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miraclewoozi · 10 months ago

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DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader. content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song.

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong.

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.”

He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all.

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say.

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position.

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air.

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done.

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal.

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present.

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you.

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember.

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter.

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again.

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary.

The urge to just… lean in to you.

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees.

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again.

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop.

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday.

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare.

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once.

He swears.

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure.

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting.

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway.

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t.

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances.

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise.

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come.

Eight seconds later… still nothing.

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light.

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug.

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again.

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before.

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip.

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter.

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh.

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair.

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop.

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help.

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place.

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head.

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in.

I love them. Thank you, you said.

It’s perfect.

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double.

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead.

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue.

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose.

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late.

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to.

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are.

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob.

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum.

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him.

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen.

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important.

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair.

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath.

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright.

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened.

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head.

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop.

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together.

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said.

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt. And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before.

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder.

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it.

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush.

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth.

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you.

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too.

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together.

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try.

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could.

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down.

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better.

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same.

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved.

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person.

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say.

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here.

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no.

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline.

Not enough, but some.

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin.

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky.

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough.

Happy New Year.

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes.

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you.

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow…

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there.

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you.

You could do it, his brain tells him.

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter?

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside.

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said.

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in.

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule.

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all.

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday.

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you.

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change.

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant.

The pouting continued.

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table.

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right?

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling.

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together.

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features.

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road.

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess,

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks.

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer.

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks.

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick.

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone.

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own.

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block.

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths.

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too.

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again.

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon chwe fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #kpop fluff #j writes.#*#so nervous ab posting this. anyway. i wrote this for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and my deluded ass is gonna go jump in a hole now GOODBYE <3 #vernon fanfic

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mari-the-bimbo · 7 months ago

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Bus stops on dodgy roads

Sukuna x reader

A/N: Hey my lovelies! I know i been gone a while but he’s just a random thought I made into a fanfic! Enjoy! <33

Going to University in a rough area is definitely not for the weak.

Classes finishing at 7 in the evening, studying the notes in the library until 11 because your dorm doesn’t have a desk, meaning you’re waiting at the bus stop in the dead of the night with the local drug dealers, police sirens blaring in the back, but you try to tune it out with ‘like a tattoo by Sade’ blasting your your earphones.

But you just happen to be god’s strongest soldier.

Well.. at least you think you are.

Strangely enough, you do not feel threatened by the drug dealers who wait for the same bus, the silent agreement to mind your own business is mutual.

But more strangely, you notice the drug dealers aren’t here today, so you sit alone at the bus stop, the dry air hitting your face.

“Here all alone sweetheart?” Says a croaky voice in the silence, you turn your gaze to the ugly looking man who reeks of blood and alcohol. You don’t recognise him so you pretend you didn’t hear him, silently praying it’s not your blood splattered next.

You flitch as he snatches your earphones out your ear and throws it to the ground, shit, why did it have to be you?

“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me you stupid bitch, how much for a fuck before I make you do it for free”

You subtly reach for your pocket knife and you answer him defensively “I’m not a whore, go ask somebody else”, calling police would be useless, by the time they arrive you’ll already be roadkill.

You watch him seeth at your attitude as you gulp, realising a bit too late that was the wrong move.

You watch a black Bugatti pass, a car you knew probably belonged to an even dodgier person but you were desperate. You throw a rock at the car and scream “HELPPP!!”.

The man only gets angrier as he punches you for drawing attention, you fall to the ground with curses from your mouth but luckily the sleek car halts, before reversing slowly until it’s in front of you.

“g-get up you bitch” the man hurriedly orders, reaching out to pull you up but your new found confidence allows you to kick him before you hurriedly stand up yourself.

Before you can react again, you hear a deep voice boom through the abandoned road’ “Oi”

The black tinted windows of the Bugatti slides down to reveal a tatted man, a bit older than you but scarily handsome nonetheless. The creep’s eyes widens before speaking “Boss! I- I was just going to deal with this bitch becau-“

“Who asked?”

You stare quietly, taking in the interaction between the creep and his boss in the car.

“Did I not order you to report back to me once you were done with the job?” The boss asked. You didn’t even want to guess what the ‘job’ was.

“Sir this bitch got in my way so-“

“Shut up” the boss cut him off before his red eyes connected with yours, a shiver travels down your spine at the contact.

“Leave us alone” he says, you take a step backwards thinking he’s talking to you but realise you’re wrong when the creep walks away shakily.

Your own legs start to shake slightly in realisation of who this man could be.

“Hey pretty girl”

You gulp “Hi s-sir”

A chuckle erupts from the man at your immediate obedience compared to how animalistic you were with the other. “Why you calling me sir, you work for me too?” He asks. You struggle to find words so you simply shake your head.

He keeps eye contact with you as he puts out his cigarette that was hanging from his mouth. “Call me Sukuna”

The leg almost threatened to give in from the shake as he confirms your fears, he was the city’s drug lord Sukuna.

“Thanks Sukuna”

“No worries dear, why don’t you be a good girl and let me drop you home” he asks, you know it’s a command rather than an offer.

“T-thanks but my bus will be here any minute” you reply with a shaky smile.

His gaze is unnerving as he answers “your bus won’t be coming”

Your confused silence allows him to answer the question you were thinking.

He points in the direction that the creepy man left, “You see, I ordered him to kill some rats on that bus, the bus will be terminated in 3..2…”

“What” you whisper in disbelief.

“..1”

You look up at the digital bus stop timer.

“Zero”

‘Service currently unavailable. We apologise for this inconvenience’ the digital screen reads.

You stare back at him in disbelief. He was too good, devilishly good, and you were now putty in his tatted hands. All the questions left on the tip of your tongue disappears, Sukuna only offers an illegally beautiful smile to you.

“Well?” He says, “I really don’t like offering repeating myself dear”

Without missing a beat, you run to the passenger side door and enter the car.

To hell with morals and ethics, when you live in the ghetto, survival is your main priority.

You sit in the luxury leather seats with cowardly stature. Sukuna starts his engine and drives off.

“You know it’s breaks my heart to see a pretty girl like you wait in the cold like that dear” he teases gruffly, a new cigarette hanging from his lips. “Not your first time waiting there is it?”

“No” you reply but then you pause, wait how does he know that?

“How do you-“

“I know my city better than anyone, every corner and.. bus stop” he adds to lighten the mood, you can’t help the small giggle that escaped you, it’s hard not to when your saviour happens to be an big, attractive, clearly untouchable man who smells like oud and leather.

“Think I’m funny doll?” He says with a smile, red eyes still on the road.

“Only a little-” you reply before immediately closing your mouth in fear, you fix your posture when you suddenly remember this isn’t some friend of yours but rather the most powerful man in the city that could easily have your head.

He chuckles, “easy, easy doll. No need to humble me like that”

“Sorry” you say with a meek smile.

He looks at you and back on the road. There was no denying Sukuna found you adorable, you were amusing to him, and what kissable looking lips you had.

“You can joke around with me doll, consider me a friend hm?” He says as his hands move to the back of your neck, stroking it ever so gently, goosebumps quickly rise making the tatted man laugh as you look at him embarrassed.

He parks in the uni dorm car park. Before slowly turning his head towards you, you feel comfortable enough to look him face to face now, you offer him a smile “thank you dropping me off Sukuna… and also saving me back there.. I know he’s one of your man but still-“

Your sentence dies at the back of your throat when his rough hand strokes your cheek, “did it hurt?” He says, he’s serious now. “A bit..” you answer.

Your breath hitches as he leans forwards and presses his mouth to your ear “I’ll take care of him when I get back, you will never see him again, okay?” He says and you nod in understanding of what that entails.

“Such a smart girl” he coos gruffly as he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Thank you again Sukuna”

Another smile comes to his handsome face as he tilts his head “and how exactly do you wish to thank me dear?”

You gulp as you stare at the handsome devil, seducing you so easily, you feel embarrassed when he notices your thighs squeezed together, while Sukuna makes a mental note of the dirty things he’s going to do with those plush thighs next time.

He licks his lips, and you unintentionally imitate him. He shakes his head and bites his bottom teeth, he can’t hold back anymore, oh girl.. what have you started?

Suddenly his wet lips press against your own, moulding with the shapes of yours, his sloppy tongue makes sure you can taste the tobacco as you moan at the feeling, he chuckles into your mouth before pulling away.

You pull away with a gasp, he smiles, looking nowhere near as breathless as you, just admiring your beautiful face. He thumb plays with your bottom lip

“Well shit.. You’ve started something I gotta finish doll”

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dira333 · 6 months ago

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Good things come to those who wait - Kirishima x Reader

I don't know why but this was really hard for me to write. I hope you still enjoy it - @crimsonredlotus

"You good?" Mina's waving a hand in front of his eyes, back and forth, back and forth. "Never saw you zone out like that before, not even when they announced Crimson Riot becoming a playable character in the Hero Nights Multiplayer Game."

"I just saw the most beautiful girl in the world," he stammers, eyes still locked on the door you disappeared through. "Like... Oh, no, that was superficial, wasn't it? Like, I swear she's probably super smart and incredibly talented, but I just- I noticed- I swear I don't care about looks that much!"

"Relax," Mina slings an arm around his shoulder, "You're still manly. Now, describe her to me. I need the deets."

"Did you see that?" Yukie asks, giggling. "The redhead couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you. I swear, there were hearts dancing around his head."

"You're exaggerating," you tell her off, though your heart still beats a little faster. He'd been cute, really cute, with his red hair and flushed face, wide grin, and open posture. Like sunshine poured into a human being, but that might just be your imagination. You didn't know him, after all.

"Okay, so she's one of the business class students," Mina recalls, "She's getting good grades, and the teachers like her a lot. I think I've heard Ectoplasm call her by her first name and he's really picky with that."

"Sounds kinda boring," Bakugo declares as Kirishima presses both hands to his mouth to hide his glee. "See!" He preens, "I knew she was special. I bet she has an awesome quirk too." He falters immediately. "Oh, but that means she won't be interested in me."

"No, no, we don't think like that here," Mina bonks him on the head with her fist. "You've got great qualities, not to mention a solid body to show off. And you're a nice person, unlike some other people here." She glares at Bakugo who only snorts.

"So now that we know her name and her class, how are you planning to go over it," Sero asks, leaning in, "Business Class isn't all that interested in Hero Class. They think we're stuck up."

"I can't just go over there and ask her out!" Kirishima wails, "That would be totally unmanly. What if she feels pressured to say yes? I could never live with that."

"I'm going to infiltrate their friend group and get the intel," Mina promises. "Jirou, you're with me."

You blink in surprise when two girls slide into the seats across from you and Yukie.

"Do we... know you?" You ask, a little concerned by the bright smile on the pink-skinned girl's face. The other one looks like she might not be here on her own accord.

"Oh, we're from the Hero Class. We just wanted to get to know you people a bit better. How are you? What are your names? What are you learning in Class?"

"Which Hero Class?" You ask.

"1A of course, the best one!"

"Ah, so you've got Aizawa-Sensei as homeroom teacher?"

"The man, the mystery, you name it. I'm Mina, by the way." She offers you her hand and you shake it, albeit a bit reluctantly.

"Say, do you have any cute boys in your Class?" Mina leans in, "Because we might have some cute boys in our Class but they're just not my style, if you know what I mean."

