All of it.

Logan stills inside her, wrapping his hand around her neck as their eyes meet.

Watching him come while his hand tightens possessively around her becomes quickly her favorite thing in the world. He looks like a dream, all drenched in sweat, floating above her like an angel, his chest heaving rapidly. His mouth falls open, letting out a noise so melodious, that she is sure it has the power to wake her up from the dead.

At that, it doesn't take much for her to follow him, coating them both in their release. He thrusts a few more times, lazily, before crashing on top of her, his face buried in her shoulder.

Right after, she feels the first shuddering sob escape his chest.

“Lo? Baby, look at me,” she whispers, her arms wrapping around him instinctively.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, his voice muffled against her skin. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears prick her eyes, and she strokes his hair gently, her own voice shaking. “No. Don’t ever be sorry.”

His sobs grow quieter, but they don’t stop, and soon she’s crying with him, their tears mingling in the quiet intimacy of the room.

“It’s going to be alright,” she whispers, her lips brushing against his temple. “I'm with you, baby,” she reminds him all over again, determined to keep doing it until he believes her. “And it's never too late to start over.”

He clings to her like a lifeline, his fingers digging into her sides as if afraid to let go. “I don't… know where to start.”

“We'll figure it out,” she says firmly, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “You’re not done, Logan. Not by a long shot. Yeah?”

He stares at her, his eyes red and glassy, but there’s a flicker of something else there now — hope, gratitude, and so much love.

“Thank you,” says Logan, his voice cracking under the weight of his own doubts.

She presses a kiss to his forehead, holding him as close as possible. “Always, my love.”

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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everythingisromant1c · 4 months ago

Text

It's Always Been You - Chapter 10

james potter x fem!reader

summary - In all the excitement—or horror, to you—of the week, including the rumors that were still spreading rapid-fire around school, or your supposed best friend James's mysteriously terrible mood, you'd almost forgotten: the time had finally come for you to go on your date in Hogsmeade.

wc [5.0k]

all chapters | <- Chapter 9 - Chapter 11 ->

Maybe your best friend's unexplainable foul mood had been the reason that sleep came difficult to you that night, or maybe it was the fact that the clock in your brain was counting down until the time the sun would rise. The time when morning would come and you'd take that carriage ride over to Hogsmeade with the boys like you'd promised, and have to find Sebastian to go on your date with him. Your date. It still didn't feel real.

You didn't know if anything you'd done in the past could truly be qualified as an official date, one you could refer back to that morning as you finally saw sunlight through your window and knew you'd have to get ready. Luckily, you had two of the best girls you knew for friends, and they were set on helping you.

"I'm telling you, it's the first dress." Marlene nodded her head at you with wide, excited eyes, as you held two different dresses still on hangers up to your neck. "I mean are you kidding? It's one hundred percent your color, and you look sexy as hell in it."

Your jaw dropped at her antics. "Marlene," you cooed nervously.

"I mean it. Sebastian's not gonna be able to keep his hands off of you when he sees you."

You covered your face with your hands, half because you were embarrassed, and half because you didn't need Lily and Marlene to see you spiraling at the thought of what Marlene had just suggested. You'd been so caught up with, well, everything going on, that you hadn't even considered what going on a date truly entailed. What if he wanted to kiss you?

"Then you kiss him back," Marlene said easily as you voiced your question aloud. She stopped herself. "But only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah," Lily agreed, placing down a pair of nice shoes with a short but elegant heel on them that you'd forgotten you'd owned on the floor next to you. "Only do something if you want to do it. Don't let him pressure you into doing anything you don't want to. Even if it's as simple as holding your hand."

"Thank you guys, I know." You set the dress you were planning on wearing on the bed beside you, fiddling with the hanger pensively. "Holding his hand would be nice, I think." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, sitting down on the blanketed mattress. "To be honest, I don't know what I want." The two girls came to stand closer to you as you spoke. "I mean, Sebastian's a great guy and all, but do I even know him all that well?" Your mind traveled back to all the interactions you'd had with him. "What if I only said yes to go out with him because he asked me during the middle of that prank and I panicked and-"

"You need to relax," Lily said, voice firm but comforting at the same time. "You're just freaked out because it's the morning of. You're gonna have a great time." She shrugged a shoulder. "And if things don't click, then it wasn't meant to be. It's not the end of the world. "

"Exactly," the blonde said from next to her. "Don't let Potter's nonsense-spewing mouth ruin this date for you."

You'd filled them in the night before on all that'd been going on with James for the past few days, minus the few intimate 'almosts' that you'd shared with him that'd been dangerously playing in your mind even when you begged them to stop.

"Trust me," you said. "I'm trying not to."

"I still can't believe he's acting like this." Lily shook her head agitatedly. "And just when I was starting to think he might be maturing."

You nodded grievingly. "I would defend his honor to you, Lily, but I don't feel much like doing that right now."

"Maybe it's for the best." She breathed out a dry laugh. "Anyways, I suppose," she sighed. "Are you finished in the bathroom? I need to use the loo."

You snorted. "Yeah, all yours."

She shot you an overly excited grin and slipped into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her. All the while, Marlene took a seat on the bed next to you, something glimmering behind her eyes that told you she had ideas she wanted to voice.

You stared at her half amusedly, half hesitantly. "What is it?"

"Did you ever think, during all your bickering, why Potter has such a problem with you going on this date?"

You sighed. That was all you could think about. You tipped your head at her, knowing where this conversation was going to lead. "Yeah," you said plainly. "Because he's set on the five of us spending every Hogsmeade trip together until we die."

"Or maybe," she argued, "it's because he's jealous."

You dropped your shoulders, shaking your head as you stared at her. "You're not serious."

The blonde stared back at you with an equal amount of fire. "I so am."

You laughed to yourself, perhaps deprecatingly. "The only thing James could be jealous about is the free butterbeer I'll probably be getting."

"Don't be dense."

"I'm not being dense. I'm being realistic." You puffed out a breath. "I know James. Well enough to know that, after we ..." you trailed off. "After the party, when he disappeared, he was freaked out because I'd scared him off. And he knows me too. I didn't have to tell him for him to figure out that I'd ... felt something for him. Something that he obviously was uncomfortable talking about, so I've spared him the trouble and moved on. That's the end of it." You picked up the dress you'd laid on the bed as you heard Lily washing her hands in the bathroom. "It has to be."

Marlene regarded you for a few seconds, maybe scoping out how genuine you were. "Like you said," she shrugged, "you know him best."

You nodded, ending the conversation as Lily exited the bathroom. Though the more this week went on, you believed that fact less and less.

You soon were leaving the sides of both Lily and Marlene after the walk down to the horseless carriages in front of the school, dozens of them stationed there to take everyone down to Hogsmeade.

The air was especially crisp for a September evening, making you think to yourself that maybe bringing a jacket would have been a smart choice, especially in the dress you were wearing, but your brain soon became occupied by other thoughts. Thoughts that were centered around the sight of your four friends standing around an unoccupied carriage in the distance, probably waiting for you.

You took a breath in, and then another one. You were completely devoted to ensuring this would be a drama-free carriage ride, no matter what, or who, tried to stop that from happening. You made your way over to the four boys, two of their backs turned to you. You tapped the long-haired one, of course Sirius, on the shoulder.

"You didn't think you were going to leave without me, did you?" you smirked up at him.

He had a wry smile on his face as he turned to you, surely ready with a quip to send back your way, but that smile left as he saw you, his eyes quickly scanned over you.

"Wow," he blanched. Then a sparkling grin took over his features. "You certainly clean up nice."

You crinkled your forehead at his remark and amused smirk until Remus cut in. "What he means is," corrected the sandy-haired boy from next to him. "You look beautiful. Seriously."

You felt your face begin to heat at the four pairs of eyes all now observing you as you stood there in your dress. You were surprised they weren't poking more fun at you than just Sirius's single obvious remark. You couldn't remember the last time you were this dressed up in front of them.

"Thanks," you muttered gratefully. "Now stop gushing and let's get a move on, yeah?"

Remus shook his head at your reaction but hid his laugh, taking an effortless step onto the high carriage, Peter quietly behind him. Sirius made a move to ruffle your hair, which you dodged easily and shot him a glare. He chuckled, making his way over to the carriage as well. That left only you and James.

You turned to him finally, expecting him to be avoiding your eyes as he'd done for the past few days, but instead found him looking straight at you, hazel eyes and all. You didn't know what to do under his gaze which you'd grown somewhat unused to, so you settled on doing nothing at all. You were still holding your grudge over how he'd been acting and weren't quick to forget about it. You were fully expecting him to do the same and say nothing to you at all.

"You do," he said suddenly, and at the confused quirk of your brow, softly added, "Look beautiful, I mean."

You paused, somewhat taken aback by both his words and the genuine tinge of his eyes. You didn't know how James could hold eye contact so easily, especially when he'd been so set on doing just the opposite lately.

"Oh," you voiced quietly, and couldn't help the way the corners of your lips tilted upwards. "Thanks."

He nodded wordlessly and the two of you turned back to the carriage that held your three other friends, clearly able to hear and see your conversation. You eyed the tall wooden floor of the carriage before you and then the high cut of your dress, and then your shoes. As if reading your mind, a firm hand held itself out in front of you.

You peaked your head over to the source of the hand: James, who looked at you expectantly, a certain air to him that was both light and heavy. You regarded him and his hand for a split second, deciding there was no harm in taking it, and did, your fingers slipping over his steadying palm as you took the large step into the carriage. And maybe you were imagining it, but you felt the ghost of his fingers delicately shadowing your lower back as you steadied yourself into your seat, James following from behind.

He sat across from you and you avoided looking at him as you fought reacting to the feeling that ran through you, like you were still on some kind of high from his touch. It only made you mad to think about, so you decided not to, looking elsewhere instead as the carriage began moving seemingly on its own.

It'd only taken a few moments for the Hogwarts castle to be only a beautiful shrinking sight in the distance, and for the scenery of the early fall to take over your senses instead. You were sat in front of James, who sat next to Peter, the blonde looking rather sickly and lost in troubling thoughts.

"Pete," you called curiously. "You alright? You look pale."

The boy in question turned to you with worry behind his eyes, but he only nodded. "Yeah, I'm great," he said, voice rather shaky for someone who was 'great.'

"He's just nervous about his date." Sirius reached across the carriage to pat Peter on his shoulder, shaking him a little in his frail state. "You've got nothing to be worried about, mate."

"Yeah, Sirus is right," you agreed. "Remember, she asked you out because she wanted to spend time with you as you already are. Just be yourself."

Sirius nodded, before shifting his focus to you. "And what about you? You nervous for your date with Vance?"

You shrugged. "Maybe before, but I think I'm alright now." You smiled thinly. "I already talked it out with Lily and Marlene in our dorm getting ready."

"So that's what you ladies do up there?" Sirius asked, and you frowned. "Thought there'd be more pillowfights in your underwear."

You made a nauseated expression as Sirius grinned at his own joke. "You're disgusting," you scolded, though Peter had let a smile overtake his face at the joke and you figured maybe it was worth it.

Remus was shaking his head as well from next to you, the corners of his mouth teasing upwards. You turned forward again, James straight in your line of vision, but it didn't even seem he was listening to the conversation at hand, head aimed out the side of the carriage. He looked more distant than ever as he sat tensely and you had to fight the urge to reach out to him. You knew all too well what would come from that.

You let your focus slip onto other things, like the wind that was brushing against your exposed arms and moving your hair slightly in the wind. You fought a shiver, bringing your hands up to rub at the sides of your arms—you were sure you had goosebumps.

For the second time that morning, like he was reading your mind, you watched as James held out his arm towards you, though this time he was holding something in his hand instead: his coat. It was brown on the outside, a light jacket that was lined with a soft flannel fabric, one that you always thought looked dashing on him. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to take it.

You faltered from surprise and then shook your head. "I'm alright," you said softly, pursing your lips.

"You're practically shivering," James pointed out, tipping out his chin at you. "Just take it."

"I don't want to take your own jacket from you, James. It's chilly."

"Exactly," he said, catching you in your lie. "And you're not taking it from me, I'm giving it to you."

You looked up from the jacket he was offering, if you could call it an offer, and at him, seeing the stubborn hold of his jaw and yet the sincere gloss of his eyes. Because you knew he wouldn't let you say no anyway now that you'd admitted it was chilly, you took it from his hand.

You wrapped the too-big coat over your shoulders, grateful but perhaps hateful of the way it immediately warmed you like the lighting of a fireplace. It smelt warm and comforting like a fireplace too, or maybe that was just the fact that it was James's jacket and he always smelled strangely nice. You blinked at yourself, chasing away your thoughts that were certainly not appropriate, considering you were currently on your way to a date with a different boy.

In all your thinking, it was like you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You looked up again, but James already had gone back to staring out at the moving scenery. You couldn't read him right then, and if there was anything you'd learned about James from all the years you'd known him, it was that you could always read him, even when others couldn't. The fact that you hadn't been able to read him for days was worrying you sick and setting you off all at once. You just wished you could get inside his head.

You sighed, your eyes shifting over to Remus, who was giving you the oddest of looks. The corners of his eyes crinkled, though his lips stayed shut together. You raised a brow and he only shrugged, looking away again. You really needed to get inside that boy's head, too.

Before you could even mull over the different possibilities of ways that your up-and-coming date could go wrong, a habit of your mind that you hated, the carriage had pulled up into Hogsmeade. It came to a slow stop next to the uniquely shaped brick buildings you'd become all too familiar with over the years. That didn't take away from the excitement bubbling inside your stomach—or maybe that was nervousness; you couldn't tell anymore.

All five of you exited the carriage, James offering you his hand again as you took the big step onto the ground. You were growing too frustrated to even consider the feeling of your hand in his larger one that somehow was still as warm as the jacket you wore. How he could be so sweet yet so aggravatingly aloof you didn't know, but you forced your mind off the topic once again. Only, you couldn't force thoughts of James away completely, because he was calling your name as soon as you'd walked past him.

Your head turned to him so swiftly it almost made you dizzy. He was standing there along the side of a building you identified as The Three Broomsticks, hands now shoved into his trouser pockets with his head slightly tipped forward, though he stood up straighter as you made your way to him.

"Yeah?" you questioned, and maybe your tone was testy, but you didn't have it in you to alter it for his sake.

James shifted his footing underneath your gaze, taking a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

The pull of your brows let up at his words and you observed his facial expressions shamelessly, sorting through what to say. Luckily, he spoke again before you could.

