#danger windbreaker | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sukirichi · 6 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐏

+ umemiya hajime & togame jo (was gonna include suo but i got nervous characterizing him, sobs.) + angst, minimal fluff. mentions of timeskip. (pssp!! i’m new to writing windbreaker but if you guys want to request ficlets/headcanons like these, feel free!) + 3.4k wc

divider from @/saradika-graphics

�� UMEMIYA HAJIME.

The night’s cool air bit at your skin as you stepped out of the restaurant. Pulling your coat tighter around you, you fight back the urge to look back at your date. The blind date your friends had set up was, to your surprise, not entirely disastrous. He was a charming architect, and a friend of a friend. Had a nice smile and the prettiest set of teeth you’d seen, with the kind of humor that elicited polite, yet casual laughter from you. It was… a good date.

Still, you couldn’t shake off the lingering emptiness in your heart – the void no one had been able to fill since he’d left.

You walked slowly, your thoughts drifting back to the past like it always did. You and Hajime had started dating when you were teenagers, a time when holding hands and stealing cheek kisses were the biggest deal between couples who loved a little too much, and knew a little too less.

Your relationship with him had been a well-guarded secret. Your parents were strict, said you were “too young to know anything about love.” Hajime was also the leader of a gang, albeit with noble intentions. Not that your parents would understand – they hear the word ‘gangster’ and immediately thought (or would’ve, if they’d met him) as a troublemaker. They wouldn’t take the time to know that his gang protected people from the real threats, the dangerous gangsters who roamed around the neighborhood. Your father would never understand it, and he would never have accepted Hajime.

Your love had been intense, the kind that only young hearts could know and experience only once in your lives. You’d whispered promises under the stars of marrying each other someday, stole kisses in hidden corners, and dreamt of a future together. A future that consisted of grandkids running out a minivan, and your hair would match Hajime’s iciness with old age.

Until that day where he just… left.

Hajime had broken up with you without warning, without explanation. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. It felt like your heart had been brutally ripped out from your chest. You remember crying for days, months even, waiting for him to come back – to tell you it was a mistake. But he never did. He disappeared, leaving behind only memories and an aching void that hadn’t been filled for the next years.

So lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure standing by the restaurant’s entrance until you nearly walked into him. You looked up, your breath catching in your throat.

White hair, icy blue eyes, and smooth, pale skin turning red from the cold.

Hajime.

He’d changed since you last saw him. His hair was shorter, short enough that he couldn’t gel it and have you brush his bangs back for him like you always used to. His face was more mature, too, but his eyes – the same warm, kind eyes you’d spent hours staring into – were unmistakable. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the world around you blurring into an insignificant image.

“Hajime,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

He says your name softly, like your name itself was the world and he had to hold it with steady, careful hands. And he used to, once. Before he let it go. He scans your face as you gaze back at him, unmoving, as if trying to make sure if you were real. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” you agree with a short nod, your heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

When Hajime smiled, it held no happiness in it. “I was just passing by. How have you been?”

“Good,” you lie, forcing a smile as you switch your weight from foot to foot. “I just finished a date, actually,” you jerk a thumb back at the restaurant, and Hajime’s gaze follows it.

“I see,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I, uh… I hope it went well.”

“It did,” you replied, though the words felt hollow despite your honesty. That was the worst part, it seemed. The date did go well – he was charming, gentlemanly, and seemed genuinely interested in you. Had it been another universe where you’d met, you would’ve agreed at his offer to a second date, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because in this universe they had given you Hajime, took him away from you, and cruelly made your paths cross again. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing interesting. But I did leave the gang,” he informs, making your eyes widen. “I’ve been working in community outreach, helping at-risk youth. Trying to make a difference.”

“That sounds amazing,” you say, and you mean it. It isn’t surprising that Hajime has gone down this path; he’d always been full of compassion and integrity. A truly good man at his core. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.”

Silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Even after so many years, you could read him like the back of your hand. Hajime had always worn his heart on a sleeve, the longing in his eyes mirroring your own. “Hajime,” your voice breaks as you dared take a step closer, “Why did you leave? Why did you disappear without a word?”

He looks away, his face falling. “Your dad found out about us,” he confesses quietly, “He asked me to leave you alone for your safety. He said he would do whatever it took to keep you away from harm and I – I’m not invincible, you know? He was right. Even if I did my best to protect you, as long as you’re with me, you were bound to get hurt. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“So you just left? Without telling me why?”

“I thought it was the best way to protect you,” he said, his voice pained. “I didn’t want to put you in any danger. I thought you would be better off without me.”

“But I wasn’t,” you whispered, angrily wiping away the tears that fell. “I was heartbroken, Hajime. I waited for you. Do you know how long I spent hanging around the neighborhood, hoping you’d show up and tell me you’d changed your mind? I-I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

Hajime steps closer, regret pooling at his eyes. “I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

All those years of pain and longing rose to the surface. “I missed you so much,” you say with a shaky voice. “Every day, Hajime. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he echoes, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought about you all the time. I wanted to come back, to explain everything, but I was afraid. Afraid that you’d moved on, that you wouldn’t want to see me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stead yourself, hands clenching at your sides. “I never moved on, Hajime,” you whispered, “No one else could ever take your place.”

He reached out, gently brushing the tears that fell in a steady stream down your cheek. The warmth of his hand was welcomed in the night’s cold air, and you leant into it despite yourself. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “I should have fought harder for us. I should have told you the truth.”

The two of you stood there, the world around you forgotten as you were lost in each other’s eyes. The years apart had been cruel, but in that moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. The familiar warmth of his gaze, the gentle curve of his smile – it all came rushing back to you, as vivid as the day you first met. The first time he’d taken your hand, the first time he’d hesitantly, yet eagerly, kissed you. You were just teenagers then, reckless and full of dreams, hiding in the shadows of your parents’ disapproval.

You could still recall the thrill of sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet him, the adrenaline of running into his arms through the streets, or the way he would wrap his arms around you to keep you warm on those chilly nights. The way he looked at you during those secret meetings, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and mischief. And his laughter, so genuine and infectious, had been your favorite sound.

You’d shared everything – your fears, your hopes, your plans for a future that seemed so close yet somehow always just out of reach.

“Is it too late for us?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Hajime shakes his head, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. “It’s never too late. If you’ll have me again, I want to make things right. I want to be with you – to be the right one for you. Someone you wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”

“I want that, too,” you say, your heart still full of love and longing for this man. “I never want to hide anymore, Hajime.”

— TOGAME JO.

When Hajime pulls you into his arms, holding you close, you feel whole again for the first time in years. The past had been painful, but it also led you back to each other – just like how he once said he would always look for you, in every lifetime, in every timeline. And as he pressed a gentle kiss at the top of your head, you knew and believed, that this time around, you would both be strong enough to overcome anything.

The nightclub was packed with people, the music pounding through the speakers, and the air thick with laughter and drunk conversations. You were out with your friends tonight, celebrating the end of a long week. For once, you felt free and unburdened. The neon lights flickered overhead, its colorful shadows dancing across the humid, jam-packed room.

You make your way to the dance floor, a sense of exhilaration passing over you. It had been years since you could go out like this – not needing a boyfriend’s permission, and doing whatever you liked, whenever you liked. Not that your exes were the controlling type – especially not Jo. Although looking back on it now, you wished he was a little bit controlling, just to show that he’d cared. Instead, Jo just nodded and hummed in response whenever you told him you were going out with friends, unbothered.

It had been two years since you last saw him, your first serious boyfriend after a string of failed situationships. You had shared so much with him, and yet, it had ended in a way that left a lingering ache that wouldn’t go away even after five drinks. The memories of your time together with Jo, both the bad and the good, were never far from your mind.

You’d long stopped trying to forget about him, however. Togame Jo was just someone you never forgot. Once he’d crawled his way into your heart, he’d make a home of it and have you carry the memories with him wherever you went.

He was your first love, after all. You’d been inseparable when you first started dating. It was a whirlwind romance, the type where you both clearly yearned for each other yet never had enough courage to say it out loud. The type of longing where everyone around you knew of your feelings except the two of you, and poor Sakura had had enough watching ‘the two lovesick fools.’ For months, the line between friendship and lovers blurred. You and Jo found yourself sharing secret glances from across the room, stiffening when the other’s knuckles brushed together, and heavily denying that no, they wouldn’t like me back, when it was as written in both your faces how badly you wanted each other.

And you did have each other, eventually. But as the months went by, things began to change.

Jo had become too relaxed, too comfortable now that he had you. He couldn’t see what you needed, or tell what it was you longed for – flowers, surprises, little gestures to show that he cared. Instead, your relationship had become routine. He rarely took you out on dates; most of your time was spent in his apartment, cuddling or sleeping, because Togame Jo slept like a log. And sure, you’d liked it at first. Basked in it even. To be wrapped up in his strong arms, and to wake up with your legs intertwined with each other, to hear his voice heavy with sleep call out your name.

Until the days became nothing but that – rotting in bed together. Each time you brought up wanting to spend time with him on a real date, Jo would just pull you back under the sheets, claiming you were warm and smelled too nice for him to want to leave the bed. It was something that upset you deeply, making you feel lonely even when he was right next to you.

You’d tried talking to him about it, but he never seemed to understand.

Jo was sweet and kind, but naïve in the sense that he made you feel invisible. The final straw came when you realized that being with him felt more painful than being alone. You’d hoped that he would fight for you, to ask you to stay, to see how much you were hurting and want to fix things. But when you said you felt like you and him weren’t working out anymore, all he’d said was, “Okay. If breaking up is what will make you happy, I respect that.”

You’re brought back to the present as the beat of the music pulled you onto the dance floor. You lost yourself in the rhythm, enjoying the moment, when someone bumped into you from behind. You whipped around, ready to apologize, only to be stunned into silence as you stared into a pair of familiar green eyes.

Togame says your name, his eyes wide as he balances a drink in his hand. “Jo,” you breathed out, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your chest. Here he was, standing right in front of you after all these years.

“Hey,” he says, inching closer so you could hear him through the loud music. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, it has!” you replied, your voice barely audible over the noise. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good!” he says, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “And you?”

“Good, too!” you said, though it felt like a lie. Seeing him brought back all the unresolved feelings, the questions you had never asked, the words you had never said.

Before either of you could say more, the music shifted to a slower beat. The crowd around you moved in closer, forcing you and Jo to bump bodies until your chests were pressed against each other. Without thinking, Jo downs his drink in one and starts to dance with you, your bodies moving instinctively to the rhythm.