You share a look with Yukie. She smiles. "Oh, yes, we do have some hotties. Look," she pulls out her phone to showcase the class photo you had to take a week ago. "This one's already taken though," she points out. And he eats his snot as a way to power his quirk. I'm not one to Quirkshame, but that's kinda disgusting."

"Oh, talking about Quirks," Mina flashes yet another smile. "Mine is Acid and Jirou's here is Earphone Jack. What are yours?"

Your smile tightens. "I'm Quirkless," you point out, waiting for the usual reaction. Mina's smile falters for a millisecond.

"Oh, I'm... sorry, I guess? I don't know if you feel bad about it, but I don't really think you need a Quirk to succeed-"

"Unless you want to be a hero," you point out calmly, grabbing your plate. "I need to get back to Class."

"No, wait," Mina's standing now, "I need to know if you think Kirishima is cute."

"Mina!" Jirou hisses. "That's not subtle at all."

"Maybe, but I'm not going without an answer." Mina stomps her foot and you throw her a look.

"I don't know who this Kirishima is, but I don't care for boys who cannot ask me questions themselves. And if you feel threatened by my existence, don't bother. I don't care about the Hero Class anyway."

"You really are a good liar," Yukie exclaims once you're out of earshot of the girls, "I might have even believed that myself had I not known you're crushing a teensy bit for that redhead from the Hero Department."

"Let's just hope he's not in Mina's Class," you tell her, looking back. To your surprise, Jirou's looking directly at you.

"Dad?" You ask after Dinner, sliding into the small space between him and the front door, "Can I ask you a Question?"

"Sure can, Bean," he pats your head before taking a seat on the stairs. "What's the matter?"

"Mina Ashido came to see me at Lunch today."

"Mina?" He looks surprised. "What did she want?"

"I'm not sure, she was all over the place asking questions. But she mentioned someone from her Class... Kirishima, I think?"

"Ah yes, they're friends. What about him?"

"What does he look like?"

Your Stepdad blinks. "Why do you wanna know?"

"For reasons I cannot disclose."

He laughs softly. "Alright, alright. Red hair, shark teeth. Does that answer your question? You don't look too happy about that answer."

"Is he nice?"

He ponders that question for a moment. "He's not the smartest and his Quirk is better for Defense, which clearly troubles him, but he's pretty social and gets along with everyone in Class. Why do you ask?"

Now... how to answer that? If you say he has a crush on you, will that fall back on him? Your Dad is his teacher after all. And if you say you have a crush on him, won't your Dad just end up embarrassing you? You want to do nothing but forget it, but your Middle School Crush is still fresh in your mind, or rather, how your Father tried to threaten him into going on a Date with you.

"Never mind," you lie, "I was just curious. Have a safe Patrol, okay?"

"Okay," he leans down to press a kiss to your temple, "Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"Aye Aye, Eraserhead."

- - -

"Hey, ehm..." You turn at the call of your name, surprised to see Kirishima. You thought the Hero Classes would only come back to school next week.

"Hey," you give him a small smile. He deserves it, after all you've heard. "Glad to see you're alive and well."

"About that, yeah, I-" He stops, takes a deep breath, "I heard from Eri that you're... that you're Aizawa-Sensei's daughter."

You tense a little, but you nod. "Stepdaughter, to be exact. He does collect us like Pokemon, it seems."

Kirishima laughs softly at that. "How is he? Last I heard he got released from the Hospital."

"He's adapting," you shrug, unsure what to say. "Mom keeps making him a ton of food, so we're all gaining weight. He keeps forgetting to put his new foot on, so I often stumble over it. It's... eh..." you halt, take a breath, "It's good to have him back."

"I can imagine. I hope he... I don't wanna assume, but-"

"He's coming back as a teacher," you nod, "He'd never leave a class behind. Least of all you. He's very fond of you guys."

"Ah," Kirishima rubs the back of his head, "We're not that special. Annoying, yes. But not special."

You smile. It's easier now, talking to him, without the pretense and the Chaos of who likes who, of High School Rumours and all the Gossip.

"Kirishima? Would you... like to get something to drink?"

"What?" Midoriya blinks. "I missed all of that? I wasn't in the hospital for that long."

"Longer," Bakugo harrumphs before stuffing his face again. You'd been a little scared of him before, but Kirishima had vouched for him, calling him a softie with the prickliest attitude.

"Ah, Sorry, sorry." Midoriya grins, reddening. "So glad to be back though. How's Eri, by the way."

"Great," you smile, pressed into Kirishima's side. You haven't been official for long, but he's the touchiest person you know. "She's found a few friends in school that she keeps bringing home. One of them, Kota, is a huge fan of me for reasons I still haven't found out."

"Ah," Kirishima grins, "That's because you're Quirkless. He thinks you're like Midoriya."

"Like..." You blink at the green-haired boy who defeated All For One mere months ago. "Why?"

Midoriya laughs, cheeks now as red as Kirishima's hair. "Long Story."

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magicdustsworld · 4 months ago

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Redemption

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: For you, freedom comes in the form of college life. However, soon you come to realize that tethering liberating steps for way too long will get you to situations you don't want to be in.

Tropes: Professor/Student, explicit smut

Warnings: profanity, age gap (Reader is in early 20s, Levi is in his early to mid 30s), drug abuse, smoking, alcoholism, implied nudity and blackmail, body shot, toxic college life, toxic friendship dynamics, college/modern AU, no mentions if y/n.

Word count: 3.6k

Event: submission for levievent under the prompt of day 10 - age differences.

A/N: after a lot of contemplation, I have decided to let it be a two-shot series. The next part will contain filthy smut, hopefully updated by tomorrow and pls excuse any mistakes on this part, my laptop broke down so I had to type it on my phone. Hope you enjoy!

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

|NEXT|

This isn't supposed to be happening.

You aren't supposed to be bend over your professor's desk, skirt raised up and have your cunt pulsating over his cock like a damn virgin.

He clicks his tongue, "Filthy brat," tightening his hold over your binded wrists as his pelvis smacks against yours in a uniform rhythm. "Don’t tell me you're cumming so soon. We haven't even started yet."

Your cheek rests on the hard mahogany desk, polished and clean as your eyes roll back from the way his cock just hits your g-spot with every thrust. The drool runs down your lips, too lust drunk to care and too traversed beyond reality to give him a verbal answer as he continues to assault your puffy folds with his shaft. Slick runs down your thighs, dripping on the floor as the room reeks with the combined juices of your arousal. He reaches down, pressing his thumb on your swollen bud and you're sent over the edge.

Shit!

How did this happen?

You have been caged your whole life.

Therefore, when freedom came knocking at your door, you didn't have any second thoughts from breaking free of the chains that binded you to a gilded cage. For you, freedom came in the form of college life.

If anyone from your highschool years saw you now, they wouldn't be able to recognize you with the 180 degree turn in personality, makeover and peer choices. A complete change. The most significant change could be your schedule. While you were living under the stern gaze of your parents, you had a timetable to maintain which prescribed when and how you should be present at particular places. That timetable was taken, crumbled up and thrown in the trashcan as soon as you got the gist of dormitory life. Besides, with your peers indulging in situations they shouldn't be, why should you hold back? (Like c'mon, you need to live your life as well)

Previously, you'd spend Friday nights in the confines of your bedroom while blasting your favourite playlist in your earphones and doing your homework. Now, the same music would boom but you are swaying your hips to it, bopping yourself and getting lost in the game of dance under the neon lights of the frat house. Red cups and beer pongs would escalate, which you readily partook in with the addition of forgettable one night stands. You told yourself that you liked the air of random hook ups while you were high, for it left you guessing that which brother of the fraternity you had fucked or not. While vodka and a night of reprieve was one thing, you looked forward to the coke. The very coke which once inhaled, made the euphoria burst in your system while ecstasy took over and you'd find yourself falling under the spell of intoxication.

Mind blank as a canvas and too high on serotonin levels, the fog of inebriation would cloud your eyes and you'd get lost in another midnight rhapsody. Can you blame yourself? College is meant for trying out all the pleasures of life, right? A hub for fuck boys and girls seeking validation from each other by fucking their daylights out. The minority who inclined themselves to academics were clearly missing out on all the joys life had to offer.

However, you didn't know that your favourite coke would be the reason of your downfall.

Maybe, you should have known better.

No– of course, you should have known better.

What were you thinking?

You should have stayed inside that night instead of going out to the same frat house, when you had an important physical chemistry exam the next day.

As far as you can remember, you were paired with a jock of the football team for flip cup. Although, hazed memories you noted the strawberry blond hair styled back and amber eyes. Maybe his name was John? Or Jean? Whatever, you only remember winning the game and getting your hands on the coke. Sooner than anyone had the time to comprehend, you were lining the powder on your finger edge and inhaling it generously.

Did it not raise a series of ooh's and aah's from the onlookers?

Like all the previous nights, your eyes were open wide with the crimson tint staining your sclera as you got lost in the ebullient maelstrom. Combined with the alcohol already running in your system, it didn't take long for the waves to crash ove. In this reverie you didn't realize when you were situated on the table, with grains of salt being sprinkled over your navel by your partner. He dipped his head down– mouth filled with tequila– swirling and lapping the warm muscle over your skin, feasting on the granules and you didn't even care with all your senses falling numb.

Anyone can guess what would be the outcome of attending an exam when the after effects of the powder fails to cease. With a pounding headache and being unaware of most of the answers, you can't say you were surprised to see your grade.

The capital F beside your name stares back at you from the mark list.

"Can't be that bad."

"It is."

"Not so," Your friend giggles, raking her fingers through her ash-blond hair. "It's only one exam, cheer up."

You bit your inner cheek, heaving a deep sigh. "This exam marks forty percect of my overall grade, Hitch. And with the way, my marks have gone down the drain, I don't think I'll even be able to pass this year."

That's an honest concern on your part because the final report would be sent to your parents as well and if they ever saw you failing one class, you don't know what hell they'll raise. Besides, the excuses of sickness and tougher lessons can only be used so far. (Plus, your heart thumped in your chest with the thought if they ever find out about this new lifestyle of yours... let's not think about it).

"You know," Hitch muses, leaning back on her Chair as she blows a strawberry bubblegum in her mouth. " You can ask for extra credit."

"Yeah sure," You don't bother to hide sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes and choosing to rest your chin on top of your palm. "There's no chance."

She raises an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"It's professor Ackerman," That almost comes out as a whine. "He is ruthless as he is, always with the poker look on his face and I can swear he won't even smile at a clown."

A sheepish smile curls up her lips but before she can speak, you start again.

"Plus, I am already on his bad books. Do you think he'll be all unicorns and rainbows when I ask for credits?" You fold your hand over your chest, gritting your teeth as if the cause of your predicament is the man in question; he isn't but you need something to get off your vexation. "That's straight up walking in a lion's den and I am sure he will come for my head."

"Oh, girl..." She sighs, interlocking her fingers together and perching them over the tabletop. "But why would he even do that when you will give him a show?"

That catches your interest, "a show?"

"A show," She nods, the upper pair of her teeth is revealed as she smiles, waving her finger in a circular motion in the air. "Just follow my advice."

You have never heard an advice as bad as that.

Correction:

You have never found yourself following an advice as bad as that.

Still, you find yourself here. Outside your professor's office, gazing at the ivory sign engraved with the obsidian lettering – Levi Ackerman, while you contemplate on how much this plan can go wrong. (In your opinion, 100%).

However, you are desperate and your desperation has brought you here. So why not...?

You knock on the door. Once. Twice. Stating your name as you suck in a deep breath, squaring your shoulders.