"I'm sorry for making you take the carriage ride into Hogsmeade with the rest of us. You should've just gone with your date. I was just in an ... off mood last night. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

And just like that, the hope you were harboring when James had first uttered the word 'sorry' had bubbled and churned inside of you until all that was left was dissatisfaction.

"Is that all?" you questioned.

James's lips parted. "What?"

"I mean, I'm grateful for your apology," you breathed the word like it left a foul taste in your mouth. "But is there anything else you'd like to talk about? Apologize for?"

James scratched his head almost comically, and you laughed without any humor as you began to turn around. Before you could take a single step, James grasped your wrist in his fingertips, and you fought not to notice how feather-light he held onto you.

"Like what?" he asked you, and at your stone expression he dropped your hand. "Please," he insisted.

You swallowed and shrugged up your shoulders irritatedly. "Oh, I don't know James, maybe the fact that you've been acting 'off' this whole week and won't say a word as to why?" You took the hand he'd held and put it to your forehead. "I've probably asked you if you were okay about a dozen times and all you can say to me is that you're 'fine' when you're clearly ticked off."

"Because that's the truth," James insisted.

"Please," you remarked. "It's not the truth. Don't lie to me, James. I know you. Better than anyone else, and I know when you're upset about something."

"I'm not upset, alright?" James squinted at you. "Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because!" You took a breath in, trying to calm yourself because this was not the drama-free morning you wanted to have. "Because, every time I've been down, which has been too many times to count, you've been there for me. Always."

You thought back to the night you realized you loved him as more than just a friend, when he'd comforted you through your tears so quickly and sweetly, and it only made you feel more exasperated.

"So I'm not just going to 'let it go' when something's so obviously bothering you, enough to make you act completely differently to the point where you won't even talk to me." You paused, noticing the sinking in James's gaze the more you spoke. "And quite frankly," you continued, "it hurts like hell that you don't think you can tell me what's been going on, because you can. We're supposed to be best friends, remember?"

James let out a low breath, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff that had your forehead pulling. "Trust me, I remember."

"Then why the hell won't you just talk to me?" Your palms were facing him, telling him it was his move, his turn to try and fix things.

"Because there's nothing to say." He'd thrown away his turn without a second glance, running a fast hand through his hair. "God, this was a mistake. Every time I talk to you, I just-" he stopped himself.

Your heart was beating hard in your chest. "You just what?"

James shook his stubborn head, a muscle in his jaw noticeably flexing. "Nothing, alright?" He looked upwards, like he was battling something greater than him, and began walking towards wherever the hell James Potter went when he didn't want to talk to you. You weren't going to let him.

"How long are you going to keep doing this for, James?" He halted his steps, turning his head back towards you with a rigid look in his eyes. "How long are you going to avoid me?"

"Avoid you?" he laughed, and you froze. "That's rich, coming from you of all people."

You clamped your jaw shut for a beat, blinking at him as your mind started to spin. "What are you talking about?" You knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I'm talking about when you were avoiding me just a few days ago. Ring a bell?"

You lowered your gaze, confidence stuttering. You didn't respond.

"I mean, you wouldn't even partner with me Defense Against the Dark Arts, for Merlin's sake."

"That was different," you argued, though you were ashamed of how pathetic the words sounded coming from your lips.

"How?" James asked, staring at you fearlessly now with raised, expectant brows and an unmoving jaw.

"It ... it just is!" You looked away. "We're getting off track. My point was that ... I just miss you, James." The irony of your warm words contrasted with the angry shake of your lips didn't escape you. "I miss the James who wouldn't push me away every time I tried to have a conversation with him, or who wouldn't act like a bloody child every time I mention I'm going on a date."

If you thought you saw a crack of guilt racking James's expression, there was no trace of it now.

"Oh yeah?" he questioned, his tone colder than you'd ever heard it. "I'm sorry I don't like talking about your beloved Sebastian every five minutes."

"Well it's not like I can talk to you about anything else, can I?" Your heart was thumping in your chest and you felt like crying. "You know what?" You chewed on the inside of your cheek, turning away. "I give up! Let's just talk whenever you're ready to be honest with me."

Your back was to him when he shouted, "You want me to be honest?" You scoffed, nodding your head. "That's what you want?" he repeated.

"Yes James!" you shouted. "That's exactly what I want!"

"Well then, fine!" He wiped a desperate hand over his face, throwing up his arms. "We kissed, alright?"

Your heart sizzled somewhere in your chest beneath your stilled lungs, every part of you halting its movements. Your expression fell slowly and you blinked at him, staring wordlessly for a moment. "What?"

James stared back at you, looking at you more than he'd looked at you in the past week altogether. The opposite of yours, his chest heaved up and down like he'd been fighting for air and could only now come up for oxygen. He didn't look like he'd misspoken and that scared you more than anything.

"We kissed. Last week. At the party."

Your lips hung, parted and confused. "What are you-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. We kissed, and you ran off, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since."

Your eyes felt like they had a mind of their own, scanning rapidly over James and then looking at the ground, your heeled shoes, anywhere but at him because your world was shifting around you, the walls of what you thought you knew crumbling down on you.

You swallowed, throat going dry. "James," you voiced carefully. "That kiss was ..." you shook your head. "We were playing a game."

Maybe he would take the slowness of your words for sureness rather than struggle, because that along with seemingly every other emotion was what you were feeling inside.

"No, c'mon. Don't do that." James shook his head back at you and you felt like running away, but you couldn't now. Not when he was looking at you like that. "Don't try and make it seem like that was all it was, because it wasn't. Not for me, and I know it meant more to you too."

The cool breeze from before had picked up and was turning into an inexorable wind that made you feel worse than you already did. Could he see the way you had to stop yourself from shaking? Hear the way you willed your heartbeat to stop pounding? Clearly not, because he kept talking.

"For days, weeks even, all that's been on my mind was you. Do you know how hard it is to get anything done when all I can think about is my best friend kissing me?"

You felt dizzy with the way he was staring into your eyes. Like you'd voiced to yourself a million times, how James held eye contact so effortlessly was a mystery you'd never find the answer to.

"And I know you said you wanted to just pretend like the kiss never happened, but you should know that I can't do that, alright? Trust me. I've tried, and obviously that didn't work." He ran a hand through his tousled hair again. "So I just ... I need you to say something to me. Anything."

You willed yourself to speak again, blood rushing past your ears now. "I ... I don't know what to say. It was a part of a game."

James practically flinched. "Anything but that." He breathed out a laugh without any chest, tipping his head back and taking steps around. "God."

You still felt like crying, because nothing was making sense. Then James refocused on you, and you felt pinned underneath his gaze.

"You can tell me it was part of a game however many times you want." His words were achingly slow and desperate. "But tell me ... just tell me you didn't feel anything when we kissed. That it meant absolutely nothing to you, and I'll stop talking. I promise."

You knew he meant what he said; you could see it all through his hazel eyes. You'd asked for honesty and you'd gotten it. You knew that you couldn't lie to him anymore, and you said your truth with your voice was on the verge of breaking.

"I can't." Even if your voice shook, James heard it loud and clear. He stopped moving and stepped closer to you whether he noticed or not. "But that doesn't mean it can mean anything now."

If it was possible, he went even more still. His eyes pleaded with you to say more to him, so you did. "It's not fair, James." Your voice broke off, and James took both your hands in his, and held them tight near his chest, like hope pumped through them.

"What? What's not fair, Love?"

You flinched at the name you hadn't heard in seemingly forever, but it pinched at the part of your brain that remembered it vividly. You didn't know how this moment was real. You looked down at his hands that engulfed yours. "It's not fair that it meant something, because it can't."

You pretended not to notice the way James's hands loosened their hold. "Not when-" your voice hitched at the sign of your eyes blurring despite how much you'd willed them not to. "Not after I spent months—years, even—trying to make every interaction between us mean something. After I spent all that time trying to get over you! It- it's not fair, and I won't do it. I won't."

You shook your head timidly and repeatedly like it would stop what was happening. You didn't know when you and James had moved away from each other, probably somewhere between your voice breaking and your eyes watering, but you had. But that wasn't was most important.

James had gone eerily still, painfully silent. That didn't change the fact that his unforgiving eyes continued to search what seemed like every inch of your face. His voice rang out lowly.

"Get over me?" His heavy brows furrowed in hurt and bewilderment. "Wh-" he choked. "What do you mean 'get over me'?"

You put a hand to your head, amused in your disbelief. "Like you haven't known."

James took a persistent step forward, the pinch between his brows desperate. "What the hell are you talking about?"

This all felt like a bad dream you couldn't wake up from. You forced yourself to breathe. "I really can't do this right now, I-" You didn't think you could do it ever. You pulled at the hem of your dress. "I have a date."

Even with the wind whipping against you both, you'd never heard a silence like the one you did right then.

"You're really still going on that date?" James peered at you interrogatingly, his eyes slightly red now, and it killed you.

"What am I supposed to do, James?"

You wiped at your nose. James's hands were elevated at his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, but didn't. He looked like he didn't know what he wanted to do, but he didn't stop.

"You can't just go running away all because ..." he panted, "because..." His voice trailed off.

You wanted to shout at him that all you'd done since forever was stop yourself from running away, but you didn't. It wasn't his fault you'd tortured yourself all these years. But that didn't mean he could get his happy ending with the snap of his fingers, either.

Just to twist the knife in your chest, he whispered, "Please."

You dropped your gaze low to the cobblestone ground beneath your feet, blurry now through your lashes. "I need to go." The sight of him standing before you, eyes watery and lips parted helplessly, sent painful pangs through your heart. You moved your head, willing yourself to turn away and your legs to move. You didn't think you could leave if you looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

Those same eyes followed you as you walked down the path, head hung low but steps quickening despite. Steps taken in the direction of The Three Broomsticks, where you'd go on your date with Sebastian. Your mind kicked and screamed at you at every step, but you couldn't get them to stop.

You felt James's eyes on your retreating form like you felt the wind snapping against your cheeks, though you didn't turn back to look at him. That way, he wouldn't be able to see the way your expression shook at the effort of just trying to keep yourself together.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman @bambi-jp @babyclea @cloudroomblog @mooonyxoxo @imgondeletedis @moon-flowerrs @fruticake @arey0usirius @kenjikishimotoswifey @the-marauders-mapp

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rosyjn · 1 year ago

Text

Dilf!Jake catching you in your first heat MDNI

You nock the arrow, keeping the bow string stretched as you aim for a nearby bird. It is a colorful animal, resting on a branch. Your chest, adorned with flowers that barely cover your plump breasts, rises and falls with your breath.

You have been trying to ignore it. The tsahik told you this would come soon. The onset of your heat, you’ve been noticing since this morning. When you woke up, there was this strange hot feeling and an eager wetness between your legs. You should not have ignored it.

All you want to do is focus on hunting. This isn’t fair. Your head floods with bothersome thoughts. You release the arrow from the bow, the tense string making a snapping noise. Your sharp weapon flies through the air, striking the bird and knocking it off of its perch.

A relieved exhale leaves your mouth. You lower your bow. A prayer leaves your lips. May Eywa bless this soul.

You also need help from Eywa. Your legs are starting to tremble. Your clit is starting to throb. Your body is showing an unfamiliar neediness. You sigh, removing your hunting gear from your body and setting it aside. The weight feels good when it is off of your back.

Your ears perk to the sound of feet rustling through the forest. You quickly spin around, your eyes widening.

“Jeez, don’t worry doll. It’s just me.” It is the Olo’eyktan. Jake Sully. Your gut fills with butterflies. Your brain is telling you, that maybe you should ask him to give you a ride home on his direhorse. But no, there’s something else that your cunt wants.

“Oh, ma’Olo’eyktan..” you greet him, lowering your head and making an I see you gesture. “Can I ask for your help with something?”

He knows. He knows already. He could almost smell it. You sweet, innocent thing. You need to be guided to Mo’at, maybe a boyfriend. But, he think he’s so lucky he caught you first. He gets the privilege, now- of showing you how it’s done. He gets to show you how good his cock is.

“Of course.” He dismounts his direhorse, walking over to you. You awkwardly step back, lowering your body to the forest floor. He nods. “Lean back against that rock, hon.” You do what he says, shifting your position for him.

“I- I think I’m in-“ you stutter. You’re laying down now. He calmly strides over to you and his mouth falls gently agape.

��Relax,” he chuckles, kneeling to your level. “Why don’t ya, y’know, show me?” He suggests. His hand comes to your knee and he taps it lightly with his thumb.

“I want you to, make me feel better..” you spread your legs open for him. His breath grows faster. “Help me with my problem, sir. Please.” Jake swallows and clears his throat.

“I gotta take this off, alright? Daddy’ll make ya feel real good. No more heat pains.” He assures you, now grabbing the strings of your loincloth and fiddling with them until they fall loose and untied. You wince at the fresh breeze on your engorged clit. “Shh, relax.”

“Need it, need it so bad..” you’re already dripping wet, now squirming desperately. “Please touch me.” Jake almost chokes the at request.

“You sure?” He didn’t think you’d give in this quickly. When you give him puppy dog eyes and wince from the sensitivity down there, he agrees to help you out. He starts to buck his hips against his tewng. You whine, reaching forward for the strings of his garment. He shushes you and once again asks you to relax. “I can undress myself, hon. Don’t worry.”

He shuffles his hands around his waistband until the thin fabric is removed from his body.

He’s huge. Throbbing. He gulps, his hands reaching to touch your body. Your face turns a shade of purple. You spread your legs far and wide for him.

“Please, sir.” You cannot wait any longer. He shushes you, getting into position as the leaves rustle on the ground.

“Alright, I’m gonna go in, tell me if you want me to stop.” He coos, pushing his hips forward. His cock sinks into your tight pussy, giving it the stretch it needed. His mushroom tip probes your walls immediately. You gasp, tightening around him. You needed this so bad. Jake grunts, baring his teeth as he continues to buck his hips all the way until he’s balls deep.

You whine, like a desperate animal. Your back arches. You’re so goddamn tight. When he bottoms out in you, you squeal.

“Thank you, mmph! Thank you, sir.” You moan. You start to get flustered, hot, needy. “Faster, faster, please..” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist. He is surprised. Pleasantly surprised. He shakes his head and smiles.

“Sure you can take it?” He teases, accepting the challenge. You beg. You beg for him to fuck you harder. You want him to fill you with cum, so that your heat will never bother you again. You don’t know how it works. All you know is that you want him to ruin you and paint you white. Breed you.

He growls, picking up the pace and fucking you harder. Your body shakes. Every thrust of his makes you wetter and wetter. You clench around his cock. He starts to notice your pleasure, challenging it by slamming into you. You yelp, arching your back as you feel his thick cock stretch you.