It was as if no time had passed at all, the familiarity of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

The previous awkwardness began to melt away as you danced, replaced by a bittersweet nostalgia. You could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart. It was both comforting and painful – a reminder of what you had lost. Years ago, before you started dating, you and Jo had been in the exact predicament – grinding and dancing on each other at some lame club Choji had VIP access too, touching each other yet still too hesitant to say what you truly felt. It felt like a lifetime ago already.

“Do you remember our first date?” Jo asked suddenly, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “How could I forget? You were so nervous, you spilled your drink all over yourself.”

He chuckled, the sound sending a pang through your heart. “Yeah, I thought I’d ruined everything. But you just laughed and said it was the best date you’d ever been on.”

“It was,” you say, your voice catching. “You were so sweet, Jo. You always were.”

“I tried,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I really did.”

The two of you continued to dance, the music swirling around you. The years apart seemed to disappear, leaving you both in a moment that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

“Why did it end like that?” he asked after a while, his voice barely audible. “Why did you leave?”

You take a deep breath, the memories of your breakup – and the events leading to it – flooding back. “I felt like you didn’t see me anymore,” your voice trembles. “You stopped doing the little things that made me feel special. You were always so relaxed, so comfortable, and I felt… lonely.”

“I didn’t know,” Jo frowns, and you know he means it. He looked so confused; like hearing this from you now made everything clear, and all the while more confusing. “I thought everything was fine. I thought you were happy. I thought we were happy.”

“I tried to tell you,” you remind him, with tears stinging your eyes. Those endless nights of trying to be subtle, showing him photos of flower bouquets and mentioning twice about this restaurant you’ve been eyeing in hopes he’d take you there. He never did, because Jo liked the sight of you cooking in his apartment more. “But you never understood. And when I finally said we weren’t working out, you just agreed. You didn’t fight for us, Jo.”

His grip on your hips tightens, then falters. “I thought that’s what you wanted. I thought if I let you go, you’d be happier.”

“I missed you,” you finally admit, circling your arms around his thick neck and pressing your forehead against his. “Even after everything, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he says, his eyes closing as he breathes in your perfume. “Every day.”

You continued to dance, your bodies swaying gently to the music – simply because you’d both lost the words to say. As you moved in unison, your eyes don’t stray from each other, soaking in the other’s presence because it might be the last time you’d ever hold each other like this again. For a moment, it felt like you were healing, like you were finally letting go of the past.

In his embrace, there was a sense of closure, a quite promise that despite everything, one thing stayed true: you loved each other truly. The bitterness of your separation melted away, leaving behind a tender acknowledgement of what you had once meant everything to each other. It wasn’t a return to what you’d lost, but the shared knowledge that your history still held value. Now, it was time to step forward, and finally find peace.

Finally, the song ends. You pull apart from him slightly, your gazes still locked. There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you still felt. But for now, this was enough. You’d found each other again, even if it was just for a short, fleeting moment.

And it was in his eyes, too – the unspoken question if you could try one more time.

Everything in your heart and mind wanted to say yes. Yes, come back to me, Jo. Come back to me and I’ll spend forever in your bed, but it was too early. The wounds too fresh. You knew that going back to the same place and person that hurt you wouldn’t heal you. It was impossible. And Jo knew that, too.

“I’ll see you around,” he says, pulling away and detangling his arms from yours. Already, you were missing the heat of him, the strength of his body against yours.

“You too, Jo,” you reply, your heart aching for him one last time.

You part ways again – Jo with Choji and your mutual friends you’d said goodbye too, and you back to the new friends you’d made when you tried building a world that didn’t revolve around him. But this time, it felt different.

You’d acknowledged your past, and while it still hurt – saying goodbye to Jo never felt easy – it also felt like a step toward the right direction. And as you walked away, you glanced back at him one last time, seeing Jo standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you leave his world once more.

#umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #umemiya x you #umemiya hajime fluff #umemiya hajime angst #togame jo x reader #togame x reader #togame x reader angst #togame jo x you #wind breaker imagines #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker scenarios #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x reader fluff #wind breaker x reader scenarios #togame jo angst

386 notes · View notes

ivelle-serenity · 9 months ago

Text

Skateboard

Wind breaker

author's note: actually, I don't know where this story is heading. Maybe it will turn into a reverse harem? I really don't know. This is a story by the way. Not just an one shot.

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

Links:

Skateboard 2

Skateboard 3

Skateboard 4

I set my lollipop down and adjusted my grip on my skateboard. It was hard to believe I was here, in the club, waiting to sell my bike. I hadn't ridden it in ages; I was tired of it and preferred skateboarding. Someone wanted to buy my bike, and we were supposed to meet here.

I smoothed out my long, curly hair and glanced at my reflection on my phone. I sighed. I hadn't bothered with lipstick, but my two-toned lips stood out on my plump ones. My mood soured as I overheard people whispering again in the club, as if I couldn't hear them.

"Dude, check out that girl! She looks like she's from abroad, right?"

"Wow, she's stunning. I've never seen curls like that on a girl before."

I just rolled my eyes and went back to sucking on my lollipop.

I shifted my gaze to the commotion from the side. There was a scuffle going on, and it seemed like someone was throwing punches. Furrowing my brow, I spotted the tall guy with blue hair. He had piercings and was looking at me, his face devoid of emotion. There was blood on his hands. I quickly looked away and checked the time.

Where was that guy?

"Well, well, I didn't expect you to be this early, Demitra," someone called out to me.

And there was Wooin, sporting his usual smug expression, his signature glasses perched on his nose. My attention was drawn to the guy beside him. Like the one I saw by the ring earlier, his hair color was different too. It was red... And not just that. One of his eyes was red as well.

Interesting.

"If you weren't going to buy my bike, you should've told me earlier so I wouldn't be here," I said irritably. I noticed the red-haired guy's gaze on me.

"Who is this?" My skin almost tingled at the chilling voice of the man with red hair. I tilted my head to the right, gazing at him with a hint of curiosity.

"No one. I'm just a nobody, weird guy," I replied sharply.

His expression turned to anger almost instantly, replacing whatever had been there before. He seemed about to step forward when Wooin stepped in. Instead of fear, I felt even more irritated. Wooin's smirk only added to my frustration. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.

"Are you buying it or not?" I said, my annoyance clear.

"Oh, come on, what's the rush?" He held my waist and gently seated me on a bar stool chair. I glanced down at it, then shot a cold look at Wooin.

I had to admit, the guy I'd met was good-looking. It made sense why he caught the eye of so many women in the club. But he also seemed dangerous. Besides his rumored wealth, there were whispers of him taking down numerous men.

"I'll pay you triple," he said with a smirk, standing close in front of me as I sat.

"This is just a bike," I retorted.

"Honestly, I don't want your bike," he licked his lips before fixing his gaze on me. "I want to see you riding that bike."

I furrowed my brow, tightening my grip on my skateboard. We locked eyes for a moment. It had been a while since I rode a bike. Frankly, I was tired of it. It had become so dull to use.

"Not happening," I said firmly. "And why should I even consider it?" I added, glaring at him.

"Because we need you," he whispered to me before leaning in closer. My eyes widened at his action. Before I could respond, the man with red hair reached out and grabbed Wooin. I could see the frustration and confusion in his eyes.

"What did you say?" he asked, trying to keep his composure.

Wooin grinned. "You know what I mean, Vinny."

So that's his name.

"You want her to be in our crew?" I glanced at the man who had been in the boxing ring earlier. His face was emotionless. I had to look up due to his towering height. He was the tallest of the two.

"A girl? You want that girl to be part of us? Are you kidding me?" Vinny couldn't believe it, giving me a disdainful look.

"She's not just a girl, Vinny," Wooin gave me a mischievous look. "Don't underestimate a girl who knows how to skateboard."

I stood up and locked eyes with Wooin. "Don't drag me into your childish games. Biking is not my thing anymore. Maybe it's just for kids like you."

The man with blue hair remained emotionless. Vinny's face was full of anger. I didn't care about their drama. They just wasted my time. If I had just joined my new school instead, I wouldn't have been late.

"Who do you think you are?" Vinny was about to step closer, but I smiled.

"I'm just a girl, Vinny," I said innocently, causing him to pause. I was just throwing back to him what he said.

As I stormed out of the bar, frustration boiling inside me, I snatched the bike. That jerk wasted my time! Now I'm going to be late for school. I hopped onto the bike, hastily tucking my skateboard behind me. Ugh, I have no choice but to ride this bike again. Being super late for school isn't my idea of fun.

"If I ever find that guy again, I swear, I'm going to give him a hard punch in the face," I grumbled to myself as I pedaled faster.

Suddenly, a blur whizzed past me at lightning speed. He was wearing the same uniform as me. I tilted my head to the right, observing his biking skills. He seemed... skilled. Glasses perched on his nose, sporting a mullet haircut.

I don't know why it brought a smirk to my lips. His moves were so familiar. It was like watching myself from back when I used to bike in junior high. I pedaled the bike faster, surprising the guy with glasses as I passed him. I just smiled at him before speeding up even more. The gap between us widened.

I chuckled before glancing back. He was now looking at me intensely.

Well, I didn't know there were so many handsome guys here in Korea.

I didn't see him anymore, so I shrugged it off. When I arrived at Sunny High, I gasped for breath as I unstrapped my skateboard. I parked my bike as well.

"You're new..."

I glanced back. It was him. His bike was already parked. He arrived before me. I immediately knew he took a shortcut. There's no way he could have beaten me otherwise.

"Yeah," I replied shortly before putting on my black glasses. "Great ride, by the way. Are you a pro?" I asked while adjusting my skateboard, securing it to my bike.

"No," he said with a puzzled look. "You seem to know how to ride too," he pointed out.

I smirked. "You think so?"

He didn't reply, just looked at my bike and skateboard.

"Nah, I'm just a beginner," I laughed.

"Jay! Damn, man. The first period is over! Why are you late?"

I froze as Jay and I both turned to look at the guy beside us. I noticed two guys walking towards us. The one who spoke was the bearded guy in a hoodie. He had a companion with a gentle face. I lazily grabbed my bag from the bike.

"Whoa... you're with a girl!? Wait a minute. Is she a foreigner?!" the bearded guy exclaimed in surprise and slight panic. I shot him an annoyed look.

"No," Jay replied shortly. Answering his first question.

"Dom, lower your voice. You might scared the girl," the guy with the gentle face playfully scolded.

I kept my expression neutral. What's up with these guys? I know they're seniors like me, but why are they so hyper? I was surprised to notice that we were being watched by students, especially the freshmen. It seems his group of friends is quite popular, huh?