Please don't let it be long.

A deep voice reverberates from inside, "State your business."

"I would... like to discuss about my grades. May I come in, sir?"

"Yes."

You breath in, the knob turns and you set a foot inside.

"Remember," Hitch says, crossing one of her leg over the another. "You gotta look desperate." The tilt of your head and parting of your lips, garners her to explain more. "The first two," She snaps her fingers to the collar of your shirt, "Unbuttoned."

"What?!" On instinct, you fold your hand over your chest, twisting your torso in the opposite direction. "Are you out of your mind?"

"You want to increase your grades or not?"

"I do but–"

"No buts," The girl shushes you with a finger over your lips. "You want to get your way through college, you follow me. Got that?"

Left with no choice, you find yourself nodding.

The clicks of your heel seems to echo in the vast expanse of his office. It's almost afternoon and the orange glow of the setting sun pours into the space marring it with the similar hues. Late classes are adjourned for the day as the marks were announced. On top of that, its Friday. Therefore, regular classes would be starting after the weekend. The campus is almosy empty except a few staff and students lurking around the corners; a perfect opportunity to follow the plan.

Your find your professor to be seated across his desk, engrossed in reading a file while a pen is nestled between his thumb and pointer. As soon as he is aware of your presence, he looks up at you.

Instead of halting, a good distance away from his desk, you are walking up to it. Letting yourself stop within a meter of his proximity.

"What do you need to discuss?"

Prompt and straight to the point—as expected.

Lips breaking into a grin, you spin a strand of your open hair around your fingers. Leaning forward–it's apparent, what you're aiming at–you speak, "I was wondering... if I could get some extra credit in your class, sir?"

"He is your professor, that's your minus," She states with a lilt of her mouth. "But you're his student, that's his minus."

Levi raises an eyebrow, "Extra credit, you say?"

"He is a man, after all. And all men are perverts, give them a show of your assets and they'll be dancing on your drums."

He continues with a twitch of his lip, "And why would I do that?"

"Give him all the performance he needs," Her eyes darts south, she tugs on the fabric of your skirt."The shorter this is, the higher your grades will be."

"You seem to know all about their psyches." You comment, pinching your lips and smoothening the material over your knees.

That evokes a laugh,"Babe, how do you think I keep my grades up?"

By following the same advice she has given you.

In accordance to her, a face full of makeup with tits on show and the skirt raised enough to give a generous view of legs—one can make the professor's their very own puppets. So, once the same advice and opportunity is presented to you, why should you back down?

"Well," You start, plopping yourself on the chair across him, crossing your legs one over the other–hiking up your (already)shortened skirt. "I am sure we can work something out like..." arching your elbow on the table, you let your manicured fingers drum against your cheek; a seductive approach. This should work. "You don't want one of your students to be held back now, do you, sir?"

He stares at you for a solid minute. A blink of his eyes follow.

You shift in your position—offering him a rather salacious view of your cleavage. Come on. Your visage holds innocence akin to a child learning the first steps of the world.

One thing about Professor Ackerman that enthralls you is just how attarctive he could be despite his age. Probably a decade older than you but he certainly carries the enigma of a young man charmed with the maturity of someone his age. Gray eyes, dark bangs in an undercut and he just dresses so much better than all of the male peers you have encountered. And a lot better than all of your filthy hookups.

Even then, he is a man. Just look at it. The silence is stretching for a minute too long and dare you say, its almost suffocating.

While Levi's eyes are on you—something which you do want—he rather seems to be scrutinizing your behaviour than satisfy his inner perverse attitude.

Maybe he keeps this face even while jerking off.

That thought alone raises a cinch of chuckle to escape your mouth. His eyebrows furrow. At last, he speaks. "How long have you been in my class?"

Seriously? Is he so keen on continuing this game of back and forth. Shouldn't he be asking you how much grades you require by now?

"Patince is the key."

Hitch's words ring in your mind and you follow her again. "Since the start to second year?"

He crosses his arm over his chest, muscles flexing under his dress shirt as he leans back on his chair. You mark how there's a gleam in his eyes before he continues, "And how many exams have you taken until now?"

"Three? Why are you... asking that?"

"You'll know soon enough," he pauses, letting a string of tension to seep in through his body language. And as much as you don't want it to bother you, it is bothering you. "In which of those exams have you got a grade over sixty percent?"

"Um, uh sir–" You fumble over your words, raking your brain for any suitable response and while your grades is actually being discussed—a pang of exposure swirls in with the way you are dressed. "I don't remember..."

"Never."

"O-oh," Unease ripples through you, crumbling the calm veneer you are trying to maintain.

His gaze hardens, a tick of jaw and the creases on his forehead just shows he isn't in the mood for your performance. "Why?"

Only a low chuckle is released, attempting to depress the palpable tension."My bad... ah– you see, I don't have a good memory and that's why my grades are... well, you know."

"When have you ever cosulted me with the problem regarding your memory?" He cocks his head to the side, inverting the hourglass on his table. Shifting his attention back to you, he asks, "Besides, have you ever truly followed through my lesson in class? Ever tried to do your assignments by yourself?"

"Of course, I did," a clear cut lie but he doesn't have to know that. "But they are too difficult. You can't blame me, college is tough on its own and I have so many subjects to study–"

You wish to continue with your rant but the terse call of your name stops you on your tracks. His lips are curled down and he looks at you with utter disdain as if you were a bug. "If you have even paid a bit of attention in my class then you should know that I mark half of your grades by your attentiveness and student conduct. Something–" You swallow a lump in your throat, slumping your shoulders and hiding your chest from his gaze. "–you clearly lack and with the absolute shit you write on your answer sheets, you should know better than to expose your body in the name of discussion."

Blank.

You are completely blanked out.

What is there to say even?"

You chew on your lower lip, eyes flickering to anywhere but him. Clutching the mesh of your skirt in your hold. This meeting isn't unfolding like anything Hitch said about. You manage to exhale a breath, trying to hide your with your hairs, "Sir... I guess, I should take– I should leave now."

Only slightly you raise yourself from the chair, Levi speaks again, "So soon?" You sheepishly nod, giving way that this encounter wouldn't be to your favour. "We were just getting started. Besides, there's something more I need to discuss with you."

You look at him from beneath your lashes. It's funny how timid you are now. "Like what?"

"I've heard rumors of students getting their hands on question sheets by– let's say, means," He opens his drawer, pulling out a folder. "So... I played a little game with y'all. Changing the question paper, last minute was tedious- but doable." He twists his lips, picking out a A5 sized paper with contents hidden from you. He keeps his eyes on it while speaking again, "Humorously, you seem to answer only those questions perfectly which were leaked–"

"Excuse me?" You intervene, quickly. "I have no connection with this paper leak mess."

"Then how do you explain your tardiness with the paper, this time?" Steel eyes have shifted to you, "As much of a bratty student you can be, you aren't the type to completely fail unless–"

"You're just accusing me or something, I haven't done. When I say I have no connections with paper leak, I mean it."

"Then how do you explain your–"

"I don't fucking know. Just a coincidence or– whatever!"

"Coincidence? You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's not on me if you believe me or not. I have gave you my statement and you should know better than to accuse me of something just because you hate me."

"Very well, then" He tilts his head, shrugging his shoulders. "I will just have the dean rusticate you–"

"You can't do that. I didn't even know about all this."

"You want to tell me that you weren't cursing out loud while writing the paper? Don't try to lie, Zacharius told me about your indency in exam hall."

"That was because I was high on coke not— no, I–" Your eyes widen as soon as you realize your fumbling. Lips parted, you are more apprehended as the blood drains from your cheeks. "No, I- uh... I didn’t mean that, j-just a slip of tongue."

As for Levi, he merely stares back at you and... is that a smirk on his lips? It sure is. A triumphant ghost of a smirk directed at you while you began to drown in the whirlpool of despair. "At least, you remember that."

He flips both the paper to you and if your heart wasn't beating with a 10x speed before, it sure is now. Your jaw hangs open, shoulders becoming rigid and the air knocked off your lungs like you've been punches to the gut.

Pictures.

They are pictures, yes and it would have been fine of it was just that but it isn't. In the very pictures, you find yourself. One with a cigarette between your lips and from the background it is starkly evident that it's the college campus. The second is more precarious for you're clicked with some of your pals but it's shot in a way that only your face is visible while the group blows on a pot of Marijuana.

You wrestled with a deep-sated fear, eyes thoroughly scrutinizing each speck and corner of the photos—something, anything to prove that it isn't you. That it's framed, that all of it is a big misunderstanding. The dread of facing your professor overshadows all the protests stringing on your mouth; they won't even be let out if you try.

"It's a shame really," His voice echoes, the screeching of the chair is heard before he is sauntering over to the other end of the room. "I had better expectations from you."

You don't register the mocking call of your name, physically unable to. The adrenaline surges through your veins, goosebumps arising on your body with each passing second.

You need to leave. Run. Soon. Now.

You find yourself frozen in your place.

"I wonder what your parents would have to say–"

"No, sir." Instantly you crane your neck over to him, nails digging on the armrests of your chair. Your shoulders rise and fall as the hypertension settles in you. Your heart is thumping in your ears, fingers are trembling with anticipation and to add insult to the injury, darkness has started to commence. "Not my parents, please sir. Th-they– I don't know what they'll do to me. Plesse sir, j-just not that."

He leans against the door of his office, gazing at you with mere casualty, "You think you are in the position to make requests?" His irises flicks to the corner of the room. "You've made your bed. Now lie on it."

"Sir, please–" You are on the verge where you wouldn't have a second thought before begging on your knees. Something's pooling in your eyes and it stings as bad as your nails on the wooden armrests. "Anything but that. I will complete all of your assignments and I'll personally improve my grades without anyone's help. Sir, just one chance, please."

He huffs, twisting his lips as if a mirthful play is being presented to him. "Why should I believe you? Have you ever given me a reason to know you're reliable?"

"Sir, I have to try." Instantly, you stand up, marching over to him. "And– and I know I've been indecent–"

"Irresponsible and obnoxious, as well."

"Yes," It's painful but you have no other choice. "I know and I am sorry. Really sorry, just give me another chance."

He tips his head towards you, narrowing his eyes, "You think, you're redeemable?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, I am ready to do anything to prove it to you."

His eyes sparkles with something you can't decipher, "very well," He straightens up, taking a singular step towards you—only now, you're aware of how limited proximity but before you can contemplate, he speaks, "Let's start your first lesson on redemption."

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auroras-zenith · 3 days ago

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what doesn't kill you // part 3

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

prologue ✧ previous ✧ next

"They say there's a chance you could learn to walk again." He offered, trying to be as optimistic as he could. Lord knows you didn't need another thing to feel bad about.

"How big a chance?"

He flushed, looking away.

He had caught you after you had passed out, moving to sit beside you afterward.

The nurses were beginning to bustle about. You had caught a few pitying glances already–each one only making you wish your bed would swallow you whole.

"It's been done before."

"I know you know the stats." You said with a sigh.

He sighed too, squeezing your hand. "I just... I don't want you to feel like you can't. I know you can."

"Izuku."

He winced. "One in a hundred."

You sunk a little lower beneath the sheets at that.

The silence stretched on, neither of you knowing exactly what to say after that.

"Sorry I'm late." The door quietly swung shut behind the heterochromic boy as he moved to take a seat beside you; saving both of you from the awkward tension. "I couldn't get out of the press conference."

Right. Because for the rest of them, hero work went on.