“Mmmph, sir!” Your eyes clench shut, your breasts bouncing with each rut.

“Too much?” He asks, his skin beginning to glisten with sweat. He hisses with every time you clench and pulse around his girth. The space fills up with the noises of arousal- moaning, panting, skin slapping, and the ground rustling.

“Feels good-“ you whimper.

“I’ll fill ya up, I’ll cum inside of you. Your tight little cunt, fuck.” He grabs your breasts, slamming into you harder and harder.

You squeal again, a primal need filling your heat as you feel Jake’s precum dribble out of his tip and towards your cervix. He fucks his seed deeper into you. You grip onto his shoulders, pulling him towards you. He pants and leans down until his chest touches yours. You love the feeling of his weight on top of you and his cum inside of you.

“Yes! Yes, Jake!” You feel your climax approaching you rapidly. An electric pleasure pulses through your body. Your clit is swollen with pure pleasure. He grunts above you, bottoming out, and holding himself there.

His tip presses into your cervix, his orgasm washing over him as his thick cum sprays into your womb. You let out a cry, your nails digging into Jake’s back.

You try to catch your breath. Jake clicks his tongue a few times before pulling out of you. A trail of cum leaks down your folds. Your eyes flutter.

“You okay?” He takes a look at your sore pussy and reaches for your loincloth. You nod. What will you tell the village?

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icallhimjoey · 1 year ago

Note

Are you still taking requests?

If yes, I’d love to read about pure domestic bliss. Peak Soft!Joey! Things he does for us that make us go all speechless and love him even more. Little things like running us a bath when he senses we had a shit day, takes care of us when we’re home with a cold…things LIKE THAT!

I could really use that rn. <3

um, so, hyper independent reader not used to someone wanting to take care of us in the smallest of ways???? goooooooot it got it got it Wordcount: 3.3K

---

For You

You rarely asked for help.

Didn't need any.

Joe thought hard, but couldn't remember you ever asking him for anything. Or anyone else for that matter. You didn't ask for help in big ways, but also didn't ask for help in any of the small, little ways.

You did things yourself. Didn't bother people and, even though things took time and effort, and were sometimes a real bitch to figure out by yourself, you always did. Eventually.

Sorted through whatever on your own, because that's how you'd always done it. How your childhood had shaped you. What you'd gotten used to. Who you'd become as a person.

You took care of, well, everything. Were organised in ways Joe couldn't even really phantom a person being organised.

"What do you mean you just fixed my washing machine yourself?"

"Was just the little motor inside, I opened it up and it needed a little part replaced."

"What the..."

"Was easy. I watched some tutorial on how to–" you stopped, had to laugh at the face of shocked disbelief and somehow sheer annoyance he made and finished, "There's tutorials for fucking everything online, it really wasn't that hard."

Yea, Joe wasn't so sure.

"All right then, I guess I'll go and cancel the order I placed for a new one."

Because he would have never even thought of opening whatever panel on the back of whatever machine to have a look inside. To look up what he'd be looking at, and to get a screwdriver out to fiddle around inside.

It was out with the old in the the new far to easily with Joe.

Didn't go like that with you.

You took care of shit yourself. Were the person that people would come to for help. Because that's what you did. Took care of your own shit and helped others with theirs.

It took some actual getting used to for Joe.

Girls had never been like that before with him.

They'd ask for shit, would whine at him in a soft baby voice until he'd do whatever they'd asked. Sometimes it'd be cute, but it could be annoying as fuck too. He'd always cave, however, and it would somehow genuinely increase his well-being. To make someone else happy by doing a small task they asked of him. Fed his ego a bit. Upped the self-esteem a little.

And it wasn't that you didn't accept help when it was offered to you.

Not at all.

You just never asked.

It took weeks for Joe to learn that he'd have to figure out for himself what he could do to help. To take care of you sometimes.

It was why sometimes, when you'd be sat doing whatever paperwork needed doing, or answering whatever e-mails needed answering, Joe would silently wander around your flat.

Looking for things maybe he could do.

Things that maybe you'd left for a bit.

Joe wasn't big on cleaning.

Or organising.

But he could pick up clothes that were left discarded on the bedroom floor. And he could shove whatever products were left out in the bathroom into a drawer. Could open the dishwasher, dishes still dirty, but stacked all wrong, not leaving enough room for the rest that were left on the counter still. He could sort that out for you, no problem.

You always thanked him with a squeeze in his side, or soft kisses to smiley cheeks. Made Joe blush a little, knowing he'd found a thing he could do to help, to ease your load and make you happy.

Until one sort of weird Friday afternoon. It had just gone noon, and Joe received a weird text.

"quick q, did you say you had work today?"

Just things he had to read.

"they wont let me leave on my own"

What the fuck?

"Hey, what's going on? What do you mean they won't let you leave on your own?" Joe decided he needed immediate answers, and called in response to your texts.

"I'm fine," was the first thing out of your mouth, quickly followed by, "Don't worry. If you don't have the time, I can see if–"

"Answer my question, please." Joe cut you off.

"I... I don't know, I keep feeling– I'm dizzy. I lost my balance and fell when my foot got stuck on a threshold– I'm not hurt," you were quick to assure, not wanting to worry Joe.

"Did you faint?" Joe was already on his way out the door.

"No, I'm not lightheaded or anything. Just feel like I'm gonna be sick, and like, my eyes won't stay still. It's more annoying than anything else. Mary says I probably haven't slept enough, or something."

You sounded like it too. All annoyed. Frustrated by the way your body was letting you down in the middle of a work day and now had to ask someone to do something for you.

Had to ask your boyfriend to come pick you up.

Like that was the end of the world, somehow.

"All right, I'm out the door." Joe said, coat billowing behind him as his legs rushed him down the street. "Do one thing for me, yea? Don't fucking move."

Not like you could. Moving your head made you want to throw up. Maybe you just hadn't had enough water and were a bit dehydrated. Or a lot hydrated. You didn't know, but thought having water would be a good idea anyway.

You had little sips in the reception area of the office until Joe arrived.

"Hey,"

"You all right?" Joe crouched down in front of you, one hand on your shoulder, then on your cheek. He ducked his head to look you in the eye.

“Yea fine. Just dizzy when I stand. Or move. That’s all.”

“She hurt her wrist,” Mary said loudly as she walked over.

You did a quick Joe, Mary - Mary, Joe, introducing them to each other. Joe stood up straight and they shook hands, exchanged polite smiles, and then turned their worried gazes back onto you.

“It’s fine, nothing serious,” you gave your hand a twist and turn to showcase how fine you were. When you’d suddenly lost balance, you’d braced yourself with your one free hand. It would maybe take a day or two for it to feel normal again, it had just taken a blow.

"It'll sort itself out."

"Are you accompanying her the whole way home?"

"Yea, took the tube here, but," Joe looked at you whilst he fished his phone from his pocket. Unlocked it with his face and swiped to find the Uber app.

"We're getting an Uber back."

Good. Yes.

You were glad.

You would probably feel just as sick in a car, but the hassle of escalators, tunnels, stairs, more tunnels, more stairs, the hot air but the cold winds, and just, other people... even just thinking of the whole process, of public transport, made black and white spots creep up behind your eyes.

Mary seemed glad too, told you to get some actual rest, to take it easy and to feel better soon as Joe helped you onto your feet and guided you out of the building.

You had to lean into him heavily, nausea gripping you by the throat as you walked down to where Joe said you'd be picked up in a minute.

Focussing strongly on putting one foot in front of the other and not moving your head around too much, your mind echoed left, right, left, right, left, right. You felt Joe's grip strengthen around your waist as the world kept pulling you to the side.

"Jesus, do we need to go to A&E?"

This wasn't the time for jokes. You were busy trying to generally survive. The lack of balance, the world spinning and tilting, was disorienting and didn't leave room for humour.

"Have someone look you over?"

Joe wasn't joking, though.

"No," you swallowed. A mistake. "I just need to lie down and be still."

Joe helped you slide into the car, then used his fingers on your jaw to tip your head back against the headrest. Held a palm over your forehead a second, making sure it stayed in place before he carefully got you into your seatbelt and shut the door as softly as he could.

Sitting still like this, it was okay. Head back, sat up right, no weird smells.

This was fine.

You told the driver not to worry. Lied and promised him you didn't feel sick, just dizzy, and prayed you wouldn't actually throw up.

Joe rounded to the other side and slid down the seat to be right beside you. Sat in the middle seat, and after doing up his own seatbelt, attention was back with you.

An arm pushed through behind your neck, curled around your shoulder as you got pulled in.

Resting your head on Joe's shoulder wasn't any better than having it upright and tipped back, but Joe used a large palm that covered most of your scalp and then softly scratched fingers into your hair.

That was better.

You closed your eyes when the car pulled onto the road.

Having the actual world move fucked you up way more than you thought it might do.

The light that moved as you drove still filtered through enough, so you turned your head and hid your face against Joe's arm. Found darkness and peace there, and took measured breaths. Tried to ignore how your brain felt like a carousel. Could still taste the coffee you had about an hour earlier.

"Just crossed the river," Joe softly spoke near your ear.

He was taking you home.

"Five more minutes."

When you arrived, Joe wouldn't let you get out of the car by yourself. Said, "Hang on, wait here," and rushed out to jog around where he opened your door. Then he turned, and crouched down. Got down on one knee, and held out his arms behind him to guide.

"Joe, I can walk,"

You'd never ask to be carried.

"This feels safer. Come on."

But Joe insisted, and so you slid from the backseat right onto Joe's back. Slung arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder. Closed your eyes again, which didn't really help the nausea, but it felt nice to pretend you weren't really there.

Joe walked with bent legs, never fully straightening his knees, and you got the smoothest piggyback ride you'd ever had, right into your flat.

Right into your bedroom, where...

"Oh, fuck,"

You looked up, peeked over Joe's shoulder and, you remembered as you saw it.

You'd stripped your bed that morning, threw all sheets and covers into the wash and had planned to make the bed later, when you'd get back after work. Would use the other set that you didn't like the feel of as much, but which looked nicer.

"Okay, sofa." Joe turned on his heel, spun too quick, and made you groan with discomfort.

"Sorry, sorry," Joe stilled completely. Waited a couple seconds. Said sorry again and then walked you over into your living room where he carefully lowered himself and let you slide onto your sofa.

"How are we doing?" Joe checked in, went to close the curtains to get the place as dark as it possibly could in the middle of the day.

"Just need to sleep it off, I think," you said, trying to control your breathing as you bent over slowly to take off your shoes.

Your hands got moved aside by Joe, who moved to sit down in front of you on his knees.

"Sit back,"

And so you did. Inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. Accepted that the room was just going to be spinning for a while, nothing you could do to make it stop.

Joe took off your shoes and gave both socked feet a rub before coaxing you to lay back.

Throw pillows got moved into place, a blanket got draped over you, and Joe felt something pang inside of his chest at the sight of you laying flat on your back like this.

You were a side sleeper.

Would always curl up into a ball, would pull your knees up all high that would get Joe in the back some nights. Most nights. Joe always had to turn around and move one of your legs to hook over his hip to omit the uncomfortable press of boney knees into his spine.

Joe had never seen you try to fall asleep on your back before.

"Need anything else?" Joe whispered, still hovering over you, now toeing off his own shoes.

Not like you were going to ask, were you?

If Joe wanted to take care, he'd have to ask you for what you needed.

You hummed, said, "Nothing," slung an arm over your eyes and then followed up with, "Quiet.".

All right.

Joe could be quiet.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep at all, thank fuck.

For a second, Joe thought of going back home. Leaving you to get some rest, ensure your place would actually be quiet. But then he thought of your bed, and decided, might as well make it.

Joe found a set of sheets, but knew it was the one you found a little scratchy. Then he found your washing, transferred it all into the dryer as silently as he could and then thought, yea might as well, when he saw you'd left the bathroom messy.

Joe tidied up.

Decided halfway through he could also cook later. Take on dinner.

What else would he appreciate someone doing if he couldn't move without holding onto a wall?

Lots of things.

He was going to do them all.

Joe moved around with intention, shuffled on his socks, did everything as quietly as he could. Still closed cupboards too loudly, and made himself wince several times. He would freeze and would listen if he could hear you stir, if he'd disturbed you.

Not a peep from you. Not once.

Good.

Joe found the fridge empty, then grabbed your reusable shopping bag and your keys. Would only be a minute.

Downstairs, he checked your mail, opened your little metal post box and found a slip for a delivery that you'd missed, for a parcel that needed picking up. Decided to do that too, because, why not.

When Joe got back and carefully went to check if you were asleep still, he saw that you'd curled up with both your knees pressed into the back of the sofa. Couldn't help but smile to himself.

Nearly three hours later, you jolted awake. Took a look around the room, frowning, squinty eyes, and tried to figure out what woke you up. Why you were on the sofa again. What day it was.

You could hear the oven close in the kitchen, and let your head drop back down onto the soft pillows from the sofa.

You remembered.

And you felt... better. Sort of... just fine. You noticed gravity was pulling at you just right again. Huge difference compared to before, when it got you from all different sorts of angles.

Shaking your head side to side, everything felt solid. Steady. And you were really fucking hungry.

"Joe?" you called, and had to cough right after.

"You're up!" Joe stepped into view, drying his hands on a tea towel and he... Joe looked windswept. Untamed. Disheveled and tousled, face all flushed. All smiley and excited looking.

"How are you feeling?"

The opposite of how Joe looked, but, fine none the less.

"Better," you smiled through squinty eyes.

"Yea? No longer dizzy?"

"I don't think so," you shook your head once more, to check. Felt fine.

"Feel sick?"

"No... I'm hungry."

"Yea?"

"Yea." you looked around, still a little dazed and, what was that smell?

"Good, dinner's in the oven." Joe made his way over, and took a moment to grin at you. Leant down and just grinned at you. You didn't know what was so funny, but Joe made you laugh anyway.

You still felt a little shaky when Joe kissed you. Small pecks. Then a long one. Another grin, followed by a suspicious frown from you, and then, more kisses.

"What?" you asked when Joe wouldn't stop smiling.

"Nothing. Just glad that you're okay. How's your wrist?"

You rotated it. Gave it a little shake.

"Bit sore, but not bad, thanks. And thank you for coming to get me from work, I really couldn't have– I don't know what happened, do people get their balance affected from lack of sleep, do you know?"

"Yea, I googled, and apparently, you can. So that could be it, but it also could be a million other things." Joe shrugged.