"You're cheating on Shelly?" Dom exclaimed in shock.

"Stop it," Jay said coldly. Who's Shelly? His girlfriend? Oh hell nah. I need to stay away from him then. I sighed, what a waste, he's handsome.

"Do you know where room 21 is?" I asked formally.

Dom's jaw dropped. "You're our new classmate?!"

"Of course, Miss. Jay and Dom are in the same class as you. We can show you the way," the polite guy who was with Dom offered.

"June, you might get a nosebleed! What if she suddenly speak a different language!?" Dom became hysterical. I just facepalmed.

"I'm good. Thanks."

I was surprised when Jay suddenly walked alongside me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"This is also the way to my room," he stated as if it were obvious. I also heard his two friends walking behind us.

"Shit, am I seeing things right? Jay is with some foreigner chick! She's hot!"

"I thought Jay has a girlfriend?"

There they go whispering again. It's only my first day at school and this is what greets me. Why am I assigned to the same room as these famous students?

"Hey Miss! Do you know--"

"Demitra," I cut Dom short. "My name is Demitra."

He scratched his head. "Oh yeah, Demitra. I see you can ride a bike? Your bike model is nice, suitable for tournaments. Why didn't you join?"

I furrowed my brow. "Tournament? I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

His jaw dropped. "What?! So you don't know we're part of a crew?" I remained confused. "Like Hummingbird? Haven't you heard of it? The famous crew?"

"Stop praising yourself, Dom," June laughed.

"Oh come on, man! I was just telling the truth! Demitra, you see, I'm the Sprinter of the group. I'm one of the skilled ones in the crew. And this Jay here is our Ace! He's really a God when it comes to race! You can ask him to teach you." He's so talkative.

I glanced to my side. Jay was quiet, his hands in his pockets, looking ahead as if lost in his own thoughts. So this man is their ace, huh? Not bad. He seems really good.

"Isn't it a bit childish to still be biking? It's just for kids," I said suddenly, making everyone stop and look at me.

"But you're also riding a bike," June pointed out with a frown.

"As if I have a choice. I was supposed to sell that bike, but the guy who was supposed to buy it tricked me. If ever I see that man, I will kick his ass until he bleeds." I felt my temper rising again.

"Maybe it's just not for you," Jay spoke up unexpectedly. "It seems biking is not for everyone. That includes you," his voice suddenly changed.

"Damn, did I hurt your feelings that much?"

He didn't respond but just shrugged. "How about this then," I faced him. "Race with me." He paused.

"Demitra... I don't think it's a good idea," June said with concern.

Dom dramatically covered his mouth, unable to believe that I challenged his friend to a bike race. I just grinned, feeling like I caught Jay's attention and made him face me. His face remained emotionless.

"If I win, let me join your cute crew," I grinned and crossed my arms in front of him. "And if I lose, I will do your assignments for a week. How about that?"

"Jay... Don't do it. She's a girl! We don't fight against them--" Dom's words were cut off when Jay spoke.

"Get your math book ready then. We have an assignment there."

379 notes · View notes

imtomiee · 8 months ago

Text

(Part three: windbreaker ver.)

To hold, to feel, to breathe, to live youuuuu

This one is specially made for my babe @koiiiiijiii

DANGEROUSLYYY IN LOVEEEE

#Spotify #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker #joker windbreaker #wooin windbreaker #kwon hyuk #vinny hong #monster windbreaker #gyuchan #owen knight #chris d'char #hwangyeon choi #sangho choi

155 notes · View notes

toonilumi · 3 months ago

Note

After seeing Kami, Fry and Roxanne's relationship, may I ask abt Robin, Danger and Astra's?

these three met in high school. danger and robin got along like a house on fire. robin was drawn to his weird chaotic nature, and danger liked having someone who wouldnt automatically judge him for liking explosives. Astra lived very unsocially at this point, but eventually robin found their way into her life.

Danger and Astra did not get along at first. Astra found him annoying and Danger saw her as a stuck-up loser "like everyone else." The unfortunate part is that they both liked Robin. And Robin liked both of them (it was already known she was polyam). Now they were stuck together.

But over time Danger appreciated having someone respectfully calming him down, and Astra respected Danger's passion and drive to create. And maybe when they show off to Robin they aren't just showing off to her, but also the other person.

#not lumi art #now i kinda wanna draw them lol #astra selinofoto #robin myung #danger windbreaker

4 notes · View notes

wheresmycontent · 9 months ago

Text

Pieces [Windbreaker]

Wooin x Reader [afab]

Note: random hcs that came to mind about this boy.

C|TW: mention of dub-con, nsfw,

★ Nobody knows you and he’d like to keep it that way! You’re his! He’s not going to flaunt you around like a trophy. The less eyes on you, the better. Sure, Wooin wants you all to himself but he does this since people would love a chance to humble him. It’d really suck if you got caught up in his mess. The thought alone makes him want to eat glass!

That doesn’t stop Wooin from taking you out though. He’ll just take you to places away from his usual scene. Your dates can be more private that way.

★ As much as he loves a good rush of adrenaline he isn’t too eager to put you in danger. Yet he can’t seem to stop with the public quickies. The thought of someone seeing you indecent excites him. He genuinely tries not to ruin your image with his reputation. So it’s funny to think it could all go to waste because of a quick fuck in an empty stall.

The way you fidget and jump at every little sound makes it even better. You can hardly appreciate the way he rolls your clit between his forked tongue, too scared to relax. But you have no choice but to loosen up since Wooin isn’t stopping until you cum twice on his tongue.

★ Don’t ever bring Wooin into those jealous boyfriend trends. Any joke about you cheating or flirting with other guys is enough to fuck up his whole mood. It’s the best way to get him to disappear for a couple of days without a word. It’s not funny to him and never will be since he’s very possessive and just hates the thought of you being with someone else.

★ Have your friends, have your family, be social, be merry! Do whatever you want! Just don’t forget who you belong to and what he’d do if you ignore him for too long. He’s never been the clingy type but there’s something about you that has him in a chokehold. He can’t go more than two days without you. When you’re apart he’s texting you often and if you don’t respond he’s going to blow up your phone.

★ Sends nudes and videos of him masturbating to the thought of you. You’ve made the mistake of opening the messages around people, his obnoxious groaning filling the room the minute you clicked on his name. You don’t have to send them but he does love taking pictures of you. Some are off guard and unflattering, few are heavily suggestive, and a handful are videos of him playing with your pussy.

Just to have when he’s not around.

★ He loves thighs. He smacks them any time he passes you and usually bites them when he’s laying in your lap. He has plenty of pictures of your thighs covered in hickeys and or cum. They’re so soft and warm, he can’t get enough. You could make his day by walking around in nothing but a shirt and panties. Even better when you sit on his face and smother him between those luscious thighs.

★ Wooin never becomes less annoying. He teases you a lot and is quick to bother you when the opportunity comes. It’s lighthearted and sickeningly domestic though. Not meant to really upset you so if you hate something he does let him know. Don’t expect him to read your mind then blow up on him months later when you finally reach your breaking point.

Note: I’ve never read windbreaker, I don’t plan to. So I’m sure this is ooc, but then again most -if not all- hcs are.

#wooin x reader #wooin windbreaker #wooin #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker smut #windbreaker #riley writes #tw dubcon

172 notes · View notes

starsthatlinethesky · 4 months ago

Text

Headcanons For Windbreaker!!! (Mainly Nirei)

Suo and Nirei have crushes on each other, but Nirei falls first, and Suo falls harder. Nirei clocked his feelings pretty early on (Sometime after the Keel arc), whereas Suo gradually fell for Nerei.

Nirei becomes the unofficial Doctor of the class and has a talent for stitching up wounds and treating injuries, this also leads to Nerei wanting to pursue medical studies

Adding to the above, Nirei plans to go to Tokyo in the future to study medicine but has doubts about leaving the small town that he grew up in

Bofurin does have actual classes and exams, but they're run through an online program, some of the stuff is optional but the third years really push the second and first years to finish some of the work so that they can have some academic record

Nerei can sing! I’m talking he’s hitting those high notes that were in secret love song by little mix!

Suo is great at making tea but basic cooking is beyond him, Sakura shouldn’t be within ten feet of a kitchen unsupervised. So Nirei ends up making a lot of food for them.

Suo really struggles with falling for Nirei but Sakura also struggles because he’s trying to drag these twos heads out of the clouds so that they can see what’s in front of them

The entirety of class 1-1 has ended up calling Tsubakino ‘Mum’ and Umemiya ‘Dad’ at some point

Tsubakino is a Twice fan!

Umemiya goes out of his way to figure out what everyone’s home life is like at Bofurin and ensures that people that need more support get it in all the ways that they need

Suo doesn’t confess to Nirei because he’s afraid that he’ll ruin the friendship that they have and that by being in a relationship he may hold Nirei back from doing things he wants to do like going to Tokyo to study

Nirei doesn’t confess because he doesn’t think that Suo would be interested in him and that if they were to get into a relationship that Suo would come to resent him in some way

Sakura enjoys stupid phone games like candy crush and stuff

Anzai has a crush on Nagato but Nagato thought he was in love with Tsuchiya

Class 1-1 will argue with one another like siblings but my god if anyone outside of the group try’s to start something it’s all out war

Sugishita will act like he does not care at all but at the first sign of danger he will throw himself in front of the others

Nirei’s favourite movie is La La Land

Nirei also loves kpop! But he listens to a variety (Ateez, G-IDLE, NCT, Red Velvet, Xdinary Heroes)

Sakura is actually great at classes like literature studies because of his ability to emphasise and comprehend

Anyone who wants to date someone from Furin has to get Kaji’s approval because that man can clock trouble from ten miles away and knows if people will be a good match or not

But also if people in class 1-1 want to date they need to go to Sakura and see if his love metre goes off

Endo loves to cause trouble between people, and after all the fighting between them stops cause of a truce he decides to wind up the Bofurin years. He mainly does this by messing with Sakura but he loses interest when Sakura stops reacting to his teasing.

Togame and Choji get married after they go travelling around the world

#wind breaker #wind breaker satoru nii #akihito nirei #sakura haruka #suo hayato #kyotaro sugishita #headcanon #suonirei

71 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years ago

Note

Hi Jade! First of all thank you for bringing back the zombie au, it is my absolute fave! Second, if you are taking requests for it currently, maybe r (with Robin maybe?) goes and finds a gift for Steve just to make him smile (which may or may not make him break into tears with how vulnerable and emotional he's been with all the stuff he's been through?) Thank you for all your lovely writing!

thank you anon! fem!reader, 8k —You, Steve and Robin make a risky trip for non-essentials to improve your quality of life at the camp. Steve's feeling stressed, you try to make it better, and Robin finds a cat in the display section of the mattress store.

tw for zombie apocalypse typical implied violence and gore, food insecurity, injury

"We'll call it something really cool," Robin says, "like Y/N and Robin's ultimate quest for cleanliness."