You pushed the thought to the corner of your mind, adding it to the list of things you'd think about later.

He pulled a chair over, blank eyes softening as he saw you. He leaned over to give you a quick hug. "I'm happy you're okay." He said softly.

"How'd it go? Have you guys found him?" You asked, ignoring the last comment for no reason beyond its awkward nature.

You had learned from Midoriya that you had been out for two weeks, but he hadn't any other information. Apparently, he had spent most of his time here with you.

Todoroki nodded. "Bakugo did. The day after the incident." He informed you solemnly.

Your heart clenched oddly at the name.

"He got to the fucker before the authorities could. Beat him up pretty bad. For a second it looked like Bakugo was going to be charged with assault because the villain could barely walk after, but... given the circumstances..." He looked down, shaking his head.

You flicked a piece of lint off your blanket glumly. "Suppose he's been pretty busy then." You muttered bitterly.

That was the next question you had grilled Midoriya for. Turned out, in the half a month you had been in a coma, Bakugo hadn't dropped by once.

Todoroki looked at you, blinking slowly. "Y/n, it's not like that."

You scoffed but said nothing.

"It really isn't. He was so angry. He is so angry. He didn't go home that night. He stayed up until dawn looking for the villain and didn't stop till he found the guy." He told you. "He's just processing."

You sighed, turning to look out the window. "I guess." You just wished that he could process here. With you. And maybe some better food.

"He'll visit soon."

It was like that for the next couple of days. All of your friends, acquaintances, even a bunch of people you knew only by name–all showing up to wish you a speedy recovery and look at you with their pitying gazes that made your skin crawl.

And yet through it all, Bakugo never showed up.

"Are you up for another visitor?"

You looked up, slightly surprised to see a purple haired girl standing in the doorway. Jirou, as you recalled from high school–or rather, Earphone Jack she went by now.

You shrugged, nodding sulkily. What did it matter, really?

"Thanks for coming." You spoke quietly. So unlike your usual self.

She stared at you for a minute as you stared firmly at your lap. Everyone's pity was starting to drown you alive–and you had concluded that the only way to survive it was to pretend it wasn't there.

"Hiroshi and Yutaka Kota." She finally broke the silence.

You glanced up, confused. "What?"

"The children you saved." The girl answered. "Those were their names."

You shook your head. She must've been confused. "I wasn't able to save them." You whispered, hands clenched tightly together in your lap. "I was too slow.

"You're wrong. They were a bit banged up, but thanks to you they had just enough time to escape before the building really collapsed."

That couldn't have been right. And yet you wished so dearly that it was. You felt tears welling up in your eyes again–whether because you were happy or sad you weren't quite sure.

"I'm really sorry that this happened to you." She said quietly.

But there was something off about her tone. It wasn't pitying. Didn't feel like nails on a chalkboard as most people's did so often nowadays. It was... understanding. It was actually quite nice.

"But I thought it'd be nice for you to know that it wasn't for nothing. Including those two, 326 people accredit their lives to you, Cordelia."

You looked away, feeling the tears leak down your cheeks now.

"Thank you." You whispered. "It was getting really tiring hearing people tell me how 'at least I didn't die,' or some other unrealistically optimistic bullshit."

She snorted. "That's lowkey a weird thing to say to someone."

"Tell me about it."

She looks at you, and smiles.

Why had you two not been close before? You had both gone to UA together–hell, you two had more mutuals than you could count. And yet, you had never found yourselves in the other's company; and even after you both graduated, you never saw her on the field.

"Are you going to go to the hero gala?" She asked after a beat of pause.

Right. The hero gala. In the grand scheme of things, it just seemed so trivial now. "I didn't think I was still invited." You said honestly, letting your shoulders rise and fall.

"Of course you are." She corrected. "Cordelia, if anyone can learn to walk again? It's you. And even if you can't, that doesn't change your legacy. You're amazing, dude."

You smiled softly down at your sheets. "Yeah, I guess. Maybe. I'll think about it."

"Do. It's in three days. I'll see you there, okay?"

"Wait." You called as she stood before she could make it all the way to the door. "Why did you visit me?" You asked at last.

She smiled to herself, as if thinking upon a fond memory. "You're awesome. I always see you on the news. You're revolutionizing the space. Paving the way for women. It's amazing. Honestly." She told you proudly. "You're amazing, Cordelia."

For the first time in weeks, the load in your eyes lightened slightly, and you felt your lips tug into a small smile. It didn't erase the ache in your heart or bring back feeling to your legs, but it was something.

a/n: istg my tags are broken 🥲 sorry if ur tag doesn't work

taglist:@floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia @highlandhyena @sarashu @rednicotine @emmaiscool22 @your-mum3000 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @sikuthealien

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde @pikachuzhc

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mapofthemazeinthemirror · 1 year ago

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When he thought he'd moved on (ex-boyfriend!txt)

Warnings: not really gender neutral

note: when I started this I wondered if it was appropriate, please let me know if there is any problem. sad hours open, I guess.

Soobin

The cafe was quiet, just the way he liked it. This was your meeting place; even if the place was closed, the two of you would meet here. He got here early, the table in the corner waiting for him as always. The owner had smiled at him and said hello, recognising him as a long-time customer.

As he pulls his earphones from his pocket and begins to detangle them, he unconsciously bounces his leg, an old habit. Soobin's thoughts are distracted, the new song he wants to show you by his favourite band occupying his mind. He's sure you'll like it - he's slowly converted you to a fan over the years.

Once the wires of the earphones are all straightened out, and he plugs them into his phone. The ear with a green sharpie heart is his side, the one with the blue is yours, a little faded from so many bus rides and time spent in bed sharing music together.

The bell on the door grabs his attention, and he looks up - and remembers. It wasn't you who he was meeting. This isn't your meeting place anymore. He feels guilty about being excited, more guilty about forgetting that he's supposedly moved on. Still, he grins painfully convincingly as she takes the seat across from him, as if this was what he had been expecting all along. He tries to figure out how he could have forgotten that this is how things are now, nodding as she is talking, although he doesn’t hear a word.

Yeonjun

Yeonjun doesn't know what day it is, what time it is. All he knows is his phone is ringing, dragging him from his much needed sleep. With a long groan he rolls toward the edge of the bed, not even daring to open his eyes and expose them to the bright light of the sun he can now see from behind his eyelids. Which means he hasn't looked at the caller ID. Which means he answers the way he normally would, half asleep and his brain not quite engaged. He answers with your name.

But it's not you. The voice that replies is so different from yours that it snaps him awake entirely. He is so disappointed he doesn't even panic, his voice so groggy he can play it off that she heard him wrong. After a short conversation, most of which he wasn't paying attention for, he throws the phone into the covers and wonders if he's made a big mistake by starting something new.

Beomgyu

He can't remember much about the dream, only your smile, your eyes, and your hand in his. Now he's awake, and the bed is familiarly warm, the sound of soft breathing behind him. He rolls over with a contened sigh, reaching arms out to pull you against his chest, pressing his nose into your hair. He feels a cheek nuzzle against his neck and all feels right with the world.

"Did you get a new shampoo?" he asks, voice rough with its first use of the day. He lazily pulls his head back and opens his eyes, and reality cracks down over his head like an egg when he sees her.

"No," comes her reply.

It's the first time she's stayed over, the first time anyone has stayed over but you. He was totally fine with it last night. Now it feels so gut wrenchingly wrong. Maybe he should wait a while longer before letting her stay again.

Taehyun

It's been a long, long day. Every muscle aches, and even his brain feels like a muscle with how tired he is. He drops his bag at the door and kicks off his shoes, the sofa calling to him longingly from across the room. The minute his back is on the soft cushion, he knows he'll fall asleep here, but he's not sure that he cares - he's fallen asleep worse places than this. Flicking on the TV, the first thing he sees is an ad about an upcoming movie, a remake of an old classic. He smiles.

"Hey babe," he calls out, "we should take your mom to see this, it's her favourite."

Hearing the familiar creak of the floorboards leading into the kitchen he glances up, and his smile falters. How could he have forgotten? She's looking at the screen with a confused expression, shaking her head. "No, it's not. I've never heard of it." She swings around to look at him now. "Have you even met my mom yet?"

He blinks, somehow feeling more drained than he was before. "Oh... I meant my mom."

Maybe he will go to bed after all.

Huening Kai

He's looking at the photos again, the ones in his phone that he keeps telling himself he'll delete. But every time he pulls them up to get rid of them, he finds he can't. He should, he knows he should, but it seems his head and his heart are at war.

He spends so long flicking through them, there are so many, accumulated over the years you spent together. He lands on his favourite; the two of you at the carnival. The memories the photo brings are so vivid, so precious, he swears he can remember every detail; the temperature of the air, the foods you ate, even the songs you listened to on the way home, car windows down and an impressive amount of sugar in your systems as you sang and bopped along. His mind replays the scene of the two of you on a ride, your laughter amidst the screams of other riders, clutching onto each other's arms for dear life, and how you almost dropped your phone as you reached out to capture the moment.

Kai forgets himself, forgets where he is right now, that this isn't your room he's lounging in, and a loud laugh bursts from him. When his joy filled eyes turn to meet hers, she is giving him an incredulous look over the top of her computer screen. He snaps out of it in an instant and tucks his phone away, apologising with a duck of his head. What is he going to do about those photos?

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

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goblinontour · 11 months ago

Text

To The First Girl Who Lit Him A Flame (Part 2)

alex returns the favour with your help

part 1 | part 3

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), it gets sticky, nothing crazy there’s quite a lot of fluff too

word count: 4.2k

your head was pounding by the time you got home, who would’ve thought the night would end up with you sucking off alex turner in the bathroom? you were smiling to yourself thinking back to it as you threw yourself on the soft bed in your room. your eyes were closing and as you were about to fall asleep your phone chimed and all the tiredness dissipated when you saw it was alex texting you.

you two made sure to exchange phone numbers by the time you had to go home, and even though it was already late you ended up texting till the morning, both equally excited for later that day.

you said your ‘good nights’ somewhere around 6am and you immediately fell asleep.

things couldn’t be more different for alex on the other hand. he was lying in his bed with his arms crossed behind his head and he kept staring at the ceiling, overthinking and already panicking. why did he invite you over? well, because he liked you of course, but he didn’t know how any of this worked, didn’t know what he was supposed to do. he thought about telling one of the guys and asking for some advice but they weren’t any better, they were still virgins as well and didn’t have any experience with girls, as far as he knew.

he was about to embarrass himself in front of the girl he liked and ruin all of his chances of this going anywhere, he thought. at some point he rolled over and straight up screamed into his pillow. this was happening regardless, no way to back out now. it wasn’t like he didn’t want it, he was just stressing out. and so he forced himself to at least get a couple of hours of sleep so he wouldn’t be completely knackered by the time you came around.

when he woke up he popped out to the store to get some snacks and drinks or whatever. on his way back home though he passed a pharmacy and stopped in his way. should he buy condoms? would he need them? how far did you think tonight would go? was he ready for that? he decided to get some just in case, better prepared than not.

he started pacing around the house, stressing once more, but he busied himself by cleaning up and tidying his room so it would look nice. he was snapped out of his little bubble by one of your texts.

“you never gave me your address al”

“yeah sorry i forgot i guess, but don’t worry about it, i’m picking you up, you live near royal on columbia right?”

“yes xx see you there?”

“definitely, 5?