Hmm. All right. Well, at least you felt better now. Nausea gone. Vision no longer swimming.

"Want to take a bath?" Joe suggested, and you groaned at the suggestion.

"Yes,"

"Okay, be careful, the water was practically boiling when I filled it fifteen minutes ago,"

You gasped softly, immediately pouted.

"You... you already filled the tub?"

Joe's eyes twinkled.

"Babe, I did so much," he exclaimed all proud, and started going down the list.

Joe had done a massive food shop, picked up a parcel from the post office, cleared out the dishwasher, tidied the bathroom, folded the laundry and put it all of it away, made dinner, made the bed–

Joe had to stop when he saw your eyes blinking rapidly, eyelashes wet. You seemed overwhelmed, a bit.

"Are you..."

A sob wrecked from your throat and you immediately laughed, because you were well aware you were being silly.

"You're crying?" Joe asked, smiling, already pulling you in so you could hide your face into his chest.

"You didn't have to–"

"Stop, I know I don't have to. I wanted to. Believe it or not, sometimes people enjoy doing things for you."

People usually loved it when you did things for them, but, you loved doing things for other people, so you understood.

"You made the bed?"

You knew Joe fucking hated making the bed.

"Yea, used the nice sheets,"

"I put the others in the wash this morning–"

"No," Joe corrected. "I put those in the dryer and used those," Joe pulled back, tilted his head down enough to catch your expression. "The other ones are– they don't feel great, right?"

Joe saw your face scrunch up again and quickly tucked you back under his chin.

"Maybe just get rid of those all together,"

"They were an expensive–"

"I'll get rid of them." Joe said, knowing you probably never would yourself.

Unbelievable.

You didn't deserve Joe.

Joe would disagree and fight you on that, so you didn't say that shit out loud.

Joe held you for a bit longer, his affection pouring over you until it was dripping down the sofa and leaving puddles on the floor.

"Bath's getting cold," Joe eventually murmured into your hair.

"Thank you," you managed to croak out as you accepted the kisses Joe pressed to your forehead before he helped you up from the sofa.

He held wary arms out, ready to catch you if it turned out that standing up was still a task too tricky, but you seemed steady enough. Could walk towards the door without going sideways.

"You know what?" he said, hand on the small of your back, guiding you across the room.

"Get in the bath, I'll join you in a sec,"

You caught his little smirk as he looked at you over his shoulder, stepping closer towards the kitchen.

"With dinner." Joe finished, and, fuck off. That sounded like the best fucking idea you'd ever heard.

"Hey," you said, making Joe stop, and for some reason, you caught a flicker of worry in his eyes before they softened as you smiled.

"Thank you," you said again, this time more earnest than you'd done before.

Joe needed to know you were grateful.

"Anything," Joe started, squeezed his eyes shut tightly to bring his point across properly.

"Anything for you."

the end

---

The Taglisted

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#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #for you

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kkami-writes · 1 year ago

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waiting for us ― chapter twenty five. opening up cw. implied/referenced self-harm, homophobia, neglectful parents, kinda getting outted (tl;dr at the end) wc. 1.9k

Jisung is already sitting at one of the tables near the back, two drinks in front of him. When you slide into the seat in front of him, he slides one of the coffees to you with a smile.

“I asked Ryujin what your usual was, hope it’s ok,” You move to take a sip through the straw before nodding happily. “You’re just like lixie, you know? He has to have his coffee incredibly sweet,” “At least I’m better than Hyunjin, who downs three americanos in one sitting,”

“Touche”

It’s silent for a few seconds and you squirm a little in your seat, anxious energy rolling off of you in waves. Jisung can tell, he knows the signs of anxiety like the back of his hand.

“Yn” He calls out softly and your head flies up at the sound of your name. Your real name. It makes you flush involuntarily, it’s something you’re not used to, not having heard it in quite awhile. Minghao had refused to call you Mio, but he always called you by a nickname instead. He knew you didn’t want to be referred to as yn.

“...Jisung,” It happens again. That all encompassing shudder running through every inch of your body. You shiver on reflex. Jisung has a similar stupid grin on his face like Jeongin had when you had confirmed your soulmate connection.

“So um. You wanted to talk about something?” You try to get straight to the point, your anxiety hitting a boiling point.

“Right! Um, so! We, as in the guys, talked a bit about how we were going to go about this and I just wanted to let you know what we came up with. If you don’t like anything please let me know and we’ll figure out another solution,” You nod your head, showing Jisung that you were listening. “We all would like to take you on a date, each of us individually first before anyone gets a second date or even group dates. I assume group dates would be too overwhelming for you right now,” Again your head nods. You do not even want to THINK about a group date with all eight of them. The amount of chaos that would bring is unimaginable.

“If you’re free today and only if you want to, I was wondering if um. You’d like to do our date today? Nothing fancy or crazy, just maybe ordering takeout and watching some movies? I know it’s kinda simple but I wanted to keep it casual because I know some of the others might go all out because that’s just who they are and they wanna impress you. Something to kind of? Ease you in, nothing too overwhelming,”

You can tell Jisung is as nervous as you are with how he fiddles with his hands as he asks you out. It’s endearing and you feel a lot more reassured that you’re not the only one feeling like this.

“Yeah, that sounds great sung, I’d love to,” The nickname makes him flush but it doesn’t stop him from smiling. You found yourself definitely falling in love with that cute heart shaped grin of his.

“Um, was that all?” You ask because it seems like there was something else on his mind. You tilt your head slightly. “Yeah,” He swallowed thickly. “Um, so Jeongin let everyone know about your…issue,” You blink, nodding your head slowly, unsure where Jisung was going with this. “But I wanted to tell you that I have known since we started texting,” At this your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You’re not mad, but you’re curious as to why.

“He let me know because I’ve struggled with anxiety for awhile, and he was hoping that maybe we would get close and I could help you with different coping strategies. But that was not the only reason why,” He hesitates for a second, as if contemplating what to say next. Instead of words, he slides the sleeves of his hoodie up and places his arms on the table, forearms up. You can’t help the gasp that falls from your lips. Staring back up at your are all too familiar scars. Though these ones have healed, they are still very much visible.

When you look back up at Jisung his smile has morphed into a sad one. He pulls his arms back, letting his sleeves fall back down over his hands. You frown. How is it that this sunshine boy, someone you don’t think you’ve even seen sad or upset since you met him, struggled with something like this? He seemed so happy. It’s then you realize your blatant naivety. You should know better, that you really can never know what someone is going through. The fact that you had just assumed they all had perfect lives pissed you off for a second.

“When we said it wasn’t easy in the beginning we really weren’t kidding. I was…rather difficult to deal with at the start. I had been friends with Chan and Changbin hyung since middle school. We were practically inseparable even though we were different ages. Even before I got my soulmark I knew I was starting to have feelings for my friends. I struggled a lot with my sexuality, my parents having instilled the idea that marriage should only be between a man and a woman. So that left me really confused and scared. When I did turn 16, imagine my shock when I had 8 whole soulmates, 7 of them being men. My soulmark basically outed me to my parents,”

“They were…not pleased to say the least. They had even tried to get me to sever the soulmate bond, only wanting me to keep yours but I had refused. Before this my parents were rarely around, both of them workaholics and now with a ‘gay’ son they stayed away more often. I often slept over at Chan’s house, his parents becoming more like my own. Due to being neglected by my parents, I didn’t really know how to ask for affection and I lashed out a lot. I even threw my wallet at Seungmin once,” He chuckles at his, but it’s rather devoid of any real feelings. “I didn’t know how to cope with my feelings and so I turned to hurting myself, because I thought I was to blame for all my problems and therefore should punish myself. But the worst was when we met Hyunjin. We did not get along, and I admit a lot of it was my fault. If I’m honest I was incredibly jealous of him. He was gorgeous, rich and had a pair of parents who supported him,”

“I really thought he hated me too, we’d get into arguments over the smallest things. We often had lots of sleepovers together. But during one of the first ones we had with all of us, minus you of course, I had felt out of place, like I didn’t belong there. That I didn’t deserve to be there with them, that I was the one who was ruining things and making it hard on everyone. I had excused myself to the bathroom but I had gone to cut. I guess I had been in there too long because it was Hyunjin who came to find me. He walked in while I was washing off the blood and I thought that he was gonna laugh at me, or worse, use it against me in one of our arguments. But he didn’t. He practically tackled me to the ground. He was crying and holding me close, begging me to not hurt myself anymore. It was then I realized that by hurting myself, I was also hurting my soulmates even more. You know how loud Hyunjin is so it didn’t take long for everyone else to come upstairs,”

“We had a pretty serious talk that day but it was for the best. I had promised to stop and that I’d reach out if I needed help, that I’d learn to ask for affection that I was so desperately craving. Of course, it wasn’t easy. It’s hard to unlearn habits and just because I didn’t cut didn’t mean I didn’t stop feeling bad. But we managed and the guys never let me stew in my feelings for too long. I relapsed once during senior year but besides that, I am proud to say that I am two years sober,”

You’ve been silent during his whole story, tears stinging at your eyes. Your fingers dig into your thighs, trying to find the right words to say but nothing feels enough.

“Hey. It’s ok. I didn’t tell you my story to get you to tell me yours. I wanted to tell you so you know that you’re not alone in how you feel. That I would never judge you and neither would the others. But we do want to help you, if you’ll let us. I won’t lie to you and tell you it’ll be easy. Even now I still get the urge, the itch to just feel that sting. But I'm really lucky to have the others,”

You have your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard that you’re sure you can taste the coppery tang of blood. Still, you nod your head, it’s barely visible but Jisung still notices.

“Yeah? You’ll let us help you?” You nod more firmly this time, still unable to find your voice yet. “I’m glad,” And even though you’re not looking at him, you can practically hear the smile on his face. “Then there is one last thing. It’s a rather big step and you can tell me to fuck off if you want. Do you happen to have what you use to cut on you?” Again you nod. “Would you be comfortable giving it to me? I can keep it safe for you, yeah?”

Hesitation is written all over your face so Jisung waits, and he’s nothing but patient as you all but struggle with a couple of inner demons. You’re not sure how long you two have been sitting there but you finally move to dig through your bag, pulling out the small pocket knife. Jisung holds out this hand for you and with shaky fingers you place it in his palm, pulling away quickly before you can take it back. The smile on his face is soft as he pockets it.

“Hey. This is a big step. I’m so proud of you. Thank you so much for trusting me,” It's these words that finally break you, tears falling down your face. How sad is it that you can’t even remember the last time someone had told you that, if ever?

Jisung can feel his heart break and there’s nothing more he wants to do then slide next to you and hold you close. He doesn’t know how you’d react to that so he just sits, letting you take the moment for yourself.

Thankfully it’s just a few tears, wiping them away and sniffling softly. “ ‘m sorry,” You murmur under your breath andJisung almost doesn’t hear it.

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re fine, I don’t mind. Are you ok now?” You nod, trying to pull yourself together and Jisung gives you a soft reassuring smile. “Ok, enough sad talk. Are you still down for watching some movies? I’d understand if you weren’t,”

“No, I’d still like that a lot,” Jisung’s smile gets even bigger if possible.

“Ok, lets go. Oh uh- sorry in advance, the apartment might be a little messy. It’s hard living with two gym bros and a painter who thinks any white surface is the perfect canvas,”

“Am I going to your apartment, or a mancave? Be honest,”

“Yes,” TL;DR !!! jisung opens up about his own struggle with self-harm. Having come from a very conservative family, he was outted as bisexual from his soulmark and his parents were not happy. They neglected him and jisung didn't know how to ask for affection from his soulmates and lashed out a lot. He turned to self-harm because he couldn't deal with his feelings. he is currently two years sober and asks yn if she'll agree to let them help her. in the end, yn hands over her pocket knife to jisung for safe keeping and then they go back to sung's appartment for their movie date. previous | masterlist | next waiting for us taglist (50/50) send an ask or sign up here!: @abbiestearsricochet @boo-ven9eance @adorawritesalot @melleus @inlovewithallmusic @alnex05 @borahae-reads @zonked-times @yoonrimin @slay-and-gay @loverlixie @katsukis1wife @realrintaro @0325tiny @adestayskz @minhwa @littleaprilcherryblossom @soobery @lillithathecat @ilychee08 @everglowdaisies @boi-bi-ahaha @yandere-stories @orchid-mantis-petals @minhoie @popcatx0 @tara-drabbles @super-btstrash-posts @gemi-moon @skz-streamer @jaiuneamesolitaiire @bozotwt @enchantedgrunge @corrodedthorn @143lix @ashitshowforalot @xrvrqs @lynlyndoll @txtandroll @kawennote09 @liknws @ritzy-dream-boy @hannieslove @hello-2-u-from-me @vampcharxter @jisuperboard @surefornext @puppy-minnie @freckleboilix @imwithurmother

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mamani-bento · 1 year ago

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what you're willing to give (satoru gojo)

satoru gojo x reader, 1.3k, gender not mentioned

fwb!gojo + 'if we get caught kissing in a small, dark, kind of shady alleyway, it's on you.' from this prompt list, highly suggestive making out + fluff + humour (?)

summary - gojo wants more. you want more. the only difference is that he can admit it, but he likes you enough to wait until you can too.

minors do not interact!

i wrote this and i'm sooooooo at his characterisation here, this goes under fics-that-are-SO-well-set-up-for-a-sequel i'm a genius sometimes, fwb!gojo has not left my head since i read this incredible fic by @staryukis

mamani-bento's masterlist!

gojo doesn't understand why you're complaining, honestly.

okay, he sort of does, but he doesn't understand why you're still complaining.

"do you want to stop?"

your answer takes a bit longer to emerge, and gojo can't help the smug grin against the side of your neck. he continues to nip and lave at your skin, paying special attention to a slowly-forming bruise near your jugular as he waits for your response.

"stop–ah!–stop fucking smiling."

gojo does not stop smiling, but he does lay off your neck, moving his lips upwards and catching your swollen ones with a low chuckle instead.

"so mouthy," he mumbles into shared breath, delighting in the reactionary tightening of your clenched fists in his hair. he can't help the groan he lets out at the feeling, and his large palm grips harder at the plump flesh of your thigh hooked over his hip. his body presses further into your front, pushing you against the wall. his long fingers curl at your scalp and he can feel the scrape of uneven stone against the back of his hand.

sighing pants and moaned kissing fill the dark alley behind the pub. gojo loves his friends, he really does, but he can't possibly be expected to pay attention to them inside when you're wearing that.