Robin is a little dirty today. She's scraped her hair back into a tiny ponytail, and it flicks out at the back of her head like a feather duster. You think it's adorable, and you lean around her shoulders to try and touch it. Steve pulls you back bodily.

"Stop touching her," he says.

"Just her hair," you say.

"No, because you know how ansty she is, it's like poking a sleeping dragon."

"Shut up! Shut up, loser, I haven't been antsy at all, I'm planning a girl's trip as we speak."

You laugh and fall back into Steve's arms, the kind of laugh that makes your chest feel tight and your eyes scrunch closed. A girl's trip is definitely one way to put it.

"I'm just saying," Steve says, not just saying at all, "that you're dangerous right now. Next time I'll let her touch your hair and you can bite her hand off."

"She can touch my hair. I don't know if you've noticed, Harrington, but that right there is my very best friend."

And okay, it's not true, Steve and Robin have the strongest friendship you've ever seen, but there is a truth behind it —you and Robin get along well. It would be difficult not to love her, she's a gem, and she cares about the person you care about most in the world at the same level (though in a different calibre).

You worm out of Steve's arms to give her a quick hug. Steve steals you away again and you laugh as you go, flopping your weight onto him and almost knocking him flat onto his back.

You, Robin and Steve are sitting around the campfire in the centre of camp. It's rather big and blissfully hot, the sky a velvet black that hides the smoke. Children sit with droopy eyes to the left, some with parents and most without, though the community is full of good people with great hearts who've swooped in to help look after them. Already, an older woman named Matildhe seems to have gathered a brood of six children, all young, and all wanting cuddles. To the right, Jeremy Livingstone and Joyce Byers plan the unplannable, a map of Michigan at their feet held down by stones. Jonathan sits by his mother's legs with a baby in his lap, her sleeping face pressed to his chest. He taps her back absent-mindedly. "What about here?" he asks, drawing a circle with his finger. Will, his younger brother, moves the flashlight beam to follow his direction.

Despite the fire, the wind bites at your backs, a nippy chill. Steve has solved this by becoming your windbreaker, or so he claims.

"She loves me," you murmur.

"I love her," Robin agrees.

"That's why you can't come on our girl's trip," you say.

"Girls," Steve says, measured, "I'm unsure, but I'm starting to think that you think you're going somewhere without me."

"No, we know you'll crash the party. But we're going to pretend you aren't there," Robin says.

Her chipper attitude makes you laugh for the millionth time tonight. Steve laughs in tandem behind you, his breath fanning warmly over the shell of your ear.

It smells like woodsmoke and pine needles meshed together here, two smells that alone are nice but together give you a headache. You wrinkle your nose and sit up properly, worried about squashing Steve or hurting his bad knee. "The smell is so strong out here," you say.

"Shit, this guy bothering you?" Steve asks, pointing his thumb at the fire.

"Kick his ass, Steve," Robin says.

"Are you losers drunk?" Dustin asks.

You twist on your butt to face him, Steve's favourite sixteen year old standing in the dark wearing two coats and three scarfs.

"Are you cold?" Steve asks. "Come and sit with us."

"We aren't drunk, just happy," you say, gesturing for him to do as Steve said.

Dustin sits by the fire with you, groaning. "What is there to be happy about?"

You bite your top lip. Dustin is so young, and he's lost a lot. More than he ever should've had to lose, twice, his sense of normalcy destroyed. You don't blame him for being depressed over what is possibly the most traumatic thing he will ever have to experience. You don't want to offer him empty platitudes or tell him how to feel, and Steve doesn't want to either, but he can't watch him mope. He loves him too much.

"Dusty," he teases, "don't be so down. Haven't you seen this glorious and ridiculously enormous bonfire we have going on?"

"I see it," Dustin says from behind gritted teeth.

"Hey, do you want to sleep in our tent tonight?" Steve asks, a tad more seriously. "It's warmer with more people, and it's not as crowded as you think it'll be."

"No, thanks."

"You could drag your tent closer," you say, quieter, trying not to smother him or embarrass him with parenting he never asked for.

"I don't like being near the boundary. You guys might be okay with ending up as geek chow but the rest of us have common sense."

"Well, we didn't really have a choice there," Robin says.

Which is true. The kids all get to sleep in tents close to the fire, and the adults are a row behind. You guys aged out of the kids category a long time ago, so you're the ones who'll be eaten first, but you're also the ones who'll hear the can alarms when they ring on the tripwires first.

Steve sleeps with his baseball bat anyhow.

You disentangle yourself from Steve's grips and meet his eyes. He doesn't need you to tell him, but you give him a look that hopefully says, Maybe you should talk to him. Eyebrows raised gently, lips pursed.

Steve sighs like he's preparing himself and shuffles around you. He doesn't begrudge Dustin needing cheering up, you know that. He probably just wishes he could offer Dustin more than, "We have food and water and a place to pee."

Robin crawls right to your side and sets back on her haunches. "Here's what I think we should do."

"Wait, you don't wanna wait for Steve to explain?"

"Nope, he'll say no. Me and you have to find the best way to sell it so we can actually go."

"You aren't kidding about the girl's trip?"

"Nope. Look, the situation is dire. We know where the mall is, we've been there tons of times. The whole group can't go and we don't trust most people to keep us alive anyways, so me, you and Steve will go. We'll sleep there or something too, so there's no pressure on us to rush back and stress out Steve."

"Wouldn't it be safer to hurry back?" you ask.

Robin hums. "Maybe. Uh, if we travel at night like I've been thinking about doing I don't think we could hurry back."

"At night?"

"We're basically nocturnal at this point." You dip your head toward her mildly. She drops the slight facade she'd had, "I would feel better. If we went at night."

The College, the community you and your group had inhabited until recently, was attacked and destroyed by raiders. They were likely drawn by the black smoke of the small bonfire in the quad of the campus, lit to celebrate a quasi-thanksgiving. It wasn't supposed to end up the way it had.

Robin got attacked. Steve was there to help her get away uninjured, earning himself a black eye. She can't sleep if she's by herself anymore. You hate yourself for not being there to protect them.

She's afraid of being attacked by people rather than geeks now. Travelling at night increases the likelihood of dying via geek (you can't see them, they can smell you), but it vastly decreases the chance of meeting other people. It makes sense that a night time excursion is her preference.

You just don't know how you feel about it, and you have no clue how you might convince Steve to go along with it.

"So you want us to hike to the mall at night. Is it on the map? Where even is it?"

"I don't remember the name, Steve'll know it 'cos we've been there, but what matters is that I know for a fact there's a fancy soap store. I need soap, Y/N. I can't take this anymore. And if I don't brush my teeth soon I'm going to scream, my finger can only do so much."

Occasionally three of you take a pea sized dollop of paste and rub it over your teeth in an effort to feel less disgusting, the same way that you wash with a rag and cold water behind the treeline, and dunk your clothes in the river without detergent. Water is a good cleaner, but eventually there's a funk in the clothes that can't be washed out without soap, or Robin's current issue: oily hair.

Without soap and toothbrushes, you feel about as disgusting as a person can feel. If you don't make this trip soon, you'll be in the exact same boat as Robin, one bad stain away from screaming.

"And the fancy soap shop definitely has soap?"

"Definitely. And there's a department store with blankets, too. We could really improve the quality of our miserable lives."

"You don't have to convince me," you say, though it might not hurt in actuality. You're hesitant to leave the camp, but if Robin's leaving she can't go without Steve (who would never let her go alone), or you, because you refuse to be separated from Steve (or her, honestly). "It's Grim Fandango who needs greasing." Grim being Steve.

Steve has managed to wrap an arm around Dustin. You're half-expecting Dustin to be wriggling under his touch, desperate for an escape, a teenage boy allergic to both sincerity and affection, but Dustin's dissolved like jello powder in boiling water, totally slouched into Steve's side. Steve's hand runs the younger boy's upper arm briskly.

"It'll be okay, dude, I promise. We've come this far," Steve says.

"I'm just tired," Dustin says quietly.

"Maybe we should sell it, as uh, an enrichment trip," you suggest to Robin. "We can get stuff for the kids, some board games or something." They need an escape.

"I miss my books," Robin says.

"Holy shit, me too. Steve says you can tell the plot of every Agatha Christie novel from memory, is that true?" you ask.

"Only the good ones. Can I lie down on you?"

You let Robin lie down with her head on your thigh. It can't be comfortable but maybe it's better than the floor, or maybe it's just nice to be close to someone. You like having Robin with you. You'd been so apprehensive of her when you met, not because she was Steve's best friend —though that did worry you to some extent— but because you had trust issues to the neck and she was the first person beside Steve to be nice to you without motivation. In this world, that doesn't check out.

"What ones do you know?"

"Murder on the Orient Express?" she offers.

"Okay. Set the scene, Buckley."

Steve returns just after the detective finds out that Ratchet has been murdered. "I love this part," he says.

"Then let me tell it."

Robin spins for a while, but you peel away from the fire before you're too tired to stand and retreat to your makeshift tent. It's a tarp held up by two sticks and a blanket on the floor, but it works to keep away the rain and most bugs. There's not quite enough room for you three, but there's also literally no other option, and none of you mind. You squeeze in like tinned sardines, sleeping in your coats and shoes.

In the morning, you and Robin attempt to sell your idea to Steve over lukewarm oxtail soup. You and Steve share. Robin had to tip half into a bowl for someone else. The rationing is going okay.

You could've ended up with a can of garden peas, or chopped tomatoes.

"It's actually better if it's only us, you see, because we can sneak around and it'll be much quieter. And they don't need us here right now, everything's settled. And me and Y/N want to so we should."

Steve wraps your hand around the can of soup so you don't touch the hot bottom. He doesn't look like he's even remotely listening to Robin, his eyes on your face and his hands not far behind. He neatens you up, so to speak, scratching a little dirt speck from your cheek and folding the rolled collar of your shirt. "This," he says finally, his hand curling behind your neck, "sounds like a very bad idea."

You shudder happily as he starts to scratch your neck down to your shoulders. "Steve, what's bad about it? We'll be like the Three Musketeers, travelling in darkness, a mission for the people."

"Did you ever read that book?" Steve asks, his hand dropping to your shoulder, where it stays for a reverent second. You look gross and he still wants to squeeze you.