“perfect”

by picking you up he meant see you there and walk together to his house. he didn’t have a car yet, still shared it with his mum and his parents were away with it.

he just waited for the time to pass, had a shower and tried to make himself look as good as possible.

in the meantime, you were bursting with excitement. you didn’t think you’d ever end up going to his house and for that reason out of everything, but you liked him, he was really nice and sweet and you didn’t see how anything could go bad. you did your makeup and all that and decided to wear your matching black lingerie set for him, to make it all the more special. you popped on a little miniskirt and sweater number, it was still quite cold and you wanted to be comfy at the same time.

it was about 10 to 5 when you spotted him outside. he was pacing on the spot, hoping he was in the right place. so you didn’t leave him waiting for any longer, grabbed your bag and went to meet him.

you grabbed him by the shoulders from behind but he was wearing his earphones so he didn’t hear you coming up behind him and you scared the shit out of his already hyper self, making him jump.

“sorry alex didn’t mean to scare ya”

“it’s alright” he giggled while wrapping the wires around his phone and stuffing them in his pocket “you look really nice y/n. very pretty indeed” that last part wasn’t supposed to be said out loud, it was more him thinking to himself but the words came out anyway.

“thank you” you murmured, hugging his side and squeezing his waist a tiny bit as you two started walking to his.

it didn’t take that long, he lived just a few blocks away and you were too into the conversation to even notice how time slipped and you were already at his front door.

“make yourself at home” he told you, but he felt anxious again “what are we uhm…what do you wanna do?”

“why don’t we just watch a film for now?” you suggested, thinking it would be easier to just hang out and get him more relaxed first.

“drink?”

“yes please, thank youuu” getting louder towards the end for him to hear you as he was walking towards the kitchen behind you.

he stayed in there for quite a while, you were starting to get a bit worried honestly. you went in to check on him and he was just standing there, leaning over the edge of the counter holding it by the edge and staring at the drinks in front of him.

“you alright al?” he didn’t say anything so you messed with the hair at the back of his head “hey”

“yeah i’m fine just…popcorn?” he was panicking.

“yes” you agreed, kissing him on the cheek. he couldn’t help but smile and he got all blushy, but you let him do his thing, staying close by.

when he raised his arms to get the bowl and everything else from the cupboard his fitted long sleeve climbed up as well, exposing his waist and his hips where his jeans didn’t quite cover his underwear, leaving the waistband visible. you bit your lip thinking about how you’d get to touch that later.

the two of you settled on the sofa and fought over what movie to put on until you came to an agreement. he was sitting close to you, but not close enough, and he didn’t know how or when to initiate anything so you took the first step and cuddled up closer to him, which encouraged him to wrap his arm around your shoulder, followed by you resting your head in the crook of his neck. in his mind he was going crazy and he hoped you couldn’t feel his heart beating to the point he felt it was going to burst out from his chest. of course you did, but you weren’t going to mention it.

you just couldn’t wait any longer. feeling him so close, right there within your reach, you couldn’t help yourself. you pressed a kiss to his neck, immediately feeling him tense up as he straightened his back. but as you kept leaving little kisses to his soft skin he started to melt into you, and even though you could hardly hear it due to how quiet it was, you felt a moan vibrating in his throat against your lips. He turned slightly to face you better, and he looked at you for a few seconds before asking

“can i kiss you?”

“how could i say no silly?” you replied, forcing yourself to not just grab him already, leaving him to do it. and he did, he leaned down and your lips were together again, and it was just as perfect as it had been that first time. your hands quickly found their way into his hair, making a mess of it, again, pulling on some pieces to get him to make all those pretty sounds that were like music to your ears. he got some more confidence and nudged you to get on his lap, and you happily complied, moving to sit on him. you pulled his head back by his hair to expose that big neck with so much space, just ready to be adorned with marks. although it took all the strength he had in him, he pulled you away.

“i said i would return the favour, let me.”

he followed in your steps, doing just as you had been doing to him, kissing your neck, leaving little bites all the way from behind your ear, down to your collarbone, holding the neck of your sweater pulled down with one of his fingers, so he could have proper access. you were so turned on, like you’ve never ever been in your life. you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was exactly, he wasn’t giving you anything you haven’t received before. maybe it was just him.

“wanna take it to your room then?”

“yes…mhmmm” he trailed off, mumbling something else you couldn’t make out, his face was still buried between your sweater and your neck, getting covered by your hair falling over it. he picked you up as his lips connected back to yours and started walking backwards to the staircase. he wasn’t quite so shy anymore, his hands finding their place on your ass, grabbing at it and going under your skirt, touching you directly over your skin. you’d decided to not wear any tights, despite it being cool out, you knew they’d be painfully in the way of your activities.

the moment got cut off however when alex fell on his ass on the stairs, bringing you down with him, of course. you both burst out laughing and it was addicting, the way his whole face lit up and that little scrunch of his nose ugh.

it didn’t stop you for long. his lips found yours once more, picking you back up and getting you two, safely, to his room, where he laid you down on his bed and crawled over you, both adjusting more to the middle so you could sit comfortably. he kept kissing your neck, feeling your body carefully, stopping when his hand was almost touching your breast to ask “is this okay?”. you nodded, aching for him. you could feel the arousal pooling in between your legs already as he started kneading one of your breasts over your top, if you weren’t wearing black there’d for sure be a wet patch visible.

“please alex” you said in a breathy tone, the air feeling heavy around you from how worked up you got. “can i?” you asked, fingers hooking at the bottom of his shirt, pulling on it slightly to show him you wanted it off, now.

“yeah” with his approval, you didn’t waste anymore time, bringing the top over his head and taking a second to admire his bare torso. so delicate. “can i take yours off?”

“thought you would never ask” you joked “please.”

he took off your sweater, leaving you in just your bra and your skirt that’s been riding up, resting all bunched up at the top of your thighs. his eyes trailed over your body, flicking between both breasts, he couldn’t believe his luck, that this was happening and it was real. he started kissing you again, slowly going down your body, caressing the sides with his big hands, his fingers dragging across your skin making it break out in goosebumps and tingles.

“i need you, touch me, please” you were getting desperate, would start begging if he didn’t attend to you soon enough.

he didn’t stop in his way this time. he sneaked his hands under your waist to raise you up so he could pull down your skirt. he continued by placing kisses to the newly exposed skin, down the insides of your thighs, getting closer to where you needed him the most. he hovered over your clothed pussy for a second, his breaths hitting it, making your need for him grow, until he finally left a kiss over it, his nose accidentally nudging just the perfect spot.

“please alex”

“uh…okay, okay” he said nervously now that he would actually have to get on with it. he pulled down your panties and you pushed them off from where they bunched up at your ankles, landing somewhere on the floor but you paid no mind to it now, too focused on him. his breath hitched in his throat and his dick twitched in his pants when he laid his eyes on the sight in front of him. “just a second” he pleaded, getting up to take off his jeans that had his growing erection strained. he just couldn’t stand them anymore. you took that as your queue to also take off your bra, leaving you completely bare under his watch. he sat on his knees, in between your parted ones, inviting and begging him to touch you. he snaked his arm around one of your legs and rested his face against it. he was just stalling, not knowing how exactly to start, what he should do, and he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

“what should i, you know…could you guide me through it so it’s good for you?”

you brought your own hand in between your legs and started touching yourself, running your fingers through your lips, gathering some of the wetness and bringing it to your clit, stopping to give him some pointers.

“right here. see?” moaning quietly from how needy you felt, and to rile him up more.

“yeah” his response barely audible from how entranced he was while watching you touch yourself.

“alex” you called out, to get him to focus properly.

“mhm?”

“your turn now.”

“oh. uhm…okay, alright”

he lowered his hand where yours just was and he used two of his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart, exploring all of this carefully, as it was his first time ever experiencing it. he started by playing around with your clit, just like you showed him, and he got the hang of it, applying the perfect amount of pressure, slowly getting you there, the tension of it all making you hornier and you knew it wouldn’t take that long, even with his inexperience. you tried not to watch him too intensely, so he could relax, but those little glances you’d catch of him all focused were delightful.

he pleasantly surprised you when you noticed him scooting down on the bed so his mouth could reach your pussy, attaching his lips to your clit, where he previously played with his fingers, and you gasped as you felt his tongue poking out to lick it. he went lower to lap at all the wetness that kept pooling down there.

“you taste so good. fucking delightful” you couldn’t help but get a bit amused by his dirty talk, not that it was bad, you just weren’t used to it. the guy that wouldn’t risk getting too close to you on the sofa earlier was now complimenting how your pussy tasted. you could get used to it though.

your thoughts were interrupted when a loud moan, almost a cry, escaped your lips as you felt one of his fingers enter you, while he kept teasing your clit with his tongue. god his fingers were so long. You could feel every ridge of his knuckles as he pumped it in and out of your dripping cunt, so wet, just for him.

“more” and he obliged, instantly adding another finger and you already felt full, full of him.

“does that feel good?” he was enjoying it as well, by now he started subconsciously rutting his hips into the mattress, dying for some friction, anything to fix the aching hard on he had.

“yes, oh my god, how are you this good” you asked, more to yourself, not really expecting an answer, but this was all too good. maybe you were just too horny, but you didn’t think so. he was doing a really good job. and that was because while he kept going at it, he watched out for how your body responded to each one of his moves, keeping in mind what seemed to make you feel the best, like when he curled his fingers and you tightened your grip on the sheets, or when he touched your clit just right with his tongue and he could feel your thighs closing around his head.

you were so close, just needed a little bit more, so you started playing with your nipples, pinching them lightly, but he quickly noticed and took over one of them with his free hand, rolling it between his fingers just like he would do to himself when he was wanking, he loved how the double stimulation felt, and it was particularly pleasurable for him, so he thought the same would work for you. and it did. he kept hitting that perfect spot inside you, and his mouth. god. he switched between sucking that little sensitive bud between his lips and licking it and he found a delicious rhythm and position that made you bring your legs over his shoulders, wrapping around him and trapping him in there so he wouldn’t dare move, your hand flying to his hair, getting all tangled up, pushing him deeper into your heat. he was also moaning and making little whimper sounds. although muffled by his face being all up in your pussy, doing god’s work, you could feel them against your skin, the vibrations giving you all the more pleasure.

everything was just too much, you came apart beneath alex, saying his name over and over, mumbling praises for how amazing he was and how fucking good he was making you feel. it was one of the best orgarms you’d ever had, not even joking. no one had been able to make you cum like that, that good, except yourself, but that was different. was he sure he didn’t do this before because goddamn. you came all over his face and fingers until you pulled him away, becoming way too much. he pulled his fingers out and before he could do anything else you leaned over and grabbed him by the wrist, taking them in your mouth, cleaning them up, humming in pleasure as you tasted yourself and his jaw was on the floor as he was watching you. you did taste good, he wasn’t wrong. you then grabbed his jaw and pulled him into a kiss, pulling his body back up over yours and you felt him hard against you, his erection rubbing over the inside of your thighs through his tight boxers. you brought your hand down to feel him and he bit his lip to suppress the moan he was about to let out as you squeezed his hard cock.

“do you wanna, you know…?” you asked him.

“fuck” he let out as you kept touching him, the pressure feeling delicious.

“yeah, that” you giggled, you knew that wasn’t what he was trying to say by ‘fuck’, but once you realised how it came out right after your question, you couldn’t help yourself.

“no i meant-” you cut him off before he would start overexplaining and getting all stressed again.

“i know baby”

‘baby’, he liked how that sounded from you.