"i didn't think this would do it for you," you airily breathe out as gojo lets your leg down, groping at the flesh of your ass instead.

he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, revelling in the gasp he's rewarded with. "liar," he mutters, no real heat behind his words. "you absolutely knew that this would do it for me."

he could die with the sound of your giggle in his ear and he'd be happy as a clam. he's been feeling like he could die a lot this evening, ever since you entered in that outfit and made him nearly choke on air at the sight.

you trace kisses down the long column of his neck, and his eyes flutter shut at the pleasure. he gives your ass one last squeeze, large palms smoothing over the thin fabric of your panties, before he finally moves his hand out of your tiny skirt.

you had come to the halloween party dressed as him and it makes his head spin every time he thinks about it. the only modification you've made is the pants, traded in for a similarly navy skirt that shows off the plush of your thighs, and sheer stockings that end just below the hemline. he's very thankful for that skirt, very grateful for the access it's giving him to feel you up as he pleases.

and maybe, maybe, he should be a little concerned at what this means for his narcissism, that the sight of you like this, like him, is having such a profound effect. but all he can really think about is your teeth scraping against the underside of his jaw, your hands now tugging at the collar of his blue button-up, your skin moulding under the greedy kneading of his palms as he moves to your hips.

"where's your tie?" you manage to ask as you pull away, as if just realising that he's missing an integral part of his outfit.

"at home," he says, opening his eyes to look at you looking at him. your costume blindfold rests on your forehead, messily bunched up from all the movement, giving him the full effect of your partly disappointed expression.

your fingers fiddle with his undone top button. "would've liked if you had a tie," you mumble, almost complainingly.

he knows you're lying, fully certain that this halfway nanami-cosplay he's got going on is also doing it for you if your enthusiastic participation is anything to go by. and maybe, maybe, he left the tie out just so he could have a reason to get you in his house. he likes to pretend sometimes that he still has to convince you to spend nights with him. likes to act as though he's perpetually on a quest to win your affections, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

"come over. help me put it on."

the streetlight from the main road filters into the alley and the music from the building you're both leaning against is muffled and you look so thoroughly debauched with your lips swollen and your face flushed and your chest heaving, and all gojo can really register is the feeling of your body against his.

this is the only way he can have you. too risky to be in a relationship but not to fall into bed with each other at every social gathering, to ignore your colleagues and make out in the alleyway like teenagers. he knows, he knows, that something will give. he's largely stopped trying to hide how much he cares for you behind this dance of 'come over' and 'are you awake?', but your walls are so high, every brick laid by the fear of both being with somebody and being somebody who might not make it back home after a mission. until he can break them down, he'll take what he can get, what you're willing to give him.

"you planned that line?" you scoff with a shocking perceptiveness. or not that shocking. for somebody who claims to not care, you pay an awful lot of attention to his mannerisms outside bed. he'll wait for you to admit it to yourself.

he moves closer, thick arm familiarly winding around your waist until he can feel the ghost of your deep breaths fanning over his already lonely lips. "don't tell me you wore that and expected this to not happen tonight."

the silence is deafening in the wake of his low accusation. you can't deny it, of course you can't deny it. you know that your cherry lip gloss drives him crazy, that the sight of your thighs moving in those translucent silky stockings is enough to wind him up, that he's got an ego for days and seeing you dressed like him is basically heaven. you could've gone as anybody. shoko's only rule was to dress up as another teacher, she didn't specify anything about your-fuckbuddy-that-you're-pretending-to-not-have-a-thing-for.

his gaze shoots to your mouth as your teeth worry your lower lip, and he'd really like you to say something now. preferably along the lines of 'you're absolutely right, i'm in this outfit because i want to sleep with you, let's go' , but he knows it'll never be that easy with you.

even as your body presses against his, even as your hands move to play with the hair on the nape of his neck, you ask, "what about the others?"

gojo laughs, a bright thing that pierces the heavy silence of the dark alley. "they should be used to it by now, no? we'll send shoko an apology card in the morning for bailing."

he doesn't mean to push, but you never do anything you don't want to, and past experience tells him that you really want to do him. despite your initial reluctance, you always end up in his bed at the end of the day. despite your stubborn insistence that 'this is the last time' and 'this isn't a thing', it's never the last time and it's definitely a thing. and predictably, he can see your resolve wavering now, like it always does.

"she also deserves flowers, i think."

"sure, we'll send some flowers too," gojo easily acquiesces with a shrug. he'll send shoko a damn car if you ask him to. but he can't say that yet, won't say that until you admit that whatever ineffable instinct keeps pulling you two together runs deeper than back alley make outs and sweaty nights that feel inevitable.

"this is–"

"the last time?" gojo interrupts, unable to stop himself.

he ignores your unimpressed expression in favour of pressing into your hips with his, satisfied with the way wide eyes and a small gasp replaces your flat look. he makes no attempt to hide what you've done to him, what you always seem to be doing to him. he's affected at the best of times, but in this outfit? he never stood a chance. "is that a yes?"

you seem equal parts annoyed and aroused.

just how he likes you.

"shut up," you grouse, tugging at his collar until you're fiercely kissing him again, everything becoming a frenzy that promises to end with your clothes on his floor and your nails running down his back.

if this is what you’re willing to give him for now, he’ll gladly take it. but he wants more, and he knows that you want more, and it’s only a matter of time before something finally gives.

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thedemoninme141 · 2 months ago

Text

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 11: Her Light

Summary: Wednesday doubts if she is worthy.

Warnings: EmotionallyConfusedWednesday! Whipped Wednesday For The 100th Time?

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

Worklist

"Does anyone else know about... your..." she trailed off, eyes narrowing slightly as the words slipped from her control.

"No, not really, it's just you and Principal Weems cause you know... she had to know."

That should have been enough. That should have been the end of it. She should’ve felt content with the information, perhaps even relieved. But the question itched her mind too much... and.. maybe she already knew the answer.

“Where were you at the end of last year?”

Wednesday stepped into the quad, She couldn’t help but recall the absurd moments from yesterday— It had gone on like that for what felt like hours, though Wednesday knew it couldn’t have been that long. She was relentless with her snowballs, and you... you just kept laughing. Each time you threw one, you missed by a mile, and each time she hit you, you giggled.

She had never thought she would find herself in such a situation—engaging in something so childish. She wasn’t one for frivolous games, much less anything involving laughter. But there you were, gleefully playing in the snow as if it were real. There was something about the way you looked so carefree, so alive in those fleeting moments, that made her feel… different.

Not quite happy, but certainly something close.

"You’re smiling," you had said, "I think you’re actually enjoying this too."

Wednesday had rolled her eyes at your comment, though the truth of it stung. Enjoyment wasn’t something she indulged in often. But for you… somehow, it had felt right. She wasn’t sure how to explain it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to explain it.

She hadn’t even noticed you walking up beside her until your voice broke the trance. "Planning to murder someone Wends?"

"Something like that," she said, avoiding your eyes.

The tradition of you two was getting its place back. Wednesday definitely didn't miss this. As you two sat on the table, , She pulled out her book, trying to appear unaffected as always, but your presence made it difficult to focus. You were back in your cheerful mood, which means.. she still has this.

As she tried to immerse herself in the text, you spoke again, softly.

"I.. slept really well last night. I just wanted to say thanks again. Yesterday was... nice."

Wednesday’s fingers paused on the page. Nice wasn’t a word she often liked to associate with herself. But she said nothing, letting the silence settle between you. You didn’t need to speak for her to understand how you felt—it was written in the way you sat closer to her… much closer. Enid plopped down next to you with a bright smile. "Heeey! You guys look cozy! Can I join in too?" She exclaimed, her eyes flicking between the two of you.

You smiled at Enid awkwardly as you moved a bit away from Wednesday and Wednesday felt a little heat rising to her face.

Though Wednesday’s eyes skimmed over the words in her book, her attention was far from the page. The sound of your voice as you spoke to the others, the ease with which you interacted, was both comforting and unsettling. Her mind went back to the conversation she had with you as you ticked off "Play in the snow with a friend"

“Where were you at the end of last year?”

The question spilled out before she could stop it, and for a fleeting moment, Wednesday wondered if she had crossed a line. “If it’s too personal, you don’t have to tell me,” she added. It was rare for her to give anyone an out, but there was something about the vulnerability in your gaze that made her do it.

You looked at her then, really looked at her, and she noticed how your hands trembled slightly as you fiddled with the edges of your sleeves. But the look in your eyes... it wasn't the one of the discomfort she saw when Bianca had asked you the same question... it was one of trust.

“No, Wends,” you said softly, the playful name that she once hated.. but now, it sounded… vulnerable. “It’s okay. I… I was at home when it happened. It was the first time I had a heart failure,” the words slow as though you were reliving the moment in your head, struggling to recount something that clearly pained you. “Luckily, I was in my home when it happened. If I hadn’t been… I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t be here right now.”

The idea of you not being here, of you being gone...was unimaginable. She didn’t want to think about it right now, though she told you she had thought about this.. it.. was a lie.

“Hey, Wends. Breakfast’s almost over, and you’ve barely touched your food.” you pulled her out of her reverie.

She glanced down at her untouched plate, realizing she had spent far too long in her own head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat,” you said gently, though Wednesday heard the undertone of concern in your voice. “You said you had math first period, right?”

Wednesday nodded, pushing her plate aside. “Yes.”

"Me too." She already knew, not that she memorized it or anything.

The walk to class was quiet, but Wednesday found herself glancing at you more than she would’ve liked. She could see it—the way your steps were just a little slower than the others, how your hand occasionally brushed against your chest as if reassuring yourself that your heart was still beating. She couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, she wasn’t capable of giving you what you needed. She wasn’t sure she even knew how.

She tried to focus on the equations scrawled across the board, but her mind was far too loud, too distracted. She thought about your diary—the list of wishes. Some were simple, yes, but others… they had weight to them, meaning she hadn’t quite unraveled yet.

You wanted to leave a mark, that much was clear. Each wish was a step toward something permanent, something you could be remembered for. Wednesday understood that more than most. She had spent her life creating her own legacy, etching herself into the world in ways others couldn’t ignore. But your wishes were different—they weren’t for power or fame. They were for moments, for experiences, for things that made you feel alive.

The bell rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. You turned to her, that same gentle smile on your face as you gathered your things. “See you later, Wends. I’ve got Botany next.” She also knew that, not that she memorized it or anything.

Wednesday didn’t respond immediately, watching as you left the room. There was something about the way you moved, the way you carried yourself, that kept pulling her back in. It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself fixated on you, but now… it felt more intense, more intrusive.

As the history teacher droned on, Wednesday found herself staring blankly at the chalkboard. She had always been a diligent student, but today, her mind was elsewhere. History had never been her least favorite subject, but right now, she found herself hating it simply because you weren’t here.

You were supposed to be here.

Why couldn’t you have picked something else, something that matched her schedule? Botany wasn’t even remotely interesting, Maybe poisonous plants are but everything else? So full of.. life.

Perhaps she could convince—or threaten—you into changing your classes to align with hers. It would make things easier, wouldn't it?

She sighed. It wasn’t her place to dictate what you did, especially when she was still unsure if she even deserved the trust you had placed in her. You had opened up to her, let her in, and yet here she was, unable to even decipher something as simple as a wish in your diary.

“Catch light.”

How could someone catch light? Was it a metaphor, or was there something deeper, more personal, behind it?

She could ask you. You would probably tell her, and yet… it felt like cheating. It felt like she wouldn’t be worthy if she needed to ask. Wednesday prided herself on being able to solve puzzles, to figure things out on her own, but this one…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the teacher’s voice, “In ancient Japan, fireflies were often caught by women as a symbol of love—specifically, a love that was almost feverish, burning bright and intense.”

Wednesday paused, Wednesday’s lips twitched into a rare smirk. Catch light, huh? “Idiot,” though she wasn’t sure who she was referring, you or herself.

The morning dragged on as it always did—math, followed by history, then chemistry—all predictable, all routine. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t concentrate.

By the time lunch rolled around, Wednesday’s irritation had peaked. Her normally sharp focus felt dulled, worn down by the persistent distraction you had become. She made her way to the hallway that led to the quad, where you usually waited for her. And there you were, standing near the wall, a small smile tugging at your lips as you saw her approach.

"Hey, Wends," you greeted her, your voice carrying a warmth that made Wednesday’s chest tighten involuntarily.

“Why are you standing here?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended, though you didn’t seem to mind.

“I wanted to walk with you. We’re heading the same way, aren’t we?” You fell into step beside her as you both walked toward the table where Enid, Bianca, Eugene, and Yoko were already seated.

“You could have gone ahead,” Wednesday muttered.

“I could have,” you said lightly, “but I didn’t want to.”

As you approached the table, Enid waved enthusiastically. "Hey, guys! Over here!"

You slid into the seat beside Enid, leaving the corner spot free for Wednesday. She sat down next to you, her usual scowl in place as she pulled out her book.

Enid and Yoko were already deep into a discussion about something, and you joined them too.

Enid noticed that you looked happy today. “I’m so glad to see you back in your light mood!” she exclaimed, nudging you playfully. "You had me worried yesterday."

"I’m feeling better now." you gave her a kind smile.

“Good. Maybe that means Wednesday will be less… Wednesday now.” Bianca joked,

Wednesday didn’t look up from her book. “If by ‘less Wednesday’ you mean that I’ve stopped plotting your demise, then you’re mistaken.”

You giggled softly beside her, the sound light and sweet, pulling her attention away from the text in her hands for just a moment. Her eyes flickered toward you, and she felt something shift within her. Your laugh—it was small and yet it lingered in her thoughts. Perhaps she should insult Bianca more often.

As the conversation continued, Wednesday remained silent, her focus returning to her book—or at least, she tried, but her mind went back to you again...

“I was in a coma for a few days,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “When I woke up… I was so weak. I couldn’t even stand on my own.”

Wednesday felt the overwhelming urge to reach out, to do something, anything—but she didn’t. She remained still, letting you speak.

"It just… everything felt different after that. Like my life wasn’t really mine anymore. Like I was just… waiting for it to happen again. And.. I am still waiting."

Wednesday felt the anger rise in her again. Anger at the universe for doing this to you, for making you carry something so heavy, so suffocating, and for putting her in this position—making her care, making her feel.

She wanted to say something, to offer you some kind of comfort, but she didn’t know how. The words felt too large, too foreign, stuck in her throat. She wasn’t built for this kind of thing—for vulnerability, for comfort. She had crafted her life around avoiding these moments, these feelings. And yet, here you were, pulling her into something she didn’t know how to navigate.