"No," you admit, lips on the sharp edge of your soup. You take a careful sip.

"We get there quickly, spend a night on the mattresses at the department store, and… Hey, why don't we go live in the mall?" Robin asks.

The idea of a real mattress is seductive, but not that much.

"Because we don't want to paint a huge target on our backs?" you ask.

"I'm kidding." Robin peers down at her soup unhappily. "I really hate oxtail."

Steve noticeably flickers. He meets your eyes, and you think he's speaking to you in his head. Fucking hell, I can't believe what I'm about to agree to.

"If you can convince Mrs. Byers to delegate us an actual weapon, then okay, fine, we can go to the mall." He stretches out his mostly healed knee and rubs it with both hands. "Fuck. A knife. Actually, I want each of us to have a weapon. So if you can somehow magic that into being, we can go."

"I don't see why we even had to ask permission," Robin jokes, "like it's the sixties or something." She springs up to her feet, forces her oxtail soup into the hands of one of the preteens by the fire, and beelines for the small crowd of kids surrounding one much taller Joyce.

"You'd still come with us even if you didn't want to," you say.

"Yeah, obviously. Robin's right, this isn't the sixties. That being said, if it was a worse plan, I'd tie you to a tree."

"I could be into that," you tease, pleased when he scoffs through a laugh. His elbow drives into your side. "Stop, fiend."

"No, fiend. Take the force of my elbow." He nudges you.

You elbow back. He elbows harder. You potentially give him a bruise and feel extremely bad when he "Oofs," aloud.

"Sorry," you say, climbing up on your knees to put your arms on his shoulders. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

He shoves you away from him and you're evil, you're selfish, you want him to dote. You fall flat on your back in the dirt and grass, covering your smile with the crook of your elbow so he doesn't immediately know you're fine.

"Shit," he cusses, kneeling between your legs, moving to hover over you. "I didn't mean to knock you down…" He sees your smile. "You lying conniving trickster."

You smile harder, lips pressed together and your chest light as a feather for the first time in days, until suddenly he's squished on top of you and pressing down. "Ow," you fake, wriggling away from him. "I think there's a twig in my brain."

He wriggles with you. "You suck, you made me think I hurt you."

"Don't be a wuss, I get hurt all the time, how do you even know I'm not hurt?"

He sighs all quiet and lifts your head off of the grass. "I can't see through your hair," he says, "did it actually hurt?"

You take his face into your hands. Your fingers are very cold, but he doesn't flinch.

"I'm messing with you, H."

"When did that nickname catch on?"

You rub his cheeks with your thumbs. Fingers behind his ears, you smooth over his short scratchy stubble affectionately. Quick, you lift your chin and touch your lips to his. It's hardly a kiss.

He leans down slowly and makes it a better one.

"Stop," Robin says, kicking you in the ribs. She isn't cruel about it, more of a toe touch.

"Oh, hi, that was a quick rejection," you say, frowning.

Robin beams. "Actually, we've been approved. One knife apiece and a request for children's clothes. Get packing!"

She whizzes off in another direction, seemingly to pack and gather the allocated weaponry.

Steve drops his chin back down to you.

"Does she have secret things we don't know about?" he asks.

You scratch his scalp, "Mm… I'm not supposed to tell you."

He sits up. You frown.

"She really has a secret stash?"

"No, Steve," you laugh. "No, of course she doesn't. Where would she hide them?"

Steve yanks you up by the arm playfully. You pretend to fight him, but it's no use. You'll do anything he wants you to.

—

Steve didn't necessarily think that a hike through the outskirts of an infested city would be easy, but he also hadn't realised it would be this boring. Especially a trip he's already made in the past. Boring and kind of hard.

It's not because you aren't capable —you might've taken a hit when The College collapsed, but you've mostly recovered, and your endurance is good. You have the best survival skills you've ever had, and Robin is similarly ready for whatever it is that might get thrown at you. Too bad preparation doesn't make you a ninja.

He isn't at his peak and he was no man of steel beforehand, and although he was good enough to keep you both alive, he's not sure if it's still true. Plus, he wasn't expecting to feel so moody.

You're marching on like a true warrior next to him, your hand around his wrist and swinging gently, your eyes on the ground. Steve's flashlight carves a weak path through the dusk. Soon, it'll be completely dark, and that's when he imagines his worrying will reach a fever pitch.

For now, he tries to be chill.

"Is my hand not good enough for you?" he asks.

"I figure you can pull away from me quicker if you need to if we're not, like, sewed together."

"You have weird hands," Robin interjects. "They're big. I wouldn’t hold them either.”

"That's why they're nice hands, Robin," you say. "Well, maybe they're just nice because I love him."

"I love him. Mostly. He still has weird hands," she says.

"You don't get it," you say.

You wrap your arms around his bicep and hug it quickly before backing away again. He thinks you kiss his coat, but he really can't tell.

"I don't think I want to get it," Robin says.

You're quieter when you ask, "Is that really true? You don't want to be in love?"

In the dark, and at night, it's quiet. It's nearly always quiet everywhere you go nowadays, but it feels immense this far from the camp. Steve is on edge. Too distracted for heart to hearts. But he wants to know the answer too, so he stays nice and quiet.

"I love that you're in love," Robin says lightly. "And I love you both. But I've seen you guys when you think you're going to lose each other, and surviving is hard enough without… that."

You let your hand slide down to his hand, your palm flat to the top, not holding it but holding him.

Steve clears his throat. "It's worth losing my mind every time she decides to wander off because of the peace she gives me when we're together."

"The peace?" Robin asks. She sounds like she wants to be incredulous but his sincerity has tripped her up.

"I'm with her and…" He can see the side of your face in the flashlight. You're smiling shyly, your gaze on the grass beneath your shoes. Footsteps rustle in the gap of his words. "I don't want to be anywhere else as long as she's there."

"It sounds like a toothache," Robin says.

"You know, I used to get bad toothaches all the time before we found you, and Steve made me a teeth guard out of a leather armchair with a pen knife and a needle and thread."

"Did you just make that up? Trying to convince me about the magic of love?" Robin asks.

"No, he really made it for me, I used to keep it in my nightstand," you say. He can hear your smile.

He made it because watching you cry from toothache left him feeling powerless. A guy who'd never even held a needle and thread before bent over his lap with a flashlight in the hours while you slept until his eyes burned because watching you sniffle made him feel sick. He can't describe the ache of it, loving you but not having kissed you, or even really told you, his girl so stressed at night your jaw had locked tight and you were reduced to whimpers each morning. Having to watch you pretend it wasn't happening until you couldn't, until you broke down crying with your hand wrapped around his wrist like it is now. Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Steve, I just– I want– I don't know– I can't–

He was useless. He was stupid. He could barely bring himself to rub your back because he thought another touch might knock you over.

Calm down, honey, he'd murmured. Just calm down.

He never could've imagined seeing you cry like that before he did. You couldn't move. You explained it like a headache when words became feasible again, which, Steve's had headaches; concussive migraines that were white hot and everywhere. So he could imagine it even if he'd never felt it, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it. Willing to try anything, he'd even wondered if he could pull your tooth out himself. Mouth surgery is prone to infection, and he couldn't face levelling that amount of pain onto you personally. So rather than fix the tooth, he'd have to fix the stress. He couldn't fix the stress, so he looked for anything at all to ease the pain. Ibuprofen, codeine, even a course of antibiotics. And then, finally, the leather mouth guard. Leather stacked and sewed with sanitised, loving hands.

"It's weird what that kind of love can bring out of you," Steve says quietly, matching the surroundings. "I did a great job. I'm a seamstress."

Robin pretends to throw up generously and noisily. Steve shushes her. You, in a very good mood with no signs of calming down, laugh behind your hand.

"I can make you another one," he offers. He hadn't thought about it yet, but of course you don't have it anymore. Anything in your nightstand is lost forever.

"You might need to. I'll be a stressed mess all over again if we don't find some socks, I can feel my ankle bone piercing the back of my shoes," you say. No socks either.

Robin's flashlight turns quickly to the right. You and Steve flinch at the same time to guard the other, peering in the exposed direction. There aren't many trees around here, so all to be seen is yellow-green grass and empty air.

"Sorry, I got the heebies," Robin says. "Maybe it was your disgusting declarations of love."

"Hardy-har. Where the fuck do you think we are right now?" Steve asks.

"Wait, you don't know?" you ask.

"You have the map," he says back.

"Oh, right. But how do we navigate in the dark? We don't have a compass."

"I have the compass!" Robin announces.

"From where?" you ask.

"How did you think we'd get there in the dark, angel?" Steve asks you genuinely.

He doesn't have time to wonder if it's okay to call you angel. He's never done it before, but it felt right in the moment. You're kind of like an angel, protective and sweet and a symbol for goodness.

"I thought because you guys already knew where it was– we– we set off while it was still light! I assumed we'd just walk straight."

Steve and Robin laugh at you, but not without love.

You pretend to sulk for a while, though you shine your flashlight at the map when he asks, your arm threaded through his and face leaning on his shoulder. "I'm so confused," you mumble.

"Don't worry. I know where we are now," he says.

"No, I know where we are too, but I'm confused as to why I thought this was a good idea."

"This is a good idea because I've had greasy hair for two weeks and I feel like a worm," Robin says. "And we need blankets, and moisturiser, and to feel like real people."

Steve has a better list than that. He needs moisturisers for your cracked hands, antiseptic for the healing cut on your thigh. He needs shaving foam or at the least a goddamn razor, a new shirt, you both need underwear and you're in dire need of shoes that fit. He wouldn't mind a compression support for his knee, a pair of scissors, and most of all a box of cigarettes —a quick trip to the pharmacy would fix a lot of problems.

"I feel pretty real."

"You're real pretty," Steve says quickly.

"Yes! Oh, yes! Kiss?" you cheer, delighted at his swift wit.

Steve knows —he knows— you're putting on a brave face for him. He cried on your shoulder and you haven't cried since. You're being the strong one. You're trying to make it work.

You've always been the strong one. Steve has taken care of you so many times; held your hand in torrential rain when you were too tired to go on; scrambled through rotten floorboards to find you on your back and unconscious, fed you water in your sleep half-worried you were dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He's fought for you, the dead and the living —he would do worse for you. But you've done the impossible, surviving every ache and pain, coming back from things he didn't think you would. You crawled through glass for him. You stumbled in the dark bleeding and exhausted to do as he asked, to meet him at the end of an endless day.

He gives you the kiss you asked for. There's only one clue that you aren't as happy as you seem. Your breath catches as he leans down, like you thought he might not give you one after all.