“i don’t think uhmm…if you don’t mind, i just, i don’t think i’m quite ready for that yet, if that’s okay? ‘m sorry”

“don’t apologise al, it’s more than okay, do you wanna maybe try something else, so you can…so we can fix this” squeezing him a bit tighter as you said that.

“like what?”

you flipped the pair of you over so you were on top of him now, sitting on top of his thighs.

“can i take these off?” referring to his underwear, your fingers toying with the waistband.

“mhm…yeah, yes.”

you pushed them down, not bothering to pull them all the way off, they wouldn’t be in the way. his cock was painfully hard, resting on top of his lower tummy now. you went to sit a bit higher up, your pussy rubbing over his length for a split second, making you shiver, still sensitive, as you positioned yourself over him. he was getting nervous as to what you were planning on doing. you rested your body over his, your chests pressing together. his hips automatically bucked up as you left a wet kiss to his neck, and his cock rubbed in between your bodies. and it felt so good. it wasn’t that far from actually fucking, but to him it was different, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it right now, he was still a bit scared. but this was good. you could hear him grunting quietly as he kept moving to get that friction.

“i was thinking of finishing you with my hand.” you said before nipping his earlobe with your teeth, making him moan louder now.

“mmno, this is…good, so good…”

“keep going baby, make yourself feel good”

this was something new to you, and it was so fucking hot. you weren’t getting much stimulation from this, if any, but that didn’t mean it didn’t bring you pleasure, seeing him under you, his face all scrunched and his eyes squeezed shut as he was desperately working to get his release. and also you being the reason he’s this worked up in the first place, eating you out making him get this weak.

you pushed more of your weight down on him, and to help him get there you started rolling your hips slightly, in sync with his moves.

the added pressure, and everything else, from your rocking over him, to the lingering touches and breaths on his neck, and your praises and encouragements, did the trick.

he stalled his movements and you could feel his warm release as he came in between your bodies, coating his belly and yours.

you rolled off from him when he was done so he could get some space to breathe, watching his blissed expression as he was panting and his chest was rising up and down rapidly. as soon as he came down from that lovely high he pulled you back to his side and kissed your temple, grabbing your waist to pull you closer but he winced as you accidentally touched his now soft cock with your leg.

“sorry”

“‘s all good” he assured you. one of his hands went to rest on his stomach but he was reminded of the dirty mess he made when he felt his sticky cum on his palm.

“we should clean up, i’ll just be a sec”

he got up and pulled his boxers back on, going to grab some wipes for the both of you. he insisted on cleaning you up as well, saying it’s his mess to clean. adorable. he gave you one of his tshirts and once you were all done he disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. the truth was he just needed a moment alone to freak out now. was this real? did that just happen? he was the happiest boy in the world in his mind, except for one thing. he hoped you wouldn’t blow him off completely because you didn’t fuck.

that wasn’t even a concern for you, it wouldn’t make you change your mind about him at all.

when he got back he had a shirt on as well, and a new pair of boxers. he jumped over you on the bed and hugged you close to him, peppering your face in the kisses you were now accustomed to, and you could get used to then happening more often, you were weak for him, completely whipped at this point. even though you’d only known each other for basically two days, you couldn’t think of just forgetting about this and pretending none of it happened.

“thank you” he hummed, his face now buried in the crook of your neck as he stayed on top of you like a little fluffy bear. “and ‘m sorry we didn’t, you know…”

“you don’t have anything to apologise for alex” you reassured, your hands playing with his hair. “that was honestly so fucking hot” making him laugh against you.

“okay”

you were happy that he agreed. and it wasn’t a lie just to get him to feel better. that was truly so hot to you and you didn’t mind it at all, he’d already given you a great orgasm. you guessed playing guitar does have its advantages, cause those fingers did a spectacular job for being his first time ever doing that to a girl.

you stayed like that for a while, cuddled up with him on top of you. he even fell asleep not short after you’d ended talking about that film you were watching earlier. the weight was comfortable. he was like a cat of some sorts, you could barely feel him but it was bringing you that comforting warm feel, his breathing like a kitten’s purring.

a/n: IT’S HEREEE, i really wasn’t expecting so many people to like the first one, i hope you’ll like this too, and i’m sorry they didn’t fuck for real but i had this in mind and i just needed to get it out there. it’s 5am as i’m posting, i tried to check it but the words started to look like a big blob from how long i’ve been staring at it, so i’m sorry if there are any mistakes. also i decided to keep the same title so it would be easier to find, in case i end up doing a part 3 if you really want it. AND if anyone cares, the title is a play off one of the lyrics from the song ‘From Me, the Moon’ by Lav (apple music / spotify)

tags: @4chaos @picturezonthewall @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @whitepontiac

#alex turner smut #alex turner fluff #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner #smut #fetus alex turner #goblinontour

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cinnam0roll143 · 7 months ago

Note

can you make a oneshot where eunhyuk has a crush on the reader but has no balls to tell them, until some guy shows up and he got jealous, so he ends up confessing his feelings 😭🙏🙏

I’m back!!~ Finally! I’m so happy to start writing again and I hope you guys enjoy!! XOXO

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

Unknown Feelings

Eunhyuk POV:

_______________________________________________________________

Dear insert reader ,

This may be shocking news for you but, I like you, I like you so much it’s like my heart will explode when I don’t see you for a long time. The way your hair dances with the wind, Your laugh is my favorite sound, The way your eyes glimmer like the moon, The way your skin feels so soft and delicate

________________________________________________________________

I crumble the paper and throw it away in the trash can filled with many other failed attempts at writing a letter to reader, “Aish! I don’t know what to do anymore..” as I bang my fist on the table a picture of me and reader falls on my notebook I have been writing on. ”reader, why are you torturing me like this..” Next Day.. reader POV “reader, come on! We’re gonna be late!” Su-ae, my bestfriend shouts as I get ready, ”Hold on! I’m almost ready!” putting on my shoes and quickly styling my hair. ”I’m here! Let’s go!” I exclaim.

As we arrive at school I see my friend Eunhyuk across from us, ”Enhyuk!” I shout and wave, receiving a wave ”What’s wrong with him?” Su-ae asks, ”What do you mean?”. ”He just suddenly started walking a bit faster..” Su-ae says suspiciously, ”It’s probably nothing, maybe he’s just running late.” I shrug.

In our classroom, I guess you could say it’s a bit noisy.. and messy. ”Hey! reader, I heard that a boy from another section likes you!” one of my classmates say, ”Stop saying such nonsense! I don’t even interact with any of the students!” I shout, ”Haha! Maybe, they’re admiring from afar” They continued teasing me about this guy, when I see Eunhyuk looking at me weirdly. ”Just stop it already! Do you want to die!? Don’t drag reader into your nonsense stuff!” Su-ae shouts. As Su-ae scolds the boys the bell finally rings. ”Finally! If we were stuck in that classroom for another minute I would’ve punched the boys right there!” I laugh, ”Don’t be too harsh to them Su-ae!” I continue laughing

Suddenly someone approaches us, ”Hey reader.. Can I talk to you?”, ”Hm? Who are you?” I ask. ”I’m insert name, a student from the classroom beside you.” ”Ahh, Okay..” I said as he led me to a nearby hallway. But, unbeknownst to them, another person was listening.

”So.. What do you want..?” I asked, ”Well uhm.. I just wanted to say that I like you a lot.” He says. ”Oh..” I said, shocked by the sudden confession. ”I’m sorry but I can’t reciprocate the feeling.. I don’t really know you that much and uhm.. I already like another person. Is it alright if we can still be friends?” ”Of course, that’s fine with me! I totally get it.” He reassured me. But.. Eunhyuk POV As I saw a random boy and reader go somewhere, I secretly followed them. I immediately hid behind a wall when I saw them stop and talk. ”So.. What do you want..?” reader asked, ”Well uhm.. I just wanted to say that I like you a lot.” He said. ”Oh..” was the last thing I heard reader said, when I immediately left and went back to our classroom.

While I was dozing off on my chair, I heard reader and su-ae talking. ”Did he actually confess to you? Straight up?”, ”Yeah.. But-” I stopped listening and put on my earphones while we waited for our teacher.

Should I confess?

You should! I know she likes you back

Stupid, Somebody already confessed to her, she probably likes somebody else.

You should’ve confessed earlier! If you weren’t such a shy boy, maybe you would’ve confessed first! ”Stop!” I woke up from my nap, realizing that it’s already 4:03, meaning it’s time to go home.. Confess…

Confess

Confess! I immediately grabbed my bag and started to look for.. Reader. ”reader!” I shouted,

Looks like there’s no backing out now.

reader POV “reader!” I heard someone shout my name while me and Su-ae were leaving school, ”Oh? Isn’t that Eunhyuk?” Su-ae checked behind us and turned to me, ”You should go talk to him, I’ll get going!” Su-ae suddenly exclaimed. ”O-okay?” I answered. ”Eunhyuk, is there something wrong?” I asked. ”reader, there’s something you need to know..” ”What is it Eunhyuk?” I waited patiently. ”I-”

”I.”

”I like you.”

My eyes suddenly went wide and stepped back due to the sudden confession. ”Wh-what..? Eunhyuk..”. ”I know you already like someone else, and I know that it’s wrong to confess, I just couldn’t get it out of my head.”

”I like you too. Eunhyuk” Eunhyuk POV ”I like you too. Eunhyuk” I immediately felt surprised and happy at the same time. ”Really? You mean that reader?” ”Of course I do, I’ve been waiting for you..” She smiled. ”Is it okay if I.. hug you?” I asked, ”Of course..”

We hugged for a solid minute when somebody suddenly took a picture of us. ”Yah! I’m gonna cry, you two are so cute..”, We see Su-ae holding her phone on one hand and doing a fake gesture of wiping tears on her other hand. ”Well congrats to you two! Now I'm the best friend who’s single..” Su-ae fake sobs and sniffles while walking away..

I smile and look at reader

Told you she likes you, stupid!

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

Yay!! Finally, I can totally relate to Su-ae being the single one out of a duo.. *sobs*

#baek dohwa #baek dohwa x reader #go eunhyuk #go eunhyuk x reader #shim su ae x reader #operation: true love #operation: true love x reader #go eunhyeok x reader #go eunhyeok #x reader

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sarahjtv · 6 months ago

Text

My Hero Academia Chapter 425 Spoiler Talk

I'm enjoying writing about this stuff again, though I've got a headache going on, so I'll do the best I can for now. I might add in stuff later:

I'm very happy to see our Big 3 graduate finally! I was kinda worried Mirio wouldn't even graduate for a second, but I'm happy to see that he did and he gave a valedictorian-esque speech to everyone talking about rebuilding society so everyone can have a bright future like Sir Nighteye wanted. Ending his speech with a joke is such a Mirio Togata thing 😂. I'm going to miss that guy so much 🥹

Why are Deku and some other students just lying on the ground with their feet up like that btw? Did they run out of chairs or something? It's a weird, quirky little thing that's just there, I guess.

The narration mentions that it's June in the MHA universe now (Happy Pride, btw 🏳️‍🌈). So, if the War took place around April or May, then it's been at least 1 month since we last saw the kids at the hospital.

Our class 1-A is now officially Class 2-A! They're finally second years as they should have been. Everyone including Aizawa is alive, though saying they're well is debatable. Everyone is clearly still injured in some way, shape, or form. Most have several bandages and even Jiro looks like she has a prosthetic for her missing left earphone jack.