"I see," was all she managed, her voice flat, too cold for the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She hated herself for how detached she sounded, how clinical. But what else could she say? She wasn’t Enid, overflowing with empathy and warmth. She wasn’t capable of that.

And for the first time, Wednesday Addams wondered if she was worthy of the trust you had placed in her. If she was truly worthy of being the person who could help you fulfill your wishes.

Bianca's question to you had pulled her back to the world,

“So, what was bothering you yesterday? Was it something Wednesday said?”

Wednesday felt your posture stiffen beside her. You were quick to defend her, as she expected, but then you hesitated, fumbling for words. “No, it wasn’t... I mean, Wednesday didn’t say anything wrong. She—” Wednesday felt you tense beside her. Her eyes flicked to you, watching as your smile faltered. You hesitated, searching for an answer, your hand resting nervously on your lap. No one else knew about your heart condition, and Wednesday could see the weight of that secret in your expression.

Without thinking, she slipped her hand under the table, her fingers brushing against yours. Her touch was deliberate, hidden from the others, and as your hands met, she felt it, the warmth of your hand through the cold of her's, and the cold of hers... making you relax as your breathing steadied, and you turned to Bianca with a calm smile.

“I was feeling a bit cold yesterday,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “But now I feel warm.”

And as you sat there, your hand still in hers, Wednesday understood something she hadn’t before.

It didn’t take grand gestures or flowery words to be worthy of your trust, your affection. All it took was this—just a touch. A simple, quiet gesture that grounded you, that made you feel safe.

Wednesday glanced down at the table. She had never been the type to offer emotional comfort. But with you… perhaps she didn’t need to be. Perhaps this was enough.

For you, just for you, maybe, just maybe, she was worthy.

Next Chapter

[Sorry for the short chapter, I was too sleepy when I wrote this, tell me if this chapter is worthy for your heartbeat.]

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bagopucks · 2 years ago

Text

N. Hischier - Sun Days

✄————————————

Nico Hischier x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning(s): joking mentions of sex, and general banter. Nothing worrisome!

—————————————

I aimlessly fiddled with the beads on Nico’s wrist. Each bracelet bought for a different occasion and holding a different meaning. I told him he’d have a weird tan line. He told me he didn’t care. He wore a black pair of swim trunks, and after his unwavering persistence, I wore a matching black bikini. Our New Jersey Devils hats were pulled low over our eyes, which were covered by sunglasses. Nico promised we’d go on a real vacation, but for now I had to make do with the chilly water of the New Jersey beaches, and the boyish games of the team around us.

Two goalies sunbathing in the sand. Jack, Timo, Bratt, Miles, Luke and John playing Spikeball. Two other goalies off on a walk seashell hunting. And the rest scattered about. Haula and Nolan had gone off to join a group of locals playing volleyball. And Graves was helping Hamilton with some sandcastle empire down by the water. Anybody else was out of sight and out of mind.

Nico and I settled for observing. Beach chairs side by side. Close enough that when we rested our arms on the armrests, they’d touch and we could hold hands. Close enough to share occasional quiet conversation, and simple banter. Close enough to make fun of Marino for how horrible he was at Spikeball. Neither of us were Canadian, but our witty insults and shouted playful comments were nothing short of a scene straight out of Letterkenny.

“This is why you play defense!” Nico teased.

“You’re just chirpin’ cuz you’re safe with your girlfriend!” John would snap right back.

And perhaps that was true, but I’d done my fair share of teasing as well.

“Spikeball done so soon?” I quipped as the group made their way up the sand to find the cooler by Nico’s chair. Miles was the first to collapse down on a towel next to my chair. I chuckled.

“Jack’s a cheater.” Luke griped, pulling a beer from the cooler. He was too young to drink, but it was practically a right of passage for his accomplishments. At least until he got caught by someone with more jurisdiction than the elders of the team.

“Oh shut up. You just suck.” Nico and I chuckled before I watched their captain gently swat at Jack’s leg.

“Be nice.”

“Tell him to stop lying.” Jack protested.

“It’s just a game.” I rolled my eyes and laughed.

“He’s definitely not Lying.” Timo chimed in as he grabbed a bottle of water, a smirk on his lips as he and Nico shared knowing looks.

“Maybe we should make John sit out and recruit Nico.” Jesper suggested as he grabbed a water bottle and tossed it to Jack.

“I don’t know.. I’m pretty comfortable.” Nico pursed his lips, faking a look of disinterest. Or perhaps that was a real look. He did seem fairly comfortable.

“Why do I have to sit out?” John immediately complained. But everybody knew. Because he sucked. And nobody had the heart to tell him, so the conversation moved on.

“Dude. You’ve been with her all day.” Jack whined.

“Like you’re not attached to Luke’s hip all the time.” I glanced away as I spoke, but I could feel Jack’s gaze on me.

“That’s different.” He protested.

“Is it though?” Luke chimed in, causing a few quiet giggles among the group.

“What have you guys been doing anyway?” Timo swiftly changed the subject.

“Talkin’ sex?” Of all the phrases to leave Marino’s mouth, I hadn’t expected that to be one of them.

“Johnny boy, don’t make me wash your mouth out with salt water.” I teased with a smirk. He held his hands up swiftly in surrender.

“Come on, Hisch.” Jesper nudged Nico, and I looked over at my boyfriend in time to see him peer at me. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could see the way his brow lifted and his shoulders shrugged. As if to say there was nothing he could do about it, but also asking for permission to go.

“Your sexy lady’ll still be here when you get back.” I shot an immediate glare at Luke.

“Watch it, kid.” I warned, releasing Nico’s hand.

“I’ll be back.” Nico stood up, turning to lean forward. I met him halfway for a swift kiss. Something about being the captain’s girlfriend seemed to put me on a pedestal. I wouldn’t call myself a mother to the boys, but more so a figure they could go to. I cooked for them occasionally, helped host them when Nico had them over, always offered advice, they all had my number for emergencies.

I’m some ways, sure, I took on a maternal role. And apparently with that, came the childish gagging and grossed out groans when Nico and I kissed. He pulled away with a smile, stripping the bracelets from his wrist and handing them over for me to hold onto.

“Sure you’ll be safe back here?” The ever blonde Jesper piped up. Just as I finished slipping the last of Nico’s bracelets on, I had looked up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Just asking if you’re too close to the action? Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” He was teasing of course, but what was said, had already been said. And I, was a competitive person.

“Nico.” I caught his attention. We shared a look.

“Let’s not instigate, alright?” Nico must have misunderstood my look.

“No, no.” I slid his bracelets right back off my wrist. “Let me play.” I was careful when I placed the beaded items down on my chair, quickly standing up.

“There has to be an even number of players.” Jack argued.

“Miles is right there.” I pointed to Wood, still laying on the towel.

“Hell no.” Was all I heard in response. I chuckled and rolled my eyes. They must have really worn Miles out.

“Akira!” I looked over at the goalie lying on a towel, his head shooting up as quick as a dog who heard the word treat. “You’re coming to play Spikeball, bud. Let’s go.”

“Oh boy.” Nico reached for my hand. “You’re sure?” He asked. The game was nothing that required big muscles or much athleticism. I was sure I’d get by.

“You and Akira are on my team.” I responded, adjusting my hat. “We’ll take Jack too.” I flashed Jesper a sarcastic smile.

“Woah! You can’t pick like that.” Luke chimed in, throwing his hands in the air.

“I think she just did.” Praise the lord for Nico and his fleeting sass. It didn’t come around often, but he used it when I needed backup.

“Who do we have?” Jesper quickly looked around. Himself, Luke, Marino, and Timo.

“I’d like to have a formal pick, please!” Jesper spoke, but when he looked back, Nico and I were already making our way down the beach hand in hand.

“So, captain..” he started, “what’s the plan?” I smiled and glanced in his direction. “First,” I pulled away from Nico once we made it to the net, twisting my hat backwards. “We beat the shit out of them at this stupid game.”

“Right.”

“Then,” I twisted Nico’s hat backwards as well, laughing softly at the way certain strands of hair stuck out in all directions. “We put some more sunscreen on your cheeks.” I watched an immediate blush form on his already pink skin. “You’re starting to look a little rosy.” I cupped his face in my hands and rubbed my thumbs over the beginnings of a sunburn on his cheeks.

“I’m fine.” Nico gently pushed my hands away.

“We live together. I don’t want to hear you whining every five seconds at home about your sunburnt face.”

“I won’t,” he tried to defend himself, but Nico’s voice took on a guilty tone immediately.

“How do you play this game?” Akira interrupted, causing Nico and I to peer back at him, our brows risen and jaws clenched with worry.

“I think you got a little too eager.” Nico whispered to me.

“I should have called for Vanecek.” I agreed.

“Definitely.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier x reader #john marino #timo meier #jesper bratt

736 notes · View notes

soffpisces · 11 months ago

Text

enhypen’s reaction to your new piercing!!

enhypen hyung!line x gf!reader

warnings: needles, piercings duh, suggestive for jake’s and hoon’s, kissing, ungodly amount of pet names, uhh touching?, mdni

masterlist

heeseung- lip piercing

“okay baby, close your eyes,” you say to his sitting form on the bed whilst peaking from behind his door. you had called him before arriving at the dorm saying you had a surprise for him, and now here you two were.

he closes his eyes and gives a nervous laugh. “should I be scared right now?”

“maybe!” you tease, giggling while you make your way into the room. “okay. now pucker your lips…”

he makes an unsure face but does it anyway, knowing you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

you slowly bring your face closer to his and softly kiss his lips. the ring hugging your lip feels cold as it presses between the two of you.

he audibly gasps at the feeling of something that’s not usually there when he kisses you. pulling away, he takes your jaw and pulls you back so he can get a good look at your piercing.

“baby! is this real?!” you weren’t sure how he would react, but he didn’t seem like he disliked it, at least.

running your tongue over it, you giggle, “yes, silly! it’s not a prank.”

"did it hurt, baby doll?" he's instantly concerned as he thoroughly inspects your bottom lip, lightly pressing on it as he does.

"nah, not really," you mumble whilst he curiously brushes over the ring. "do you think it's cool?"

"oh baby, you're the coolest," he tells you with stars in his eyes and a gentle kiss on your lips.

jake-belly button

to put it lightly, jake was probably more excited than you for your piercing appointment. when you first told him you were planning to get your belly button pierced, he almost bounced off the walls with excitement.

"what do you think about me getting my belly pierced?" you ask him randomly one day, just chilling in his room. he instantly perks up at this, looking up from his phone and looking at you excitedly. you swear you could see his tail wagging behind him.

"baby. i would probably come in my pants." you have never seen him this serious about something... ever.

so, this is how you're here at the piercer/tattoo shop. clenching jake's fist in a death grip, as you lie down on the table.

"i feel so vulnerable right now," you say looking up at him, giggling nervously.

"it's okay, i'm here doll." needless to say, he's not very happy that the piercer is a guy and touchin' on his girl's navel (albeit professionally), but he only glares a few times before focusing on you.

“okay deep breath. 1, 2, 3- and you’re done!” the piercer is already expertly securing the jewelry in place when you realize it’s over.

“oh ouchie- you okay baby girl?” you see Jake’s worried face and notice it’s drained of color. he helps you sit up, and your breath hitches at the subtle pain as your torso moves and the sight of the pretty jewelry in the mirror.

“wow, i love it! i didn’t even feel it!” you say excitedly, admiring your new piercing in the mirror.

the grip jake had on your hand slowly loosens, and you look back to see him almost collapsing onto the piercing bench, looking like he just saw a ghost.

“holy shit, babe. you look so hot”- he says faintly, taking a shaky breath, “but i shouldn’t have watched.”

jay-conch

as jay’s girlfriend, of course you had to get the iconic conch piercing. he was actually the one that wanted you to get it first, though. you had immediately agreed because- what a cute couple activity!

“should i be expecting to pass out from the pain?” you ask him in the car as he drives to the location. your hands fiddled with a random straw wrapper, trying to keep yourself from being too nervous.

“stop looking at pain levels on reddit,” he jokingly scolds you. “you’re just gonna freak yourself out, doll.”

“what if i pee myself or like throw up on the piercer??” you knew you wouldn’t actually, but thinking of the worst case scenarios always takes the edge off.

he laughs at you and pats your leg gently. “if you do, i’m getting it on video.”

for the rest of the ride he placates your whines of worry with loud singing to “highway to hell” by ac/dc… quickly, you regret coming.

the piercer turned out to be a really cool-looking 20-something girl who smelled like weed and strawberries (you digged it). safe to say, you were in good hands, and your nerves calmed down as you all joked with each other.

“alright so, it could bleed a little so i’m just gonna put this cloth over your shirt,” she starts getting the equipment ready, “remember deep breaths and 1,2,3!”

it took every bit of two seconds to get the needle through since the cartilage is so thick, and the whole time you’re squeezing the life out of jay’s hand.

“that’s my tough girl! hurts real good right?” and goddamn, it hurt worse than you thought.

“fuck jay, why’d you put me through that,” you joke to him, letting out your breath.

the mirror is handed to you as she finishes putting the back on, and your eyes light up at the new addition. it looks actually so cute.

“yea, hurts like a bitch,” she starts, “you want me to snap a picture for you two?”

you both nod eagerly and thank her for the piercing and the picture of your two ears side-by-side. the matching jewelry was a perfect idea.

“my little mini-me looks so cute,” he coos, kissing your cheek as you both leave the shop.

sunghoon- back dermals

you honestly felt like hot shit getting these piercings and couldn’t wait to show hoon. although, you weren’t the type to boast about things like this, so you decided to nonchalantly soft-launch your new piercings hoping to get a surprised reaction from him.

for your outfit, you landed on low-waisted fold-over leggings and a slightly cropped shirt. this way, you could be comfortable just going to his dorm but also feel confident he would pay extra attention to your figure.

“so i was thinking we could just play smash bros and whoever loses has to make ramen or we could up the stakes”- there’s an audible pause in his explanation as you both walk to his room. he’s catching you by your hips before you’ve even made it through the door.

“wait- what are these?” his thumbs start caressing the skin around the jewels as he inspects your lower back.

“oh, those? i got them the other day,” you giggle, “you like them?”

“baby. you’re so”- he cuts himself off before he embarrasses himself. does he like them? what a fucking question. he’s going to ruin you!

“you don’t like them?” you pretend to pout at him. of course you knew he was actually popping a boner right now.