It takes you hours to get there and way longer than you thought. You don't realise you're upon it until the grass turns to roads under your feet, and the road turns to parking lot. There's a shattering of glass spread over the floor like a spilled bag of salt that crunches under your shoes. Steve grips your elbow and the three of you creep inside past the doors. They're open, which is bad and good. Bad because someone's been here since the last time, and might still be inside. Good, because Steve's not sure any of you have the energy to open them.

"I don't think I have to say this, but please, let's whisper from here," Steve suggests.

"Damn, do we have to?" Robin whispers. "I was just about to start my rendition of Singing in the Rain."

You laugh through your nose.

"We'll go up to the bedding store, okay? And we'll grab some blankets, and then we'll find a storage room and barricade ourselves in."

"Steve, I wanna sleep on a mattress," Robin whines.

"But we don't know who's here," he says. "Buckley, I swear, I'll carry a mattress back to camp for you if that's what you want, but we have to live to see the morning first."

"It's not like we haven't done it before," you say, nudging her gently. "Can we go back to whispering? I'm really nervous. I don't want to attract anything."

"Sorry," Robin whispers.

Being outside in the dark had felt horrifying but mostly manageable. Being inside is terrifying too, and though your flashlights make it easy to navigate now that there's walls for the light to reflect off of, it's scarier knowing this is an enclosed space. You can only run so far in either direction.

Your fingers twist in the corner of his hoodie. He doesn't say anything. For a split second, he remembers you doing it in the past, before he'd even thought about kissing you, when you were scared and he was more angry than anything else (though not usually at you). He'd pretend he didn't feel it. He was a bitch but he was never cruel, and if you needed to scrunch the hem of his jacket in your hand to feel better then that was alright.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

"I'm okay. I think my cut is weeping."

"What?" he asks, head clicking as he turns to you. "Since when?"

"Not sure, it just feels weird, like it's wet."

"This is the kind of thing I'd love to know." Steve sighs. "The bedding place is up here somewhere. You can let me take a look at it."

You, Steve and Robin walk up the frozen escalators, your footsteps making banging metal sounds that echo through what feels like the entire mall. Hackles raised, Steve ushers you both into the bedding store, pulling Robin by the sleeve before she can stop to deliberate over blankets to the very back of the store where a door demarcates the Staff Only room.

"Listen," he whispers, "we are going to go in there back to back, just like we always do. Robs, I promise, as soon as I've checked her leg, I'll help you do whatever you want. Cool?"

"My leg is fine."

"If it gets infected, I know for a fact there aren't any antibiotics here," he says. They've looked. "We have to stay in front of it. Are you ready?"

"Steve, we're not amateurs," Robin says. She hums. "Okay, I might be, but you owe Y/N some respect."

"No, I'm an amateur."

"You're not an amateur," Steve says. "Girls, please."

"Can we veto 'girls'? I want to be dudes," Robin says.

"Robin–"

"Okay, okay! Let's do it."

—

You wake up with the driest mouth in the world, your head bumping from hunger and bad sleep —the floor still feels like the floor, no matter how many pillows you have— to sounds just outside of the door.

You hike up on elbows and feel your heart climb into your mouth. Steve's hand is on your neck, and Robin's foot is over your calf, and this is a very bad time to be locked in, especially weighed down as you are by fleece blankets.

"Steve," you whisper, blindly reaching out with your own hand. You accidentally smack him in the face with the base of your thumb. "Oh, shit, sorry. Steve, there's something outside."

He's impressively alert when he opens his eyes. He couldn't have been sleeping deeply. "What kind of something?" he whispers back, sitting up.

He pushes the blankets away and climbs onto his knees. The noise happens again, quickly followed by a smash and a third sound like a thump.

Robin flinches awake next to you. You put your hand on her shoulder, hoping it says, Hey, it's fine, you're fine.

"Where's your bag?" Steve asks you, standing up tall.

It's disgusting, but you're holed up in the employee bathroom. As far from the toilet and sinks as physically possible but with a buffer from the door. Staying in a storage closet hadn't been possible, the staff room door hanging off the hinges enough to not close, and the storage room a medium space crammed to bursting with mattresses and shelves of sheets that wobbled threateningly when touched.

Your bag is somewhere under the blankets. You scramble onto your knees and search for it. You'd put your things away for the sake of neatness. Silly move.

"Here," you say, pulling out a flashlight for Steve. He takes it into one hand, pen knife in the other unsheathed. "It's probably a geek."

"Yeah. Can you put your shoes on?" he asks, not unkindly.

You shake yourself and do as he asks you to. Robin helps you up. Steve creeps to the door, waiting for you both before he opens it into the main floor.

"I don't think we need the torch," Robin says.

Daylight illuminates the room through the windows set in the west wall. You all squint and step out, arms in defensive positions, treading softly so as not to be heard.

Another thump. You can't hear footsteps, exactly, just the occasional, irregular thump. Geeks are usually noisier. Dragging steps. They'll walk into walls if they're following a specific scent.

Steve turns to you both and raises his eyebrows. Brace yourselves.

He hits the butt of the knife into the wall three times.

Nothing shows itself. You stand frozen for a few minutes anyways, even when Steve and Robin decide they want to venture further into the room and scope out the place. You watch their backs, heart still pounding and with no signs of stopping.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve curses.

“What?” you and Robin hiss at the same time.

“Come here. Y/N, come over here,” he says, like you aren’t already half-way across the floor to meet them.

Steve gestures at a showcase bed with velvet purple sheets. They’re not even dusty, no signs of time or wear, nothing to speak of a different age. Nothing, that is, beside the dead bird on the pillowcases, and the carpeting of fur surrounding it. It's odd for Steve to point you towards any gore, and you're a tad shocked, until he takes your forearm in his hand and pulls you in front of him. "See?" he murmurs.

He points to the pillow. You follow his finger.

Robin speaks first. Correction, Robin squeaks first.

"Is that a cat?" she asks, all the excitement of her discovery squashed tightly into a frankly impressive whisper-shout.

Robin refuses to move after that. She begs Steve for some of the dried jerky (of unknown origin and animal) from the rucksack and lays down on her stomach when the tugged tabby you've found flees beneath the bed frame. "Here, kitty," she murmurs, her gentlest tones. "Come on, killer, I need your help."

Steve nudges you.

"Oh, you're talking to me?" you ask Robin.

"I need your help," Robin insists, looking at you from over her shoulder. Her hair is limp around her face, her cheeks flushed red with excitement. "She has to know we're all friends."

"Watch my back?" you ask Steve.

He sits on the end of the bed, "Don't have to ask."

You set down carefully next to Robin and peer under the bed for the tabby. Your arrival has scared her half to death.

"Maybe she's only used to seeing geeks," you say.

"Maybe she thinks we're geeks," Robin says agreeably.

"Me and Steve found a dog once, but he wouldn't let us touch. He begged for food and then he ran away," you say.

"The dog wouldn't let you touch him, or Steve wouldn't let you touch the dog?" Robin asks, waving the jerky around.

"A bit of both."

"Kitty," Robin sings.

"Oh, god, this is comfy as fuck," Steve mumbles, laying down in bed. "Robin, you have to get up and watch your six, babe."

You and Robin laugh in sync and aloud at his 'babe'. It's you who stands and continues taking mild guard. You're not worried about intruders anymore, thinking that any company would have presented itself already, but you like keeping them safe. You take check of every corner of the room, spinning in the world's slowest circle. Robin baby talks to the cat under the bed while offering scraps of jerky. Steve, having curled away from the bird, lets his fingertips brush your thigh each time you turn.

"Getting dizzy?" he asks.

"Yes. And hungry, too, which is a weird feeling together. Can I have some of the jerky?"

Steve offers the bag. "If you're hungry, eat what you want, but if you can keep it to a little portion just in case we can't find anything else, honey…"

You stop spinning so much to eat jerky. You eat more than you should, you hunger a cruel, sharpened thing that jabs from your stomach and up into your diaphragm. You hand Steve back the bag before you can eat someone else's share and decide to focus on the other negatives in your life, like your shoes.

"Can we look for shoes soon?" you ask.

"Yeah, honey," Steve says. Honey, honey. His voice is soft with an ever-present fatigue.

"I don't think this cat likes me very much," Robin says, still singing.

"She's just scared. Maybe if we leave and come back again she'll realise we're friendly," Steve says.

"Yes sir." Robin stands, brushing herself down. "Oh, ew, Steven, how can you lie there? You know the cat's probably spayed all over that bed, right?"

Steve springs up. "Okay, ew."

“It’s okay,” she says. “Let’s go get some new clothes.”

It’s harder than it should be. The three of you move from store to store on high alert for what has to be an hour, searching for practical, fitting clothes. The time for modesty is over, and you take turns changing in front of one another while the others make sure you aren’t about to become naked geek feed. You’re so unclean that putting clean clothes on feels wrong, but you do it anyhow. You double back to the store with suitcases and bags and fill a suitcase to bursting point with the clothes that Joyce requested for the children. You sit yourselves down at some point, always exhausted, to try on sneakers. The relief of finding and changing into a pair that fits cannot be understated. When you’re sure there’s at least pants and a sweater for every child, you pack up and head for the fancy soap shop.

Robin is ecstatic. Ideally, you can all carry one bag on your shoulders and pull one suitcase, so you each fill a bag with soaps and brushes and powders, figuring that if you find food or medication worth carrying you can empty one of the bags rather than double back.

“I’m sorry we didn’t actually sleep on a mattress,” Steve says.

Robin shrugs nonchalantly, kicking aside an empty helium tank with her foot as you pass by a card and gift store. She’s grown less happy as time goes on, unsatisfied with the day's events. Finding nice soap hadn’t felt important with no water around to use it. The cat was rabid, you’re all living off of jerky and river water, and now you have to hike home again in the dark, hours of fear and tenseness.

“I miss your car,” Robin says.

You hadn’t ever been in Steve’s car, but you say, “Me too.”

“Maybe we should find a real tent,” Steve says, apparently not listening.

“Isn’t that kind of mean?” Robin asks.

“I mean, if the others wanted a tent, they could’ve come.”

“I don’t think it's mean,” you say. “But I don’t see how we can carry it.”

“I can carry it,” Steve says. “Just a small one. Big enough for us.”

“Does us include me?” Robin asks.

Steve laughs. “Duh, it includes you. It’s Y/N that’s gonna have to sleep outside.”

“Or me and her can have the tent and you can be our watchdog.”

“We can’t, um, stay outside forever, right?” you ask quietly.