Quick note: I notice that Bakugo is actually wearing a tie with his uniform now. It's still not buttoned up, but you can tell that he's definitely softened a bit since the war. EDIT: Looking at it again, it might not be buttoned up because he has a cast holding his right arm, but it’s hard to tell from the scans.

Aoyama not wanting to return to UA is sad, but it makes sense. I'd argue that he earned his place there regardless of AFO's influence, but I can understand that he doesn't feel that way and wants to redeem himself and become a hero in his own way without being forced to betray his friends and teachers.

Replacing Aoyama will be Hitoshi Shinso! I think most of us predicted that Shinso would be joining Class 2-A, but I'm very happy to see that confirmed. It's going to be a bit of a weird start for him, but I think he'll get used to his new classmates quickly.

Another quick note: The second-year cloud girl, Fuwa Mitawa, is seen quite a bit in this chapter and her return is something Horikoshi promised many volumes ago, so I'm glad to see him keep that promise.

Those two first panels of Shouto make me so sad, y'all 😭... His hair is so messy and you can see bags under his eyes. It's hard to tell because of the leaks, but I don't know if there's even light left in his eyes. He looks so exhausted. What happened to Dabi, Endeavor, and the rest of his family? I have no doubt that he's been agonizing over them for god knows how long. I hate seeing him like this, honestly. He's my favorite character and deserves all the good in the world, especially after the harsh life he's been put through. I want to give Shouto all the hugs in the world 🩵.

I don't think Deku smiled at all this whole chapter btw. He tries to talk to Ochako at one point, but she interrupts him with a comment about his new haircut. He just looks sad this whole chapter. I bet he's still grieving and processing what happened. I need Izuku to open up to someone because he can't just bottle this up.

Then we have this mysterious man walking around a desolate town. We have absolutely no idea who this is, but apparently it isn't someone we know of. I want to say it's a grown-up Tenko Shimura somehow, but even that might be too farfetched.

Finally, there's Shouto and the Todorokis. Shouto reassures Deku that he's ok, but I bet my gatcha game currency that he's putting on a brave face because that final beautiful panel of him does not scream "I'm ok!" to me. If anything, I'm amazed Shouto doesn't look like he got any other permanent scars on his face at least.

It looks like Shouto is going to see his family at the hospital. Specifically Endeavor and what might be Dabi who's being kept alive in a big machine. It's hard to tell because the scans are so unclear, but I'm 90% sure that's Dabi in there. It's a miracle that man is alive given he was just a skeleton last we saw him. I'm 99% sure we're going to get a Hellish Todoroki Family Part 3 or something next chapter.

But, we won't see that until 3 weeks from now because we're officially on a 2-week break. There isn't a given reason why like Jujustu Kaisen got (Gege Akutami is sick, so he's taking 2-week break too), so I really hope Horikoshi is ok. It's either he's sick too or he needs time to think of the final chapters of MHA. Or both, that too. Regardless, any breaks given to Kohei Horikoshi to give him time to rest is ok with me. Just sucks for us as fans. Leaving us on THAT kind of a cliffhanger is just mean 😭

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taesanluv3r · 6 months ago

Text

lost in love songs.

han taesan x reader

a short, three part, friends to lovers story.

ੈ✩‧₊ hidden love unfolds when taesan's ipod nano accidentally ends up in the hands of his best-friend, yn. a certain playlist catches her eyes, revealing the true feelings kept within the depths of the boy's heart.

part two: about a girl.

reader goes through an overwhelming amount of emotions (shes crying 😿), some cuss words, myung jaehyun (reader's older brother) comforts her <3 lowercase intended, excuse any spelling mistakes / grammatical errors! enjoy :3

wc: 2,009

masterlist 𖦹 part one 𖦹 part three

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"damn, can't believe that dork writes songs about my loser sister…i say we give it a little listen and-"

jaehyun's words are interrupted, "get out of my room" yn says sternly, a finger pointing out the opened door and her face dead serious. her brother rolls his eyes, "whatever, i'll leave you to it i guess. weirdo…maybe you two are meant for each other" the girl flips him off, climbing off of her bed to forcefully push her annoying sibling out the door, slamming it shut behind him. she sighs, turning back around and staring intently at the silver device that remained on her white bed-sheets. her stomach hurts as she sits down beside it, her heart pounding straight out of her chest, though she doesn't know why. yn takes a deep breath as she holds her friend's ipod in her hands, the size of it unfamiliar to the girl who was so used to her larger phone. the wired earphones were tangled and grey from how worn out it was, she hesitates for a moment, wondering if it were really a good idea to be listening to the song her friend made a point to keep hidden from her. but it was right there, staring at her with her name written on it, literally. yn scoots, her back making complete contact with her pillows, a fluffy cloud-shaped plush toy sandwiched between her chest and her knees. she sticks an earphone into her left ear, beginning to do the same on the other side when the ping of her phone stops her. turning over to the device, she blinks slowly at the contact name on her screen.

han taesan.

she watches from afar as countless texts and a few missed calls came in, her arm reaching out to grab her phone. yn contemplates for a moment, his urgent warnings forming a sense of hesitance as she falls into a dilemma. once again, she sighs, turning her phone on do not disturb, ignoring the guy's begs and pleas before she averts her attention back to the ipod nano. blocking out all outside noise, the other side of his earphones find place in her right ear, a finger grazing against the white buttons that decorated the silver music player. yn exhales, finally pressuring the tips of her nail, pushing play on the very first track,

'about a girl.'

the name directly stolen from a song by his favourite rock band, the girl fully expects her friend's usually grunge-y sound. however, yn is taken by surprise when a soft guitar acoustic hits the surface of her eardrums instead. the rhythm of the track almost as sweet as the lyrics that he begun to sing. taesan's voice is smooth like butter, matching perfectly with the rather simple strumming pattern of the stringed instrument. being fully produced in his bed-room on a cheap microphone he got at the thrift shop, the girl finds herself smiling slightly at the shuffling sounds she could still hear in the background, breath hitching when she finally processed the words.

i listen to love songs in hopes they come true. i listen intently to conversations with you. my mind turns into mush and i can't seem to speak. in seconds i'm out, the door shuts with a creak. i could talk about her for hours on end, i could talk with her, or maybe not, it depends. cause she drives me insane, and i've got worms for a brain. and i can't get her out of my head.

the girl doesn't know what to think. it just all sounds so…foreign. the taesan she knew never wrote songs like this, or at least none that she knew of. the shy and reserved boy would never be caught dead showing this much emotion in real life, his honey-like voice fades out as the instrumental gets louder, giving the girl a moment to think. a million questions swarm into her head. he wrote this song…for her? she's lost in the music for a moment, her mind racing as she goes through about a billion thoughts per second. her heart fluttering at the very idea of this whole thing- i mean, it was as if all those romantic dreams she's had were finally coming true. a whole song written for her? frankly, the girl was on cloud 9. yet still, yn can't help but doubt herself, does he really feel this way for her? her best-friend since middle school? the ever so introverted han taesan who's never even spoken of love, this is him? as the questions swim through her brain, his soft singing wakes her up again.

this girl that i know, she's a girl that i like. but she won't feel the same, i don't know though, she might. i just can't, and i won't, let her know how i feel. i fear it might slip and it'll all become real. for my mouth only speaks around her, and my mind only thinks about this girl.

after another beat or two, he sings the final words of his love song,

still, you drive me insane. and i've got worms for a brain. think i might like you more than a friend.

with that, the first track in the two-song playlist comes to an end. the room is silent, the only thing she could hear was the quiet sound of her deep breaths. yn's mouth hangs open, her body freezing up like she had just been transported to the arctic without shelter. she doesn't even want to listen to the other song, in fear it'd make her heart beat faster than this one did. unconciously, a single tear begins to run down her cheek. "i know you said to go away but mom's asking what you want for dinner" the sound of her older brother's voice shakes her out of the daze, her eyes blinking rapidly as her head turned towards the door. "are…are you crying?" jaehyun asks, eyes widening as he began to walk over to where she sat on the bed, taking a seat beside her. "i…" she starts but doesn't continue, not really knowing what she was going to or even wanted to say. "so…you listened to that song, huh?" the boy asked, his features softening at the sight of his tearful sister who looked…well, lost.

she nods slightly, "just…just the first one" she mumbles, gulping all too loudly as her hand moves up to wipe at the tears that stained her blushed cheeks. "so? does he like you, or what?" jaehyun's question comes out a bit rushed, like he was impatient to know. "i…i don't know" and before they knew it, the girl had broken down into tears again. she still didn't know why though, the lyrics of her friend's song was nothing but sweet. however, the truth about the feelings he had, the ones he must've been keeping from her this whole time…it made the myung girl overwhelmed, not really knowing how she had to react. "hey, don't cry" her brother coos, a hand stiffly patting against the small of her back as she sobs into her hands. "yn…i know you hate it when i tease you but, don't you think it's obvious he's always liked you?" she lifts up her head, fully looking at her older sibling with confused eyes. "and don't lie, yn. we all know you're a terrible liar. i can tell by the way you smile when you mention him, i can tell by how annoyed you get over silly things about him that you, whether you like it or not, you're just in love as he is" jaehyun lets out a breath after talking too fast, his lips pursed into a line as he hits his sister with the reality of her feelings, and her best-friend's.

"but…" she starts again, stuttering as the salty taste of her own tears managed to seep into her mouth that started to feel a little dry. "but what if it's all a misunderstanding? i mean, what if i got it all wrong? what if this ruins our relationship forever? i shouldn't have…i shouldn't have listened to this. i-" the rambling girl gets cut off, "yn!" jaehyun's voice is louder by a decibel, his hands pressed firmly against his shaking sister's shoulders. "yn, look. there's only one way to find out. and you and i both know that things will only get weird if you don't talk to him about this, right?" the myung girl sighs, nodding at him, a grateful look on her face for her older brother and his big heart- even if he bullied and teased her half the time. "you're right…" another ping grabs their attention away from each other and over to the phone she had tossed to the other side of the bed. "i think that's him…" jaehyun smiles softly at his love-sick little sister, reaching to pass the phone over to her before patting her back lightly. "talk to him, yn. tell him the truth. what's the worst that could happen, right?" he says, earning a half-assed smile in return from the girl.