“if you don’t get in this room right now, i am going to take you right here, in this hallway.” pfft. does he like them. what a stupid question.

ermmm slowly becoming a hyung!line writer sorry:3 lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!!!

status: geeked and hoping u like this post❤️‍🔥

#enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen suggestive #enhypen masterlist #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen #enha #enhypen reactions #enha fluff #enhypen sunghoon #jake sim #park jongseong #park sunghoon #lee heeseung

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thelovelylolly · 1 year ago

Note

could you do Loki x princess!reader

they are having arranged marriage, You were expecting seeing someone. You simply look gorgeous on the dress that you’re wearing respectfully. You simply bow as you did look Loki. You two expected to talks going through walks. they may be chemistry together *fluffiness*

(hope you will write it down, thanks so much and have a good day)

Walk in The Gardens

Summary: Odin arranged you to marry Loki, and you're ready to just get it over with. But what if there was something real between you two? Warnings: fem! reader, not proofread bc im tired, let me know if i missed any! Notes: this request is so cutesy i love it!

You didn't know what to expect when Odin chose you as his son's wife. You were taken to the palace by some royal guards where Frigga met you once you arrived. She was very welcoming and helped prepare you to meet your soon-to-be husband. She chose the perfect dress for you, helped you with your hair and asked you questions about yourself as she got you ready. It was nice, but you just wanted to get the whole marriage over with.

You heard of tales about arranged marriages how the husband and wife at most were friends, but some marriages weren't as simple as that. You didn't want to jump to any conclusions since you hadn't met the prince before, but you were hoping you two could get along enough to stand a marriage.

From what you had heard, Loki was a trickster and lived in his brother's shadow most of the time. He kept to himself, wandering the gardens or reading in the library instead of partying with Thor and his friends. You could respect Loki for that, you'd choose alone time over a party any day. Frigga talked highly about her son, making you feel a bit hopeful for this marriage.

----

Frigga led you to the throne room where Odin and Loki were waiting for you. You fiddled with the flowing sleeves of your dress as Frigga opened the door for you. You could feel Odin staring you down as he sat on his thrown, but beside him was Loki. You glanced at the prince and you could tell he was as nervous as you.

You reached the throne, bowing in front of Odin. "Thank you for choosing me, All-Father," you said, still a bit shaky even if you had rehearsed a thousand times in your head.

"Yes, well, my son needs to be wed," Odin replied, his tone uncaring.

He gestured for Loki to go to you. Loki did so and you bowed for him. When you straightened back up, he gently took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your knuckles, your face warming at the act.

"I-it's a pleasure to meet you, Loki," you said quietly.

"The pleasure is all mine," he replied, smiling at you. "Would you like to take a walk in the gardens? They're beautiful during the sunset."

"That sounds lovely."

You looped your arm around his and he led you to the gardens.

----

He was right, the gardens were beautiful as the sunset. You two kept a slow pace, enjoying the gorgeous flora around you and each other's presence. You two had asked each other the typical questions, about childhood, family, things like that. You found yourself quickly warming up to him and maybe even falling for him. It was hard not to.

You came to a stop when you saw a balcony looking over the land behind the palace. You quickly walked over and stood by the railing, admiring everything as the sun slipped behind the horizon. Loki walked up and stood next to you, and you could feel his eyes on you. You looked over to face him, a small smile pulling at your lips.

"Why are you looking at me?" You asked softly, tilting your head to the side.

Loki blushed and glanced away. "Um, no reason."

You giggled. "I'm surprised Odin had to arrange your marriage. I thought women and men were tripping over themselves to have the chance."

This time, Loki laughed. "I wish it was that way, but no. I don't really...interact with anyone outside of my family and Thor's friends. I prefer to spend my time in the library or out here."

"Well, if you'd let me, I would love to join you," you said.

"I would...enjoy that," he replied, looking back at you.

You felt yourself start to lean closer to him, and him do the same. Your eyes dipped to his lips then back to his eyes. Loki closed the gap between you two and pressed his lips to yours. You melted into the kiss and his touch when he wrapped his arms around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His kiss was softer than you expected, and sweeter, too. You didn't want it to end, but when you two pulled away, you could tell many more were to come.

You leaned your forehead against his, a smile on both of your faces.

"I think I'd choose you even with out this whole, uh, arrangement," you said, causing the two of you to breathlessly laugh.

"I'd choose you, too, darling."

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki x you #loki fanfction #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfiction

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liveyun · 2 years ago

Text

m i d n i g h t s | kth (m)

p a i r i n g. taehyung x female reader

g e n r e. friends to lovers + smut + fluff + angst

w. (M) plot? no plot? don't know? smoking + alcohol, mentions of parent death + parent negligency, mentions of abuse , corny stupid jokes + dom!taehyung, kissing, grinding, taehyung and his tongue and taeconda oof , so much of licking + consent because that's the most important thing + don't @ at me for the ending

w c. 5.5k +

m l i s t .

“ Seriously, Taehyung? ”

“ Hm? ”

You narrow your eyes as you watch the half naked man fiddle with his phone, almost looking like he's pretty drunk, but you know it's all for the camera.

“ People you know, call it thirst trap snaps. . ” The shit eating grin on his face is back, and you can't really help but scoff at the smirking man infront of you.

“ In this lighting, I fear your audience would be even able to make out the difference between your hair and the surroundings, for the sake of god. . ” You tap in the cigarette trapped between your pointer and your middle finger, the smoke is gentle and calm: making its way to higher altitudes.

“ That's what it is. When you can barely figure out anything, there's the real fun. ”

“ Aren't you a big time sadist? ” This isn't a question, almost as if you're teasing him. When he speaks next, you feel that stupid smirk on his face,

“ No shit. ”

There as along, it was. You inhale slowly the stick of tobacco within your grasp, and even if you feel your throat burn dry, you can't help it.

It felt relaxing. The dull throb in your head stops pounding slowly as you retreat back to lean on the headboard, watching the man infront of you again fiddle with his phone in his hands. At times you feel like laughing to see how even his phone feels to be tiny when in grasp within his huge ass palms, and sometimes you can't help but wonder…what if.

Anyway.

“ Who're your target audience, by the way? ” Curiosity gets the best of you and you know you're speaking the words even before you know you're speaking, and you internally feel like smacking yourself for asking such a silly question. You do know that Taehyung has a good following base on his socials, one that he's that fucking famous as that when you know that millions of people watch his Instagram stories within a flash of second.

The man only smirks. He runs his tongue on the seam of his bottom lips, slightly running his fingers through his hair. And suddenly, your vision drops down to his grey sweatpants, which is hanging dangerously low on his waist, showing you more skin than you can handle, a very deadly sharp glance of his vline. The smooth and bulked plains of his toned stomach and the tanned, golden skin.

Fuck him.

“ Do you want to ask if I'm secretly a pornstar or some sort of shit? ”

“ You're calling porn shit? ”

No sardonic reply comes back, except that he only turns at you, tonguing his inner cheek and a nearly unreadable expression on his face, holding his snifter within the rim and strides over to the stool nearest to the dresser and your the king sized bed, and takes a seat. Sandalwood and vanilla with a hint of ginger. The scent is so him, so him in a way that even if at times the scent alone ghosts you and you definitely feel like you hallucinate, because it's just so alluring, but also comforting in a way you can't just. . .explain. A lazy smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

“ ’m not so qualified to do so, please. ”

“ ’s not ’bout you being qualified, shithead. ”

“ hm, who knows. maybe I do post quality content on my only fans page. . ”

You can only roll your eyes as a response, dragging another shot of the burning smoke in your lungs, and he laughs, filling his glass with the malt whisky on the dresser, and helps himself with a few icecubes.

“ Yeah, good for them. ”

Silence, a comfortable silence blankets over the room; but you don't fail to notice his lips quirking ever so slightly up at your lame remark.

Evenings like this with your best friend are rare; both being responsible adults you've all never nearly got to enjoy the time after school, which is supposed to be enjoyable, they said. Though you're satisfied with what you do and aren't complaining, the thing which stings you is just to know that you and your friend have been drifting apart in the course of time.

Just sitting in silence, healing.

You can only watch his features, partially visible from the lamp light falling in the half of his profile, leaving the chin and mouth in shadow. His focus is set on his glass and the drink. The drink, though alcoholic, is so dark that you can barely make out anything as he lifts the glass to his lips and the sound of the icecubes crinkle the surface of the glass is all what you hear, and oh. The light, oily amber swirls even confirms the nature of the drink, dark.

For a moment it hits you that this evening has been a bit too silent for how it usually is.

You both have the mutual share of the silence which passes whenever you two meet up. There's nothing in your way : just you two, his drinks and your cigar, and you two basking in eachother’s company. No comments, no words. The thick silence is what you both glow in, silently comforting eachother’s soul with silently shared words. No words are really necessary, it's just your presence which makes everything, complete, whole, if that makes sense.

The silence isn't uncomfortable now, though. Just as if an ounce of you feels as if maybe it just you who's thinking this way, but your doubts are solidified when you see a muscle near his left eye, twitch slightly, and in the same time you see his tongue poking his inner cheek.

Something is wrong, you easily can say. The air in the room feels disturbed, and you mentally argue if you should be asking any of it to him. He knows and you do too, that whatever happens, his shit, your shit, your shit, his shit.

From wild teenagers failing together at maths class and laughing your asses off, to those same teenagers who left home in the ghosts of the nights with hands in hands and wide toothy grins, to adults graduating in different majors, moving in different directions to feel the weight of your wings come to action. Life has taken rowdy turns and upturns, like a wave, but with his hand in yours and his presence with you, it has been going on. Even if time has passed, hopefully, there haven't been cracks in between your relationship and his.

Your fingers itch to reach out to his messy bangs falling over his forehead and brush them off, but rather your fingers reach to your own glass of whisky, and you take a sip. You don't really know how many times you've forbidden yourself for your heart to yearn for him, to desire him. A part of you doesn't understand why are you doing this, and another part of you understands that you're doing it for a reason; for why he's too precious to let go.

“ You want to say something. ” You're rather surprised that it's Taehyung who's speaking about this, even if his focus still is stoic on his drink, head dunk down but however, his eyes are now on your glass clad hands. His shoulders hunch down slightly, almost as if he's itching to..hold you, too?

“ What's wrong, Tae? ” your eyes never leave his figure, and as soon as the question leaves your lips, he sighs.

“ Guess we both know eachother too well, eh? ” He tries to lighten off the mood for a while, but it won't work with you. Putting down your cigar and drink on the dresser, you reach forward to hold his shoulders firmly, and give a shake.

“ No, Tae. Let me know what's eating you. ”

Another sigh. This time, it feels like he's leaning onto your touch, closing his eyes. The faint smell of alcohol still roams within, but you do know that both of you don't really have that little resistance to alcohol. You don't rush anymore; you let him think and carry out his words slowly and steadily. His shoulders fall even more, and this time his exhale is shaky.

“ My father passed away a week ago. ”

Oh.

Though you yourself grew up in your foster house and weren't particularly close to your either alcoholic parents, who either were always drowned in alcohol, or when not, to insult you in every way possible. But about Taehyung, he was the eldest child of his parents, and though if the relationship with his parents was strained, you know Taehyung loves his parents, for why he always got back to Daegu atleast once a year, even after both of you ran away from your homes. He cares for his younger siblings, and you'd guess he wasn't particularly close to his father. Even as a child, he used to be the one sitting alone in a corner, with a pout on his face and red nose evident that he sobbed, each time during the event of father's day celebrated in the local farmhouse.

That's when you found him, and hit off instantly as his friend.

And since then, he rarely opens up about his father.

He finally looks up at you, a pained expression settled on his face.

“ I swear I didn't mean to hide anything from you. . ” your name falls from his lips as a silent apology, eyebrows pinched together. “ It's just. . ”

Before he can finish, you're pulling him close to your chest, wrapping your arms around his cold figure. He leans in, and melts completely in your arms, shaking slightly. You feel that pain in your chest blooming slowly in.

“ Fuck, ___. I don't even know who the hell am I becoming nowadays? We weren't close, not even close to that. He just drowned in his own world of becoming the superior, while my mother worked hard to raise all of us up. He thought, that just the money is enough for the upbringing of a family, and became the most distant he could be, from us. .”

“. .I don't even know, I didn't even see his face in years, but shit, why do I miss him this much? Almost as if. . ”

Taehyung, as he grew up, turned exactly what opposite of what he used to be. From a giggly, shy but bubbly boy who'd share his heart out after he has throughly warmed himself up with you (not that you were complaining, you always had enjoyed him beside you, you loved hearing him out. . .) and now, he barely spoke anything which can be considered as to be shared. You dont blame him; life happened and you love your Taehyung as ever your best friend he was, and forever will be. He never needs to explain himself to you. As ever, the moments of silence is all what tugs you to the realm of comfort in the silent winds, sailing in with the warm gushes of warmth.

“ It's alright, Tae. . ” you slowly stroke his hair and his back in sooting motions, cuddling him close to your chest. Smoke and vanilla.

You felt his figure shake and tremble, and soon, you felt the wetness seeping down on your collarbone, and his chest heaved heavily for breaths to catch.

You understand what Taehyung means. Having a parent in your life but still feeling their existence to be non existent, maybe you knew this part too well. Taehyung yearned for that missing love, now impossible to reach, but you hope that he knows it might linger around, right with him.

You hope.

Moments linger off like that, the slow jazz music softly playing in the background as Taehyung cries his heart off to you,sobbing. Holding you so tight that you almost feel breathless. It's rare to see him cry, for you always have felt that he's the one who feels reaching out to feelings difficult, for how he's gonna have the unhealthy habits as his companions to cope up with the empty cracks of his life. Or maybe you, who'd understand him like a puzzle’s respective part.

Maybe if the human nature wasn't that rigid outside, you can only imagine. Had been his father too, proud of his son? Had he too been happy to see Taehyung?

You can only imagine. The happiness Taehyung would've felt if his father would've spent a bit more time with him. The possibility of maybe. . .

After what long, heartfelt moments, you feel him pulling away. Though, he doesn't shoot you off completely: the scent of mild sandalwood and vanilla still lingers around you, and he just pulls out of your chest, to find his flushed face and red nose, shiny cheeks damp with tears which you reach out to gently wipe off. His strong, masculine scent lingers by within. Your heart clenches at the sight, to see him so heartbroken with his messy and fluffy hair sticking to his forehead, all sweaty and eyes nearly swollen and red. He can only sniff, and that's when you feel a large, sweaty palm of his cup your own face, gently.

A soft expression is written on his face, a one which you cannot quite decipher yourself. It's maybe not the first time being so close to him, but each time you get a chance, a sight, he never fails to take your breath away.