Steve puts his arm over your shoulder for a quick squeeze. “No, we can’t. We’ll find somewhere permanent soon. There’s barely any geeks the more we get into Michigan, who knows. Maybe there's none at all up top. But…" He lets you go. "I'll find somewhere."

"Steve, you sound ridiculous," Robin says. "'I'll find somewhere,'" she quotes, voice deepened.

Robin might joke, but you feel reassured by Steve's promise. You keep your head up for the rest of the day.

—

Later, much later, when you've travelled back to the camp with aching everythings and taken the world's coldest bath in the river nearby, you, Robin and Steve pitch your brand new tent and near collapse. It was night when you finally reached the camp that day, and so it was morning by the time you laid down. Steve has to admit that bathing and building a tent in the dark had been fun, annoying and indicative of the situation but a pleasure anyhow, to hear his favourite people in the whole world trying not to shriek at the cold water, overjoyed and laughing as you finally washed your face with real soap, and terrified that the river would knock you down.

You're shaking with the cold now in his arms, practically sitting on his thigh as you brush his still damp hair back from his eyes.

"I can't believe you're still cold," he says, kissing the line of your jaw affectionately.

Robin, despite hours without sleep, had volunteered to help Sarah corral the younger kids for some early breakfast. Steve thinks it's because she likes Sarah. Your theory was that she's generous enough to give you a half hour of privacy. She's good like that.

Whatever it is, you're alone for the first time in days. It's no different than when you're with friends, only you're touchier and Steve's an honest fool.

You wrap one of your new blankets tighter around your shoulders and shift. "Am I hurting you?"

"Nope." He squeezes you tightly to his front. "You're shivering. Put your hands under my shirt."

You do it quickly, smiling like he's given you the world. "'Member when you'd let me do this? Even when we weren't really dating?"

"We were dating," he says.

"What, before or after the taco truck incident?"

"Before," he says sharply. He pauses. "Alright, maybe not then. But we were definitely dating when you'd put your hands in my shirt. You don't do that for just anyone, I'm not a run around."

"Steve, you used to let me sleep in your lap. Like, a month after we met."

"'Cos you get so damn cold," he says. You're still shivering. He rests his cheek against your neck. "If I didn't let you, you'd spend the whole night shivering and making these really sad sounds."

He's not even teasing. Just being honest.

"I'm sensitive," you say.

"You're used to sleeping indoors like a normal person."

You ease off of his lap. He doesn't want you to; he'd keep you close forever. Plus, he feels guilty cuddling you in front of Robin because he knows public displays are uncomfortable, so he wants to really take you in while he can.

"I have something to tell you," you say.

"Oh?"

"Or, something to give you. But I can tell you something if that matters."

"Tell me anything." Everything. He wants to know everything you have to say.

"Well… well, before this happened…" You rummage through the bag you'd brought home with you, the tip of your tongue peaking out. "You know, before the world half ended, I wasn't– I don't know if I can say it."

"Please?" he asks.

You pull something into your hand. "Alright. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love. And then the world ended, and I really didn't think I would, but you found me and I love you, so it wasn't true."

He thinks about it. You, years ago, when he'd see you in the halls at school or walking home. He doesn't have much recollection of you beyond that, but it aches in a weird way to think you'd been walking around feeling like you wouldn't be loved.

Steve licks his lips. "I get it, because I kind of worried the same thing. Like I'd keep loving people more than they loved me."

"And then you met Robin?"

"Exactly. She taught me more about love as my best friend than any of the girlfriends I had."

"Well, I didn't get a Robin back then, but I have you now, and I guess I want you to know it's important to me," you say. "I know things are so hard right now, I know," —you clear your throat as emotion creeps in to your tone— "you put on a brave face for me. I know you're tired. But I keep going for you, and you keep going for me, and I want you to have something so you remember that even if I'm… not around."

Steve sits up straight. "Hey, you're not going anywhere."

You blink rapidly.

"Where is it that you think you're going without me?" he asks, softer.

"Nowhere. But I just need you to know how much I loved you."

"Love," he corrects.

"How much I love you," you agree, sniffling. You look around at the tent floor, your shoulders raised just so. "Sorry, I'm not gonna cry or anything, I just hate thinking about it."

You hand him something wrapped in a new sock. He bites his lip to stop from laughing at the wrapping and unpeels his gift.

It's a watch. Silver, heavy, glass unscathed and hands tick tick ticking. Steve doesn't know if the time is accurate. His old watch broke a long time ago, but this one looks vaguely similar.

"You gave me a necklace, once, with a little diamond. I know I don't have it anymore, I shouldn't have taken it off. But you gave it to me when I was miserable, and I know you're not miserable, but–"

"I am," he says, rubbing his thumb over the watch. There's a tiny diamond set at the bottom of the clock face. He has no idea why, but the idea that you saw it and remembered his gift that long ago, that you wanted him to know you love him, that pays for some truth. "I'm miserable. I'm so scared for us." He breathes out hard. "Sorry."

Steve's eyes tear up. He tries not to let it show, but he's looking down at the watch and his vision is blurring, and he's thinking Fuck, fuck, I'm crying in front of her again.

You shuffle across the plastic floor toward him and clutch his hand. He's shaking minutely. You must feel it.

"It's okay, baby," you murmur.

He ducks his head.

"It's okay. I know," you say.

"I know that you know," he says.

"But it's hard," you prompt.

"Yeah."

You needle your arm behind his neck and him close. He can't hold back anymore, throwing his arms around your waist because why would you say that stuff to him? You're so evil, you're horrible, you're the very best thing that's ever happened to him and he loves you and what if you do die? Nobody will ever, ever be like you. There's no one out there with your smile, nobody who turns at the sound of his voice as you do, happy before you've set eyes on him and ecstatic when you have.

And if you live (please, God, if you live), Steve wants to give you a better life than this. He's constantly panicking because he doesn't know how.

But you don't mind. You don't love him less for the situation.

"I don't even know what to tell you," you say, stroking the hair at the back of his neck tenderly, "cos I tell you I love you so much it doesn't feel like what I mean. I love you. I love you, Steve."

He hugs you until he's not crying, wishing his cheeks would dry themselves when he finally raises his head and kisses your cheek. "Thank you," he says roughly.

Steve sits back and wipes his nose. You offer the sock. He laughs and bats it away.

"I love you, too," he says. He thrusts his wrist at you. "Strap me in?"

You fasten Steve's watch and, in what's becoming a theme, you kiss his pulse.

"Sorry things have been so hard," you say, adjusting the watch until it's sat comfortably.

"You make it easier."

"Guys!" Robin says, forcing her way into the tent with an exuberant smile on her face. There's something in her arms, a wriggling mass of matted fur. "Look! The cat followed us home! I'm gonna name him Stinkyboy! Or Shark. Get up, I need help catching a fish!" She waves the cat's paw at you both. "I knew he liked me!"

—-

the Steve zombie au

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

546 notes · View notes

dorayakichan · 1 year ago

Note

hello, can i request nsfw hcs for the sabbath crew? (you can leave out red glasses + hyuk if you don’t write for them) thank you!!

Windbreaker nsfw headcanons: Sabbath Crew (Joker, Wooin, Hyuk x fem!reader)

"You know I'm one of the bad guys, right?"

Genre: headcanon, smut

CW: MDNI, nsfw, smut, oral, penetration, rough, fem!reader is aged up

Joker

He had noticed you since the beginning of the tournament, in fact, it was impossible for him not to when you were so dazzling and attractive.

Yet, you were enemies and the further the tournament went the more your crew and his clashed.

Who would have thought that in between all these clashes, something more would have sparked something so wrong yet so good that both of you, were unable to stop now.

He grips your hips tightly as he inserts himself into you, nearly bruising your soft thighs, pushing all of his member inside of your swollen core. His grunts and your whimpers fill the room as he looks at your pleading innocent stare.

“More!....faster!” you are always giving those pleading eyes to him. Which is also his signal and his consent to do things to you a woman’s body like yours would have it hard to withstand. He slams hard so hard that his dick touches your clit, it’s wrong, it’s dangerous yet you love the feeling of pain coursing through you as he doesn’t stop at that.

He is rough fucking you as if he is possessed, molding the shape of your inside to the shape of his cock. He doesn’t stop nor slow down even when tears start coming out of your eyes, because he knows that's how you like it, he knows your deepest desires and fantasies. As he moves his arms up and down your body resting them on your boobs and squeezing them.

He sucks on your nipples and licks them as if they are the most delicious thing he has ever tasted in his life, as he comes closer to his release.

“I’m close.” He says waiting for your approval before increasing the speed, and releasing himself inside of you, obviously with a condom on. There is no way this man would risk having to take one more responsibility in his life.

He lays beside you as you snuggle into his opened arms, laying your head on his chest. You give him a peck smiling at him.

“You know I’m one of the bad guys right?” he asks you.

“It’s too late to say this now after what you did…Hmm?” you give him a kiss, a more passionate and lustful one this time getting on top of him. “Wanna go for another one?” you seductively ask.

Wooin

Once you had come to cheer for your friends and that’s when that day you happened to cross paths with this infamous guy. Another time you met him again in another race as you were cheering for your friends he approached you and asked for your number.

Here you are now, getting your face nearly sucked as he devours you. It happened once, and you thought it was all there was going to be. Then it happened one more time and another and another until you both found out you couldn’t stop it anymore whatever this was you would always go back to him and he would always call you and only you.

As he grabs you by your waist shoving you on his couch he unbuckles his pants giving you a full sight of his erect cock. “Are you sure you can take this baby? After all, you know I’m one of the bad guys, right?

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, while keeping eye contact as you lick the tip of his member. Teasing him, moving your tongue in circles around it slowly before putting it all in your mouth.

“I guess that’s a yes then.” He smiles, pushing your head deeper making you nearly choke.

Your movements in the beginning are slow as you adjust your mouth to his length but they don’t stay like that for long as you feel your hair getting grabbed harshly. He starts fucking your mouth as if having been deprived of food and water for days.

“Keep your eyes up!” He orders. Wooin loves the teardrops falling out of your eyes as you nearly choke on his member in absolute need of air which he deprives you of, until the moment of his release. And even then he keeps his dick on your mouth until he has fully released everything inside expecting you to swallow it all.

He licks the tears on your face as he deviously smiles. “Guess I got hard again? Care to help?”

Hyuk/Hyeok Kwon

I don’t think you would have caught Hyuk’s eyes if not for those amazing tricks you had pulled that one early morning as you practiced with your friends for the tournament. He was walking alone when he noticed you and your crew. Your eyes were shining with excitement as you showed the others your incredible moves.