"besides, he did write love songs dedicated to you- something tells me you two are going to be just fine"

the boy gets off of the bed, "i'll tell mom you're not hungry yet. let me know if you need anything, okay? and if it is all a misunderstanding, which i doubt it is, i'm only a call away and i'll fight the guy for you!" the last part makes the girl giggle, breaking away from her somber state for a moment, rolling her eyes as the older sibling began showing off his non-existent arm muscles. he shot her a quick good luck before he was out the door again. leaving myung yn alone, alone with the thousands of messages and calls from a panicked han taesan.

emo loser (taesan) yn, whatever you do DO NOT touch my ipod. yn answer my calls!!!! yn please. yn, don't do it. it's too late isn't it? yn… i'm sorry.

the girl can't help but feel sick, the guilt of it all making her stomach turn and her heart to swell in pain. she takes a deep breath, the ticks on the bottom right of his messages turning blue, signifying that she had finally read them.

emo loser (taesan) you listened to them, didn't you?

yn's breathing gets heavy and fast, her fingers trembling as she began to type out a response.

i need to talk to you.

she bites her lip, nervously watching as the three dots appear then disappear on his end of the chatroom, like he had started to type but stopped half way through. yn shuts her eyes, opening them to stare at the ipod nano that had turned itself off at some point before. her gaze is turned back to the phone in her hands when he finally texts her back.

emo loser (taesan) meet me at the playground tomorrow? i have so much to say you'll listen right?

yn smiles softly, a sudden feeling of warmth engulfing her previously frozen body. she nods to herself, fingers hovering over the digital keyboard.

tomorrow at 1?

this time, he texts back almost immediately.

emo loser (taesan) i don't think i can wait that long meet me there at 10 unless you're still sleeping, lazy ass.

the boy's teasing joke, after the whirlwind of emotions she had just gone through, comforts her a little. suddenly, the girl feels confident that her brother was right and that they'd be okay after all.

see you at 10 then, weirdo

the conversation ends there. yn hides under her covers that night, her stomach empty though she didn't feel the need to eat, and her body exhausted though she couldn't seem to sleep. she's still in disbelief. the sound of his voice playing over and over again in her head all night. the lyrics tattooed onto her brain as she finds herself lost.

lost in the love song he wrote for her.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

first of all tysm for 100 followers !!! HEHEHEHE taesan straying away from his usual emo grunge music to write secret love songs for yn 😿 featuring the lyrics that i wrote myself <3 THOUGHTS??? reblogs n feedbacks are highly appreciated!! send me an ask, let's talk abt this 💭 see u guys in the final part!! love, kona.

#kona's work ♡#boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #taesan #taesan x reader #boynextdoor taesan #bnd taesan #han dongmin #han taesan #bnd x reader

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chronicdisasterwrites · 1 year ago

Text

you can do better. i'm better

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (modern, college au)

genre + warnings: - FLUFF !! alcohol consumption, smoking, swearing, and a jealous and very flirty gojo. reader is gender neutral but is shorter than satoru and has long-ish hair.

word count: 1,934

summary: this is a song-fic based on this ask, the song being "FEEL" by Måneskin. for the full experience, start listening to the song after the 4th break, there'll be a very obvious indication in the dialogue!

enjoyyy <3

“So, there’s a party.”

You hum non-committedly, pen still dancing on your page as your eyes flit between your textbook and notebook. You hear a pen tapping against the wooden desk and try very hard to ignore it. The tapping gets louder and more constant until you’re unable to ignore it any longer. You release a long sigh as you look up at the person pest sitting before you.

"Okay, what?"

Shoko grins as she sets the pen down and clasps her hands underneath her chin, "There's a party. Let's go."

You stare at her for a few seconds before asking, "When, where, and why?"

"Tonight, at Mei Mei's place and because we can and should."

You groan, "I really don't wanna, Shoko. I have work and I'm so sleep-deprived I can't-"

Shoko shuts your books and flicks your forehead, ignoring the small "ow" that escapes your lips. She stands up and takes your things with her, "We are going, and that's that. You can sleep and work and whatever after the party. It's been way too long since we actually had some time to relax and I'm not going without you, so suck it up."

You dejectedly watch her leave with all your things and wonder why you even hang out with such a menace.

---

"Oi, Suguru."

The man in question is distracted, hunched over his desk, sketching away in his notebook with loud music blasting through his earphones. Satoru slams the door shut hoping it'll break his best friend's trance. Suguru feels the reverberation from the door slamming closed and tilts his head to look at a pouty Satoru with arms crossed across his chest. Suguru sends an apologetic smile as he takes off one earphone from the ear closest to Satoru, "Hey. Sorry, what's up?”

“There’s a party.”

Suguru pauses his song, suddenly concerned at how loud the volume was. Rolling his chair back and fully facing Satoru now he says, “Let me guess. We're going?”

He watches Satoru fall back on his bed sprawled out like a starfish. There's a pause before Satoru speaks, “Depends. Y’know if Shoko's going?”

Suguru gives him a sly smile, “I’m not sure. Why?” Satoru spares him a glance masked with disapproval, “Just asking, jeez. What's with the face?”

There's a laugh as Suguru stands up and makes his way to his closet, rummaging through his typical array of edgy, dark outfits. He hears the bed squeak and assumes Satoru is now sitting up, glaring at the back of his head. He decides to pull his leg a bit more, “Just sick of your childish antics.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Suguru sighs as he lays down his selected outfit on the side of the bed Satoru wasn't currently occupying. Satoru sighs exaggeratedly, obviously mocking his best friend and only gets a deadpan look as a response, "You just proved my point."

Satoru whines Suguru's name and falls back down on the bed, dropping his arm on Suguru's clothes, "You're annoying."

Suguru watches Satoru with amused eyes. He knows all about the silver-haired boy’s embarrassing crush on you. He flirts and teases you all day only to mope around and whine about why you don’t like him back. Suguru loves his best friend, but how much whining can a person take? Especially since he talks to Shoko, and Shoko is your best friend, and Shoko has informed Suguru that you very much do like Satoru back.

With a snort, Suguru walks over to his chair and goes back to doing what he was doing when the man-child speaks again.

"Hey, make a playlist. Nanami will be there and I can't deal with any more of his depressing emo music."

---

When you got there, the party was in full swing. People are dancing on tabletops, drinking cheap beer and hard liquor, and smoking all kinds of things, and you're pretty sure you saw someone passed out on a desk littered with plastic cups and playing cards. Leave it to Mei Mei to throw the craziest parties in college history.

You wished you could cling on to Shoko through the entire night, but she ditched you with a simple pat on the back and a nonchalant "have fun", and so here you were, in the kitchen drinking something too colorful, and ridiculously sweet for your liking. Satoru would like this shit, you think, begrudgingly swallowing the concoction.

"You don't like the drink?"

You look over to your side and find a guy you've never seen before. The kitchen is more or less empty with a few people coming and going as the blaring music from the room connected to the kitchen shakes the walls. Sheepishly smiling and putting the glass on the counter you were leaning against you reply, "It's a bit too sweet for me."

The guy laughs a hearty chuckle and moves closer to stand right in front of you, blocking your view of the open entrance of the kitchen and the room conjoined to it. He's tall, not taller than Satoru, you deduce, and fairly good-looking.

"Ironic. You seem pretty sweet yourself."

You snort, "Wow, smooth."

He looks at you with half-lidded eyes and you know what he's thinking, as he reaches out his hand and introduces himself. You reciprocate and give him your name before adding, "I haven't seen you on campus before."

"Yeah, I don't go here. I'm a friend of Mei Mei's."

You nod your head slowly and look for an opening to get out of the conversation, "So, just here for the party?"

He grins and places both his hands on either side of you, caging you against the counter, hovering his face too close to yours for comfort, "Initially yeah, but now I think I found a better reason to stay."

You cringe internally. Oh god…

---

"What the fuck?"

Moving his eyes to follow Satoru's line of sight, Suguru scrunches his face, "Ouch. Sorry, man."

Satoru's eyebrows are drawn together and his eyes are flaming as the plastic cup crumples from his unyielding grip. He thinks about walking over to where you were in the kitchen and stomping all over that random guy's face until he looks like the red plastic cup; disfigured, sad, and lying motionless on the floor.

"Who the fuck is that guy?"

Suguru senses upcoming trouble as Satoru's anger starts to pulsate louder than the actual music. He takes another plastic cup and fills it with a concoction consisting of alcohol mixed with something fruity, handing it to an absolutely livid Gojo Satoru, "I dunno. Why don't you go and find out?"

He watches Satoru down the entire cup after which he slams it on the table. They exchange glances as Satoru gives Suguru a sly grin, "Play something appropriate, will ya?"

Suguru watches with a smirk as his best friend marches over to the kitchen. Playing a song he deemed appropriate, he looks around to find Shoko talking to Utahime and saunters over to her, nudging her on the shoulder.

Glancing at him, she quirks an eyebrow as she takes a drag of her lit cigarette. Suguru points over at the kitchen as Shoko leans to the side to check out what he was gesturing to, and a wide grin blooms on both their faces. Their thoughts seemed to merge at that moment. This is either going to be really fun, or really bad.

---

“There you are, sweetheart!”

Your attempt to maneuver yourself away from the counter and the man blocking your way was interrupted by the booming voice you know so very well. Peering over the guy’s shoulder you see Satoru sporting his usual smug smile, bounding toward you and gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist. The man immediately scampers five steps behind as Satoru towers over him, his intimidating posture and menacing grin wiping the overconfident facade the man was previously showcasing. Wrapping his arm around your waist, Satoru leans down to leave a kiss on the top of your head, all while keeping his piercing blue eyes locked on the terrified man’s pale face.

“You done flirtin’ with my girl?”

The guy stutters face darkened in embarrassment as he rushes away, presumably to crawl into a hole and die. You watched the whole interaction with confusion overwhelming your senses. When Satoru’s arm drops from your waist, you snap back to reality as you laugh and look up at him with amused eyes, “Well, that was hilarious. Nice acting.”

You expect him to laugh and just leave it be, so when his eyebrows furrow and eyes stare pointedly at you, your confusion comes rushing back.

“Seriously? That loser?”

You wonder why Satoru’s being so hostile; maybe he doesn’t like that guy, maybe he’s just protective. But then you notice the light blush covering the apples of his cheeks and it hits you - Oh, he’s jealous.

Huffing, you lean against the counter crossing your arms across your chest and reciprocating the same pointed look right back at him, “Why do you care?”

He stares at you for a few beats and then sighs and turns back around to leave, “Forget it.”

You have liked Satoru for a while now, but the boy never speaks freely. One moment he’s flirting with you nonchalantly, and right when you start to think he might like you as more than a friend, he does things like this. So you decide to persist this time by reaching out and grabbing his slender wrist, “Hold on, just tell me. Why do you care?”

You watch his shoulders rise up and down and before you realize what’s happening, Satoru whips around and cages you against the counter, similar to how to were trapped a few minutes ago, except this time you’re sure your heart skipped several beats.

He drops his head next to your ear and whispers, “Because, I know you.”

You feel his fingers run through your hair as he tucks a few strands behind your ear. Keeping you between him and the kitchen counter, he leans down and aligns his face directly across yours. You feel his sapphire eyes burn through your eyes to the back of your skull as he leans closer, his nose mere inches away from yours. “I know what makes you blush, I know what words you like to hear, I know what you want to feel…”

Your face is getting exponentially warmer by the second and you think your heart is following the rhythm of the drums playing in the song currently blasting through the speakers. You stare at him wide-eyed and stunned at his antics.

“S-Satoru-”

His eyes trail down to your lips and then back to your eyes and his lips curl into that stupid smile you hate so much. At this point, you’re both breathing into each other's faces and he tilts his head to the side, eyes zoned in on your lips, inching forward until you can smell the sweet scent of alcohol and mint in his breath and the deodorant on his body. You’re too stunned to close your eyes, so you don’t miss the way his lips barely graze yours before he stands straight and grabs the cup you had previously abandoned on the countertop - a piece of information you had completely forgotten about. You watch him chug the entire drink and sigh in satisfaction, as he gently sets the cup down and moves back. “Sorry. Got carried away there,” his eyes are soft and your stomach is light as if filled with feathers. You’re speechless, shocked, and so bothered. Standing there with your heart lodged in your throat, you watch Satoru leave with a smile and not a clue in his pretty head on just how he makes you feel.

a/n: very special thanks to my dear @daisy-the-quake for test-reading this <;33

taglist: @thepup356, @porridgesblog, @stray-npc, @daisy-the-quake, @reignsaway, @ainetx, @icarusignite, @mariapierce789

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojou #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #songfic #oneshot #jjk imagine #jjk oneshot

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