“ Thank you….” He weakly mutters, and you nod, once to let him know it's fine, always.

He's so insanely handsome, so unfairly beautiful, the bridge of his nose to his monolidded, warm brown eyes, to his thick eyebrows, to his plush lips, and chiseled face, you never miss even a freckle on his nose which, when you had first met, instantly booped at causing the young Taehyung 's eyes to wide and cheeks go a shade of rose.

So you still do, remembering all the times you've seen him laugh, the contagious hearty laugh with that box like smile and warm hugs he engulfs you in. You lightly flick on his mole, and you don't miss the way his face lights up, the familiar box like toothy grin returning to his face.

Adorable.

He's so adorable, so much, that it almost makes you squirm in your sheets. His eyes never leave your own ones, and you swear you feel him boring holes in your soul. Eye contact with him hasn't been hard, but particularly at moments like these, you don't know what creeps up and you feel breathless, your stupid heart picks up the pace, and you again feel like squirming in your sheets, because, damn this fucking man!

The urge to kiss this handsome man keeps on roaming around your head, at some point, maybe always. . just a rudimentary thought, no, but at this point you can't help but get a urge to taste those pink, damp lips which are tempting you. .

You might as well drop a bomb to your heart (oh no.) that you've been in love with this stupidly handsome guy, always denying of the inevitable truth. The longer you were away from him, you felt your sanity being snatched away with the smell of the faint smell of sandalwood and vanilla, and your head began spinning. Nights of imagining yourself,you're too guilty to even admit, but guess what. . .maybe the longing for this man has went to such a high altitude, that despite knowing it, you cannot admit it out loud. What the fuck, and how the fuck are you even supposed to?

those desparate nights, when you saw yourself beneath him, writhing with pleasure, that dammned shit eating grin omnipresent on that face as he pleasures you, whispering—

“ What's going inside that pretty head of yours? ” And there you see it. His lips are curled to that fucking smirk, which makes you feel like he knows everything which goes inside your head, and he knows that he has you fucking wrapped around his fingers and you're crazy for him.

So what. But you really and seriously cannot deny the way heat creeps up to your neck and cheeks, and the urge to look at anywhere but him is delightful. The wall looks pretty, because you can't look at hi—

“ Answer with words, dear. ” His hands cup your cheeks again, making you look at him. His eyes..are soft, but at the same time so smug that you again feel like snatching and throwing away that pompous vibes from them. You snort, and he smirks.

“ If you don't tell me, would it be mutual? ” You nearly scoff, hating the way you still find him adorable, another lazy smile stretched on his handsome face. ( read : stupid ).

“ Do I make you say it out loud, my dear? ”

Fuck.

It was undeniable, the way you felt your stomach churn with fluttering butterflies. You absolutely don't wish to find the meaning of what actually he means, but for some reasons or other, your blush deepens and you feel a small smile of your own afloat even without you realising that.

“ You're way too handsome. ” Oh no. There it will be again, with that cocky grin and that motherfucking smirk which would make you pounce on him. For sure, he was very much aware of his godly looks, and you knew he won't shut up on this, when you subconsciously utter out those dammned praises. You shouldn't absolutely have done that.

Instead, what you didn't expect in the least is, his smile. Not the cocky, complacent smirk, but an almost soft smile. Almost as if he's happy to hear the words coming out of you. And to worsen that, you feel his hands now gently reach the scalp behind your ears, messaging the skin with those nimble fingers, the smile still plastered on his face.

It sort of shocked you, but it also didn't. Because when you see his eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes, almost dragging them from within at it, you feel like you'd stop breathing this instant.

And this isn't the last time he does it; his gaze keeps on roaming from your lips to your eyes, almost as if he's asking you for permission, and you really try your way hardest to not look at his own lips. You try, but fail.

“ Can I kiss you,dear? ” He asks you, his eyes holding yours, and you visibly gulp. The fluttering in your tummy won't cease..and you feel anything but your heart pounding in your chest, so loud, that it almost makes you question, can he hear it too?

The question which you've resisted to urge for years, the feeling which you've denied for years. He's right infront of you, looking just so adorable and kissable that you almost want to give in. Denial has been grave of your heart, but now enough of it. Why not, because this life is short, and now that.. it already happened, you say fuck it, and nod, slowly.

But rather, he smirks. His voice is saccharine sweet when he speaks,

“ Words, darling ”

Fuck this asshole.

Without a single word, you pull him closer by his neck, kissing him with fervour. Your teeth clash together, and you feel his nose slightly bump into yours, but nevertheless you mould his damp lips to yours, a flavour of the strong alcohol’s residue evident as the taste. He tastes so sweet, so sweet that it almost makes you melt, but you feel his lips stop.

And he pulls away.

His eyes narrow mischievously, almost as if he's challenging you. His brows are pinched together almost as if he's mad, and panic instantly burns your veins; did you do anything wrong?

What you don't expect is, that now his arms snake down to your nightgown clad waist, and his another arm reaches for both of your wrists, and pushes you down to the soft bed. You audibly gasp, feeling his strength on your wrists, but he's sure that he's not hurting you. And pins your arms above your head, lips curled in a snarl which almost makes you shiver, and you shiver, a delicious shiver running up your spine.

And his eyes now hold a carnal rage, brown eyes now almost black.

And you resist the urge to arch your back off the bed, feeling breathless all of a sudden. This side of Taehyung is completely new to you, and a part of you is equally astonished as well as fascinated.

His gaze is so fucking strong, you know he's boring holes into your skull, and you dare to squirm underneath him, your stomach twisting as you feel the heat pool in your lower belly.

“ Stop fucking squirming. ” That's not a plea. That's a fucking command, and you nearly feel like disobeying him again, just to coax out more reactions out of him. But much to your dismay, his grip on your waist and palms tightens, and you see his pupils dilate a bit more.

“ Hadn't I told you to use your words, darling? ” Darling. The new nickname sets a fire inside your veins, and equally as you feel heat travel to cheeks, you feel his lips slowly curl to a smirk, but the look he gives you through his eyes, you cannot tell what is he thinking of.

He knows his effect on you too well.

You were you. You were his best friend, the only one who offered him his croissant on that chilly, cold day when his eyes felt puffy and his nose was runny, and everyone seemed to be celebrating. Everyone was happy, everyone had their hands clasped in their fathers, cheering with sing songs and chorus, which made him feel sad. The ten year old him couldn't digest the fact that he wasn't close to his father, and he was the only one who was without a companion, without his father.

Where was his father, back then? No wonder, back to his office, burying his head in those scary looking papers, scribbling his pen on them, busy apparently.

The younger Taehyung felt angry on his dad. So angry, that the anger flushed to tears, to the extent when his loneliness altogether made him cry like crazy in public. The younger Taehyung didn't have friends, for why he was known as the weird one, liking hamburgers and video games more when boys of his age liked soccer and camping. He liked art and talking to the peonies and daises more than he liked talking to others, and maybe he liked his art more than he liked his studies.

His mother, though, loved him. She loved him more than she could express, because having to manage two little children, marely babies and Taehyung who was the oldest, he wwas often the victim of the missed pages while fast turning, often the one left alone with some paper money and a letter on the desk written for him to grab some hamburgers, alone at the day as the bay passed away. All alone, he could only stare gloomily at the walls, whitewashed and faded.

At times he didn't know if he was even wanted by his parents.

But there was you. You too, were without a companion, and even if the little Taehyung saw a pair of bright, doe eyes looking at him, but each time he remembers the memory, he always remember the loneliness, the poignance behind those two, big pupils. You had offered the sobbing boy your own croissant, which he supposed that he missed when getting distributed. A bright smile, and soon you disappeared, much to the confusion and even disappointment, but again he saw the same pair of yellow sandals and painted toenails, and upon raising his head, saw your head and those warm, doe eyes again, with your head tiltled at him. You were holding two cups within yoir tiny palms, and the little Taehyung almost got his cheeks painted a rosy shade of red when he realises that you were beautiful, and his little heart skipped some beats at your cute appearance, slightly shorter than him.

And since then, he doesn't remembers when have you been out of his thoughts since that night.

And now, caged between his arms underneath him, so cutely writhing with desire, your cute eyes shutting close and lips slightly trembling, hands wriggling in his hold. You were now grown up, but still so smaller and cuter, and Taehyung felt every second of hell whenever he had to let go of the thoughts to pick you up and kiss you till you forget your name, and he felt himself growing bitter at the thoughts. So he, let go of everything, and finally let that out, and somehow is releived that he doesn't have to regret that. He felt his heart race; you were always beside him, and this evening was not a surprise.

He wasn't mad at you. He just wanted the first time, the most awaited kiss he'd give you, to be special, not a kiss which almost made your teeth clash together, but he didn't mind. He liked seeing you so precious underneath him, and has dreamt of it since how long, only he knows.

He smiled when he heard your voice again.

“ Just kiss me, Taehyung, a thousand times, yes. ”

He felt his smile growing as he leaned down to brush a stray strand falling on your cheekbone, grazing it carefully to tug it behind your ears. He loves seeing you so small, so precious like this, and he sort of feels like he should pause this moment, and just stamp on you inside his head forever, as if you weren't already.

But however, it suddenly dawned onto him that there's no going back from this. His heart thumps wildly in his chest because this is the moment he has craved for years, and now when finally this has floated to the surface, to reality, the worst of his fears too, cling on. He knows that you're not that type of person who'll leave him without any reasons and with a miscommunication, but is he really willing to take the risk? To take it all and then, lose you?

You visibly see Taehyung move a bit back, his lips drawn in a small pout. He's overthinking, and you often know that this stubborn fella wouldn't let you know a single thought about his, but now the tension is so high that maybe the thoughts which bubble in your head, matches with his.

He too is thinking if this, your bond would be shattered because of the growing desires, hidden affection for eachother since years which finally are coming true.

You cup his warm cheek in your smaller palms, tugging him out of his reverie. His eyes are shine softly, the brown of them sparkling in the golden lamp light.

“ It's okay, Taehyung. We're together in this. ” you flash him a grin, hoping to soothe his nerves a bit, and you're relieved because of the box like grin which stretches on his lips, too.

“ So, may I kiss you, now? ” his voice is gentle as he nears your mouth, hands back to your hips, fingers tracing careless circles into your skin. It tingles wherever he touches and you wriggle a bit, nodding desparately.

His lips inch closer to yours own, till the extent you feel his alcohol mixed breath mingle with your own, his hands feeling warmer as each second passes by. The stupid, small kiss had you reeling in your head, and now as you feel his hair touching your cheekbone, you're sure that if you don't kiss him, you'd die right there and then. His lips felt so soft, so sweet against your own, that to feel them once more had you whining quietly as you clutch his shoulders, feeling the tough muscles ripple at your touch.

Feeling impatient, you connect your lips to his. You sigh, and he grins. You could feel his smile in the kiss as his hands roam up to your hips from your waist, the silk of your nightgown feeling fluffy under his touch as your mouths move with a certain tenderness which you know only if for you. He tastes faintly like alcohol and more like chocolate, and you wonder if it's because of the candy he popped in while he was talking to you. Your hands find his ruffled raven hair, caressing the roots. You're slightly surpirsed when Taehyung purrs in the kiss, and now it's your turn to smile.

But the sweet, tender moment seems to have been burnt when Taehyung pushes his tongue inside your mouth, licking your own. His tongue reaches back to lick the seam of your lips, and that's when you realise that how slowly his hands are advancing towards your stomach, his touch leaving behind sparks of fire. You crack open your eyes to find his eyes hungrily watching you, and you shiver. With the anticipation and the feeling of the shameless heat in his eyes which is melting down your self resistance in all the ways. His fingers dance on the skin of your tummy, all the while licking your lips as you pant, his touch furious as a whimper makes its way up your throat, and Taehyung smirks. You're adding more to his ego and you're totally helpless, not when this man's touch feels so so good.

When his lips touch the junction of your neck, right on the curve where your shoulder meets, you let out a moan. His kisses are drizzled with his warm, wet tongue on your skin and there's a pit of desire bubbling in your stomach, already. The moan urges him to continue, watching you with hooded eyes as you lose it all, the ache in between your legs growing rapidly with each swipe of his tongue on your skin. His hands travel up to your tits, brushing them slightly— and your hips buck up, finding relief for the growing desires inside you. But he takes none of that, and one of his hands fly down to grip your hips, refraining you from any moment and you whine.

“ Taehyung, please.. ”

“ Please what, baby? ” his voice has never been so sultry, so seductive as it is now, and you do not think the meaning behind his words, to take them for another gesture; and you squirm again.

“ ____, if I don't hear it from you, I'm not touching you. I need you to say it. ” His voice is strong, and you nod furiously, letting out a shaky yes, please touch me.

And that's what he needed to hear from you.

His head dips down to the seam of your nightgown, right on your cleavage, licking a long stripe from the seam to where your nipples are, already hardened and pert from his teasing. You gasp, and your back arches, and he repeats the same ministration again, this time taking the pert, aching bud in his warm mouth right above your nightgown, swirling his tongue around it. The sensation goes right down to your clit, your cunt clenching around thin air and you whimper. His other hand fondles with the soft flesh. You wonder if he knows how sensitive your boobs are, because the right amount of pressure serves you the pleasure, travelling throughout your veins in a buzzing pleasure.

He had enough of it, right when he tears off your wet nightgown from you. You're torn away from the daze, when you see the torn piece of cloth in his huge hands, eyes widening on the sudden action. He scoffs at the cloth, and smirks at you, plunging down immediately to capture a nipple into his mouth, nibbling over it and licking all over the same, his other hand pressing and rolling the other bud with his pointer and thumb, occasionally kneading the flesh. Moans fall off your lips like a prayer, hips bucking amd thighs rubbing together in an attempt to releive the ache, because you feel your slick oozing down your hole to the curve of your ass. He's totally ignoring your pussy, and you feel like giving him the taste of what he has done.

He's busy with your tits, while your hand sneaks down to his waist, suddenly grabbing his cock confined in his pants, which seems already so hard and throbbing, and so..thick. He gasps, suddenly looking at you and removing your hand, his pupils blown out with the lust. He grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, and you're suddenly met with his cock on your clothed core, grinding slowly. You close your eyes at the sensation, his sweatpants being too thin to hide his cock, and each time his cock grinds on your clit, you feel like you're ascending to heaven. Your jaw drops, and suddenly there's nothing.

You almost feel like crying. But he's smirking, reaching down to press his lips on your neck, and you shiver when you hear him whispering.

“ You need to earn this cock if you want this so badly, dear. ”

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