He first came up to you when you were alone going home, then another time while you were biking around town asking for a race. After some time he asked you to teach him one of your tricks while he would teach you one of his. It kind of seemed like he was following you around just to learn those tricks.

So you were not sure how you had ended up on the same bed, head on the mattress as you felt his cock push into the wet folds of your stimulated pussy. He moved into you from behind, thrusting slowly but enticingly as one of his hands was on your pussy playing with his fingers your overstimulated clit.

His grip tightens as he starts to move faster. Between the deep breaths you both let out he says. “How can you be so wet? You know that I’m one of the bad guys right?”

“Oh God, is that what you are thinking right now?” his words kind of excite you but you try to act annoyed. “Kind of…” he answers.

“Well bad during the day but good during the night!” You say as his eyes widen. He pulls you by your arms as your back arches slightly getting you as close as possible to him, while his thrusts become faster and faster.

He leans his head on your back as he moves hot breaths tickling your skin. If he lets go you are sure you will hurt your nose as your arms have become limp from the tight hold he has on them, you nearly can’t feel them anymore as he pushes more and more until his release comes closer.

He lets you go with no warning as he takes his dick out of you stroking on it for a few seconds until his cum comes out dripping on your back. Painting it all in white. You fall asleep fast after that, not even hearing the click of the door as he exits the room leaving you naked and spent on top of the bed.

#windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker headcanon #windbreaker smut #windbreaker characters #windbreaker wooin #windbreaker joker x reader #windbreaker joker #windbreaker hyeok kwon #windbreaker hyuk #smut x reader #smut x windbreaker charachters #smut prompts

989 notes · View notes

aspiringtrashpanda · 3 months ago

Text

I acknowledge that I have fallen behind, but hey, at least I'm still trying to catch up? 😅 I also acknowledge that these all started short, and yet have slowly gotten longer. What can I say? I'm a wordy bitch.

Find the prompt list HERE.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

DAY 11 Prompt: Beelzebub Ever wonder what's up with Beel's human world tattoo?

It happened the first week into devil-sitting in the human world. You were sitting at the kitchen island –a counter far fancier than you could ever afford– watching Satan attempt to use a food processor to crush graham crackers. You were looking forward to tasting his take on an apple crumble from your world. You had offered to supply him with a recipe, but after some slight consideration, he had opted to adjust his own recipe to the available ingredients.

You wanted to trust him. He was far from an inexperienced cook.

But, you also really wanted a good pie.

So, there you were, Satan hissing unintelligibly under his breath, when Beel walked in with a shopping bag bouncing against his calf. Typically, that wouldn’t be anything bizarre. This was his temporary home too, after all. You expected him to rub his growling stomach, shoot that dazzling smile your way, and then attempt to steal a bite of the apples Satan was chopping at a frankly terrifying speed.

However, when he shrugged off his rain-spotted windbreaker, you noticed something different, something new. A large gauze wrap cloaked the majority of Beel’s right bicep, stretching from elbow to shoulder.

Satan’s knife stilled as Beel slid onto the free stool at your side. Emerald eyes wide in alarm, Satan asked, “What happened to your arm?

“Hm?” Beel was already snacking on a stray apple. He had the audacity to survey his left forearm, brow creasing in genuine confusion. “Nothing?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Satan pointed the tip of the knife towards his brother, and though you knew he was simply waving the object because it was already in his hand, you really wished he wouldn’t brandish something so sharp so casually. “You’re all bandaged up.”

Before Beel could answer, Belphie was padding into the kitchen, Lucifer trailing behind him. Satan spun on his heel towards the sound, the knife switching targets to the brother that Satan was most likely to stab. The curious spark in Belphie’s sleep-dazed eyes, partnered with his absent itching of his right bicep, was clearly what had corralled Lucifer into checking on the twins.

“I had the weirdest dream,” Belphie yawned, wandering over to take a seat next to Beel. “I was sleeping–”

“Sleep-ception,” Satan murmured, catching your eye when you snickered. You had caught him pouring through critically acclaimed human world movies of the last decade in the theater room at various times over the week.

“Let him finish,” Lucifer gestured for Belphie to continue, his dark eyes fixed on Beel’s bandage with an unreadable stare.

“I was asleep, but there was this loud buzzing noise,” Belphie cradled his cheek in his palm, his lashes fluttering dangerously low. “The longer it went on, the hungrier I felt. Then, I was full and I woke up.”

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from critiquing Belphie’s story-telling capabilities. Talk about anti-climatic. However, his words did resonate with Beel, comprehension finally dawning in a small, “Oh.”

Though you waited for him to elaborate, Lucifer beat you to the punch, his gaze narrowing as he deduced, “You got a tattoo.”

Satan dropped the knife. “You did?!”

Beel blinked, meeting both of their stares before scanning the kitchen island for any other ingredients Satan required less of. “Yeah.”

You felt the rage radiate from Lucifer, felt it smother the room and dampen Beel’s energy instantly. Everything went dark. Lucifer’s eyes, Belphie’s groan, Satan’s brown sugar burning in a pan on the stovetop. It was as if a solar eclipse had occurred just outside the kitchen window.

“Beelzebub,” Lucifer’s voice boomed with authority, “How could you do something so foolish?”

It was strange to see Beel curl in on himself. Big, tall Beel. Gentle giant Beel. He was always looming over everyone, untouchable, and yet there he was, cowering as his shoulders leapt to his ears.

“Letting a human mark your skin? Allowing a human close enough to touch you, to attempt to pierce your flesh?” Lucifer hissed. You could tell he was holding back his wings from bursting out from under his jacket. It wasn’t until he continued that you then understood what he was getting at. “Did you think they wouldn’t notice? Human needles are no match for demon skin. You know that.”

Oh. It wasn’t a humans are inferior thing (you had been only mildly offended mere seconds earlier), but a we are undercover thing. Belphie and Satan, who had both decided that the marbling in the counter was simply mesmerizing, stiffened, awaiting Beel’s response.

“I do,” Beel resigned, “I asked Solomon to cast a spell that would soften my skin beforehand. The artist didn’t notice anything different about me.”

Lucifer’s dominating aura eased ever so slightly. You held your breath as he stood there, in the doorway of the kitchen, clenching and unclenching his fists. When he finally pinched the bridge of his nose, let out a heavy exhale typically reserved for Mammon and Mammon alone, you sighed in solidarity. Satan and Belphie followed your lead.

“It was a reckless thing to do,” Lucifer crossed his arms, fixed Beel with a stern glare. “A terrible risk. You could have exposed all of us. You could have posed a threat to Diavolo’s relationship with the human world!”

“I’m sorry, Lucifer.” Beel ducked his head, and you couldn’t help but notice the way he placed his hands palm-up on the counter, a symbol of surrender. “I didn’t mean to put the family in danger of being discovered.”

When his violet eyes returned from their favorite speck of graham cracker to the right of the food processor, he added, “I’ve been thinking about how our demon markings are similar to a tattoo, right? But we didn’t have any say in them.”

Belphie’s fingers flew to his right collarbone. Lucifer glanced upwards for a moment, eyes crossing slightly to Satan’s amusement, an unconscious nod to the diamond that was currently invisible upon his brow.

Beel himself rolled his shoulders and explained, “I thought it would be nice to have a mark on my skin that I could choose. A tattoo that could represent something important to me.”

That hit Lucifer directly in the heart, appealed to the sentimentality he liked to hold close to his chest. Satan regarded Beel with searing intrigue, Belphie smiling softly as he relaxed against the counter.

The argument was dropped, and Beel nudged Belphie awake, excitedly explaining that the shopping bag at his feet contained a snack Beel had picked out specially for his twin. They ran off before anyone could question further, leaving a heavy tension in the room that you had come to expect when Lucifer and Satan had to fabricate conversation.

“Hey Lucifer,” You threw out into the uncomfortable air, “You like apple pie a lot too, don’t you?”

And then you ran.

The question of Beel’s tattoo was forgotten for the most part. He didn’t often bare his arms in the Devildom, his penchant for sweaters and jackets rendering the memory of the argument irrelevant 90% of the time. Still, you thought about it on occasion. When the bandage came off and the ink was revealed to be a seemingly random arrangement of swoops, you took it upon yourself to discover the meaning behind the body art.

Was it some warped amalgamation of their sin sigils? Did it represent Lilith? Did the two arching lines have something to do with twins? It kept you up at night. Not often, but sometimes. Enough that you asked him about it more than once.

He only ever shot you a sunny smile in response.

It wasn’t until a year later, when Beel had contacted you while on an assignment from Diavolo in the human world, that the truth came out.

Beel was accompanying you grocery shopping before you would cook dinner at your tiny apartment for the two of you when he paused. “Can we stop here?”

You glanced over your shoulder to see Beel drooling at the sign for a sushi restaurant. Big surprise. Stepping off the main path before a clueless pedestrian ran into your hulking companion, you peered at the notice in the door that had caught his eye.

“Oh, they’re running the Shooting Dragon Meteor contest again,” Beel commented as your jaw went slack.

Hold on.

You jabbed your index finger at the top left of the promotional flyer. “That logo looks like your tattoo!”

And despite your shock, he simply nodded, all smiles. “The restaurant partnered with a tattoo parlor nearby. If you get a tattoo of the logo, you get free Shooting Dragon Meteor rolls for life.”

The reality hit you like a freight train, those sleepless nights rearing their ugly heads with a vengeance. Your mouth flapped like a fish out of water, your tongue failing to wrap around vowels. Your mind was moving too fast to properly formulate a sentence.

Beel was already muttering about what order he was going to place when you exploded, “You told Lucifer it represented something important to you!”

Though, a small, exasperated part of you asked, why are you surprised?

“It does.” Beel frowned, confusion creasing his brow. “Shooting Dragon Meteor rolls use a very rare, high-quality tuna that can only be fished in this area once a year. I wanted Belphie to try them, since sushi is his favorite.”

Oh, and if the whiplash wasn’t a little hard to process, then neither was Solomon’s cooking. Of course, that was just Beel in a way, wasn’t it? Of course such a shallow gesture had a deeper meaning. Of course the tattoo still led back to family.

Of course Beel would tattoo a restaurant logo on his skin to give his brother free sushi once a year.

And Beel’s enthusiasm had you wondering why you doubted him for even a second. As he exited the restaurant, a veritable feast of sushi rolls stuffed into six plastic bags, he beamed, “I’m gonna visit you at this time every year, okay?”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST

#obey me month #obey me beelzebub #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #beel's tattoo #i'm trying to catch up i'm so sorry

29 notes · View notes